Chapter 52:

Slightly Incredible


For all her success in preparing herself for the temptation of blood, Esme found herself in a startling state of panic.

In the instant she caught the truth of the scent, she felt herself being pushed harshly against the glass door that led outside from Carlisle's study. Her mind had entered that disturbing realm of blankness again. It was a familiar sensation, a separate cognitive world she entered only when blood was ruling the air around her. It was as terrifying as she remembered.

Her instinct could only focus on one thing: finding and drinking the human's blood she could smell.

"Run!" She could hear Carlisle ordering her in a muffled, distant voice. "Esme, for God's sake, run!" His desperation filled her chest with a burning terror, and the soles of her feet with flames of urgency. But for all the heat of panic, she was still frozen in place.

Suddenly, the back of Edward's bronze head appeared in front of her eyes as she felt the strength of two pairs of arms pushing and pulling her in different directions. She could hear dueling male voices in the room around her, whose words made not a speck of sense. Her eyes seemed to see everything in slow motion as the glass door was thrust open, and she was being dragged outside onto the porch. Whoever held her captive now twisted her arms with the effort to pull her along through the torrential rain towards the forest.

Esme's arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets, and the smooth lawn felt like sandpaper on the bottom of her feet. She thrashed and screamed wildly as the scent of blood grew stronger, a consuming force that made her eyes see red and her heart explode inside her chest. But under the haze of her reckless desire, she could make out that faint, defiant sparkle of resistance. She remembered the way Carlisle's voice had sounded when he held her on the floor that day she killed her first victim. She remembered the frightened blue eyes of the child she had knocked to the ground in her mindless frenzy. The last thing Esme wanted was to see those things again. Just the thought of it made her stomach queasy with the hardy weight of guilt.

She thrashed against her captor at the thought, loathe to keep going where danger surely would seek her out.

The voice she heard shouting in the midst of the rain belonged to Edward. He was the one who pulled her along. He was the one she was thoughtlessly resisting. She still could not understand his words, but the rough authority in his tone was somehow comforting. He was doing everything possible to keep her under control. Even though she could not even hear what he was saying to her, she was satisfied to hear that he was clearly admonishing her. She deserved nothing less.

The rain felt hard and unforgiving against her back as Edward pulled her roughly forward in the path he had chosen. She thought that soon the shadows of the forest would be hovering above them, but as the wetness began to overwhelm her feet and ankles, she realized she was being carried directly into the waters of Lake Cordial.

She knew what Edward was doing, but her body defied him still. She knew he wanted to protect her, but the part of her mind that could only think of the blood was still trying to fight him.

"Under the water, Esme!" he shouted over the thunder and rain. "Get under the water! I'm going with you, come on! We have to get you away from the scent!" His young face was so urgent, so desperate. Flecks of raindrops made his eyes squint, his wet hair drooping on his forehead and around his ears. He took her hands and rubbed his forehead forcefully against hers. "I'll be right here, just come under with me, and you'll be fine!"

She wanted to obey him. She wanted to, so dearly.

But all she could do was scream at him and push him away in protest. The scent was growing fainter now, and all she wanted was to go after it. She needed to follow it to the ends of the earth, to take it for her own.

"Esme! Dammit! Get under the water!" Edward cried, his frustration getting the better of him. Her instincts had fooled into thinking she should feel threatened by his anger, and it only made her want to resist him more.

She opened her mouth, and a loud wail of distress fled her throat, the scraping sensation of dire thirst forcing her into an immediate state of violence. Her arms suddenly became twice as strong, able to lift Edward's lanky form out of the water and across the surface. He landed with a heavy splash at least a dozen feet away, and as the rain poured on, she quickly lost sight of him. It was just enough time for her to flee the scene before he could follow.

The rain was so hard and Esme's thirst was so great that she could barely make out her path of escape. Her delirious thoughts were flying a mile a second; every decision she wanted to make barely made any sense when she tried to think it through, but she kept on moving in the same direction, toward deeper waters, toward the scent that called to her...

But the scent that now called to her was not the scent of the blood.

All her watery eyes could see was a wall of black and blue. Into the wall she immersed herself, into the scent that protected her from the terrors around her. She felt a circle of strength descend firmly around her body, a soothing voice overhead whispering words of nonsense that somehow assured her it would be all right.

She trusted the voice, and she trusted the arms that held her. Her breath cut short as she felt her head being pressed down gently until her chin touched the choppy waters of the lake. The voice murmured more unheard words, and the arms held her waist tighter. A sense of peace replaced the fear she felt as she let her head submerge.

A mild panic rose in Esme's chest as her eyes snapped closed and the air was cut off from her lungs. But in the heavy, frightening silence, the presence of her guardian assured her that everything would be fine.

By the will of a miracle, her struggling ceased, and she let herself sink slowly beneath the water, deeper and deeper...

Far beneath the surface of the lake, the pressure was uncomfortably harsh, but all Esme do was lie limply in the arms of the one who held her. She felt the cold, smooth cheek of another face press against hers, then a fantastically gentle touch so painfully close to her lips.

