Chapter Fourteen: The Beginning of a Long Ride

Ashland, Wisconsin, May 1921

Edward

The house was empty when I arrived home from town that morning, but Carlisle had left a note on my piano. Gone for a walk. I knew that meant they'd gone out hunting, which I would have figured had he not left a note, but my adoptive father was just that type.

It didn't take long for them to arrive back home. Carlisle was chiding himself for confusing Esme in the forest by flirting with her, and Esme was wondering why he was being so quiet. I groaned inwardly, they were their own worst enemies.

"Good evening!" I murmured from my seat in the sitting room when they came into hearing range.

Edward! You're home! Esme was as jubilant as always to see me.

Hello, Edward. Carlisle acknowledged me absently. I should have felt offended.

"Did you have a good hunt?" I asked as they came through the door.

They began answering me in their minds, an onslaught of absent comments and detailed recounts.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Out loud, please."

Oh, sorry. Esme apologised.

Carlisle looked at me blankly.

There was silence.

I blinked twice.

"This is the moment that you say: It went fantastic Edward! We killed animals Edward! And I reply: Oh, that is fantastic! Congratulations! While you were gone I got a transcript of Albert Einstein's New York Lecture on The Theory of Relativity. I thought you might be interested Carlisle? And so you nod, we move into the study and all debate politics and English literature until the long and dreary night, which turns out not to be so long or so dreary, is over." The sarcasm in my voice was almost palpable, but my words get their intended reaction, Carlisle's face lit up.

"Einstein's lecture on The Theory of Relativity?"

I nodded, and picked up the paper I had brought home with me.

He almost ran into the study, I chuckled and Esme watched on fondly at his excitement, but made no move to follow.

"Ladies first," I murmured as I stood up, reminding her that she was welcome in any conversation we held.

She smiled. Thank you, Edward.

Carlisle had already arranged the room by the time Esme and I entered, and he had begun to light the fire. He left the curtains open, so Esme could watch the sunset she always so greatly adored.

She headed over to the large window immediately, and propped herself up, in her usual but most peculiar way, on the very edge of the window ledge.

She leaned her head back up against the wall and her thoughts were filled with her love of windows. Honestly, that woman loved everything.

I handed the paper to Carlisle, who fell into one of the two armchairs by the fire, and I took the other, leaving the chaise for when Esme joined us.

"Does he discuss both special and general relativity?" Carlisle murmured aloud, mostly to himself.

"Yes."

I was used to Carlisle's mind and mannerisms, I knew that when he was excited about something, which before then had only ever been academic, he became overly talkative. There was no stopping the onslaught of questions that popped out no matter how irrational or unconventional the time was. More often than not those questions were rhetorical, but perhaps that was only because he was so accustomed to being alone.

He devoured the paper before Esme's light blues had turned into soft pinks.

"One of these days you and I need to go to one of his lectures. What a brilliant mind that man has. Absolutely brilliant."

I nodded, "Agreed. I could never tolerate it if you went without me and met him. I am still drowning in envy that Charles Darwin died before my time yet you shared a pint with him… at least pretended to."

Carlisle laughed, "I drank that beer, thank you very much, and every inch of it tasted revolting, may I add."

I couldn't suppress the chuckle that bubbled in my chest.

He was about to make a comment on the famed Einstein equation when he caught sight of Esme in the window.

I had to admit, it was rather a beautiful sight.

She had her back pressed against the wall on one side of the window, and her feet pressing up to the wall on the other. She was letting her caramel curls down from the constricting knot she had tied them in at the nape of her neck, tousling them as they fell over her shoulders and down her chest. The sky had begun to turn a soft shade of pink with a tinge of gold, and she was humming quietly to herself. She liked to hum to herself, we had figured that much out already, but up until that very day she had only ever hummed tuneless songs that were not at all songs, really. However, sitting on that windowsill she did not hum out of contentment as her mind soared millions of miles away, she hummed out of happiness and focussed mostly on the sweet little melody that she was producing.

Her thoughts that did wander to far off lands, were just as beautiful as the sound she was making.

