Lemons continue from last chapter…
April 17th, 2023
Esme's POV
Tangled in sheets and blankets had always been my favourite place to be with my husband. And right now, being naked and curled up under the blanket on this couch, softly inhaling his scent, I was at peace. We made love hours into the night, and just before the sun was rising did we end our fun.
We curled up with the blanket and closed our eyes, relaxing in the quiet, stillness of the house. The comfort of one of Carlisle hands resting on my back, and my cheek pressed to his smooth chest, had lulled me into a near sleep state.
"You look so beautiful when you relax like that," Carlisle's voice made me smile and open my eyes, looking up at him. He was smiling down at me and I was blessed with him sealing our lips together.
"I never thought we'd do this on this couch again," I smiled fondly when he moved his lips to my forehead. He chuckled lightly,
"Better than the first time?" he asked, shifting slightly, and I felt his bare thigh that my body was nestled against, briefly graze the most sensitive spot between my legs. I bit my lip and buried my nose to his skin again.
"You ask such a question like they are comparable," I replied, pressing a wet kiss to his peck. He smiled goofily.
"I would say this one was better," he chuckled lightly, "No Edward to walk in, no work to go too," he added, "And I can do things to you now that were sinful then,"
I giggled, "Oh? Such as?" I inquired, and a smirk spread across his face. In half a second he was above me and I was in the spot he had been in. He hovered above me, his smirk growing, as a single hand snaked down my side, over my hips, and between my legs, pushing them apart gently.
"Like this," Carlisle said deviously. I exhaled, closing my eyes as two fingers slipped inside me. I bit back a moan as his fingers curled and slowly motioned inside me, making me squirm. He leaned down, running his tongue along my chest, all the way up to my lips, and bit my bottom lip in his teeth, then nipped down my throat. He wandered to the side and sunk his teeth into my scar, making me yelp; both in pain and pleasure.
"Carlisle," I moaned, and my mouth fell open as he kissed all the way down my body, and his mouth replaced his fingers. Feeble whimpers escape from between my lips as he tortured me, avoiding the one place I wanted him to touch me. "Car-…Carlisle," I gasped, my voice elevating in pitch. I was trying to keep my hand clutching the couch, or my hair, and attempting to control the bucking my hips wanted to do so badly.
I moaned loudly as he added his fingers back into the mix and when his tongue touched that spot, it quickly put me over the edge.
"Oh god!"
I threw my head back, my eyes rolling into my head, as the intense wave of pleasure coursed through my body, and my hands weaved tightly into his hair, not wanting him to stop. I could feel his satisfied smiled against me as I orgasmed, and he lifted his head when my writhing had ceased.
I looked down at him between my legs, breathless from his actions. Our eyes met for a moment before he crawled back up and sealed our lips together, kissing me hard, and his tongue tangled with mine. I could taste myself on his lip. I returned his kiss the same.
When our lips broke apart, he smiled softly, rubbing our noses together, making me giggle lightheartedly.
"I love you," he said, his voice low and soft. I smiled, reaching up to give him a gentle peck on the lips.
"Love you," I whispered softly. He brushed a messy lock from my face with a finger, smiling sweetly at me.
"As much as I want to, we can't stay forever," he sighed, crawling off me and nestling beside me. I snuggled up to his bare chest, enjoying a few more moments of peace.
"I know," I said quietly, "Just a few more minutes. I love being with you like this,"
OoO
Later that morning as we were driving towards the city, I was staring out the window at the passing trees, fiddling with the necklace in my fingers. My mind had been going places since we left the house.
Was the schoolhouse still there? How much had the area changed? I had never been back to the schoolhouse I taught at when I had first come to Ashland. It wasn't far from the cemetery were my baby was buried, but the previous time I had been there to see him with Carlisle, about a decade after I was changed, that had been our sole purpose. It hadn't been long since between my "death", and people might have recognized me.
As we drove along the number two that followed the shoreline of the town, I could see the boats sitting covered in the marina; for it was far to cold to have them out on the water yet. I was quiet as Carlisle drove us along the edge of town, taking note of everything that hadn't been there the last time. Every gas station, McDonalds, pizza place, dollar store, or auto parts place that we passed was a new thing for me in this town.
On the west end of town, just after the residential streets ended, Carlisle turned the car south down Sanborn Ave. We passed small, more rural homes that had bigger yards, small communities. It was only 2 miles down the road until we turned west again onto a road that had once been nameless in my time, but was now referred to as City Heights Rd.