Her eyes shut tightly as the water pushed and pulled around her in unpredictable currents. She realized dimly that she was still sinking, and the currents grew calmer the deeper she sank. But her body was still confined to a mysterious embrace, locked to the body of another - a weight that pulled her steadily downward until she felt her knees land in the cool sludge at the bottom.

The silence was almost tranquil this deep down beneath the surface. Here it truly felt like nothing could harm her. As the haze of her thirst slowly wilted in her throat, Esme almost thought it would be nice to stay here forever and never go back to the land above.

She burrowed her face closer to the body that cradled hers, finding holding her breath to be even more effortless than it was before.

She did not know how long she remained there, buried beneath the cold, calm waters of the lake. She could distantly make out the sound of the storm far above her, the patter of raindrops as they landed on the waves. The surface of the lake was like a fine, glassy shield that kept out all temptations and dangers. Esme held tighter to the weight that held her down, never wanting to let go for fear that she would float helplessly to the top and be snatched by the claws of desire again.

Her mind began to clear slowly but surely the longer she kept away from the surface. The absence of air felt so strange, but without a breath to take in the tempting scent, her mind was gradually clearing. Her body tensed with sudden embarrassment as she realized what must have happened.

The arms that held her tightened gently, the grip of two capable hands curving in closer around her back.

She knew it was Carlisle who held her here at the bottom of the lake.

Esme's eyes opened apprehensively to take in the murky surroundings. Long, delicate weeds swayed around her like a fence of dull green flames. Tiny shimmering fish swerved away from her, hiding shyly behind the weeds. Oddly shaped rocks were scattered all across the muddy floor as if someone had tried to mark a primitive path beneath the lake. She had never seen a place like this before, a world beneath the water. It was cold, quiet, and enchanting.

Beneath her chin she could feel the soft fibers of Carlisle's shirt where her head rested on his shoulder. She carefully lifted her head back to find him staring fixedly at her, an unreadable look in his glossy amber eyes. Unthinkingly, she reached up to touch the side of his face, dragging her finger over the curve of his jaw, across his cheek, and over the bridge of his nose.

Sparkling flecks of algae and debris floated around him, getting caught in his hair and clinging to his sweater as he stared down at her. His blond hair flowed around his head in an ethereal halo of grayish gold in the water, and the chain that carried his cross pendent was floating blissfully between them, still looped loosely around his neck.

His eyes went down to follow the end of the necklace, at first looking confused then mildly sheepish as he reached up to catch it and tuck it back underneath his shirt. His gaze went immediately back to hers, unquestioning and unwavering.

How long did he plan to keep her down here?

Had she actually tried to kill a human and not remembered it? Had she done something horrible and not even realized? Something subconscious that she had blocked from her memory within the minute it happened?

Everything that had led up to this strange sinking beneath the lake was now very fuzzy to her. She began to panic, thinking that something more was keeping Carlisle from taking her back to the surface.

She was perfectly fine now. Couldn't he see that?

His eyes were wide and still, filled with such tenderness that it seemed the water itself was warmed from the look he was giving her.

She tilted her head, hoping to display her confusion without words. Her fingers lightly clutched his sleeve and gave a small tug to show him that she was conscious and ready to resurface. His eyes drifted up to the light overhead before looking back at her, suddenly realizing that it was no longer necessary to stay down here any longer.

A tiny part of her regretted telling him that she was ready to go back up. Secretly, she didn't want to leave. It was so peaceful down here, so quiet and still and...intimate.

Her hands clung tightly to his shoulders as he scooped up her body and pushed off from the bottom of the lake. Within seconds he had broken the surface, but both of them knew better than to gasp for air. Esme still held her breath out of fear that the scent of humans might be lingering close by.

She watched as Carlisle's head rose above the surface and he shook the droplets of water from his hair vigorously. Everything he did was so careful and gentle that just the sight of him shaking his head so roughly was jarring to her. The rain had calmed but it did not stop entirely, making his effort to dry off fairly useless.

Esme's nerves flared for a moment as Carlisle took in a long breath of the surrounding air. A look of distinct relief crossed his face, and she had a feeling that meant it was safe to breathe.

Still, she waited for his permission.

"The air is clean now," he whispered, his lips sinking slightly beneath the surface as he treaded water with her in his arms. "You can breathe."

Closing her eyes, Esme took in a deep, blissful breath. But just before she could exhale, she instantly began coughing up the water that had somehow made it into her lungs. Carlisle's hand gripped her shoulder reassuringly as she emptied the unpleasantly cold water from her throat.

"You're alright now," he murmured to her, rubbing her back to discourage her from sobbing. "You're alright." His hand weaved gently through her hair, and fastening his palm against the back of her head, he pushed her slowly down to lay her face against his shoulder again.

Only a vague memory of the intoxicating scent from before lingered now, she was relieved to find. The air around her was mostly clear now, thanks to the rain.

Carlisle glanced quickly around and Esme's eyes followed, taking in the surrounding waters that seemed to stretch out equal distance in all directions. At the place where Carlisle's eyes stopped, however, she could make out Edward's figure standing by the banks of the lake under the willows. He stepped closer to the water with a nod as Carlisle began to make his way towards the shore.

