Chapter Fifty-Two: The Doctor's Wife

Halifax, Nova Scotia, January 1922

Esme

There is a definite beauty, and certain regality about Georgian homes. The curves and the arches, the decorative moulding on the cornices, the symmetry, and the windows. Oh! The windows – the glorious, beautiful, twelve pane windows. They were the first things I got to and cleaned. When the car first pulled up in the overgrown grass in front of the house, I thought the four front windows were the most splendid I'd ever see, but through the arch at the end of the hall, the grand room had windows that were better. There were four in total, two – evenly spaced – on the back wall, and two – evenly spaced – on the right wall, either side of the white fireplace. The room was empty aside from a beautiful carpet I had purchased in the city, but I did plan to fill it, of course, I just wasn't ready yet. I spent a few days after we moved not touching anything in the house; I merely walked around and watched out the windows. The boys thought I was acting strange, they thought I'd snapped or something of the sort, as they watched with concerned expressions from the doorway, but I had my reasons. I wanted to see how the light flowed through the windows and into the rooms; I wanted to see how it filled the house, and how the house responded to it.

After a few days I started to get a feel for how the house responded in winter, and I came up with a fair idea as to how it would respond during the rest of the year, so that is when I began to clean. I wiped down all the walls with damp cloths, ordered paints to freshen it up, I scrubbed the plastered dental work with a horse hair toothbrush, I cleaned, sanded, and revarnished the wooden floors, I scrubbed the grime off the windows, I fixed doorhandles, and imagined uses for empty rooms. The boys worked hard, wiring the house, getting it connected to the town grid, and plumbing in the bathrooms I decided to convert. They took me shopping in town for some furniture, curtains, carpets, and anything I wanted, not to mention everything that I could imagine. The people walking down the streets gaped and stared at us, whispering to their companions, "Look! That's the new doctor! And that must be the doctor's wife."

I was universally known around Halifax, simply as 'The Doctor's Wife,' but I had no complaints.

In the few weeks that we had lived in our new house, we brought monumental change to the desolate old building, and we made it beautiful once again.

I loved our house so much that my favourite pastime was now to walk around it, taking in everything again, and again, and again, picturing it all once it was finished. Through the front doorway, and straight to the right, the stairs were now shining with their deep varnish, and complete lack of dust, just like the thin banister to the side. Two steps up, they began to turn to the left, and continued with the incline until the next floor emerged to the right. The platform that one would see first, was square, with two nice windows, and it branched off to the left into a hallway that led around to the bedrooms. Like the rest of the house, I'd sanded the wooden floors and coated them with varnish, so the deep and rich walnut gleamed. I had plans for a carpet, and armchairs to occupy the small room. The view of the long grass and driveway would be the perfect spot for me to sit and read, or paint, or daydream in the long hours when Carlisle was at work and I wanted to keep an eye out for his return. The hallway that branched off this room first led to the master, which had a small room adjoined that Carlisle insisted I use as a dressing room. Although I thought it a waste of space to dedicate an entire room to garments, he believed it to be a great idea, and so I relented and did it. Next there was the upstairs bathroom, Carlisle and Edward would get to plumbing that when they'd finished plumbing downstairs. For now, it merely held a solitary bath that was waiting to be hooked up. Right beside this bathroom was the final bedroom – Edward's. He fiercely insisted that he did not want a bed in his room, for he had no purpose for it, so I let him choose how to furnish his room (with my guidance of course). He was taking his role very seriously, and very slowly. I chuckled to myself remembering the day we three went furniture shopping, and momentarily lost Edward, for he'd left that particular store and gone to the music shop.

I blew the mess I was making out the open window, and went back to my furious scrubbing. On this particular day, down the hallway and in the master, bent over the windowsill, one would find me with sandpaper in hand, trying my darndest to make the wood of the sill nice and silky smooth. Although the window was open, the wind was null, so thankfully the wood dust I was creating was not blowing into our lovely bedroom. Although I loved every room in our house, and I was sure that this would occur in all houses we lived in, I felt that, no matter what house, the room I shared with Carlisle would always be one of my favourites.

