Hello everyone! I don't know about you, but I am absolutely loving Midnight Sun so far! I'm about two-thirds done and I'm getting reeeeeally excited for the drama and another full round of angst... my poor silly Edward, he puts both himself and Bella through so much! But while I've been reading, I've also been working on this little cute-shot for Esme, and now it's ended up being a two-parter. This first part was inspired one night recently when I was sad that my 12-year-old doesn't think it's fun to bake zucchini bread with her boring mom anymore... I know she'll want to again someday, but in the meantime, I had to live vicariously through Esme for a minute. The two parts together are about Esme (and maybe a couple of others) spreading their wings a bit and trying new things. The '20s, '30s, and '40s really were busy times for the Cullen family with all sorts of changes, adjustments, traveling, etc. Now that things have calmed down somewhat, I'd like to explore some of the new things they might be trying and learning in these "empty" middle years with no canon events that were recorded other than a list of college degrees.

I hope you're all doing well and are staying safe from the virus. If you have a minute after reading, please pause to review, and tell me what your favorite part of Midnight Sun is so far! I think for me it's a tie between all the really beautiful/angsty prose that Edward lets himself think during this happy middle third of the book and all the backstory gems—far more than I was even hoping for! I'll have to make some decisions on how much of it I'm going to incorporate/change in Tale of Years, but it's all so good that it's definitely worth the challenge. It was the original Midnight Sun draft that really got me going with Tale of Years in the first place, so this is a really special time for me, and so much of that is because of all of you!

Mother's Day, 1957

northern Michigan

Esme POV

"I'm home!" I called out from the garage. "And I could use some help!"

I heard Alice's delicate sigh three floors up. By the time I got around to the trunk and opened it, she had flitted to my side wearing a new striped yellow dress and a pitiful look of resignation. She stuck out her arms and I began filling them with bags of groceries.

"You don't really have to do this, you know," I teased her, scooping up the last four bags myself.

"I promised," she said, and her pout turned upward into the smile that was never very far away.

"You did! And it's a chance to learn something new. The older you get, the more you'll treasure opportunities like this."

"I suppose I will. But ugh! Why do you buy so much at the grocery store, and so many things that smell funny?"

We set the groceries down onto the kitchen counter all in a neat line. Alice rooted through the bags, her nose wrinkling more with each one. "I don't even know what this one is!" she complained, pulling out an enormous zucchini with two reluctant fingertips.

"A zucchini. It's a kind of squash. That's what we're baking," I reminded her. "Zucchini bread. And you know how important it is to keep up appearances, especially when we're new. Some of it does go to waste, but we end up donating a lot of it in the end."

We had enjoyed a good, long stay in Klamath Falls. Jasper had, unfortunately, had an accident near the middle of our time there. But it had been a young couple honeymooning out in their camper in the woods, so it hadn't interrupted our stay. Edward had been able to earn his bachelor's in music performance and Rosalie had finished a degree in Bio Pre-Med. Carlisle and I were fiercely proud of both of their achievements. And even though Emmett had drifted aimlessly between majors for his entire stay at Southern Oregon college, my mother-heart had nearly burst to see him come so far. He hadn't even been able to read when Carlisle had first changed him.

But six years was pushing it; the children hadn't really known what to do with themselves after graduation, knowing we wouldn't have much time left, and Carlisle was starting to get jokes at work about having found the fountain of youth. So after some traveling, we had ended up here in northern Michigan. Edward, Rosalie, and Emmett had just started high school again last week. Alice was torn; she had hoped that she and Jasper would both be joining the others in school this time, but Jasper was still reluctant. The rest of us thought he was ready, but the truth was that the only way our newest vegetarian was ever going to trust himself at school was to go and practice being at school. He was dragging his feet, and I think he knew it, but it was his choice in the end. I just wished Alice would go ahead without him and enjoy herself.

My darling girl, full of sunshine! I busied myself getting the ingredients ready, smiling as I watched Alice take the groceries out of the bags, peering at each item as if it were from another planet. Out of all of us, she was the only one who had no memories of her human life—no memories whatsoever of things as commonplace as eating and preparing food. The whole concept was completely foreign to her, and until today she had skillfully avoided my every cajoling effort to join me in the kitchen. Everyone except her had taken at least one turn by now, even Emmett and Jasper. But I had won in the end.

"It's almost Mother's Day," I said to her last Tuesday. "And there's something I really would love; let's see if you can figure it out without any hints."