I could see the old building at the end of the half mile road that was paved. It was obviously not upkept and looked untouched. I smiled. Well it is in the middle of the bush, and thankfully Ashland was never a violent city.
As Carlisle pulled up beside the old school. It wasn't big by any means, but large enough for the number of kids in the area at the time.
"I'm surprised there's no windows missing," I said as Carlisle shut off the car. He looked out the windshield, pursing his lips.
"It looked like it was an older population living out in this area… Though with the golf course being so close I'm surprised some teenagers haven't found their way out here," my husband added, "Otherwise, it looks like you were just here," he smiled, glancing at me before we both climbed out.
The outside was much like the farmhouse, traces of paint that were once there and still tried to cling to the hundred-some year-old wood. The windows were riddled with dirt to the point that they were fogged out completely.
The schools name that was once painted on the front above the doors, was almost gone. Only the odd letter here and there of what once spelled 'Lakeview School District No.3' were visible.
Carlisle took the first steps toward the building, while I was taking in the nostalgia of the place. He climbed the steps and wiggled the doorknob. It was locked. He looked over at me, furrowing his brow.
"I don't want to wreck the door and take it off the hinges," he said, a bit stumped. I chuckled lightly, and shook me head, walking up the steps beside him. I gave him a mischievous smile, turning to the little plaque that was nailed to the wood.
"The baby brain was real," I chuckled to myself, as I wiggled my fingers carefully behind the plaque, "I only locked myself out once when I went to town, and realized I needed a solution for when my mind was elsewhere," I explained to him as I pulled and the plaque popped off the wall. I turned it over, and smiled, seeing the key, although covered in rust, was still there. I gave my husband a knowing look and he laughed, kissing my forehead.
"That's my Esme. Always three steps ahead of herself," he said sweetly, and I took the key, slipping it into the lock. It popped loudly when I turned the key and the door released it hold. I froze for a moment, and Carlisle noticed my hesitance. "It's ok," he said softly, and I nodded, taking a deep breath as I stepped into a wave of déjà vu.
My classroom looked exactly like I had left it for the summer. Straightened, cleaned and organized (minus the dust that had collected over the years), and waiting for the students to find a seat in the September that never came.
I stood in the doorway by the foyer. I could picture the many coats and bags that would be hanging off the pegs that protruded in a line from the wall. I slowly made my way into the room. Twenty-five desks lined perfectly, layered thickly in dust like the rest of the room. I sighed sadly at the sight of mouse dropping on the floor. Exactly opposite to me, on the other side of the room sat the teacher's desk, perfectly in front of the chalk board.
The books were all on the shelf that sat to the left of the teacher's desk, along with the very faded American flag. And to the right was the door to the teacher's quarters, with a cabinet that contained a dirty globe, and had a clock hanging about it, frozen at the time it needed to be rewound. The wood stove was directly to my left at the back of the room. And an old piano to the right.
Little sunlight was coming in through the windows, giving the room a strange feeling.
"It's…exactly how I remember it," I said softly, in awe, turning to look back at my husband who was still standing in the foyer. He gave me a soft smile in return as I motioned for him to come in.
I took it all in, feeling something sparking inside me. That happiness, that warm feeling I had felt every time I walked in this room. I could almost close my eyes and hear the echoes of children chattering loudly after coming in from recess.
"God…it feels like home," I sighed after I took in a long breath, and letting my head fall back, smiling up at the ceiling.
Teaching. Something I hadn't thought about in decades. My life after this little school had been consumed with grief, for years; just the thought of children made me sad. My interests diverted to art, to keep myself distracted from the thoughts, and design, and rebuilding every home Carlisle had bought along the way. But being here now, it was like finding and old friend within these walls.
I giggled happily. God, I didn't realize how much I had missed this place.
I turned to Carlisle, who was still a few feet behind me as I stood in the middle of the room. He was looking around, taking in the room in such a different way than I was. His was with intrigue and interest. Mine was with euphoria and joy.
"Twenty-five?" he asked, pointing at the desks, and I nodded with a genuine smile.
"Six to fifteen years old," I said ,"It was a lot to handle sometime. But they were good kids," I told him, and he smiled too.
"I guess… after you disappeared… they shut this place down," Carlisle said, almost cautiously.
I sighed, "Likely," I told him, "I was due early in June… I pushed them through the lesson plan, so they would get out early for the summer…" I explained as I walked towards the front of the room, "Just barely made it," I said with a weak smile.