This house – this room – was no exception. It was large, with a small fireplace, and walls I had painted sky blue. Carlisle knew how much I loved our old bed in Ashland, so he had surprised me a few days after we arrived with a new, and more beautiful bed for us to share. It was a white four-poster with the kind of wispy canopy that I loved, it was simple and understated, unlike the bed that sat in the guest room downstairs, with the kind of canopy that would make a Queen green with envy.

The floorboards were the same rich, beautiful wood, but a white carpet occupied most of the floor, because I was partial to rugs in bedrooms. Just like the simple, and elegant four-poster bed, our bedroom as a whole was not outlandish, or showy in any way, but it suited us perfectly.

Soon the wood beneath my fingers was smooth and ready to be varnished, so I wiped the dust off my fingers with an old rag, and straightened up. I smiled at the memories that started to flood through my mind as my eyes scanned through the room. Of course, mere weeks were not long enough to make a great deal of memories, but we had waisted no time in starting.

Wanting to tour the house once more, I very nearly skipped out of the room, down the hallway, to the staircase, and down onto the ground floor. The white light from the snowy day flooded through the window by the door, and lit up the main hallway.

The walls were once again white like they would have been in the house's heyday, and were now adorned with some of my favourite paintings that Carlisle had collected over the years. I stopped to admire each and every one as I walked down the hallway, smiling as I contemplated what Carlisle would have thought when they each caught his eye. The first door I came to was on the right wall, at the end of the stairs, and I called the room it opened up into 'The Front Room.' It was now home to Edward's piano, and I knew he adored the way that the winter light, so bright from the white clouds in the sky, streamed in and onto it.

The next door after that, which had small windows, and darker floors than the rest of the house, was in the process of being transformed into our main bathroom, so the floor was covered in abandoned plumbing gear, work would resume when they boys both arrived home. I rather surprised myself with the intrigue at which I watched them plan and work, so much so that they'd begun to teach me how they put the pipes in, and how they prevented it from leaking, and intricate details of that sort.

A large archway into the grand room was at the end of the hallway where it turned left. The light flooded into the empty room in a much more magnificent way than it spilled onto Edward's piano, and I was always filled with the urge to waltz into the middle and spin around with my arms outstretched in utter glee because of how beautiful our new home was. To the left, there was a small hole in the wall, where the boys and I had decided to put a doorway into the breakfast room that I'd reasoned would serve more purpose as a small library. We were also in the process of closing the doorway that led into that room from the kitchen.

When I left the grand room, I turned right in the hall, following it round, and walked passed the open door to the outdated kitchen I was still contemplating how to fix. Directly opposite the door to the kitchen was the door to the dining room, where an old oak table sat on it's lonesome, beside a worse for wear fireplace. The owners who abandoned the beautiful home had left the table behind, and I'd found it's complementary seats scattered throughout the dwelling in the most peculiar of places. They were broken and chipped and all but destroyed but I was committed to restoring them to their former glory – Carlisle had even brought me books on how. The next door along the wall in the hall was on the left, and opened to a bedroom designed for guests. Although I knew we'd never use it as such, I was in the process of decorating it anyway, especially with the grand bed I had found in Halifax, and Carlisle insisted that we buy it even though we'd all ready had one for our room, and Edward insistently said he'd rather not have one. So the bed, designed to be unused, sat in the middle of the downstairs bedroom.

At the end of the hall was a room nearly as large as the grand room, which I had decided we'd use as Carlisle's study. He was overjoyed at this, excited like a little boy, for finally he'd have enough room to house all of his books. He wouldn't have to select which ones to store in different locations; he'd have them all at arms reach. Sourcing enough bookshelves was an interesting predicament, but one that I left to him. I did however, make one request, I asked to help him shelve them all. He was a little befuddled, trying to discern my motives at first, but he agreed readily enough, and so many of our afternoons saw us covered in dust, pulling books from boxes and placing them methodically away. He seemed not to mind being covered in dust, whereas I couldn't stand it, but it was his room, so I did not say a word. I'm not convinced he ever figured out exactly why it was that I wanted to help him, but my reasons were simple – I wanted to know how he sorted his books. The sorting of a library says a great deal about a book lover, whose natural habitat is a library, and I wanted so desperately to be in on the secret.