Esme's arms went protectively to her chest as Carlisle placed her carefully down on the wet grass. He knelt on one knee beside her, and Edward did the same on the other, both of them sopping wet and looking more concerned than she'd ever seen them.

She wished they would tell her all that had happened.

Esme shuddered with humiliation as she coughed up another mouthful of lake water onto her lap. Carlisle and Edward exchanged worried glances.

She wondered if they were hiding something from her.

Before she could inquire, Edward thrust a dead blue bird towards her chin. "Drink," he ordered softly. But it was already gone by the time he said the word.

Her thirst had just barely dimmed.

"Any better?"

She shook her head honestly. Only one glance from Carlisle sent Edward back up into the tree to snatch another pair of birds from the branches.

"Try these," he offered, snapping the tiny necks of the swallows he had brought down and placing them in her lap. She drained them both in seconds, but she was too embarrassed to ask for more.

"I don't believe it," she heard Edward whisper to Carlisle. "She didn't run after him..."

With her energy heightened from the new blood in her system, Esme's eyes snapped up in attention. "What—What are you talking about?"

Carlisle's eyes were proud as he leaned closer to her, holding her shoulder. "You did it, Esme," he said plainly. "You resisted."

She could scarcely believe her ears. "I didn't kill anyone," she marveled, repeating it beneath her breath in wonder. "I didn't kill anyone this time..."

It was too good to be true. Could they both be lying to her to spare her another meltdown?

Edward shook his head vehemently when he heard her thoughts. "You didn't harm anyone, Esme. It's true." His eyes were triumphant yet still perplexed, as if he, too, were amazed by her success.

Esme's eyes shot rapidly from Edward back to Carlisle. "You saved me," she stated, her voice still weak and watery.

"No, Esme," Carlisle countered gently. "You never once tried to go after the blood. You ran away. You came to me." He said his words slowly, letting them sink in as a smile of deepest wonder and pleasant disbelief spread across his lips. "You saved yourself."

-}0{-

For weeks after her second encounter with a passing human, Esme continually relived the moment Carlisle spoke those incredible words. She was not used to being her own hero, but now that she knew she had the power to resist on her own, she was growing more and more eager to make use of it out in the world.

Out of the goodness of his heart, Carlisle helped her to contain her newfound enthusiasm by assuring her that very soon they would be able to venture out towards town and see how close she could come while still keeping control of her bloodlust. The scent of one human alone was challenging enough, let alone the scent of a handful of humans at a time.

The constant rain outside was helpful in blocking out much of the growing scents from the nearby town. With the fragrance of blood muted down, Esme was able to be escorted into the forest. Every day Carlisle took her further and further south, nearing the populated town. Whenever she felt the scent was growing too strong, she asked him to take her back. But each day she made progress, and Carlisle was able to bring her a little closer...until finally one day they reached the end of the Chartercrest property.

For the first time ever since her transformation, Esme got to see more houses, more signs of life. Although she was only allowed to watch them from a distance, she could even see the silhouettes of tiny humans moving around in those houses, living their lives, oblivious to her prying eyes.

"You're so close, Esme," Carlisle whispered to her as they watched the town silently from the forest edge. "Look how close you are."

She smiled softly to herself, her heart swelling with pride at how far she had come.

Carlisle placed his hands on her shoulders as he walked up behind her. "One day soon you'll be able to join them again, just as I have."

She reached up over her shoulder to place her hand on his. "I can't believe it's finally happening." Her voice was weak with wonder.

She could hear him smiling when he spoke. "All it took was a little courage, knowing you could do something you thought was impossible."

"I guess I always knew deep down that it had to be possible," she admitted softly. "At least, I hoped it would be."

"Even the smallest hope can breed the strongest faith."

She closed her eyes at his comforting, inspirational words. Now she knew she not only had faith in Carlisle, but she had faith in herself. And that was something that could not be taken away.

After they had been exposed to the scent of humans, Carlisle always offered to take Esme hunting. She always accepted his offers, but she noticed with some curiosity that he never took advantage of the time for himself. There was plenty of hardy wildlife in the forests during the spring season, but Carlisle was not partaking in the feast at all.

Instead he watched her while she scampered about, killing everything she could get her hands on. While she had no aversion to his attentions, it was rather odd to her that he had taken on the role of an unnecessary chaperone whenever she hunted. He never once killed something for himself, never even took so much as a sip of whatever she was drinking from.

It was indeed very curious. But Esme never questioned it.

A strange pattern had emerged on Sunday mornings in the early spring. Moments after the sun had risen, Carlisle would conjure some mysterious excuse for being needed at the hospital, and he would leave Edward to tend to Esme at the house. The general amount of time taken before his return would prolong itself as the weeks progressed.

As if that were not strange enough, Carlisle's inclination to hunt was still steadily diminishing. Esme knew he had not been hunting while in her presence, but soon she began to wonder if he had been consuming blood at all. The gold of his eyes had deepened slowly but surely, until they were twin droplets of smoky bronze beneath his still healthy golden brows.

While the rain had its advantages, it did not favor well for Esme when she wanted to spend more time with Carlisle. With every day cloudier than the next, the chances lessened that Carlisle might have an excuse to stay home from his shift.

