Raum

Snare

[2013-12-30] Another year (almost) over. It's my birthday today, and 2013 is ending in a few hours. Happy 2014! Thanks for the extraordinary support and encouragement you gave me this year. Special thanks to my friends Camilla10, SatinCoveredSteel, and Marlena516. Snare (and many other stories) wouldn't be here without them.

Warning: this chapter mentions domestic violence. It occurs within all age ranges, ethnic backgrounds, and economic levels. Abusive behavior is never acceptable. You deserve to feel valued, respected, and safe.

Chapter 26

Esme

Edward drew lazy circles on Bella's back as she began to wake up. It had been almost dawn when, after the anguish of discovering that her father had been taken by two vampires, she'd succumbed to exhaustion.

He propped himself on an elbow, peering down at her. She was wrapped up in a blanket, and her warmth radiated toward him in rich waves. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, but then she stirred and shut them again. It reminded Edward of his early youth, when he used to enjoy sleeping in a bit more in the morning, especially when he had to attend the boring lessons of his tutor. Mr... He struggled to remember, but the name of the middle-aged man his parents had hired to teach him History and Ancient languages remained just out of reach, covered in centuries-old dust, like so many other memories of his human life.

He considered how distant his world was from the one in which Bella had grown up and become the amazing woman she was. Since he didn't age, Edward had often disguised himself as a college student, and that meant he'd borne witness to the many milestones of the life of a twenty-first century young man. He could have been in the same classes as Bella when she'd attended graduate school, so he could easily imagine her going to parties, enjoying the breaks between the exam sessions, studying until late at night when she was under pressure because of finals...he'd seen it through the minds of many fellow students, and to a certain extent he'd experienced it himself. But Bella couldn't relate to anything of the life he'd led when he was in his early twenties, human like her but in a different century, with the same hope of becoming the adult he'd always dreamed of being. He thought back on the private education he'd been given, the hunting trips with his father, or the sophisticated manners his mother had cared so much about, and he wondered if Bella could imagine any of it. Could she ever picture him as a boy or a dutiful pupil, not in the crowded classroom of a high school like the one she'd attended, but alone with his tutor in the silent library of his English manor? When he'd decided to leave alone for his Grand Tour, without a valet or servants, or even friends, it had seemed an act of rebellion. For the first time in his life, he had been free to experience something on his own, with neither his parents nor servants hovering around. Looking back on it now, he had no doubt that his youthful excitement about his solo journey would have seemed silly to a young man in the twenty-first century.

He caressed Bella's hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. He hoped one day he would see her smile as she woke to a new morning, and that they would emerge from the gloom they were enduring to taste the purest joy together. You're giving me the most precious gifts. What can I give you in return?

It wasn't the first time that, being with her, he'd felt himself reconnecting with the human he'd once been. She was bringing the best part of him back to the surface. Thanks to her, not only was he regaining memories, desires, and dreams that he'd thought were lost for good, but he no longer looked back on his past with bitterness and perpetual longing. He was coming to the conclusion that Bella's trust, the way she'd opened up to him since the beginning of their friendship, and the ease with which they could find common ground meant that he could still be a person who could be proud of himself. For decades, he'd resigned himself to the idea that he was frozen, like a statue carved in pale ice in a world bursting with life, novelties, and colors; instead, his time with Bella was showing him that change was possible, even for him. It meant he could still hope to become, instead of just be. It meant he could still dream.

Bella turned in his arms, facing his chest, and looked up at him.

"Good morning," he whispered to her. He brushed his lips over her forehead, gliding over it with a delicate kiss. "How are you feeling?"

She took a long breath but hesitated before speaking. "I'm thinking about Charlie."

Edward cupped her cheek and traced his thumb down the side of her face while he waited for her to go on.