I'm convinced I know the sorting better than Edward now - which I'm not ashamed to admit, I am thoroughly proud of.

As I continued down the hall, I was once again struck by the beauty of the house, but not for the rooms I had just been in. No, there was something more that I knew for certain I treasured the very most.

Behind the kitchen, and the soon to be library, opposite the unused guestroom, and sharing a wall with the study, was the singular most beautiful thing in the house.

I reached the end of the hallway, and rested my hands on the golden plated doorknobs of the double doors made of glass. I could not help the smile that spread across my face when I peered through the panes and into the conservatory. When we first arrived I had pulled out all of the weeds, so there was just dirt and stone paths, but Carlisle had made a habit of bringing home new plants everyday after work. He brought me countless types of ferns, roses, ornamental grasses, perennials, vines, and various types of shade bushes. Where he managed to get all of these things in the dead of winter? I'd no idea. The garden was young, but it was bursting with life, which looked even more beautiful against the stark white canvas of the outside snow.

Carlisle had even begun digging me a hole that he would make into a pond, and on one or two occasions I'd heard him murmuring about a small waterfall. I smiled at the thought; he nearly loved this renovating as much as I, although I did have a sneaking suspicion that he merely loved that this was making me happy.

We'd found a wooden outdoor seat on one of our trips into town; it was an unusual seat, almost as though the creator couldn't decide whether they wanted a park bench or an outdoor chaise lounge, so they decided to make both in one. It was my favourite place to sit and enjoy the silence of the house. We were far enough out of town that the hustle and bustle of the busy area didn't reach our ears and Edward only had mine and Carlisle's minds to listen to, (although he often wondered if it would be better to have the hustle and bustle to drown out our thoughts), our distance from the city also meant that we were closer to the forests. As usual, the most abundant animal for hunting was deer, but sometimes we would swim across to McNabs Island to hunt coyote. When we wanted better game we went for a longer run. There was a large forest south of Halifax, bordering Queens and Annapolis counties where a large number of deer, coyotes, and moose lived near the Kejimkujik Lake, and black bears hid in the thick vegetation. Our hunting adventures as of late had been interesting to say the least. Nearly a week before, I had been running toward Kejimkujik Lake at full speed when Edward effortlessly overtook me. He laughed with glee as he flew between the trees, and then, to top it all off, I looked to my side and there was Carlisle keeping up with me like it was no trouble at all! He explained to me later that he thought my newborn year was waning. Although, it hadn't been a year since I was changed, he said that the time frame was to be applied loosely, and was different for everyone. As he and Edward had begun to discuss variables that could be factored in to account for my nine month long newborn year, I drifted off to scrub some more cornices.

I noticed over the following days that both Edward and Carlisle seemed to hear things a fraction of a millisecond before me, and my eyesight seemed to be just as good as the both of theirs – but not better. I was suddenly the slowest of the family, but for some reason, there was not a surge of irrational uncontrollable passionate emotion that came with that knowledge, so I rejoiced. I was also, no longer stronger than Carlisle. He smiled and laughed a little when I pointed this out, and opened his arms for me to take a seat on his lap, "I must admit, I have noticed your strength fading for a short while now, our strength has been on par recently," he said, "But I'd say as of today, we have passed equilibrium, my dear. Most of your human blood is gone."

Should I have been afraid of this? That I was suddenly weaker than he? Perhaps with a past like mine I should have been… but I was not.

