1921
Carlisle
I caught Esme's scent as I neared the house, and inhaled it happily. It was slightly embarassing just how much she had been on my mind recently, even at the hospital, where I should have been concentrating on my work, my thoughts always drifted back to her. Just yesterday I had been in the middle of an important surgery when suddenly Esme had popped into my mind, her sweet shy smile, and the taste of her soft gentle lips on mine. I had nearly cut the patient's artery I was so distracted. The head of surgery had given me a stern lecture afterwards, but it was nothing compared to the lecture I had given myself. But still I couldn't help myself.
She loves me. It had been a two weeks since she had first told me and I still struggled to comprehend it was true.
Her scent was drifting towards me from our backyard. We didn't have anything in the way of planted flowers, just unkempt grass and wild flowers opening up onto the forest – it was like an untamed meadow. I had never given it a second thought before today. It wasn't like either Edward or I had cared enough to do something as laborious as mow it. Gardening was hardly an interest for either of us.
I wonder if Esme likes gardening? There was so much I still didn't know about her, but finding out everything, and anything, I could was quickly becoming my newest hobby. She mesmerized me. Just little things, like the way she crossed her legs daintily, or the way her face screwed up when she was confused.
I couldn't help but stare at her for a second or two as I arrived on the fringes of the unruly meadow that was our backyard. She was just so beautiful. She was sat down in the grass. Her caramel curls were pushed wildly to one side, her back bent as she concentrated on the piece of paper in her hand, a pen I recognized from my office in her other hand. The long grass and wild flowers framed her form – it looked like a scene from an idyllic painting.
She looked up happily then, a wide smile adorning her face as she spotted me.
"Carlisle," she breathed. How I adored the way she said my name. The way her love for me caressed it, as though I had made her the happiest women alive simply by coming home. Could she truly feel that way? I had never felt so adored before. What had I done to deserve adoration? Especially from her?
I smiled back at her, and pulled one of the flowers off of the plant beside me. Quickly, I moved to sit beside her, flattening the grass under my weight. I offered her the flower, and she accepted it with a shy smile. If she had still been human I imagine she would have been blushing, the way she had when I first met her at the hospital. She fingered the flower gently, showing she had made amazing achievements in controlling her strength, as not a petal came off.
"What are you doing?" I asked curiously, as I wrapped my arm around her waist, looking at the piece of paper in her hand. It appeared to be one of Edward's blank music sheets, upon which she had begun a sketch of our tree line over the straight lines that were printed on the page.
"I was bored and I wanted to draw, but I couldn't find any paper in the house aside from your work. So Edward offered me a piece of this before he left for school this morning." She shrugged gently, as though to suggest it was no big deal to her. I instantly decided I would buy her some proper paper and other art supplies as soon as possible. Perhaps I can go after my shift tomorrow, it's due to finish earlier than last nights, so Edward will be here to keep her company. Much as I hated the idea of being separated from her any longer than necessary, it would be worth it to make her happy.
She likes to draw. I added this new fact to my growing list. I hoped to one day know everything there was to know about her. Each time I added a new item to my list, my fascination grew. Each new observation led to a million new questions. Did she draw as a child? What did she like to draw the most? Landscapes? Or was it just that that was all there was around her when she began?
"And I borrowed a pen," she added quickly. Does she honestly think that'd bother me? I hated how she felt the need to placate me sometimes, as if I would snap at her over something as trivial as a pen. But I knew it was not her fault, and that only time and patience could prove to her that I was not like him.
"That's fine." I told her. "And that's a very nice sketch." She smiled gently, but in a way that suggested she didn't believe the sincerity of my words. I knew it would be a long journey until she fully got her self-esteem back, and not just over small things like a sketch, but I was determined to help her every step of the way.
She placed the piece of paper down in the grass, using the pen to weigh it down.
"What can I say, I like trees," she told me playfully. It made me joyous that she could be so comfortable around me at times. That she could smile and joke in a way that reminded me of the sixteen-year-old girl who hid up a tree with her sister so that they could hide from their mother and her sink of dirty dishes.
"Really? I didn't know that," I replied in mock surprise. She smiled fondly at me. "I had patient once who loved to climb trees, not so sure she loved them after she fell out of one though."