"You, or the kids?" he asked as I ran my fingers over the scratched wood of my old desk.
"Both…" I said fondly, "My oldest, John, he turned in his finals essay the day before I went into labor," I told him, "I think I just finished grading it an hour before my water broke,"
Carlisle chuckled lightly to himself, but his intrigue was pulled to a photo on the wall. I followed his gaze as he walked over and gently took it off the wall, wiping the dust off the glass. He brought it over to me, standing behind my desk.
It was the photo we had taken of the kids in April outside the school. The black and white image was old, partially faded, and fuzzy. But I could still make out every face that had once graced the room. I smiled fondly, touching the photo. Twenty -five students were lined up oldest in the back, youngest in the front.
"Who's that?" Carlisle asked, pointing to the little girl, who looked about six years old. She was tightly clutching the skirt of her heavily pregnant teacher. I smiled.
"Annabelle," I said, remembering the little girl.
"Shy little thing," Carlisle laughed lightly. I sighed softly.
"She's the granddaughter of the woman who was the headmistress at the time. Ida Jackson. She owned the school and taught temporarily before I came here. Sad story, that poor child. Mother died giving birth to her, and her father was killed in the war. Her grandmother was left to take care of her… I guess I became a second mother to her," I told my husband, who gave me a sad smile, and caressed my hair gently.
"You seem to have the same effect on every parentless child that crosses your path," he said, and I smiled softly in return.
"I'm gonna take this," I told him, tapping the frame lightly, and he nodded, tucking it safely under his arm. I wandered off again, my curiosity being pulled toward the bookshelf of dusty books.
One book spine on the line of faded colors called to me. it was familiar. I pulled it out carefully and turned to the cover, a smile spreading across my face.
It was the first book my students had chosen to read the year I was there. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
It had been one of the many books from my childhood that I had taken from home upon marrying, and it came with me as I ran and settled here. I smiled, flipping to the inside cover, finding Esme A. Platt scribbled in the top left corner. The only part of my identity that was present here with me at the time.
I handed it to Carlisle as well, and he help it as well.
"You never did tell me what name you went by here," he pondered out loud, and I turned, looking at him, smiling softly.
"My middle name, Anne," I told him, "Anne Barstow, my grandmothers maiden name," I added.
"That's nice," he said sweetly. My eyes fell to the door that led to the teacher's quarters. I was hesitant to go in; the fear of memories hitting me too suddenly was looming in my mind. Carlisle noticed my hesitation.
"I'm right here if you need me," he said, his hands resting on my shoulders. I took a deep breath, and walked towards the door, pausing as my hand grasped the handle, and turned it slowly.
The door creaked louder than I remembered as it opened into the small living space. A small kitchen area and sitting room combined, a single bedroom, and a bathroom. It was in a similar condition to the school room. Dusty, dim lit, stagnant air. I froze, still holding the door handle tightly. I felt a hand gently slip into my free hand and I looked over at my husband, as he offered a reassuring smile. I took a deep breath.
"Well it's seen better days," I said, trying to break the tension hanging around me. I looked over at the switch on the wall and smiled lightly. "Well I doubt the power works, but it was here in the day," I told Carlisle. He furrowed his brow.
"Only this part had power?" he asked, and I nodded.
"The school was built in 1884, but the teacher's quarters were added on in 1916. We were lucky to even get power and water out here. Most of the homes out in this area still didn't have it," I explained.
Carlisle nodded in understanding and followed me, our hands staying linked, as we wandered the tiny home. It was mostly empty. No decorations, no tucked away items. Just the basics; a couch and coffee table, a kitchen table and two chairs, the bathroom, and the bedroom with its bed, dresser, and mirror. Edward had taken most of my belonging from here shortly after my change and brought them back to the house for me.
For the first time since getting out of the car my hand slipped into my pocket, wrapping around the chain that was tucked inside.
I gently lifted Carlisle's hand in mine and began slowly wrapping the chain around our hands. His lips brushed my forehead as I held up the pendant. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and began turning the pendant, time flying backwards.
Only this time, not much changed as we moved through time. Years passed, but nothing felt like it was happening. The school truly had not been touched since the last time I was here.
When I saw a flash of movement, I slowed down almost completely. It was Edward putting back all the things he had collected. I hid my head against my husband as I went a little further. And when I stopped, children's laughter filled the air from the other room. I looked up, taking in the room around me, that was now lit, and cozier.
June 3rd, 1921
"I think class is in session," Carlisle said, making me grin softly, and we turned, heading back out into the main school room.
