NOTE: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters. The material is the intellectual property of its creator.

Chapter 36

Esme:

The smell of holiday cooking filled the house; the meatiness of roasting turkey, sage from the cornbread dressing and fresh cranberries simmering in cinnamon and citrus created an aromatic portrait of the holiday. Unfortunately, I wasn't certain how much of it my still unsettled stomach could handle. I was feeling considerably better than I had when I first woke; the Ibuprofen Carlisle gave me was an absolute Godsend. About two hours ago, he returned to check on me. My head was still pounding, though admittedly not as bad, and he gave me two extra strength Tylenol tablets.

"I should get up … and help out," I remembered trying to insist in spite of the pain and the lingering queasiness in my stomach.

Carlisle wasn't having it, and his accent surfaced as he rebuked my intentions. "Not a bit of it," he scolded gently as he offered me the Tylenol, "you will remain in bed until your headache clears and you no longer feel the desire to throw up … is that understood young lady," then he glared at me and added, "Doctor's orders!"

I rolled over onto my back and stretched under the covers. Yes, Carlisle could be controlling, I thought as I stared at the celling, he had no problems what-so-ever with telling me what to do … or with expecting my obedience in the matter, but he loved me. That had been the key ingredient missing in my marriage; Charles controlled my life with absolute authority, but he never ever loved me. Charles didn't care if I lived or died, so long as he wasn't inconvenienced by it and he still got his dinner on time. Life in the Everson home unequivocally revolved around Charles like the Earth revolves around the Sun.

In stark contrast, I was the center of Carlisle's concern and attention and that was a phenomenon that was foreign to me. He willingly set aside the things he was doing to take care of me; he called out to take me to see Mr. Castellano and this morning he scraped his morning routine when I was sick. That was something my ex-husband would never have done.

In spite of my earlier misery, I took full notice of his tenderness and care; the way he prepared ginger ale and toast for me and then insisted that I eat because it was in the best interest of my good health. He could have dismissed me after he gave me the medicine and simply sent me back to my bed, but he didn't; instead, he escorted me to my room and tucked me lovingly into bed with kind words and a kiss. Carlisle made me feel wanted and loved; I was more precious than gold or diamonds in his sight.

My grandmother's voice drifted into my remembering, and I could hear her singing the little praise song she always murmured to herself as she worked:

I was a little bird with a broken wing

In too much pain to fly and much too sad to sing

I lay there in the dust waiting for the end

You saw me laying there and kindly took me in.

You gently picked me up, and bound my broken wing

You showered me with love and thought my heart to sing

Now I can fly again, to the heavens I can sore

I belong to you, Lord, for now and evermore

I'd always admired the little song, I was sure she composed it herself because I'd never found it in any book, on recordings, or on the internet. Grandmother was a deeply religious woman, and I knew that the song was about the love of God and the power it had to heal the brokenness within us. The song however seemed strangely poignant with respect to Carlisle and I. Charles broke my wings. He stole my confidence and self-esteem and I was in too much pain to fly. He robed me of joy and love and I was much too sad to sing. But Carlisle bound up my brokenness with his kindness and love. He brought joy back to my life and taught my heart to sing again. He gave me encouragement that served to build me up; I was learning to fly again under Carlisle's tender ministrations.

Tears streamed down my face as I hauled back the bed covers and sat up. These were not tears of sorrow … no, these tears were tears of joy and gratitude for the love that I had found. Every Thanksgiving, I stood with my girls around the Newton's table and I gave thanks for my friends and for my three amazing daughters, but this year … I was also thankful for Carlisle coming into my life.

Silently, I crept across the darkened room to the door and opened it; laughter and the sound of conversation drifted up along with the mouthwatering aromas from downstairs. I slipped across the hall the bathroom; I no longer wished to throw up and my head wasn't pounding like a jackhammer anymore. After taking care of my immediate needs, I looked at myself in the mirror; as Jess would say, I was a hot mess. I turned on the sink and found a washcloth so I could wash my face.

"Esme," Carlisle's warm yet concerned voice called from beyond the door, "I heard you get up, are you alright?"

"I'm much better," I replied through the closed door. "I'll be out in a minute."

When I finally opened the bathroom door, Carlisle was waiting in the hall. He appraised me with his carefully trained medical eye. I felt the unyielding weight of his scrutiny, but it was tempered with an equally unyielding affection. I knew that I would never be afraid of this man because he would never give me cause to be afraid.

"How's your head," he asked. "Rate your pain on a scale of zero to ten, with zero being no pain and ten being the worst pain you've ever had." It was a very clinical question rendered in his warm yet professional 'doctor's voice'.