"If she had you as a doctor, I'm sure she was more than happy with the outcome," she retorted back. Her delicate hand reached out to clasp my own. "I love you," she whispered softly.
"And I love you," I whispered back passionately. She let go of my hand and placed both arms around my neck, as I placed my spare hand on her waist. She pulled my head down towards her. For one second of delicious anticipation her lips hovered before mine, then our lips finally sealed themselves together. Then there was nothing in this world but her, the feel of her lips and the narcotic scent of roses and jasmine that surrounded me.
"I've been wanting to do that all night," she admitted shyly as our lips separated.
"Me too," I admitted. To the point where I'm becoming a danger to my patients.
"You know, I must have climbed that tree hundred of times as a child and not fallen. But the one time I could have done with not falling … I end up with a broken leg. Not that I'm complaining, since it brought me to you," she murmured the last part against my chest, as she snuggled into it, and I held her close. I had her, and she had me, and that was all that mattered now – not the how, and what had happened beforehand.
"What else did you do as a child?" I asked gently, intrigued, as always, to find out all there was to know about her. She screwed her face up, concentrating. I knew she was struggling to remember her human life. My own, aside from the odd blurry memory, was nothing more than the feeling of condemnation, and the deadly cackle of fire combined with a lingering feeling of fear. But I hoped to encourage her to remember the happier moments of her human life, so it would be these that were most poignant in her memory, in place of all she had suffered since I left her behind a decade ago.
"I used to cloud gaze in our backyard," she told me reminiscently. She collapsed backwards into the grass. With a smile, I lay down to the left of her. My right hand searched for her left one, and my heart swelled with happiness when I found it and she gave a little contended sigh.
"What do you see?" she asked. I turned my attention to the sky. It was only partially cloudy today, but for the moment a fairly large cloud was blocking the sun. Though I knew it was slightly risky, we were miles away from Ashland, and we would hear any incoming humans well before they could possibly catch a glimpse of us. It was worth the risk to lay here like this with Esme.
"You see that one there, Carlisle, the one that looks like a cow?" she asked me excitedly, pointing at the sky. Her excitement was incredibly gratifying for me. I peered at the cloud she was pointing at. It simply looked like a cloud to me. "Or that one," she began animatedly. "What do you think it looks like? To me it looks like … um like a … m …m" her words trailed off sadly. Panicked, I sat up as quickly as possible, so that I could look at her properly.
"Esme?" I questioned softly, trying to hide my confusion. We were having a perfectly nice moment, what has upset her? Was it something I did? Or something in the clouds? I began scanning the sky again, searching for the offending cloud, but I still could see nothing more than just plain old clouds.
Esme sat up next to me. "It looked like a mother holding a baby," she admitted miserably. Her shoulders began to shake as she started to sob, and she wiped at her eyes despite the fact that they would never produce tears again. I placed my arm around her gently, and pulled her close, kissing her forehead. I wished there was something I could do to help her, to take her pain away, but it was beyond my power.
"Carlisle," she whispered, after several minutes of silent sobbing into my shoulder while I rubbed her back comfortingly. She wasn't looking at me, but at her hand, which was nervously pulling up the grass nearest to it. "Will I … will I ever be able to …" she trailed off miserably, but I knew what she had wanted to ask. I wished with all my heart I had a different answer to give to her.
"Our kind can't have children," I told her gently. "I'm sorry."
She nodded solemnly. "I thought as much," she admitted dejectedly. "But I still had to ask. So we … we could never have children?" I shook my head sadly. I saw in my mind's eye, for just a moment, a small blond boy and a young smiling girl with caramel curls - miniature versions of Esme and me. But I shook my head to clear the vision. It could never happen. But the fact that Esme would think about, not just having another child, but having our child, it meant more to me than I could say. But alas, it would never happen, no matter how much we both wished for it. Up until now I had never given much thought to the fact that vampires are infertile. After all, if we wished to create a new one of us, we simply changed a human. But now it felt like I had lost something, even though I had never thought to mourn for it before Esme had arrived in my life and turned everything upside down.
"I'm sorry. I've ruined our nice morning," she said apologetically.
"There's no need to be sorry, love. It's good for us to talk about these things. Never be afraid to talk to me, Esme." I hoped she would hear the sincerity in my words.