Indeed, class was in session. The children were sitting in small groups, each gathered around pieces of paper. I smiled, seeing my students.
Esme, or Ms. Barstow in this case, was her desk, scribbling on a paper herself. I noticed the calendar on the wall dictated it was the last day before I let my students out.
Carlisle and I walked further into the room, stopping beside the teacher's desk. Esme was looking down at the multitude of papers in front of her. Finals essays.
Annabelle slipped out of her group and walked up to her teacher's desk, going around to stand beside her. I smiled at the girl as she gently tapped her teacher's arm.
"Ms. Barstow, is it home time yet?" she asked in a very shy and angelic voice. Esme looked up from her paper and looked at the little girl, and then at the clock, nodded in agreement.
"Well yes, it is Miss Annabelle, good catch my sharp girl… Goodness, the time nearly slipped past me," Esme said to her and touched her cheek softly. Ms. Barstow stood up, her stomach coming out from hiding beneath her desk and previously hunched form.
I felt my husband's body tense when he saw the old me. Tired but happy, and heavily pregnant. I felt him slip his arms around me, coming to rest against my stomach, almost subconsciously, like he always did.
"Ok guys, time's up!" Ms. Barstow said loud enough to get the attention of the kids, "Please hand in your essays if they're finished. If you haven't finished, you have until Monday to turn them into the homework box in the foyer," she said as the children began to scramble, and she sat back down. Some kids gathered their things, some came up to her desk and handed in their papers, wishing her a good summer before laughing happily as they ran out the door with friends in tow. One of the older students was moving a bit slower, and she called out his name, "John," and he looked up at her, almost melting into a sheepish puddle and blushing nervous. She made a come here motion and the boy nervously slung his bag over his shoulder before approaching his teacher. I smiled at the poor kid.
"I think he had a bit of a crush on me," I told my husband, who laughed lightly.
"Yes , Ms. Barstow?" the boy asked quietly. His gazed shifted from her to Annabelle, who had found the chalk and was scribbling on the chalkboard behind her teachers back.
"John, I really want that paper on my desk Monday…" she began, and the boy nodded frantically.
"Of course," he said, and Ms. Barstow sighed.
"If it's not…"
The pause made the boys heart race, fear of getting in trouble was evident on his face.
"…then you have until this baby comes…" she said, pointing at her stomach, and the boy almost relaxed, "After that, I won't be marking anything. Understood?" she asked. John nodded again.
"Yes! Understood ma'am," he said and bit his lip until she nodded as well.
"Good boy. Now hurry along. Your mother is going to be getting worried if your siblings arrive home without you," she told him and he smiled softly, turning and going, but paused at the door and glanced back.
"Thank you, Ms. Barstow!" and dashed down the steps. Esme shook her head with a smile.
"You're welcome," she mumbled to herself with a fond smile, then paused and raised an eyebrow, "Miss Annabelle, are you drawing on my chalkboard again?" she asked, her back still to the girl. Annabelle looked sheepish as her teacher turned and pursed her lips.
"Sorry Ms. Barstow," she said softly. Esme smiled as the girl as she set down the chalk.
"Come on, let's get you to grandmas. She probably has a snack ready for you,"
OoO
June 6th, 1921
Esme had taken Annabelle home and I skipped forward though the weekend. She had spent it divided between cleaning her classroom, grading papers, and resting as she had begun to get sore.
I had skipped ahead to Monday morning, right after John had rushed in with his essay in hand.
Carlisle and I wandered back into the adjacent room, where Esme was grading the last of her students' papers. Every so often she would wince, close her eyes, and take a few deep breaths, before returning to her grading. She had just finished and went to get up and headed towards the bathroom when she gasped loudly, and hunched over, grabbing both her stomach and the bathroom doorframe.
My husband moved slightly when she whispered a "Damn," to herself, and fluid was trickling down her legs. I took my arm and slipped it around his side, trying to keep him relaxed, knowing that it was just a ghost and he couldn't help; his medical instincts involuntarily kicking in.
Esme slipped into the bathroom and emerged several minutes later, wrapped in a towel, and her hair pulled back in a weakly made bun. She slowly walked to the phone, calling up Ida down the road, and telling her to come soon. Then she made her way into the bedroom, threw on a loose night gown, and slipping into bed.
"Sure know how to cut it to the last minute, don't you John?" she chuckled lightly to herself, and then inhaled sharply as another contraction hit.