I shifted in my seat as darkness began to engulf the white scenery outside the glasshouse. I didn't need the aid of any light to see, but some human part of me wanted it there. So I stood from the wooden chaise, and added a flame to the lantern that sat upon it's ornate, wrought iron stand beside my chair. The flickering orange flame was a lovely addition to the already lovely night, it added colour to an otherwise black and white canvas. I sighed as I sat back down and smiled to myself, as I heard tyres on the grassy driveway. The boys had constructed a somewhat haphazard shed near the house, which they planned on turning into a nicer garage, but they weren'y one hundred percent sure how to. It was 'the boy's project' but I knew it was only a short matter of time before my assistance was required. It was an unusual, yet warming sensation to be such an integral, and needed part of a family.

The car sped down the driveway, and came to a stop near the shed, I listened as Carlisle hopped out and trudged over to open the doors. Something about his sluggish footsteps seemed off, they were slow and solemn. I wondered if he'd had a bad day, I wondered if he'd lost a lot of patients. I considered getting up and meeting him at the door, but decided against it when I recalled just how happy it always made him to find me in the 'room with the glass roof, where the stars would shine in my eyes,' he'd say.

I waited with nerves swimming in my stomach as I listened to him hop back in the car and park it in the shed. He closed the doors and sprinted to the house. He didn't call out when he opened the front door; instead, he silently flicked off the outdoor light, and kicked his boots off. This was most unusual.

"I'm in the conservatory!" I called out as pleasantly as I could manage while plagued with worry for him.

He didn't reply, but he slowly trudged down the hallway toward my favourite room. I regretted not meeting him at the door almost immediately after I made the decision not to, and even more so when he appeared behind the glass doors. His perfectly sculpted face was arranged in a distraught expression, the corners of his full lips were slightly downturned, his eyes were downcast, and had he been human, I was certain silent tears would have been streaming down his face. His shoulders were slumped, and he didn't meet my eyes as he opened the doors. He moved slowly, and there was an almost ashamed edge to his movements. A flicker of annoyance panged somewhere inside of me as I wished he'd stop blaming himself so harshly for every wrong turn in a strangers life as though he could have stopped it, but the annoyance was only small, for his unparalleled compassion was a reason that I adored him so.

He plodded over to where I was sitting, and I straightened up, before he slumped down on his knees on the ground. His hands fell on the seat beneath me, and I immediately covered them with my own.

"Carlisle?" I murmured, in my softest, most loving tone, "Love?"

His head whipped up, and his heartbroken eyes pierced mine. I could feel my heart fracturing into millions of tiny little pieces at the agony in his dark orbs, so I reached up to cradle his cheek.

He let out a deep breath, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask in my comfort for just a moment before his lids flashed open and he pulled away. My hand fell back to his.

"Carlisle?" I wondered again, wishing he would speak as my mind created thousands of reasons for his suffering – each far worse than the last.

He gazed in my eyes with raw anguish; his face was twisted and contorted with pain, making my heart ache. "I'm so sorry," he whispered in a broken voice, before his head fell on the wood beneath me, "I'm so sorry for what I've done. Please, I never meant to hurt you."


A.N. Hello! Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate... and all of you who don't! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, and favouriting. I really am so thankful for all of you, this story would not be here without you all!

I know this was a bit f a short chapter, and was mostly Esme and her house, but it would have bee too rushed had this and the next been combined together, so it's kind of like a two-parter (as will some of the following chapters be)
That was a bit of a sad ending wasn't it? I'm eager to hear what you think happened during Carlisle's day for such a thing to come out of his mouth! (And don't worry, the next chapter will be Carlisle's point of view of the events that led up to this!)

Now, I am happy to say that my finals are finished for the year! But I'm still keeping busy over summer with school and what not, so updates won't be AS frequent as I would like (I was hoping to get this story done before 2016!) but I'll not say it's impossible - it might still happen yet! These past few days have been blistering hot, the sea has turned a thousand shades of turquoise and I can barely bare to pull myself away from the cool water and blistering sand long enough to type words on the computer, so it's been a little hard for me to remember that the Cullen's are in the middle of winter!

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and hopefully the next will be up soon!

Much love x