That was all it took; Alice couldn't resist a challenge for her visions. She loved stretching her gift like this, especially where shopping and surprises were concerned. She eagerly plunged into the silent world of pictures that swirled around inside her head, visiting department store after department store and flipping catalog pages without moving a muscle. It took her three days to figure it out.

"Esme!" she pouted, bursting in on me as I was painting that third afternoon. "That's not even a real present!"

"It is to me," I said, opening my arms for her reluctant hug. "You know I've always wanted to bake something with you." She made a face, but she also promised to follow through.

"Hand me the whisk, would you, dear?" I asked her now. She dug through the drawer of mysterious cooking implements, zoning out for a moment to peek ahead and see what a whisk even looked like. I donned my favorite apron and tossed another one to her.

"I'll beat the eggs and oil and sugar if you'll peel and grate the zucchini," I offered.

"Gladly," she said, peering with horror into my bowl. "I will never understand why humans like to scramble up animal embryos. Isn't that... disgusting?"

"It is when you put it that way," I laughed. "I can't say it appeals to me either, not anymore."

Alice was concentrating, trying to figure out how to peel the zucchini. She was holding the peeler steady and drawing the vegetable back and forth along it instead of the other way around.

"Try the opposite way," I suggested gently. "You hold whatever you're peeling still and draw the peeler downwards, away from you. Then lift it up and start at the top again." She nodded and tried again, sticking her tongue out in concentration. Her pressure wasn't quite right and she ended up peeling away a good half of the zucchini itself, but I adored her effort. I laid three more down for her to do.

"You know I like to bake for various local things now and then," I explained, whisking the oil into the eggs and sugar at superspeed. "Hospital fundraisers, the children's ward, sometimes an event or two at whatever school you all are attending... Good. Now you're going to grate the zucchini right into this mixture." I demonstrated first this time.

"I'm sure they appreciate the gesture," she said, "but you and Carlisle give gobs of money to those things anyway. Wouldn't store-bought cookies or bread be just as good?"

"Heavens, no! They aren't baked with love when those industrial machines do the work. And it makes me feel good, too. It feels like I'm actually participating in a way that feels familiar and human. Baking was a way I showed love to people in my first life, so I kept on doing it in my second, even when I wasn't ready to go out at all. It's a shame I can't enjoy the food myself, but it's still special."

"You used to volunteer at Carlisle's hospitals, didn't you?" Alice asked.

"Now and then, yes. But it's been a long time." I hesitated for a second. "I've been thinking of a new adventure lately—going back to school."

"Really? You would pose as a college student?" She looked doubtful.

"I would be a college student," I laughed. "Why, do you think I look too old? I might need a little help from you and Rosalie..."

That perked her right up. We started chattering about ways we could make me look younger: hairstyles, makeup, styles of clothing and jewelry and shoes and purses, even ways I could talk differently. Alice got so focused on our brainstorming that her grating went faster and faster until her fingertips accidentally smushed the grater's holes in on themselves and she had a big mush of zucchini pulp on the other side. She put everything down and scowled at it.

"I don't think I'm going to be good at this," she said with a sigh, picking at the grater with her fingernails to make the holes right again. "For all I know, I've never done any of it before."

"It's all right," I assured her. I moved on to the dry ingredients in my own bowl. "We're so... perfect at so many things that I find it can be refreshing to not be so good at something, or to at least be so new at something that we can make mistakes. I bought several. Just try again." She took another zucchini, moving more carefully this time. She was concentrating so hard her tongue was sticking out the corner of her mouth again. She was so adorable; I couldn't resist. I snapped a picture before she could change her pose. She didn't even notice. Everyone had grown used to my clicking shutter by now.

Jasper had quietly joined us a moment ago. He was leaning against the kitchen door frame with his arms folded, watching Alice with the most tender, thoughtful smile. He caught my attention behind her back and twisted that naughty little corner-grin of his, the one he got whenever he was about to prank Emmett somehow. He pounced and grabbed her from behind, making her scream.

"I'm sorry!" he laughed, letting her go and dodging the half-grated zucchini she tried to slap him with. "It was just too easy—I could tell you were too immersed in your, uh..."—he gestured toward the mixing bowl vaguely—"for visions, and the stink was strong enough for a good stealth operation... what?" he added, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing," Alice said sweetly, turning back to stir the putrid green mixture. "Just thinking of how I'll get you back."

"It was worth it," he promised, wrapping his arms around her again, this time for a peck on the cheek.

"Hmm," was all she said. Her eyes were absent, scanning the future. I picked up the camera again, just in case.