In a series of dismally stormy days, there came only one lucky morning where the sun was shining, dimly but dangerously for just a few hours before Carlisle had planned to leave. Esme made sure to catch a few moments with him while he paced anxiously before the windows, waiting for the clouds to roll in.

"You haven't had much time to hunt lately, have you?" she asked pityingly, hoping to lead him into some kind of explanation.

He paused and took a small, uncertain breath through his parted lips as he glanced back at her. "No."

"Well, maybe when you come back from the hospital later we can..." she fumbled foolishly through the offer, as she had feared she would. He was staring at her, and she was staring at her hands, playing cat's cradle with her own fingers as she waited for him to speak before she had to finish. Damn his politeness, for he would not say one blasted word until she completed a sentence. He thought he was interrupting.

Didn't he realize when a woman lingered in silence for more than two seconds it meant a man's interruption was desperately needed?

She looked up at him pleadingly from the doorway, surprised to see that his face was all but elated. One would think she had just offered to resurrect his own mother from the grave – he looked so indecently happy.

But just as quickly as it had appeared, that happiness melted away – first from his eyes, then from his lips, erasing the sparkles and dimples as it swept down his face.

"Oh, I..." He cast his gaze down, in an ironic struggle with his own wording as she waited for him to complete the thought. "I don't know if I..."

He was refusing her.

And it was a little like being punched in the stomach with an iron fist. Only it hurt more.

"It's all right." She felt herself saying the words, but they were nothing more than numb fuzz on the tip of her tongue. "You don't have the time. I understand."

"It's not that." He winced, weaving a frustrated set of fingers through his thick blond hair.

She leaned forward slightly and raised her eyebrows, all manner of clever body language encouraging him to continue explaining, but he seemed dumbstruck by the empty air, his eyes whirling about the room like a child on Christmas Eve who had just heard the clip-clop of reindeer hooves on the rooftop.

"Do you hear that?"

Like the scatter-minded fool she was, Esme almost strained to listen for deer on the roof.

But there were very curious sounds in the room – much softer than hooves and much further below the ceiling.

"Yes. A kind of...crackling sound," she confirmed, stepping closer to him as they looked about the room for the source of the noise.

At nearly the same exact moment, they both turned to face the same window as the sound suddenly grew sharper. With a light grunt of exertion, Carlisle thrust open the sealed window to reveal the remains of a bird's nest, tucked into the empty flower box. In the center of the carefully arranged twigs and weeds was a single sky blue robin's egg, and the egg was...shivering.

"Oh!" Esme uttered a squeak of delight, leaning further out the window to get a closer look.

"It's going to hatch," Carlisle whispered, his voice disconcertingly youthful with sheer wonder.

Sensing the rare opportunity to behave like a little girl again, Esme promptly hoisted herself onto the window sill so that her feet hung over the edge.

"Wh—"

It was plain that Carlisle had intended to discourage her from climbing up, but she had been slightly too quick for his catch. It was entirely accidental that his arm somehow wound itself snugly about her waist anyway.

She hadn't planned for that to happen, but she could not say it didn't please her.

Why had she climbed onto the window sill again?

Oh, the baby bird was hatching. Of course.

"Leave it alone." Edward's low but commanding voice was suddenly on Esme's other side. As Carlisle reached out with one innocent finger to prod the egg, Edward promptly smacked his hand away. "Come on, now! Just because you're a doctor doesn't mean you can fool around with it."

"I was just going to—"

"Let nature take its own bloody course for once, Carlisle."

"I was the one who heard it in the first place."

"I can't see!"

"Oh, will you two be quiet?"

It seemed Esme was the only one capable of putting their petty arguments to rest. This had turned into much more of an ordeal than it perhaps should have been. But something about the hatchling's delicate struggle was so miraculous, even more so in the eyes of a vampire. All Esme could think was how often a day they spent terrifying animals. To have one moment where the animal was free from the harm that they were cursed to impose was fairly exhilarating.

It was all twice as thrilling to Esme, being so intimate a witness to such a rare event. And perhaps having Carlisle's arm still locked around her waist didn't detract too much from that thrill. Still, they must have looked rather ridiculous, squished uncomfortably within the window frame, hovering over that single bird's egg, waiting with bated breath for the moment it would peek out of its shell.

Esme felt Edward's hand nudge her shoulder to the side as he lifted half his body to sit on the sill beside her.

"I don't think it likes us," he hissed.

"Hush."

Esme gripped his arm as the flimsy shell of the egg finally split, and a tiny head with an even tinier beak began pinching its way out into the world. Esme marveled, both at the spectacular sight and at the sound of Edward's swift gasp from behind her.

The doctor's hand tightened briefly around her waist as the bird's head broke free, its first soft chirps one of the most touching sounds she'd ever heard. Carlisle's gently bewildered laughter at the sight spurred a deep pang in Esme's heart. It was with great reluctance that she allowed him to unwind his arm from her waist, freeing his hand for further exploration. His tender fingers reached out to aid the newly hatched bird, carefully picking away small chips of the shell that stuck to its soggy feathers.