The setting sun does such strange things to the quickly dying light, it's as though we come and go before the day is night, because night is for the darkness in the corner of our hearts, it's wild and it's crazy and it ignites a spark. So our souls turn into fighters and our dreams turn into gold, we wander passed the point of no return before we're old, the darkness once our enemy, is now our dearest friend, because the darkness grants us freedom, but it's not the one to sin.

I realised then that she had been reading Poe's poetry lately. I swore the melody to memory, it was not one I had heard before, promising myself that when I was next alone, I would try it on piano.

Carlisle's face was completely slack as he stared at her bathed in the colours of the dying light.

If I had found the scene beautiful, then there was not a single word to describe how he viewed it.

She was utterly perfect to him; sitting in the window wearing the shirt he gave her. That shirt was the source of so much trouble for Carlisle, he almost regretted letting her keep it. The animalistic part of Carlisle absolutely loved it when she wore that shirt, because he could smell his scent on her. Especially when she embraced the animal inside of her while hunting. The gentlemanly part of Carlisle hated it when she wore that shirt, because it pushed his self-restraint to the very edge of its limits.

He was so very scared to love her, but he loved her so very much.

To him, she was God's work at it's finest, a tribute to His artistic finesse, because she was so womanly, she was so feminine but part of her was so wild. She was a walking talking contradiction; she was so many opposites crammed into one beautiful person. But more than he loved the way that her full cheeks hid her high cheekbones and her dimples pinched at the sides, more than he loved her soft caramel curls especially when she let them fly, more than he loved the gentle curves of her slender feminine body, he loved her mind. He loved the way she loved. He was in love with the way she looked at things and thought of things and he was in love with the way that she loved us. Nobody loved anybody, like she loved us.

She was everything we never thought we'd ever need, and to Carlisle, she was so much more.

I expected Esme to be more dubious about her feelings for Carlisle, because of her past relationship, but she wasn't. She trusted Carlisle implicitly, because she realised that he was the exact opposite of Charles. Perhaps it helped that Carlisle was the man she had dreamed about since she was sixteen, and getting to see him every day for the rest of eternity was a concept that blew her mind. She saw this life not as a burden, but as the most priceless and special gifts she could have ever been given, but only because she got to spend it with him.

It had been just under a week since Carlisle had returned home having realised the true nature of his feelings for Esme and I was already sick of waiting for them to admit the truth to one another. They were grown adults for God's sake! Why did they cling on to the angst?

Carlisle was so confused about his feelings he refused to see that they would all be overcome should he just embrace the dominant emotion in his mind. Love.

So we sat there and watched Esme as she hummed to the sun as it set, and only stopped when the bright yellow orb had sunk beneath the horizon and twilight had begun.

She turned around slowly to look at us, Carlisle got a handle on himself just in time and pretended as though he was still pouring over his paper, which held very little interest to him now.

But I was interested in it.

I sighed, "Esme," I murmured somewhat mischievously.

"Yes?"

"What do you know about Einstein's theory of relativity?"

She stared blankly back at me, and I noticed Carlisle look up to gauge her reaction; in his head he was chiding me for putting her on the spot with such an unordinary question.

Her immediate response in her head was Nothing. But then something rather spectacular happened, No, Esme. Truth. They want to know. You're allowed to think and know whatever you want in this house.

I saw through her eyes, that my expression looked somewhat surprised but delighted. In a small corner of her mind she spent a moment trying to work out how to comb my hair in such a way that it would actually sit straight.

I suppressed a chuckle and ran my fingers through my messy bronze hair, "I like it how it is, thank you very much."

She grinned, "I'll get a comb to it one day."

I rolled my eyes, "I'm sure you will. But Einstein?"

"Oh, no," her eyes gleamed with a mischievous light, "I wouldn't even dream of taming his hair!"

Carlisle and I shared a laugh, "Relativity, Esme!" I reminded.

She sighed, "Well I know that there are two theories, special relativity and general relativity. Special relativity deals with energy, yes? The E equals M C squared equation…? And general relativity deals with space. That's all I know."

Carlisle was pleasantly surprised, as was I, "Impressive."

