SECRETS AND SCARS

CHAPTER 11

Carlisle is whistling as his key turns in the lock. I recognize it as the old Stephen Foster song I Dream Of Jeanie With The Light Brown Hair.

Edward and I both look at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Does he do that often?" I whisper as if Carlisle can hear us through the thick door.

"Never," Edward says.

There's a grin to go along with the whistling as Carlisle opens the door.

"Did you have a good day?" I ask.

Having the question spill out is a force of habit from years of asking Charles the same question when he returned from work while secretly hoping he would have an accident at the plant and never come home which would make my day very good. I never told my parents my innermost thoughts because wishing your husband dead – a husband they picked out for you – is not something parents can easily understand. Just like my running away from what they deemed a "perfectly good and acceptable match" is not something they can easily understand.

"I hope you had a good day," I add because Carlisle is as far from Charles Evenson as any one person can get. More than anything in the world, I want to see him happy.

"It was very good, thank you," Carlisle says. "Did Edward find all that you wished to keep from your flat?"

"I did but we may have a problem with that," Edward says.

Carlisle looks from one of us to the other. "What sort of problem?"

"I told Esme's neighbor that I was her brother...A brother she doesn't have."

"Sylvia lives for gossip and loves solving what she considers 'mysteries,'" I add. "I've been careful since moving here – I haven't used my real name or told anyone the truth – but I know my parents and Charles are looking for me and it wouldn't take much searching on Sylvia's part to realize the Anne Cullen she knows is really the Esme Anne Evenson that is missing from Ohio or --"

"You have been using the name Cullen?" Carlisle catches the information I let slip past in the hopes he wouldn't notice and think me terribly foolish. "Whatever for?"

"I needed a new identity." I say. "I wanted to be happy and...thoughts of you have always made me happy so I...I chose your name."

"Thoughts of me always made you happy?" he asks. "Even when you were married?"

Edward starting to laugh in amusement next to me does not make it any easier to answer Carlisle's question. "Especially when I was married," I admit. "Charles is not...Let's just say Charles will never win any Husband Of The Year awards."

"As entertaining as the whole You Like Her And She Likes You And Always Has scene is, we have a bigger problem to worry about," Edward reminds us. "Should we hope Esme's neighbor doesn't figure things out, or just get out while the getting is good?"

Carlisle frowns, expression distant as he unwinds his scarf. He hangs it on the coat rack and slowly crossing the room with that same distant, thoughtful expression on his face before sitting next to me. "We go. All it would take is a handful of very well placed questions for your neighbor to not only connect you to the body that disappeared from the morgue, but also as the missing girl from Ohio. It is no secret that I work at the hospital and previously worked at the one in Columbus around the time of your disappearance. With you using the Cullen name, it would be easy for people – especially your parents or husband – to infer that we ran off together."

"Technically, you're planning to run off together now so it's the truth," Edward points out. "No one is going to care whether it's today or six months ago. It still will be considered a scandal and that's not really keeping with our low profile stance, Carlisle."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I have caused you so much trouble in such a short amount of time. I can...I can go home if you like. I should have known I couldn't run forever."

"We are your home now," Carlisle answers emphatically. "You go where we go, Esme."

"But where can we go?" I ask. "My parents have a determination to bring me home that simply moving somewhere new will not stop. If it was that easy, we would not be needing to have this discussion right now."

"We could always convince them that you are dead," Edward suggests. "That would stop them from looking for you, right?"

"But Sylvia saw --" My eyes widen as all my fears and desperation dissolve into hope. "Sylvia saw you, not me," I finish excitedly. "For all anyone knows, I am dead." I reach for Carlisle's hands and squeeze them tightly as a plan lays out in my mind like puzzle pieces falling into place. "Before I jumped, I pinned a note to the inside of my dress with my parents' address so whoever found me would know where to send my body. I sent them a letter last week telling them of my plan."

"All corpses are photographed for identification purposes," Carlisle catches on. "When I go to the hospital tomorrow, I can say I read a newspaper article about your disappearance and believe the description matches our Jane Doe. They will go through your affects and find the address which will confirm your identity."

"The hospital will notify my parents, who will come out to identify me as the Jane Doe by the pictures and – once I'm dead to them – I'm free forever."

"But there's still no body," Edward points out the one flaw of the plan. "Don't you think they would insist on seeing your body?"

"All Jane and John Does are buried in the pauper cemetery a week after death," Carlisle says. "Esme's parents can request a proper headstone, but I hope would not go so far as to wish the body to be exhumed."

"The pictures, my dress, and the note should be enough," I say. "We can hope so, at least."

"So where are we moving to?" Edward asks.

"It is Esme's pick." Carlisle squeezes my hands since he has not let go of them yet. "We can go wherever you wish, Esme. The sky's the limit."

"New York." I remember the time my parents took me to the 'City That Never Sleeps' when I was young and how in awe I was of all the lights, sounds, and activity. "I want to go to New York."