I sighed as I considered this; I still had a slight headache, but it was more annoying than debilitating. "When I got up this morning, I'd say it was an eight. When you came in and gave me the Tylenol it was a four and a half or a five. I'm still not pain free, but I'm down to a one and a half … if you start playing the bongos and singing karaoke, then maybe a two."

He nodded and seemed impressed. "You're more coherent than you were earlier and your sense of humor is back," he agreed and I saw a faint smile on his lips, "that's always a good sign. How about your nausea?"

"That's a lot better too, but …"

"But," he insisted firmly as his left eyebrow shot up.

"But, I'm not sure I want to gorge myself on holiday fare," I replied honestly. "I think I should take it easy at the table."

A broad smile replaced the faint guarded one he had moments earlier and he folded me into his arms. "I'm glad you're feeling better, love," he whispered into my hair, "I was very worried about you."

I returned his embrace, wrapping my arms around him and snuggling against his chest. "Am I still confined to isolation Doctor?" I muttered into the folds of his shirt.

With my left ear pressed against his chest, I could hear the rich chuckle reverberated through him. The sound of his laughter combined with the steady thumping of his heart produced a celestial music that I never wanted to stop listening to. Unfortunately he chose that moment to release me, hold me out at arm's length and appraise me again.

"I don't suppose it would be fair to keep you locked away for the whole day," he spoke as he regarded me. "You may dress and come down stairs … BUT … If your headache returns or you start to feel sick, its back to bed with you. Do I make myself clear?"

I wanted to at least appear serious, but the grin that took over my face made the impossible. "Yes Doctor, I understand."

0o0o0o0o0o

Aro's formal dining room was, in a word, massive. The large ornately carved mahogany dinner table had been moved from its central location in the room so that the equally large kitchen table could fit in the room as well. This was the only solution to accommodate Aro's family plus twelve guests. The main table was already tastefully dressed for the holiday with a rich burgundy table cloth, candles in harvest tones, and an amazing yet understated centerpiece. The kitchen table looked plain by comparison and I was determined to remedy that, if I could. I felt I needed to make some sort of contribution after sleeping most of the day.

"Sulpicia, do you have another nice table cloth for the extra table?" I asked her as she checked whatever was baking in the oven.

She regarded me thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled at me before turning to her daughter and rattling off something in Italian. The girl scurried off, returning a few minutes later with a second lovely table cloth … it was a near identical twin to the one already on the master table.

After spreading the cloth, the kitchen table looked more like it belonged in the grand formal dining room, but it was still missing something. I began wandering the house looking for decor items and soon discovered that Sulpicia liked to decorate with candles and candle holders, of all types and sizes, as well as a rich array of other interesting baubles. As I wandered into the den on my search for items to dress the table with, I found Aro relaxing in front of the fire with a book open in his lap.

"Mia cara," he greeted me warmly, "you are feeling better?"

"Yes, much better, thank you."

"I am sorry about last night," he apologized sadly, "I did not mean to get you drunk. I only intended to give you enough Cognac to relax you so that you could sleep well."

"I know, its ok." I accepted his apology because I knew he actually meant it. "Uhm, do you mind if I move thing in the house … I mean to borrow candles and things to dress the extra table."

"Be my guest," he made a wide sweeping gesture with his hand, "take whatever you like."

By the time I finished arranging the candles and other appropriate odds and ends I found as I wandered through the house, Jane arrived with a stack of place mats, chargers and dinner plates.

"Mom said to bring these to you," she said as she set down the load. "Alec is coming with the silver ware and the rest of the place settings."

"Thank you," I replied as I began laying out the place mats.

"It looks great by the way," she nodded approvingly as she spoke, "I wasn't expecting the … you know … the 'kids table' to look quite so elegant."

"You are young men and young women, Jane," I insisted, "not 'kids' and you should be treated as such."

"Thanks Ms. Esme," she answered and then she cocked her head towards the kitchen, "I'd better go, mom's fussing over something and I should see if Mrs. Jessica needs a translator." She left the room, but only to pop back in again instantly, "almost forgot, here," she set a box of matches on the end table, "for the candles."

As promised, Alec came along shortly after Jane left carrying the reminder of the place settings in a large box. He didn't say much as he put the box down, Jane struck me as the most outgoing of the pair. Poor Alec fled the room in a hurry, as if he expected me to find some task for him to do. I found myself giggling as I went back to work setting the table. When my mirth subsided, I began to hum absently; it wasn't until Carlisle walked into the room that I became aware of what tune I was humming … it was the melody to my Grandmother's Little Bird song. I instantly stopped and the room fell back into silence.

"No, love, please don't stop on my account," he insisted quietly, "You have such a lovely voice, and that was a beautiful piece of music … but I don't recognize it."