She laughed, "Well I was a teacher, I do remember that. I taught English and mathematics, and I vaguely remember filling in for the science teacher when he was off. He had a nervous twitch," she smiled fondly as the picture of a skinny man with a shoulder twitch popped into her mind, "He used to bring me gifts as a thank you for filling in, even though I didn't do it for him… But I remember he would talk and talk for what seemed like hours on end about anything and everything he could think of, especially science. We stood there and he talked for so long that I would be so exhausted by the time I arrived home that some nights I would just sit down and rest my swollen feet and forgo cooking dinner for a few hours because I was too tired to get back up."

"Perhaps he fancied you?" I teased.

Carlisle fought very hard to suppressed a growl.

Esme mentally told herself not to laugh, but she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips, "He was very sweet, but I do hope not. The thought of someone who talked so much about things that only he was interested would be immensely tiring after some time."

I grinned, "I suppose that throws our impending debate out the window then."

She almost looked insulted, "No, please. There is utterly no way that the two of you could ever bore me." She looked away bashfully, and then murmured, "I adore you both far too much for that to ever happen."

Carlisle's heart soared, I tried my very best not to roll my eyes, "As you know we don't do sentimentality well, but naturally we feel the same about you."

Carlisle gave me a thoughtful look.

"Yes?"

He chuckled, "You do like speaking for me, don't you?"

I nodded with a grin, "I do say the truth, though."

He shook his head fondly, "Indeed you do."

Esme giggled to herself as we began our debate.

I was playing devils advocate, which was a method I devised after nearly three months with Carlisle that derived the most information from his incredible mind.

Esme went back to her quiet humming, watching the scene out the window. She stood up as a deeper twilight settled on the lawn to grab the sketchbook Carlisle had given her a few days ago. She hadn't drawn anything yet, but she was going to start tonight.

I returned my focus to Carlisle, who was trying to explain quantum mechanics to me.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Einstein moved onto that next, trying to tie his own theories with quantum mechanics."

"And what will that achieve?"

He gave an offhanded shrug, "Perhaps it may reveal how the universe began."

Esme's humming stopped abruptly, we both turned to see what happened; only to see her wide eyes starting back at us.

She was pretending to look shocked, "I thought you promised me eternity!"

We cocked our heads to the side in confusion.

"I did…"

"But if the universe has a beginning, that infers that it too must have an end… So you lied!" She couldn't keep the charade up for very long before dissolving into giggles, and shaking her head fondly at Carlisle's alarmed expression.

I rolled my eyes, "We can't be certain that tying the two together would seriously give us answers."

Carlisle turned back to face me wearing a half-dazed look, "No," he murmured, "It's foggy business these sub disciplines of physics. Perhaps that is why I prefer medicine."

"Have you used an X-Ray machine yet?"

His face fell, "Ashland Hospital doesn't even have one. Perhaps we should move to a bigger town next time we're ready to go…" he looked to Esme, "Or the time after."

I chucked, "Yes, I would like that."

It was just coming on dusk; Carlisle reclaimed his seat that he had moved from while explaining some complex physics to my less developed mind, and Esme continued to hum to herself as she sketched on the paper.

I stole a glance at her drawing through her mind, and I was rather surprised.

"Are you sure that you've never drawn before, Esme?"

She laughed, "Stop peeking."

"I'm being completely serious, do you remember having an aptitude for art while you were human?"

She looked at me curiously and ran through her more pleasant memories in her mind, before shaking her head.

"What was that last one?" I asked as I strained to see the blurry memory.

"I can't remember much of it."

She replayed the scene of her mother complementing her with a rare praise.

"Esme, why can't you be like this more of the time? Why must you insist upon tree climbing and embarrassing dreams of moving to the wilds? This is something ladylike, and you do it very well. If only you could hold a fork like you hold that thing."

There the memory ended.

"Perhaps you were holding a pencil, or a paintbrush?" I suggested.

Esme shrugged, "I only like that memory because she insults the way I held a fork."

Carlisle's expression was baffled yet amused and I fought that laughter that rose in my throat.