"So what did you see?" she asked me. It was an obvious attempt to change topics, but I wasn't going to say anything. If she wished to talk to me about William, then I would listen as soon as she was ready. I didn't, however, understand her question.
"See what?"
"In the clouds. What did you see?" I looked up at the sky again, hoping to be struck with some sort of enlightenment that could provide me with an intelligent, witty answer. But no such luck, they still looked like clouds to me. Or perhaps sheep.
"Looks like lots of sheep to me," I told her. Wait, that's my intelligent, witty answer?
Esme's face screwed up in confusion. She's probably wondering whatever happened to the smart, refined Dr. Cullen.
"What are sheep?" she asked.
"You don't know what sheep are?" I asked incredulously, she shook her head. "Didn't you keep any on the farm?" She paused for a moment, and then shook her head again.
"They're farm animals. You get loads of them in the British countryside. They're really woolly, which sort of makes them look like clouds. But with legs. And a head." I stopped talking, realizing I was making a prize idiot out of myself. Esme giggled. The sound of that happy giggle was well worth making a fool out of myself.
"Can you draw me one?" she asked, passing me the music paper and the pen. Ah, that could be a problem. Drawing was not one of my strong points. Ask me to perform a technical surgery, and my hands could perform the task with precision and accuracy. Give those same hands a pen and some paper and ask them to draw however, and they failed me miserably. I knew a lot about art and its history. Had studied it at university, and had gather together quite an impressive collection over the centuries. But I was, without a doubt, an enjoyer of art, not a creator.
I flipped the piece of paper over, so as not to ruin Esme's sketch. Deciding to not even attempt a proper sketch, I drew a standard symmetrical cloud, added four stick legs, and a slightly too small blob for a head. I couldn't fit the dots for the eyes and nose, and the line for the mouth, inside the head properly, so it ended up all squashed up. I imagine the children Esme used to teach could have done a better job. Peering over my shoulder, Esme giggled again. Definitely worth making a fool out of myself.
"I never said I could draw," I said, half defensive, half joking. She gasped in pretend shock.
"And here I was thinking you were perfect in every way. Perhaps you should stick with medicine, Dr. Cullen," she told me with mock seriousness. The effect was somewhat ruined by the huge smile on her face. When she smiled widely like that she had dimples. They were simply adorable. Without thinking about it, I leaned in and kissed one of them. She looked at me questioningly, but her smile became even more amused, and her dimples deepened.
"Sorry, just when you smile like that, you have dimples." And I'm an idiot.
I waited for her to say something, but instead she leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose.
"You have a cute button nose," she informed me, tapping the spot she just kissed with her finger. "It's my fourth favorite part of your face."
"Only fourth?"
"Well, third is your eyes, but it would be weird if I kissed those." Immediately, I closed my eyelids hopefully, and I felt her lips ghost across both of them. Then I felt her lips skim across mine, before she kissed me again, and once more the rest of the world ceased to exist. She pulled away, to soon for my liking, but I let her decide, scared to push anything on her.
"Your lips are second," she told me.
"So what's first?" I asked curiously, I genuinely had no idea what her first choice would be. She smiled at me.
"The fact that it's your face." I kissed her this time, as though the mere act could wash away the decade of pain she had suffered in my absence.
"I'm sorry," I murmured. I don't think she realized how true that was.
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. All that matters is we're here now. Together."
"Forever," I promised, and I kissed her again.
Her attention turned back towards the sky. "Look," she exclaimed excitedly, pointing skywards once more, "isn't it just perfect timing?" I squinted at the clouds, trying to see what she did. Nope, nothing more still than just clouds. "Can't you see it?" she asked, sounding slightly worried. I concentrated even more, willing myself to see what she did.
"To be honest, darling, it looks like a cloud to me," I admitted.
"Look closely. What do you see?"
"Um … a legless, headless sheep?" I joked, hoping my uselessness hadn't upset her. Thankfully, she giggled slightly.
"I thought it looked more like a love heart," she admitted softly. Her spare hand that wasn't clutching mine had gone back to pulling up the grass again. She had an impressive pile growing beside her.