"I guess you've heard this from many of your patients, but my gut tells me that he isn't dead," she confessed. "I don't want to abandon hope until we know for sure what happened to him." She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "When Mom was taken, her body wasn't found right away. At first, the investigators considered the possibility that she could have been kidnapped–Charlie had enemies because of his job. But even if hope was the last thing we had, it felt like a delusion. It was like I could sense that we'd already lost her. But this time, when I think about Charlie, I feel the opposite."

Edward nodded in acknowledgment. Bella was right that he'd heard similar stories from his patients. Each one had his own way of grieving, and the same person could have different reactions when facing a new tragedy. She can and will get better. It's only a matter of time, and I'll be at her side every step of the way.

Bella continued to think about all that her father had taught her. Brain over brawn, he'd often reminded her. Edward was right that, when it came to physical strength, her father wouldn't have stood a chance against the two vampires who had taken him; but could he have cut a deal with them? Edward may know vampire rules, but I know what Charlie is made of.

She recalled some documents her father had discussed with her. "Have you ever heard of the 98331 folder?"

Edward frowned; he hadn't expected Bella to know about that as well. "Yes. Those documents are the main evidence that led Charlie to pursue his research on vampires." He gave her a sheepish glance, considering how he'd learned about those files. "He thought about them very often, especially during the first few times he interrogated me. I saw them in his mind."

"I remember what you said about exposure and how those Italian guards punish whoever reveals the truth about their existence, but the documents in the 98331 folder are proof that there are some humans who know about vampires and haven't been killed because of it. Otherwise, my father would have told me."

"Isabella..." Edward tried to warn her, but she was too busy chasing her new line of thought to pay him any mind.

"Charlie would never have touched those files—let alone talk to me about them—if he'd known that he would pay for that knowledge with his life," she insisted. "He went on with his research for months without being attacked. Isn't there any chance that deals between humans and those Italian guards are possible?"

Edward shook his head, sorry that he had to be the one crushing Bella's hopes.

"How can you know for sure?" she pressed.

He sighed. "Actually, there's a possibility that those vampires spared Charlie's life. But believe me, it wouldn't be something to hope for...not at all."

"Why not?"

"Because once a human finds out too much about vampires, especially if there's a risk of their secret being exposed, there are only two options: either the vampires kill the human...or they might consider capitalizing on him."

"What do you mean? Are you saying they would ask for a ransom?"

"Not at all. I'm saying they could use that person to their advantage." He tried to find a way to make her understand how the Volturi ruled their world. "The Volturi are like a carefully selected army where some soldiers excel because of their physical strength, others because of their intellectual abilities, and others because they're gifted."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Gifted? Like you, with your ability to read minds?"

"Exactly, although I wasn't taken for that–only to tempt Carlisle into draining me." As a human, Edward had been considered very perceptive and insightful, which had probably been a foreshadowing of the gift he would develop as a vampire; but the predators who had taken him to Volterra had been unaware of it. "If the Volturi recognize potential or the signs of a particular talent in a human, they occasionally deem it worth their while to change him into a new vampire, knowing that those traits would be enhanced after the transformation."

Bella gaped at him. "And the new vampire would be required to join their army?"

Edward confirmed her guess with a nod. "They believe that joining them is the greatest of honors," he seethed. "So they say that he who chooses to serve them does so of his own free will. But they can be very convincing."

She was sure her father would never agree to become one of the monsters he hated most, and she didn't need to voice her conclusion.

"We both know what Charlie's choice would be," Edward pointed out.

A long silence settled around them, and he wondered if he should give her some time alone. "I'll be downstairs," he told her quietly.

She closed her fingers around his wrist. "Please, stay." She looked up at him, and he noticed how pale she was, as if a new layer of worry were taking its toll on her. "What about us?" she breathed. "I would never tell anyone about you, but I'm not sure that's enough to keep us safe."

"I won't let those monsters get to you."

"But that means you'll be in perpetual danger just because of me."