"I would like to see how you held a fork, it does seem to be somewhat of an odd thing for her to mention."

Esme gave a shrug, "I think I protested upon holding it upside down… A fork is shaped somewhat like a shovel, but you don't hold the shovel upside down when you dig a hole…"

Carlisle chuckled fondly at her murmur, and I grinned.

"Since Edward had seen this lovely drawing of yours, may I take a peek also?" Carlisle asked hopefully.

Esme didn't want to show him, she was far too embarrassed by it, so she hugged it closer to her chest, but she also didn't want to offend him, so she murmured, "Once it's done you can, but Edward, stop peeking."

She smiled and shook her head fondly, in a gesture she inherited from the great lengths of time she spent around Carlisle.

"Fine," I grumbled, "But you'll be finished soon by the look of it." I turned back to face Carlisle, "Everyone in class has been talking about a new book lately."

"Does it sound interesting?"

I shook my head, "It's a children's book."

Carlisle's face turned amused, "What is it about?"

"A man who can talk to animals."

"Doctor Doolittle?" Esme murmured from her perch on the window.

"Yes, have you read it?"

She shook her head, "No, but I always wanted to be able to talk to animals."

I laughed, "That's impossible."

She gave me a reproachful look, "Says the mind reader."

I gave her a half-shrug, "Good point."

Carlisle chuckled, "So you still like children's books?"

Esme looked up from her sketch, her eyes sad, "I do," she smiled a small smile, "But only since my son."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He murmured looking down at his knees.

"Oh, no, no," she moved to stand from her perch on the window, "I didn't mean to upset you. I apologise."

He shook his head but didn't look up, "I shouldn't have asked."

She smiled tenderly, "I don't mind, I like to think of him, it makes him seem more real. He was only here for a very short time, sometimes it doesn't even feel like he existed at all, like he was only a dream."

Carlisle looked up to her then, his thoughts were a complex mess of love and adoration, as well as heartbreak and sorrow. All he wanted to do was to wrap her in his arms and hold her for the rest of the night.

He returned her small smile, "Whenever you feel like talking about him, our ears are open."

Her grin widened, "Thank you."

"And if it's any consolation, being eternally stuck at seventeen makes me miss my mom a lot, so I guess you'll always have me clinging onto you like a lost puppy." It was the only way I could think of expressing how I felt about her without the awkwardness of sentimentality.

Her face lit up with sheer delight, and she had to refrain from sprinting over to my spot on the armchair. I was thankful I could read her mind, so I stood up quickly once I realised her intention to suffocate me in a hug.

Inwardly cringing at the onslaught of unintentionally disgruntled thoughts I was sure to receive from Carlisle, I opened my arms when she made it to my side.

"You have no idea how much that means to me, Edward. If I were human I'd be drowning in tears right now."

I laughed, "I'm not sure we'd let you drown."

It was then that I noticed Carlisle's mind was almost void of any words, but it was swelling with pride and love.

My Family.

I knew he too would be crying if it were at all possible, and I felt bad for expecting him to be jealous of the affection Esme was showing me. He knew she loved me like a son, or younger brother, he just hadn't decided which one it was until then. He was my father and she was my mother, so that made them…

Carlisle caught my eye and apologised, I favoured him with my famous eye roll, at which he grinned.

I could tell from Esme's mind that she never wanted to let go of me, and she also wanted to squeeze me harder than she was already, but she was afraid of her newborn strength.

"Okay, okay, I'm not good with affection, and I almost think that you're seriously considering murdering me with your hugs."

She pulled back a little and giggled, "I won't be a newborn forever."

"True," I nodded, "So then, you'll squeeze so hard you'll hurt yourself."

She gave a half shrug, "I like hugs," despite her words she stood back and out of our embrace, and with a bashful smile at Carlisle – who she wanted to hug as much as he wanted to hug her – she went to retrieve the sketchbook that had fallen to the ground in her haste.

"You know what they say about the artist never being satisfied with their work?" I murmured to Carlisle as I sat.

He nodded.

"That is true of Esme, so I think we need to clarify our definition of the word 'finished,' otherwise you'll never get to look at her drawing."

