A/N: So, back from vacation, refreshed and recharged, little ones tanned and exhausted from the beach, and -- Ta dah! -- two new chapters for you. A few steps closer to Emmett:) Thanks to all who keep reading and writing even though I have been super slow to update; I hope you enjoy these chapters.

Carlisle had consulted his atlas and plucked the town of Cleveland, Tennessee off the map as our destination. It was logical enough. The town was close to the Appalachian Mountains and ran up against a gigantic, unspoiled forest – sure to be good hunting.

I'd rolled the fat, solid name around in my head – Cleveland. The place I'd unwittingly chosen as my new home. Instinctively, I'd hated it.

As the Packard wound its way through the foothills I knew I'd been right. Every town we passed was like a picked-at scab upon the earth, crusty and festering with some unknown infection. Shacks huddled closely together, turning their backs on the oppressive wilderness about them. Everything was dirty, even the little children who clung to their mamas' skirts, peeking out to see who was going by in the shiny new car. As for the mothers, their eyes were glazed, empty of hope or expectation.

We saw no men. Had they left behind these places that were barely towns, in search of work? Or were they sleeping off the excesses of the night before?

The long stretches of wilderness between towns were choked with vines and trees that threatened to overtake the roads. We opened the windows for air, but the humidity was stifling. The silver lining was the constant haze, which enabled us to move outside without regard for the sun.

"Beautiful, eh Rosalie?" muttered Edward, who was sitting next to me in the back seat. I didn't have the energy to answer him.

Cleveland was a bit better. Or maybe my standards had lowered themselves after the monotony of the tiny grey villages we'd passed through to get there. It had a real town square, and buildings made of brick. There was a church with a graceful steeple etched against the sky. A general store proclaimed itself as the place to receive "Information about the World-Famous Spring Water Cure."

At first glance, the buzz of activity seemed to give the place an air of prosperity. But then I noticed that the carefully parked cars were old models, pocked with rust. A Chevrolet truck had been jerry-rigged with a Ford tailgate, patched together to keep it working. The women walking the street looked dull and dumpy, their shapeless clothes thin from too many washings. And even the men in suits walking quickly across the street bore the tell-tale signs of hardship I recognized from my train-hopping days – worn soles, threadbare elbows, lines of worry etched deep in their faces. Every other store bore the sign "CLOSED FOR BUSINESS." Those that remained had careful, hand-lettered postings declaring, "No Credit."

The Depression had come to Cleveland, too.

Carlisle eased the car up to the general store. We were posing as tourists, seeking a cure for my persistent and mysterious lung ailment.

"I can hardly pass for unhealthy, Carlisle," I'd protested, hating to think of myself being forced into the waters with all manner of humans.

"You are awfully pale, Rosalie," Carlisle had said with a twinkle in his eye. "And humans believe what they want to believe. What could be more compelling than the story of a beautiful woman, wasting away at so young an age? The local townspeople will eat it up. Besides, if the cure works, you'll have a built-in excuse for staying behind and making Cleveland your home."

I looked around the pokey little square and a wave of doubt came over me. How could I ever want to stay in this place? Let alone pass for one of them? At least in Rochester, Esme and Carlisle had been able to carve out a little piece of Rochester society in which they could belong. How could I ever belong in this place, where the biggest thing they'd ever see was the annual church picnic?

"You can always come with us to Washington, you know," Edward murmured, never turning his head.

Carlisle saved me from having to answer.

"This is where they said the keys would be," he said, looking out at the general store. "I'll be right back."

Esme turned in her seat, her eyes shining. "Isn't it exciting, Rosalie? A whole new place, a fresh start. We should have done this ages ago."

I smiled weakly. "It is certainly going to be a change of pace."

"Indeed, it will be, Sis. I can't wait for us to take you to the waters so you can meet some of the locals." Edward smiled like the Cheshire Cat and I groaned at the thought.

XXXXXXXX

The house was well outside the town. It had been the summer retreat of a wealthy family from Chattanooga, abandoned after the Crash. Vines and weeds had overtaken the place, but underneath it all, the house had fine bones – stately and well-proportioned. It was just the thing for Esme.

"It won't take us long to clean it up," she'd stated, lost in her visions of gardens and porch swings.

She was right. The haze never let up, enabling Carlisle and Edward to work hours on end, hacking away at the lush jungle outside our door. Esme and I filled buckets full of soapy water and set about scrubbing away the layers of dust and dirt that had accumulated inside the house. In every room we discovered some new delight – exquisite moldings, four inches deep, along the hall; silk panels from Japan, barely damaged from moths, on the dining room walls; a collection of books that almost rivaled Carlisle's in the smoking room. The deep porch that wrapped around the house had a full row of rocking chairs; once Carlisle and Edward had finished their work, you could see clear down the mountain.

It struck me as odd that the people who owned the house had just abandoned all these things, but then again, that was exactly what we had done with our things in Rochester. Was someone going through our rooms there, wondering what had become of us, too?

After we'd drawn the last sheet off of the furniture and rubbed the chandelier bright, we allowed ourselves a break, sitting on the porch to admire the men's handiwork.

The house itself was free of all the green stuff that had climbed up its walls. Now it sat squarely in the middle of what was supposed to be a yard – the grass would need to grow back in before it would be a real yard. They'd uncovered a tiny garden plat. It had been overtaken by weeds, but now was cleared and the soil turned over, awaiting Esme's care. With the weeds pulled, we could see that the gravel drive was actually designed in a pattern, a giant fleur-de-lis laid out in contrasting pebbles right in its center. All in all, the effect was that of a tiny island of civilization in the middle of the wilderness. It was simply grand.

As for Edward and Carlisle, they were a sight, covered head to toe in dirt. I'd never seen either one of them looking so disheveled. Somewhere along the way, they'd stripped out of their shirts – both of them were magnificent. I closed my eyes and imagined what they'd have looked like if they'd been human, a slight sheen of sweat outlining each muscle. I couldn't help but admire their perfection.

Esme laughed out loud as the men approached the porch. "You look like vagabonds, the both of you."

Carlisle jumped over the rail and swept Esme into his arms, kissing her deeply. When they broke off their kiss, they locked eyes, communicating in a way that I still couldn't understand. I felt like an intruder, but I couldn't drag my eyes away from them.

"Welcome home, Esme," Carlisle whispered, kissing her tenderly in the hollow beneath her ear.

He then swept her into his arms and carried her over the threshold into the house, leaving Edward and me to sit awkwardly on the porch, staring at our hands.

We had nothing really to say to one another. I guarded my own thoughts jealously, unsure of how he might use them against me. At the same time, I was dying to know what he thought of Esme and Carlisle's ardor, but I was too embarrassed to ask and mortified that he should glimpse the curiosity inside my head.

So we sat in silence. Eventually, dusk turned to night and the cooling breezes of the mountainside picked up. Eventually, Edward got up and walked out into the woods behind the house.

I was alone, again.

I sighed, relieved to let down my guard but lonely, nonetheless.

We can move all we want, but it will never change things , I thought as I gave the porch swing a kick and stared into the starry night. Just like the stars. Nothing will ever change.