"I'm in danger no matter what," he scoffed. "I was changed against the wishes of the Volturi, and that's enough to ensure that Carlisle's rebellion would be punished anyway. Plus, if they ever found out about me and my talent, the best alternative they'd offer me would be joining them. And you know what my answer would be to that."

She considered how Edward was forever damned to exist as a fugitive...an existence he would continue to lead without her, once her human life was over. If I were like him... The thought entered her mind like a wisp of breeze fluttering through an open window, but it wasn't long before that window swung further open, and the idea became more pressing. We would have eternity together. I wouldn't be the one who always needs protection, and I'd even be able to help him. If those Volturi ever found us, Edward and I could fight together.

"You said that the Volturi change the humans they consider interesting or potentially useful, while Carlisle changed you out of compassion," she reminded him. "Are there other reasons why new vampires are created?"

Edward shrugged. "Sometimes it just happens, because the vampire is interrupted while feeding and the victim doesn't die, but undergoes the change instead. Other than that, I suppose loneliness is the main one. Eternity can be a curse if you have to spend it alone."

Again, his words brought her back to her concerns for the short time they'd been given. But she wasn't brave enough to address the subject directly. "Does it ever happen out of love?" she asked quietly, and a rosy blush spread over her cheeks. "I mean, have you ever heard of a vampire who fell in love with a human and decided to change the person he loved into an immortal?"

Edward's expression darkened, like a cloud's shadow passing over a mountainside. He stood, avoiding her gaze. "Please don't ask me to talk about that, Isabella." He moved toward the door. "It still hurts," he murmured.

She stood up as well, keeping the blanket around herself like a cloak. What does he mean, it still hurts? The question exploded in her mind, along with possibilities she dreaded. Could it be that he already fell in love with a human and changed her? After all, he's been around for more than two centuries... Or did he leave her human and now he's regretting his decision?

Bella did her best to banish those prying questions from her mind. There's no point in thinking that way. How could she possibly be jealous of women who had lived in another time, perhaps even before she'd been born? And even if there had been a vampire whom Edward had sired because he wanted her forever, she obviously wasn't with him now. I'm with Edward now. I slept in his bed, wrapped in his scent and his clothes, after he welcomed me into his house.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," she apologized.

He seemed lost in his thoughts. "Breakfast is ready for you in the kitchen." The difference in their diet seemed like a reminder of the distance that had suddenly grown between them. "I'll be in the reading room."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Edward took from the shelf a poetry book that had been untouched for years. He brushed his long, white fingers over the leather cover of a fine edition of Francesco Petrarca's Canzoniere. The collection of Petrarch's most famous poems didn't belong to him, but it was the most precious book in Carlisle's collection. The ancient paper was as frail as fall leaves; Edward turned over a few pages, skimming over verses he knew by heart.

Alone and thoughtful, through the most desolate fields,

I go measuring out slow, hesitant paces.

Carlisle's path hadn't been slow, and Edward knew that his adoptive father had only had a few moments of hesitation in his time as a doctor, because in most cases the desire to bring help and comfort to the people he met had helped him make his decisions. But he had certainly experienced loneliness; he'd known that sense of incompleteness that came with youth and with the desire to find the person who would put that unease to an end, but he'd also known the bitter solitude that came with loss.

Yet I find there is no path so wild or harsh

that love will not always come there

speaking with me.

Edward recalled the years he and his adoptive father had spent apart, back in the early twenties, and he wondered if those poetic verses represented a blessing or a curse for Carlisle.

He turned to another page and retrieved a photograph that had been left in the book. On its back, Carlisle had copied some verses from the poem where Petrarch expressed his sorrow.

My lady is dead, and my heart with her:

and if I wish to follow,

I must interrupt this cruel life,

since I have no more hope

of seeing her here, and waiting galls me.

Now all my joy

has turned to weeping at her going,

all sweetness has been taken from my life.