As could not be helped, Esme's gaze flitted back and forth between the baby bird and her blond beloved. The pure joy and hopeless curiosity in his smile, the utter enchantment swimming in his coffee-colored eyes, each little line that creased his cheeks and forehead as he chuckled was so inspiring yet so humiliatingly baffling to her, she was barely able to take it all in at once.

Inside she could feel her heart quivering at the sight, her lungs wilting and blooming with greater strength as she listened to the contented strain of his sweet masculine laughter mingling with that of his son's.

"Oh, my goodness," she murmured beneath her breath.

Carlisle's eyes raised to meet hers in jubilant confirmation, unaware that her exclamation was not intended for the smaller of miracles as he'd thought.

As if to break her from the embarrassing spell, Edward gently pushed Esme aside to gain closer access to the hatchling. "I want to touch it."

Esme turned her eyes skeptically to him. At least he hadn't been lying when he said he was bored beyond repair.

Apparently they were all desperate for some enchanting event – so desperate that the first bird of the season to hatch on their window constituted a family gathering.

Esme couldn't help but laugh with giddiness at it all.

It took both her and Edward a great amount of effort to get Carlisle to leave in time for his shift once the clouds rolled in. He was not happy about having to leave before he could see the bird use its wings for the first time, but Esme promised to tell him all about it once he returned.

A private smile crossed her lips as she watched him give the bird's tiny head one last prod of encouragement before he backed reluctantly away from the window. The bird's eyes blinked up longingly as if it was also sad to see him go. Esme empathized.

The one good thing that came from Carlisle leaving in the mornings was the ritual exchange of embraces that went on between them just before he left. Esme never felt they were more a family than they were during this brief part of the day.

Being part of a family was such a brilliant blessing. Every day the concept only fascinated her more. It was only the three of them, and however perfect that number was for a desperate heart, some part of Esme longed for more. More hearts to tend to, more personalities to appreciate, more beings to love and share a home with.

Later on that very same day, Edward came and asked her why she wanted these things, and she tried to explain to him her mysterious need.

"I just want to love," she told him simply. "Just think of how many people are out there in the world, how many of them don't have what we have. How many of them don't have anyone to love them."

Being the gentleman that he was, Edward took pity on Esme's slightly melancholy thoughts and decided to give her a new project for a healthy dose of distraction.

"You can love lots of things, Esme. Not just people," he said thoughtfully. "In fact, I have something I think could use your love."

He took her arm and lead her out of the house.

Not far along the edge of the property, nestled behind a barricade of foliage, there was an abandoned conservatory which had long ago belonged to the estate's previous owner. Ironically, the overgrowth of plants within the structure had allowed it to retain some element of life despite having suffered through ages of neglect. Even though its rounded glass walls were smeary and cracked, and its entrance was all but impossible to find, Esme could imagine how grand it had once looked, and how grand she could make it look again.

Edward showed her the many areas that needed fixing, making suggestions that she politely considered taking into account. He apologized for the hovering aroma of reptilian blood, but it had not bothered her nearly as much as it would have a few months prior.

She was doing impressively well with taming the newborn urges. Even Edward told her so. A compliment from Edward was the sun in an otherwise stormy day. Lately the boy's praise and encouragement was not given out as liberally as Carlisle's, and so it often meant an even greater deal to her.

Sundays were something to look forward to now, and when Carlisle departed the house in the morning, Edward would take Esme to the abandoned conservatory where she would sketch out her renovation plans meticulously, and he would humor her every whim.

Presently, however, they had jumped slightly ahead of themselves. One morning in early April saw them bickering over what kinds of flowers should be growing in the greenhouse when it was finished.

Edward had vehemently turned down Esme's suggestion of lilac bushes, saying they were far too clichéd for a place that was so out-of-the-ordinary.

"If only the Lotus flower was native to our sad little region," he lamented with a strange, devious sort of smile as he watched her organize a group of chipped clay pots.

"Lotus flower?"

He smiled amiably. "Yes, you know of it?"

"Of course I do. It's Asian isn't it?"

He only chuckled suspiciously.

"Why do I get the feeling there's a story behind this?" She knew he wanted her to ask, and as long as he was humoring her, she would humor him.

"You mean to say that our dear doctor hasn't told you the Lotus flower story?" Edward pretended to be shocked.

Esme's hand froze over the broken pottery, victim as always to the customary little jolt that caught her lungs at an unexpected mention of Carlisle.

"Why is that so outrageous?" she asked casually as she moved over to the wooden workbench.

"Because it's his absolute favorite story to tell. If Carlisle hasn't told you the Lotus flower story, you aren't really his friend," Edward pointed out smugly.

"Oh, how tragic." She pouted, playing along if only to mask her genuine disappointment. "You must tell me now, or I will never sleep at night."

He heaved a sigh of exasperation as if telling her were a chore. "Well, when Carlisle was still in Europe, one of the vampires he met offered to show him his home in India. If you can believe it, Carlisle was remotely adventurous back then, and he decided to accompany his friend. During his time there, they visited a harem where the Hindu women decided to 'adorn' him with Lotus blossoms." He raised one dark eyebrow in a purposefully cryptic expression.