I heard Esme sigh, and I refrained from chuckling mischievously.

She picked up the sketchbook and brought it with her to the chaise opposite us, I grinned and held out my hand. She pretended to be annoyed but she couldn't hind her fond smile as she handed me the book.

I looked down at it and grinned, she had drawn three stick figures holding hands (one of which had a dress and two curvy lines for hair), with a circle in the top left hand corner.

"You are definitely a talented artist, Esme."

I handed the sketchbook to Carlisle, whose thoughts were eagerly excited. When he caught sight of the drawing, his face took on a confused expression for a fraction of a second before he smiled, chiding me for teasing her in his thoughts.

He opened his mouth, still not sure of what to say to Esme when she burst out into a fit of hysterical giggles.

He looked to her with an amused smile toying with his lips, "What's so funny?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes; fighting to calm the giggles so she could talk, "Just turn the page over."

His eyebrows knitted together in perplexity and he flicked to the previous page, but once he realised the stick figure drawing was only a gimmick, and the real drawing was rather quite the opposite, his face fell slack.

It was terribly obvious that she would have drawn in her previous life, because anyone could tell, upon looking at that piece of paper, that sitting by the firelight in comfortable armchairs, bent over in eagerness, was Carlisle and I.

The sketch bore a stark resemblance to the actual sight.

"Esme, this is incredible," he murmured. He wanted to say Can I have it?

She looked down bashfully, and combed her fingers through her light brown locks, "Thank you. I think I must have enjoyed drawing as a human."

"Either that or you have an exceptional gift." He thought both.

"Oh, no." She laughed, "I think a lot of practise must have happened at some point I don't remember."

He shook his head in disagreement but smiled.

"I really must get you some paints, then perhaps we can decorate this old house with your art?"

"But you have a whole room of paintings upstairs?"

He shrugged, "None of them are of the three of us."

She was quiet for a moment, but then nodded in agreement, "I suppose I could try…" she teased coyly.

He chuckled, "Good then."

I cleared my throat, "Well I am ever so glad we got that settled. Now, shall we avoid the impending conversation merely filled with complements and debate instead?"

Carlisle sighed and handed the drawing back to Esme, "Of course," he murmured.

I grinned.

What has you so eager with anticipation? Esme wondered at me.

"Authors," I replied simply.

Carlisle looked up in question, "Authors?"

I nodded, "We are going to debate authors."

Esme laughed, "Oh, I don't see this ending well at all."

"And why is that? Because you know that I will probably disagree with everything you say?"

She smiled fondly, "Well yes. I am rather fearful that you will somehow be able to convince me to read books I once had no intention of ever touching."

I grinned, "I highly doubt I'm quite that persuasive, and I do not believe our taste in literature varies quite that much. We are rather similar, you know."

She nodded, "That may be so, and I do agree, although I can see one rather large difference."

"And what is that?" I prompted her, Carlisle just as interested as I.

She grinned at the pair of us, noting in her head that we seemed as though we were both caught under her thumb, and I knew it was true. Then she giggled mischievously, "I am far more open minded, Edward."

Carlisle chuckled in agreement, I merely closed my eyes and shook my head feeling somewhat resigned by her truths.

"What authors are we debating?" she queried.

I looked to Carlisle, who was gazing expectantly at me.

I gave him my usual lopsided smile hoping my devilishness shone in my golden eyes, "Emily Bronte and Jane Austen, Mr. Genius and Miss Apple."

Esme grinned widely and shook her head, "You're such an eavesdropper, Edward."

I shrugged innocently, "It's unintentional."

Carlisle laughed, "We are all fully aware that it is not always unintentional."

I grinned, "It has known to have its uses. But this is not our topic. Jane Austen vs. Emily Bronte. Ding ding, let the first round begin."

A.N. Thank you again to all my readers, reviewers, followers and all who have favourited so far! I thank you so very much!

And in reply to Twilightlover2003 - I'm not entirely sure how far the story will go, but we will definitely see a wedding and perhaps some after that. I will dutifully follow wherever inspiration leads :)

Thank you so much to everyone!