"It's a folk song my Grandma used to sing," I dismissed. I was very embarrassed as I never hummed or sang where others could hear me. "I'm not surprised you don't recognize it … God only knows how old it is."

"Are there lyrics to it," he asked as he picked up the box of matches.

"Yes," I replied, "a few."

"Will you teach them to me," he continued his casual inquiry as he lit the candles on the master table. "I'm rather fond of very old folk songs."

"Yes, I will … but not today." I answered as a twin tendrils of sadness and joy wrapped themselves around my heart; sadness as I thought of Grandma Platt who was gone on now and joy as I pondered the love of the man standing in the room with me.

"Whenever you're ready, Esme," He whispered as he came to stand behind me. He planted a kiss on the top of my head and repeated, "Whenever you're ready."

0o0o0o0o0o0

We all stood around the tables in the Veracini dining room, hands clasped and heads down, as Aro intoned the Thanksgiving blessing. His beautiful accent and the reverent yet eloquent way in which he spoke lent certain solemnness to the occasion. I felt as if I was back in church with my parents. When he ended the prayer I joined in the chorus of Amen that rose up in the room.

We were about to sit, when Jessica decided to interject something, "Uhm, Aro … I know that this is your house and your table, but there is something that our family does at Thanksgiving … after the blessing is said."

"Today my house is your house and my table is your table," Aro insisted. "Feel free to uphold whatever traditions you keep around your Thanksgiving table … and we will partake of them as well, if you do not mind."

"Well, it's simple really," Jessica began nervously. "After the blessing, everyone has to say at least one thing that they are thankful for. It can be anything from a good grade at school to … having a warm place to shelter from a blizzard … anything so long as you're truly thankful for it."

"Enumerating the blessings in one's life," Aro considered the suggestion thoughtfully. "I like this tradition of yours Jessica. Please allow me to go first.

"I am thankful to have my family, whom I love, my old friends and my new friends, whom I cherish … all here with me today … gathered around this table to share good food and good fellowship."

The floor passed from person to person around the room. I was surprised at some of the things the young people admitted to being thankful for. I expected frivolity from them, but was pleased when they were thoughtful and sincere. Jessica was seated to my right and I startled when she nudged me, it was my turn. I did this every year, so why was I suddenly nervous.

"I am thankful for my three wonderful daughters," I began slowly. "They are truly a blessing in my life. I am thankful for the love and support of all my dear friends; I couldn't make it in this world without all of you. I am also thankful for the hospitality shown to us by Aro and his family; you opened you doors to us during our time of need and made us feel welcome. And lastly," I paused and looked to my left where Carlisle was standing … I looked directly into the open azure sky that existed in his eyes "I'm thank for you, Carlisle; for the joy and love that you have brought back into my life. I was a little bird, with a broken wing …" That was a much as I could manage to say, if I spoke any more my voice would betray me and I would dissolve into tears at Aro's table.

Carlisle wrapped his arm around me and held me for a few seconds. "You're a hard act to follow, my love," he joked, "remind me to go before you next time." The room erupted in giggles.

He let me go as he began to speak, "I am thankful for the three young men that I am privileged to call my sons. Life has been a challenge for us, and I haven't always been the best father I could be, but my life wouldn't be complete without you. I am also thankful for my friends," I noticed him look directly at Aro and Sulpicia, "my old friends who were there for me in the dark times," then he turned to Mike and Jessica, "and I am thankful for my new friends and all the support that they provide." Then he turned to me, lifted my chin with his finger, and spoke to me as if no one but the two of us were present in the room. "And I am thankful for you, Esme. You aren't the only one who has known brokenness, my love; when Rebecca died, I consigned my life to an empty painful void where love and joy did not exist. Then you came along, with your smile and your laughter … and rescued me from that empty void. If I live a thousand years, I still wouldn't be able to find words enough to express my love for you or how truly thankful I am that you came into my life."

The room fell briefly into silence before Aro came to everyone's rescue, "I believe that calls for a toast," he picked up his wine glass and raised it in the air, "To all the things we hold most dear and are truly thankful for on this, the day of giving thanks: friends and family, food and fellowship, refuge from the storms that rage around us, and of course … to love."

As everyone in the room raised their glasses to Aro's toast, the lights flickered on and off three times before going out completely. With the exception of the candles that illuminated the dining room, the the house was plunged into darkness.

"Well, this is an interesting development," Aro commented as he took his seat. "The house is warm and the food is hot, let us eat before both of them grow cold. We can worry about the power situation later."

AN: Yes, more stuff happens at the holiday table … you'll just have to wait and see.

The poem is one that I wrote a while back and it appears in Chapter 20 of another story I'm in progress on, The Colony. Typically Blue is not a poet, but I do have my moments.