Esme bristled at this bit of information, feeling something like irrational jealousy.

"Why?"

"They thought he was an avatar of the god Vishnu," he explained with a soft snicker of amusement.

As much as Esme wanted to believe that to be shocking, it really wasn't. She imagined Carlisle could have passed as a god in many cultures, even in the present day.

"Oh, good heavens," she sighed, attempting to busy herself with sharpening drawing pencils on the worktable. But more than part of what Edward had said bothered her beyond reason, and she simply could not ignore it any longer.

The question came out in an angry burst as she slammed down her small stack of sketchbooks on the table. "Did Carlisle really visit a harem?"

Edward laughed darkly, which only unsettled her more. "I've seen it firsthand through his head. I assure you, he did. His counterpart favored young women to feed upon, and so he collected his victims there. It was quite an...interesting place," he added with a smirk, and she shuddered. Clearly he just enjoyed torturing her. "But if it makes you feel any better, I suspect Carlisle was only forced into going."

"Hmph." Esme turned her head down as she hastily cleared the workbench, now quite aware why Carlisle had decided not to share the Lotus flower story with her.

"I thought it would have been rather hilarious to tease him about it by filling this place with Lotus flowers, you see," Edward sighed with mock-sadness, absently crushing some dead leaves between his fingertips.

"Well, it's quite a pity that we can't acquire any Lotus seeds in our 'sad little region' then, isn't it?" She gave him a gentle glare of disapproval.

He continued enthusiastically, as if he had not heard her. "We should have at least one Venus Flytrap, though. It's the closest to a vampire any plant has a hope in getting," he joked, earning a grudging fit of giggles from her.

Edward was far too good at making her laugh. Esme was aware that she amused him as well, for different reasons rather than being outright witty.

They worked well together now, as odd a pair as they had been at the beginning. It was awfully strange thinking back on how it had been before they had gotten to know each other. She could not do without the boy, now.

"I'm flattered you think so highly of me."

She bit her lip and gave him a shy grin. "Ah, Edward. Always so intrusive."

"I am terribly impolite, aren't I?" he chuckled, sweeping a web of thready green vines away from his head as he walked towards her, "And presumptuous... Yet something of a genius, I think."

She giggled and reached up to help him swipe away the bothersome foliage, fondly accusing him of being too tall.

He smirked and seated himself casually on the wooden tabletop beside her finished sketches.

"What are all of these flowers for?" he asked as he thumbed through a series of partly finished sketches.

She snatched them protectively out of his hands and held them against her chest. "That was just a study I did – the stages of a lily in bloom," she explained quietly.

He stared at her for a few seconds, looking dangerously close to laughter. She checked her thoughts, but finding nothing to induce such humor, she wrinkled her nose at him in displeasure.

"What now?"

"Nothing," he whispered with a smile and no shake of his head – both of which were signs that it was certainly not nothing.

She placed her hands on her hips, accidentally crinkling the papers she still held as she did so.

"You think I waste my time with these kinds of things, don't you?"

His mouth shied away from its grin. "Your artwork could never be a waste of time, Esme. I'm not just saying that to please you," he added sincerely, "I'm happy that you've found a way to occupy your time at all. I can't imagine what I would do without my music, and I know that you feel the same way about your art."

She bit her lip and placed the sketches carefully down on the table beside him, smiling hesitantly. "Then what, pray tell, is so amusing?"

His grin returned full force as he leaned back against the green glass. "I don't know. Everything."

It usually bothered her when Edward refused to be specific, but she let it slide this time. He had been immensely cooperative with her for the past few weeks, and more than willing to help while she dragged him around to gather resources for her little projects. She could leave him off the hook for a while so long as he was behaving, and he could have his fun, too.

Esme hummed absently, picking up her new tin of pencils from under the table and setting everything up just the way she liked it before she started her final sketches.

"I can't wait to see this place once you've finished with it," Edward said softly, gazing through her thoughts as she began sketching the skeleton of the interior window frames.

"Don't go getting your hopes up now," she warned lightheartedly, prodding his knee with the end of her pencil. "It's not as if we'll have the entire Grand Menagerie in here." He snorted as she continued, "And it may be the end of summer before I can make any real changes."

His clear yellow eyes sparkled like pineapple candy. "Ah yes, summer. That which celebrates hibernation for our poor doctor."

"Hibernation?" she repeated questioningly, her pencil tracing unsteadily through the last lines.

"I mean that he will be taking fewer house calls, working only at night, and likely cooped up inside the house for the entire day," Edward explained as he swatted absently at a small butterfly that had become attracted to his scent. "And you know how long the days are during the summer."

Suddenly Esme found herself in dire need of a protractor.

"Well, I'm sure he'll find something by which to occupy himself," she managed to say dismissively despite her tremulous voice.

"I have no doubts that he will. The question is, will you?"

She sent a weak glare at Edward where he leaned his head almost sleepily against the window.

"Why have you not yet told him, Esme?" His voice was soft and agonized, almost heartbroken.

A warm chill danced up her spine, and she hissed in defense.