"Ah, then indeed, you are right. It's perfect," I told her. She smiled happily and snuggled further against my chest as I kissed her forehead gently.
I heard the recognizable sound of my son approaching, and caught his scent on the wind. Reluctantly, I removed my hands from around Esme's waist, and she shifted away so that there was a more proper distance between us. Of course, Edward had already probably seen more than he would have liked to in both our minds, but there was no need to make things even more uncomfortable for him. The change in my relationship with Esme had taken us all by surprise, though probably Edward least of all come to think of it.
Esme picked up the pen and paper and started sketching again. She hummed happily to herself. It was a tune I recognized, as Edward had played it on his piano last night at Esme's request. It was one of the happiest tunes I think I'd ever heard him play. Making me note yet another positive effect she was having on both our lives.
She has made us a proper family. The thought came from nowhere, but I knew it was true. Edward may have finally allowed me to call him my son, but we hadn't been a true family, not without Esme. She completed me, and maybe she could one day be the mother figure Edward was missing in his life.
The sound of the front door closing pulled me from my thoughts. I quickly swapped my attention to reviewing my latest cases at the hospital, but I feared it was a wasted effort. Chances are Edward had already heard my earlier thoughts.
"How's your sketch going, Esme?" my son called as he walked out the front door. I didn't miss that he hadn't greeted me, suggesting he had indeed heard my thoughts earlier.
Esme looked up and smiled sweetly at him. "Fine, thank you. And thank you again for the paper."
Edward had reached where the two of us sat now, and he shrugged. "It's just a piece of paper, Esme," he said dismissively. It was rather disconcerting for me being sat down on the floor and having to look up at my son who loomed over me. I noticed a small smile play at Edward's mouth as I thought that.
"I think I am finished for now," Esme announced. She stood up to leave, and so did I, glad to be standing now in the presence of my son. Edward was peering with interest at the back of the music sheet in Esme's hand. Oh uh, my sheep. He began to laugh in earnest then.
"So drawing is not my strong point," I said defensively. Esme smiled fondly and flipped the sheet over to look at my crudely drawn sheep.
"Esme was right, Carlisle, you really should stick to medicine," Edward teased.
"How about you do that. I'll stick to drawing, and Edward sticks to music," Esme said soothingly.
Edward snorted. "Well let's be honest, the last thing you'd want is either of us in the middle of a hospital."
"I think that sounds like a perfect plan, darling," I told Esme.
"I'm going to keep this," she murmured.
"The pair of you will never let me live this down for all of eternity, now will you?" I muttered.
"No," they both replied simultaneously. Darn sheep! However, as Esme laughed and Edward smiled crookedly, it was impossible to remain cross. My two family members where happy, who cared if it was at my expense?
"I was thinking we could go hunt, if you wished, Esme?" Edward asked. "Since Carlisle's not working tonight we could perhaps all go?" Esme nodded, then looked at me.
"That sounds like an excellent plan, Edward."
"I'll go get changed," Esme announced, and then she disappeared inside the house.
Edward, about earlier-
"Don't," Edward cut me off, the happy look slipped off his face "You know I love Esme, not the same way you do obviously, but still I … I just can't … not yet."
I understand.
"Anyway, I can't really have a serious conversation with you right now." The crooked smile was returning to his face. "Not since you a) just drew that sheep, and b) have flower petals in your hair." His smile was more of a smirk now.
I glared at my son as I quickly ruffled my hair with my right hand, and indeed several flower petals fell out. Huh, must have got there when I was lying down in the grass.
A thought occurred to me. "Edward?" I asked. "What do you see in the clouds?"
He squinted at the sky for a few seconds before replying. "They're just clouds, Carlisle." So it isn't just me then. Edward rolled his eyes in his signature gesture, and then he followed Esme back into the house. I smiled happily to myself before following the pair of them.
Who cares if I made a fool of myself? I did it in front of family. To be able to think the words 'my family' was an unbelievable treasure.
Slight fluff with a little bit of seriousness thrown in. Any thoughts? I'd love a review :)
Two quick points: 1) This story had been nominated for a 'Bring Me to Life' Award – The Passionate Women Award. I'd love it if you went over to www(dot)bringmetolifeawards(dot)weebly(dot)com and voted. Thank you.
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