SECRETS AND SCARS
CHAPTER 14
Six months. I remember thinking my six months freedom from Charles was the happiest of my life, but I was mistaken. These six months with Carlisle and Edward have been more wonderful than mere words can ever do justice to. I found us a little cottage tucked away from everyone and everything, but still close enough to the hustle and bustle of the city for Carlisle to easily go to NYU Medical Center for work and Edward to NYU for school. The heavy canopy of trees shield us from the sun and it is secluded enough that I can spend time outdoors in the garden without worrying about anyone happening upon me. Carlisle tells anyone who cares to probe our family dynamics that we are married and decided to take in my "younger brother" Edward after our parents' death of the Spanish Influenza. Mixing fact and fiction into a seamless story to pass as 'normal' comes naturally to Carlisle after centuries of living this Vegetarian Vampiric existence. Adjusting to this "vegetarian" life of animal blood, counter balanced by the intense hunger I feel at even the slightest whiff of human blood, is challenging at best but I am learning with the Cullen's help.
"You're home early!" I call from the front porch as Carlisle comes whistling up the walk. "Why the good mood?"
"I come home to you every day. Why shouldn't I be in a good mood?" He plucks a rose off the bush twining its way up the porch lattice and hands it to me.
"Chivalry is alive and well in Carlisle Cullen," I joke.
He takes my hand and guides me over to the porch swing where we sit side-by-side. I lay my head on his shoulder. There are very few perfect moments in life, but the simplicity of this one ranks it high on 'things I will always be grateful for'. What a difference six months make. Memories of my old life and all the secrets and scars I carried from it are fading like half forgotten song lyrics.
"Coming home, I realized that I have never told you that I love you," Carlisle says.
"And do you?"
"Infinitely." I feel his lips in my hair as he kisses the top of my head. "You are a blessing, Esme, and I thank fate every day for returning such a wonder to me."
"You still haven't actually said the words, Carlisle," I remind him gently. "As much as a girl likes to be called a blessing and a wonder, she still likes to be told she's loved." I lift my head from his shoulder to search his perfect face and golden eyes for any sign of hesitation. "Granted, I haven't said the words either, but there are other ways to show someone you care deeply for them."
His eyes narrow as his quick, analytical mind cuts to the hidden concern underneath my words. "There are reasons beyond speaking a handful of words as to why we have not made love yet, Esme."
Somehow—without either of us knowing how or why--our beautiful, simple, perfect moment has turned into an argument.
"Then explain the reasons to me, Carlisle." I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "I know you're a gentleman, but there is nothing ungentlemanly about the physical side of love if both people feel the same way." I search his face again looking for something – anything – in those carefully composed features that will give away his true feelings. "You do feel the same way, don't you, Carlisle?"
"Of course I do, Esme, but it is not as simple as all that!"
He frowns and I realize that, while I always thought he was just waiting for me to overcome my demons, I never suspected that he may be waging an internal war with his own.
"Then explain it to me." I kiss his cheek in the hopes of bringing him out of his thoughts and back to the present. "I want to understand. Please, Carlisle. Please?"
He stares down at me for several long, agonizing moments before sighing and nodding. "The first reason is simple. We are not married. Not really. No matter how many people we pretend to since moving here, that does not change the fact that, underneath, it is a lie. Perhaps it is because I was born into a different time, but I was taught that certain things should remain sacred. Marriage and all that it entails falls into that category."
"Then let's get married," I suggest. "I know you want to, Carlisle, or you wouldn't have written 'Cullen' after my name in your family bible or be calling me your wife instead of your sister in our cover story. Let's get married."
"Now?"
"Why not?" I touch the simple gold ring he gave me six months ago to make our husband, wife, and younger brother charade more believable. "We have rings. In the middle ages, if you 'pledged your troth' by saying vows and exchanging rings before God you were married. Not every town had a priest and not every couple wanted to wait for the traveling one to come by in the Spring so this is how they solved the problem. A vow is a vow, Carlisle, no matter how many or how few people witness it." I take off our rings and hold them out to him in the palm of my hand. "Marry me."
He smiles which, all things considered, is a very good sign. "You have it backwards. I believe I'm the one supposed to be doing the asking while you're the one supposed to be doing the accepting."
"Then ask! Ask!" I plant a light, lingering kiss on his lips – full of unspoken promises for our unending future together..
"Esme Anne Platt, will you grant me the utmost honor and privilege of becoming my wife?"
"Of course I will, Carlisle Cullen."
"And do you love me?" he asks since neither of us have still said those all important three little words.
"'I love thee with a passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith,'" I quote Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
"And 'I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach,'" Carlisle quotes an earlier line from the same poem before leaning in for a kiss. "Shall we exchange rings and vows now or wait for Edward?"
Edward. He would love to be a part of all this. "Let's wait," I decide. "He would be so disappointed if we were planning a ceremony and didn't include him."
"Then we will wait."
He kisses the top of my head again – a gesture that makes me feel like my sixteen-year-old lovestruck self all over again hoping for a kiss and a kind word from the dashing Dr. Cullen instead of the twenty-six-year-old woman I have become who hopes for so much more.
"The other reason I may have...seemed...reluctant to express the depth of my feelings fully for you physically is that, despite the fact that you may think you are free of your past, the truth is you are still haunted by it," Carlisle continues his earlier explanation that I nearly forgot all about in the euphoria of knowing I am truly loved. "You are physically free of that life, but you are not emotionally free yet – not really--" he adds when I open my mouth to protest. "You still recoil at times as if you are expecting me to hit you, and--if we get anywhere near to laying beside each other on the bed--you either turn vacant like some empty shell or scream and tell 'Charles' not to touch you." Carlisle reaches for my hands and holds them tight in both of his. "You may not even realize you are doing these things, Esme, but it points toward emotional scars and I feel so helpless that the only thing I can give you to help you heal is time. You do not need physical love to heal those scars, Esme, you need time."
"I...I thought I was ready," I confess. "I...I thought if we could be close in that way, it would help me forget. I don't want to remember Charles anymore, Carlisle, I only want to remember you."
"Oh, Esme," he whispers before gathering me against him by wrapping his arms around me and tucking my head underneath his chin. "I will always be here, waiting, till the time comes when you are ready. Please, do not rush things in the hopes of forgetting. It may only makes things worse."
"I'll...I'll try."
I close my eyes and breath in the scent of lavender soap and hospital disinfectant that is Carlisle Cullen. We all have scars – emotional and physical – that are in need of healing but I'm not worried. I found the greatest medicine of all. With time, love heals all wounds.
~*~
Author's Note: This seems a natural stopping point for this story. I will write some more Twilight fics, so look for "Falling Into Place" about how the Cullen's numbers grew with the addition of Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, and Jasper and "Afternoon Delight" – rated "M" because drasticbarbie requested "Esme/Carlisle 'smut.'" If you would like a single word doc copy of this story, PM or email me through my profile page.