"You promised not to say anything—"

"I haven't said one word," he countered calmly, knowing what her next warning would have been.

She breathed a silent sigh of relief and feigned frustration with her sketches. A long while passed where she assumed Edward was listening intently to the flurry of confused thoughts in her head.

He was not going to pressure her into speaking, but secretly (or perhaps not so secretly) she wanted him to keep talking about it. She wanted him to never stop speaking about it until she was forced to sing out her feelings, because that was the only way she would ever let Carlisle know.

"I can't tell him," she whispered under her breath, ducking her head away from Edward even though he had no advantage to reading her facial expressions. "He's so..."

About a thousand inappropriately flattering adjectives blurred through her mind, but Edward had picked out the only one he wanted to hear.

"Intimidating?" He practically choked on his own venom. "Is that seriously what you were going to say? Intimidating?" He laughed in disbelief, and she did not even need to turn around to know the exact look on his face. "We are still talking about Carlisle Cullen, aren't we?"

She blanched at the name and scribbled furiously on an empty page in her book.

"Esme, Carlisle is quite possibly the least intimidating person on the face of the planet." His tone had softened, but she could still hear the amused smile in his voice.

She ignored him, too embarrassed to turn around.

By the time Edward decided it was safe to speak again, all amusement was cast aside.

"You should trust me on this."

She closed her book, set down the blunt pencil, and looked up at him. His face was serious, almost studious, and there was a mysterious urgency in his eyes that made her nerves tingle with misplaced hope.

She was enlightened to something then, something she had not before considered.

Her mouth dropped open the slightest bit before she whispered desperately, "You've read his thoughts. Tell me you've read his thoughts and that he thinks well of me. Tell me!"

"Of course he thinks well of you." Edward's face was careful now. He was hiding something.

Edward, please. You know what I need to know. Tell me.

He stared at her for a long moment as though considering it, and in that moment Esme swore she could feel her own heart beating. But then he ever so slowly shook his head, with a meaningful look into her eyes. "That is not what I am here for, Esme."

She tore her eyes away as her heart sunk into the impairing syrup of sorrow.

Then I shall be in the dark forever.

Edward heaved a forceful sigh and told her she was being "awfully melodramatic." With an effortless hop off the worktable, he skidded out of her view, reminding her that she was due to start painting the windows of the house today.

She wanted to remind him that she never needed reminding, but he was already long gone.

There was a suspicious exchange of low male voices up at the house, and as always she strained to hear, but to no avail. Carlisle and Edward were experts at keeping their conversations private, much to her dismay. It was none of her business anyway.

With a sigh, Esme tucked her sketchbooks beneath one arm and started her way back up to the house at a slow pace to give them fair warning before walking in on them. She turned back to look at the conservatory for a good minute, making reminders to herself as to which windows would need replaced and which could settle for fixing. As soon as the voices fell silent, she hurried back to the house and threw open the back door, heaping her pile of books on the nearest chair before she waltzed up the stairs to change her stockings.

As she rummaged through her bureau, she could hear Edward already fussing over the white paint out in the front yard. She smiled to herself as she knotted her fine waves of hair up off her shoulders and tucked the stubborn wispy strands behind her ears. She slipped through the hallway, carefully avoiding bumping into Carlisle before she made it safely out the front door where Edward was waiting with a full can of white paint. He looked adorably clueless, staring up at the old black framed windows.

"You're going to paint all of the windows white?"

She made a face. "Well, it would look horrendous if we left half of them black, wouldn't you say?"

Edward cocked his head and blinked, taking in the whole façade of the house. "I sort of like them black."

Esme pursed her lips as she accepted the paint can from his limp hand. "The entire house will brighten up if just the windows are painted white. You'll see."

"I'm sure it will."

Her head immediately whipped around at the sound of Carlisle's voice, finding him just beside his son in the yard not far behind her. Edward met her eyes with a lazy, knowing smirk as Carlisle's smile broadened innocently, utterly unaware of the boy's expression.

They really were something to behold, standing beside each other. They were exactly the same height, only Edward's unruly hair made him an inch or so taller. But their handsomeness seemed to magnify off of each other when they were placed just so, together, and it almost made them each look twice as striking.

She might have lost her balance if she'd still been but a human woman.

Reading the nature of her thoughts, Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head down with a rich grin, while Carlisle continued to smile obliviously up at her.

With a tentative smile back at them, Esme shifted her stance and raised the wet paintbrush to the dry frame.

The bristles brushed.

Someone sighed.

A bird chirped.

Awkwardly, Esme veered her head around. Just as she'd worried, Carlisle was intensely watching her, and Edward was intensely watching Carlisle.

"Will you not watch me the entire time? It makes me uncomfortable." She'd directed the request to both of them, but only Carlisle seemed eager to respond favorably.

His eyes were faintly apologetic as he pushed his fingers through his blond hair and rested easily against the shallow wall that divided the veranda from the grass. "I'll just look at this tree then, shall I?" he said teasingly as he turned to face the opposite direction.

Edward snorted softly, but Esme returned to her work before she could catch his eye.