"I think you'd better get out while the getting's good," I told Jasper. "Unless you'd like to help out too?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "No thanks! I've already served my time. Emmett and I are going out to whip up some dinner of our own."

"You ready?" Emmett called out, just coming down the stairs. Alice whipped around and flicked a heaping spoonful of zucchini mush, hard, straight at Jasper's face. Jasper ducked just in time for the missile to fly over his head... straight into Emmett's open mouth.

I laughed and took the picture just as Emmett's eyes bulged out in horror. He spewed it all out, and it just happened to time perfectly with when Jasper stood back up, so he got a faceful as well. He swiped furiously at the mess and his mouth, and I got one more picture to commemorate the moment when my newest son tasted human food for the very first time. He looked like he was actually going to vomit, and he sounded like it too. He finally rushed over to the sink and flushed it all out with water, leaving a bright green trail everywhere he stepped. Alice was serenely stirring the batter, humming to herself.

"Was it still worth it?" she asked innocently.

"No," Jasper said, shuddering one last time. "It was not. Real funny, Emmett."

"You're blaming me?!" Emmett practically yelled. He was wiping his mouth out with my brand new kitchen towel. I sighed and took it from him, dropping it in the trash; I had learned the hard way never to put venom in the washing machine.

"I guess not," Jasper sighed, growling playfully at Alice as he passed instead of giving her a goodbye kiss. Emmett relaxed and turned to go, but Jasper flew up behind him and punched him so hard in the gut that a dribble of venom and old blood gushed out of his mouth. Emmett grabbed Jasper and roared and yanked the back of Jasper's shirt over his head before he could struggle out of Emmett's bear-sized grip.

"Take it outside," I warned them. I grabbed another towel and rushed to get the blood and venom before the dining room floor could start dissolving. "NOW!" I shouted as they tumbled blindly into the sofa, knocking it askew by several feet. It took them a minute, still snarling and struggling to get a grip on each other, but they got out the back patio door without causing any further carnage. I caught the floor lamp as it fell, an inch before it hit the ground.

"Those two, I swear," I said, dropping the towel into the trash with the other one. "And you saw that whole thing, didn't you?"

"Who, me?" she piped up, stirring furiously.

Edward came downstairs then, calm and collected. His timing was a little too impeccable.

"You could have come down five seconds ago and broken them up," I scolded him. He just peeked into the kitchen with wide eyes and backed away.

"Think I might go hunting, too," he muttered to himself and was gone.

"Ooh..." Alice winced, still staring out at nothing. "That'll leave a mark."

"On whose face?" I sighed.

"The driveway's," she said timidly. "Why don't you finish this, Esme, and I'll clean up the floor and the sink."

"Yes, you most certainly will," I agreed.

.

.

.

Once the zucchini disaster was cleaned up, we finally got six loaves into the oven. I felt much happier, now that my kitchen was clean, and Alice even sat down to stay with me in the living room while they baked. We pored over one of her new magazines together, thinking over possibilities for my college makeover.

"Why don't you go now?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe next time."

"Why?"

I suddenly felt a little shy. "Well, I really don't want to leave you two alone here all the time, and I know you hate housework and... oh, I don't know. I'm so used to putting this off with everything that's happened in the past... well, every year! I've sort of gotten in the habit, I suppose."

"But you would love college!" Alice insisted. "Well, not that I've been there much myself..." She had only visited a few times over the years that the others had been there back in Oregon. Her eyes glazed over and she searched, but she seemed disappointed. "Well, I just think you would love it."

"You don't see it?" I asked, closing the magazine and rooting around in the basket for another one.

"I guess you're not going yet," she admitted. "Try deciding."

I thought hard about it. I would visit the local library tomorrow and see which college might have the best art history courses around here, and then I'd pick one. There.

Alice clucked her tongue, staring into space again. "I wish he wouldn't do that," she grumbled.

"Who, dear?"

"Jasper! He's going off by himself. Edward and Emmett are going after a couple of bears and he's stalking a herd of deer."

"Alice," I said gently, "you know that Jasper needs his space sometimes."

"He can have his space after he hunts! He knows how much more dangerous it is when he's in that zone without the others there to keep watch for humans."

"True," I agreed. "But he might be thirsty enough to need two or three deer. And Alice, dear... accidents happen sometimes. I'm not sure it's worth hovering over him when you can't even do anything about it. In fact," I said, catching her hand before she could start chewing on her thumbnail, "I really wish you would reconsider going to school yourself. With the others, I mean, here in Michigan."

"But then Jasper will be alone all the time," she protested. "If you go to school, I mean."