Edward felt a lump forming in his throat. When the woman in the picture had died, he'd been afraid that Carlisle would never resurface from her loss. Carlisle had told him about one of the Volturi, Marcus, who had become a shell of his former self after the loss of his mate; Edward hadn't been able to imagine his father doing the same. On the other hand, he hadn't even wanted to consider the possibility that his sire would turn his back on his values and find a way to end his existence.

Carlisle's darkest night had lasted three years. When he had finally returned to Edward, they'd resumed their studies, their careers, and their friendship. Petrarch's poems had become Carlisle's favorites, and Edward could see why. Francesco Petrarch's desperation after Laura's death mirrored Carlisle's, and just as Laura had guided Francesco toward a quiet harbor and the memory of her had saved him during his dark storm, so the memory of Esme, and the awareness that the love he felt for her would always survive, had guided Carlisle back to his previous self.

Edward kept the picture and book in his hands. Bella is my mate, he thought, as if he were talking with his adoptive father. I'll tell her the story of you and Esme only because I want her to know everything about me. And I hope it will help me to make the right decision, if the moment ever comes.

He went to the kitchen, where Bella had finished eating and was doing the dishes.

He laid the picture and the book on the table. "There's something I'd like to show you."

She glanced at the image of a beautiful woman, her image captured on the discolored photographic paper, and tensed. Was this the confirmation of her fears?

Edward looked at her and suddenly realized how Bella's silent mind had prevented him from being aware of her misunderstanding. The chair he was sitting on clattered to the floor as he rushed to take her in his arms.

"Isabella." He tilted up her head, his eyes boring into hers. "You asked me if I knew of a vampire who'd fallen in love with a human. I assumed you meant aside from me." He attempted a smile, hoping she would be reassured by the further confirmation that he loved her. "I do know of one, but it still hurts because I witnessed how much the lovers in question suffered. I want to tell you the story of Carlisle and Esme."

She averted her eyes from him. "Even if it had happened to you before, I would have tried to understand..."

"No," he interrupted her. "You're the first..." He hesitated before going on, and his voice lowered. "And the last I'll ever love." He took her hands in his and brought them to his chest, over his silent heart. "It hasn't beaten in over two hundred years, but since I met you, I feel alive again."

Bella leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest, and her body relaxed, lulled by Edward's words.

"When I became what I am, my heart turned to stone, like the rest of my body," he went on. "Now that the love I feel for you has settled into every part of it, the change is permanent. Once you carve a stone, its shape is altered for good, and it will be this way for me."

Bella circled his waist with her arms. "It's the same for me. There isn't anything I wouldn't do to keep from losing you."

"I know, my love." On occasion, he had overheard the vampires from the Alaskan coven speaking dismissively of the humans with whom they mingled; they'd belittled their feelings–calling them fleeting, impermanent–and said that they could never be as strong as those of an immortal. They think they know, and yet they understand so little, Edward thought. His mate was proof that they were wrong.

"What happened to Carlisle and Esme, if you don't mind me asking?"

Edward handed the picture to her. After his reassurance, Bella could look at the woman without seeing a rival, and she could finally admire her beauty. She seemed to be in her twenties, with a heart-shaped face and long hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Bella was reminded of the actresses of the silent-movie era; though Esme lacked the sophisticated glamour of some of the haughtier stars, she was every bit as beautiful. In the picture, she was smiling, light dimples imbuing her expression with sweetness. She appeared to be one of those people who could put others immediately at ease.

"She had brown eyes, like you," Edward recalled. "Carlisle was working in a big hospital in Columbus, Ohio, when he met her for the first time, shortly after the Great War. He treated her for a broken leg." A frown creased his forehead. "She said she'd fallen."

"Wasn't it true?"

"No." His voice was marred with regret. "I didn't work at the hospital at the time, so I didn't get a chance to listen to Esme's thoughts then...and I guess there wouldn't have been any reason for me to pry. Carlisle spoke of her a great deal–she'd been a volunteer at the hospital during the war, and they found common ground. He'd been deeply touched by her."