"I'm sorry, it's just that being watched for too long makes me rather nervous," she explained as she bent to dip her brush into the can of paint. Her eyes stole a glance at the back of his blond head where he leaned both elbows against the concrete railing. She watched as he shook his head, still staring out at the yard.

"I understand," he said with a tone that brought with it hints of gentle laughter.

In her peripheral, she saw Edward toss something over his shoulder and run back to retrieve it hastily. Thinking it better not to become distracted by his antics, she sighed and lifted her paintbrush.

"So how do you plan to reach the second story windows, Esme?" Edward asked with exaggerated curiosity.

A smirk quirked her lips as she sent back jokingly, "I'll stand on your shoulders, of course."

As could not be helped, her heart sprouted wings at the sound of Carlisle's contained chuckling.

"I'd need to grow quite a few more inches for that to work," Edward quipped from across the yard.

She raised her eyebrows and strained her neck to smile vivaciously at him. "Then you'd better start improving your diet."

Carlisle laughed quite jovially at her remark, and she had to allow herself just a few seconds to watch. Even from behind, laughter did beautiful things to him.

Edward glared good-naturedly up at her. "I'll see to that," he promised wittily. "In fact, I think I'll take a trip to the forest right now."

Her face grew rigid as she watched him retreat at a taunting pace. She swore he might have saluted her cheekily before he ran off into the trees. Even Carlisle looked utterly confused as he watched his son disappear suddenly from sight.

Esme frowned, returning to her painting with a slightly shakier hand. Her senses were alight with the tickling aroma of sweet citrus and incense and vanilla – the familiar tartness of Carlisle's scent wrapping itself warmly around her.

He breathed in deeply, and for a brief moment she expected him to say something. Anticipating inevitable interaction, she twisted at the waist to peer over her shoulder at him. Gripping her paintbrush a bit too tightly to try and steady herself, it snapped in half and dropped in two pieces to the ground. She gasped as the white paint that had looked so perfect on the window frame haphazardly splattered all over her fresh stockings.

Resisting the childish urge to stomp her foot, she glanced at Carlisle who still appeared lost in his own thoughts, facing in the opposite direction. Thinking she might be fast enough to snatch the stockings off in time before he looked around, she hastily plucked off both shoes and sat herself on the ledge of the window. She lifted her skirt with one hand and reached down to quickly peel the thin fabric of her stocking off one leg.

Carlisle chose possibly the worst time to let curiosity coax his head around. With her leg raised at an embarrassingly comical angle and one hand furiously tugging at the toe of her stocking, Esme imagined she must have been quite a sight. It was no surprise that his first instinct was to shield his eyes with one hand. She cringed, thinking of the gaping view he'd surely had of everything beneath her skirt.

"Esme! Oh, dear—what on earth?" he choked on the words as he turned away in a mild panic.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she squeaked in mortification as she managed to struggle free. "I got paint on my stockings!"

As soon as her legs were bare, she squished the offensive bundle of her stockings between her hands and tossed them aside, hoping to somehow pretend it never happened. She bit her lip in humiliation while all of her face felt on fire, and then she noticed his laughter.

Her mouth fell open in pleasant shock. He wasn't offended. He was...amused.

Hesitant to laugh along with him at first for fear that he might have been mocking her, she covered her lips with her hand until he cautiously turned to face her, and they both burst into helpless laughter.

Before she even realized she was moving towards him, she had seated herself beside him on the steps leading up to the veranda, still giggling uncontrollably and offering half-sincere apologies between breaths. "That is possibly the most ridiculous thing I've ever done," she whimpered into her hands.

He grinned, shaking his head as he regained his breath. "I was just very...surprised. That's all."

Self-consciously she tucked her skirt safely over her knees as she sat, and his eyes flickered warily at the sight.

"Esme, I promise you I won't ever look underneath your skirt again."

While laughter was a natural reaction to hearing Carlisle make such an outrageous comment, she had to think the words twice-over before understanding why they made her feel so terribly flush.

She didn't want him to make that promise.

Each charmed giggle caught awkwardly in her throat as she stared at his sparkling eyes, and it was almost painful how many unvoiced implications were fluttering through the air between them.

By the time her laughter had melted away completely, she was still staring, and his gaze dropped almost wonderingly to her bare legs.

In a breath-stealing instant, she watched as he reached out with one hand, and his fingers gently collided with the skin of her calf, exactly where they had once touched ten years ago.

And exactly as they had ten years ago, his fingertips sent a charge of chilling warmth all through her body from that one tiny space they touched.

Her eyes widened as they looked up to his face, purely stunned. And to stun her even further, he asked her in a hushed voice, "Do you know what's slightly incredible?"

If his remark had been implying the texture of her skin, she may have needed a second bite to the throat.

She tilted her head with coy, questioning eyes.

"If it weren't for this leg...you wouldn't be here right now."

His eyes blinked once then rose to strike hers with their untiringly affectionate glow. Smiling fondly down at her, he let his fingers brush gently away as she nodded absently in breathless agreement. "That is slightly incredible."


A/N:

So are we relieved that everything turned out okay for Esme? She's getting there, one step at a time!

You can read this chapter from Carlisle's POV in Behind Stained Glass, Chapter 31: A Different Kind of Touch.