"Maybe that will be the push he needs," I said. "Just think about it. I know you would have a good time, and I don't need visions to prove it!"

"Oh! Alice said, finally looking me in the eye. "I'm sorry, I got sidetracked... no, I still don't see you going. I... oh, that's interesting. Maybe I'm going?"

"Just think how much fun you would have with Rosalie," I said. "And you know we need to keep our distance when it comes to... friendships, but you could still have a little fun with after-school clubs and things, if you wanted. And if Jasper doesn't go right away, you'll be able to enjoy yourself even more since you won't be so worried about him."

And then I would stay with him, at least at first. It was as good an excuse as any, I realized sheepishly. Maybe I was just nervous. It really had been a long time since I'd really been out in the human world, up close with everyone like that for hours every day. Things had been busy, though I had to admit that there really had been nothing stopping me back in Oregon.

But Carlisle had said once that our ability to control our thirst was a matter of practice—a skill that could atrophy, somewhat, if it went too long without being challenged. Even he had mentioned feeling a little more thirst at work when he first started again after our travels during the war. I still went out nearly every day for some errand or other; I enjoyed it, and it was nearly always easy, relatively speaking. But that wasn't quite the same as the type of practice I had had back in the '30s. My accident in the Himalayas had happened more than fifteen years ago, but that was the kind of thing I thought about whenever I considered getting bolder again.

"Just think about it," I told Alice, and myself. "And of course you would need to dress differently, how about these..." We got back to our magazines and filled out a couple of order forms to send out. Alice had also started a financial relationship with an up-and-coming fashion designer out of New York; she'd seen an article about the young woman in her favorite magazine and written to her with an offer to fund everything if she could have a small interest in the company, just enough to make occasional suggestions and receive a regular shipment of new whimsical designs in her hard-to-fit size. Alice was about to call her, and I was fine with that, but then we ended up playing Scrabble instead.

"Oh, Alice," I moaned when she cut off my plans for the fifth time. "Can't you try not to look?"

"I'm trying!" she promised. "I mean, I'm not trying. I'm trying to not try... Esme?" her nose twitched. "Is something wrong with the bread? It stinks... differently."

"That just means it's nearly done."

"Oh."

We wrapped up our game at superspeed, racing to beat the oven timer. Alice won, naturally; she really couldn't help it. I gave her the honor of putting on the oven mitts—an essential part of the human cooking experience, I insisted—and taking everything out.

"They are pretty, I suppose," Alice said, poking one of the loaves with her finger. "In a... brown sort of way. And the smell could be worse."

"I actually do like the smell of cinnamon," I told her. "It's the scorched wheat and congealed egg I'm not so fond of." We laughed, trying to pick out the other smells based on the original ingredients.

"This was fun," Alice admitted. "Now what do we do?"

"We'll let it cool a bit, then we'll slice it up and arrange it on the platters for Carlisle to take in. Oh, Alice, you don't know how much this has meant to me... and how much I wish could cut two slices and enjoy it with you!"

"Ew."

"I know. But I still wish, all the same. I wish each of you had a favorite treat I could bake sometimes to surprise you, and I wish that when you've had a hard day at school, you could sit down here and tell me all about it while I spoil you with a whole plate of cookies right before dinner!"

I got up and kissed her spiky hair. She wrapped a thin arm around me and wished me a happy Mother's Day. Then she lifted her chin, looking mischievous again.

"I'll do it if you do it," she promised. "Take a bite, I mean."

I blinked. "I haven't done that in years."

We each broke off a small piece of one of the loaves. "You first," she said, wrinkling her nose at the new smell that was released now that the warmer inside of the bread was exposed to the air.

"No, together," I insisted, and on "three" we both started chewing.

"It... could be worse?" Alice said, her face contorting. Her tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of her mouth.

"Mmm," I agreed, concentrating and trying to chew the dry, grass-flavored sponge into oblivion, and then I couldn't take it anymore. I shook my head and ran to the sink right as Alice rushed to the trash can.

"I am not doing that at school," Alice said hotly. She licked her lips and shuddered again.

"So you've changed your mind?" I asked. "You'll go?"

"It looks like it!"

My sunshine girl. I hugged her again, wondering not for the first time how her visions really worked. Half the time she seemed to wait until they showed her the way, but that didn't sound like it could work. But however this new future had come about for her, I was sure she would make it a bright one for anyone she shared it with.

"What about you?" she asked, going to get the bread knife.

I smiled at her, content for now to see her world open up a little more. I rubbed my temples, pretending to have one of her visions. "We'll see."