The sadness in Edward's voice seemed at odds with a story about love at first sight. "There's a but, isn't there?" Bella guessed.

"Esme was married. Carlisle saw her a few more times, when she went to the hospital for some follow-up visits because of her leg, but he never tried to venture beyond polite conversation."

"What about her feelings? Did she reveal anything?"

"I met her once. I was going to the hospital to meet Carlisle after his shift, when a stream of thoughts coming from a woman's mind captured my attention. It was like basking in a warm, delicate light–she was in love, daydreaming about kissing the man she'd fallen for, and reflecting on how, in the few moments she'd spent with him, she'd found more joy than all the last years put together. When I saw Carlisle in her thoughts, I was compelled to see her with my own eyes. I'd already seen Esme in Carlisle's thoughts and I recognized her, but less than a minute later, she boarded a bus and left."

"Was her marriage unhappy?"

"Very much so, and Carlisle was aware of it as well. But what could he offer her? The way he saw it, if Esme and her husband could fix their problems, they would be able to grow old together. She had the chance to become a mother and to have children and grandchildren. She had a human life–something precious that had been taken from us, in exchange for an existence in the shadows."

"But if Esme was in love with Carlisle...shouldn't it have been her choice?"

"She didn't get the luxury of being able to choose." Edward struggled to find the courage to go on. "She died a few days later."

Bella winced at the revelation, imagining how devastated Carlisle must have been. She thought again about the attractive, smiling woman from the picture. What had happened to her?

"The broken leg had been only one of the gifts from her abusive husband." Edward released Bella from his embrace and paced the room, his hands closed into fists. He was barely suppressing a growl. "There were times when, had I not been a mindreader, I don't know how long it would have taken me to discover that one of my patients was being abused. A fall down the stairs...a bump against a door frame...a few days off from work to conceal that they'd been beaten and couldn't go out like that...you don't want to know how many lies I've heard from women trying to protect a monster. Carlisle thought that he was letting Esme live her full, human life, but he couldn't know that he was leaving her in the clutches of a beast."

"Did her husband..."

"Yes," he snarled. "He used to get drunk, and on her last night, he beat her. That was nothing new, but that time he shoved her hard, and she hit her temple against the corner of a marble table." His frame shook with anger, and his mind was overwhelmed as he imagined what had happened after. "It took him a while to realize what he'd done and call for help. It wouldn't have changed anything in any case, because Esme died on the spot."

Bella brushed away her tears. Edward was touched as he noticed them–those were the tears neither he nor Carlisle had been able to shed for Esme.

"What did Carlisle do then?"

"He went away." Edward left it at that. Almost ninety years had gone by since Esme's death, but Carlisle had never wanted to talk about what his existence had been like in the months he and Edward had spent apart. Edward had caught some flickers of his thoughts, but he wouldn't violate Carlisle's privacy by revealing them. Edward had discovered from the newspapers that Esme's husband had been arrested and hung himself a few days after his wife's death. At the end of the semester, Edward had relocated as well.

Chances were that he was the last one who could still remember Esme–her story had been long forgotten. Carlisle was gone as well. But Bella was still there, with him; once again, a vampire had found his mate in a human. There wasn't anything he could do for Esme and Carlisle, but he thought that not repeating their mistakes would be a good way to honor their memory.

Thanks for reading!

NOTES

Edward reads Petrarch's sonnet 35, "Solo et Pensoso i più Deserti Campi" ("Alone and Thoughtful, through the Most Desolate Fields") and poem 268, "Che Debb'Io Far? Che Mi Consigli, Amore?" ("What must I do? What do you counsel, Love?"), from the Canzoniere. They're available on MyReadingLounge, with Snare's extras: h.t.t.p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. c.o.m/

I'm on Twitter (RaumTweet).

I reply to every review, but if your review is anonymous or posted as a Guest with a name that isn't your FFnet one, or if your private messages are disabled, I can't write back to you. Drop me a line and I'll reply!