Disclaimer: All known characters copyright of the genius mind of Stephenie Meyer.

--

"Esme, what happened!?" Veronica asked, exasperated.

"I fell from a tree," I replied.

My friend stared in disbelief. "Today of all days to fall from a tree, Esme."

I giggled. "I'm sorry."

Her lips pursed. "You're still coming to Samantha's party?"

"Yes, of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good," Veronica said, satisfied. "What did you get her?"

"Oh, you'll know when she opens it."

"Some antique thing again? Oh, Esme!"

"I happen to like those things, Veronica."

"All right, all right, I understand."

Veronica helped me walk out of my room. The dress I wore didn't look half as decent now that I was in a cast. I wore a white dress with a blue floral pattern with only one stocking and one shoe.

"I must admit, you have guts going to her party looking the way you do," Veronica said.

I hit her playfully.

We walked into the living area. Father was reading a book and Mother was knitting. The two stood up at the sight of Veronica and I. Mother smiled.

"Ah, Esme, always pretty," she said as her eyelashes fluttered.

Father's angry face had softened since we left the hospital. "Ready then?"

We nodded. "Yes, sir."

—

I managed to make the most of my situation the instant I stepped into Samantha's house. She was one of the few older friends I had. In her early twenties, she was married to an extremely handsome and amiable husband named Michael who worked in the city. We shed our coats at the door and slowly made our way into the living area where a group of girls were gathered around the fireplace amidst gifts of every shape and size.

"Esme!" girls' voices rang out. I caught the faces of Rachel, her blonde hair pulled behind her shoulders and her green eyes pensive; Elisabeth, black hair curled and pinned with black eyes to match; Amy, brown hair pin straight against her back and her blue eyes bright and cheery.

"What happened?" "How did you do that?" "My, that looks painful!" I answered question after the same question, assuring all the girls I was quite all right. Eventually, attention was turned back to Samantha, and she continued to open gift after gift.

When she came to mine, I felt my heart swell. I hoped she would enjoy it. I spent a good deal of time on it. She unwrapped in carefully, winked at me, and smiled when she saw it. "Esme!"

All the girls crowded around to see what it was. I spent as much as I could on the tea set, making sure I had the right paints and the right colors. It was an antique of my grandmother's, something I didn't have the heart to throw away so I restored it and gave it to a friend.

"It's beautiful, Esme," Samantha remarked. Her face glowed.

"Thank you," I said, blushing.

"Don't tell me you painted that?" Veronica whispered.

"I did."

"You'll outdo us all, Esme," she said, sarcastically, nudging me on the shoulder.

"Nonsense," I replied, putting my attention on Samantha.

—

Samantha and Michael stood together on their house porch, watching as each of the girls departed. Only the older women were allowed to stay behind, the rest of us had school. We were all envious of them. Father and Veronica helped me into the carriage, and I waited until Father sat next to the drive and we were moving until I told Veronica about Dr. Cullen.

"Dr. Wilkner wasn't there. Something about him being out of town," I said, waving a hand nonchalantly.

"Was he really beautiful?" she asked.

I chewed on these words. "More like handsome, and all words one would use to describe a good gentleman with … more than amiable features."

"Do you know his age?"

"Well, he was exceedingly young for a doctor, I think. Maybe no more than … mid-twenties? I didn't ask."

"When do you see him again?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think when I get this wretched cast off."

"Engage him in better conversation, Esme!"

"Pardon me, I was too busy gawking at him to notice or say much of anything, Veronica!"

We giggled.

The carriage soon stopped at the house. Father helped me out and ordered the drive to take Veronica home. We said goodbye and the carriage drove away.

—

Three weeks later, I went back to the hospital on Dr. Cullen's orders. My heart fluttered as I entered the hospital with Father, in desperate hope of seeing the doctor. I hardly took note of our walk to a room with five cots, none of which were occupied. I sat on one of the smaller cots, unable to stay still.

"Esme, please," Father remarked.

Much to my dismay, it wasn't Dr. Cullen who walked through the door, but rather Dr. Wilkner. His brown hair and beard were graying, but he wore a cheerful smile.

"Where's Dr. Cullen?" I asked.

"Dr. Cullen, why, he left almost a fortnight ago."

"Where?" I ignored my father's irritated look.

The doctor shrugged. "He wouldn't say, but I believe it was somewhere in the West."

My shoulders slumped. "Oh…"

The rest of the check-up went by dully and I left the hospital disappointed.

—

"He simply left?" Veronica asked, after school one week later.

I shrugged. "What's what Dr. Wilkner said. I'm sure he had a reason."

"Esme, do you—"

I shook my head. "No." I laughed. "He's a doctor and most likely already married."

"Esme!" I heard the voice of Claire from behind. Veronica and I turned to see her coming toward us, her dark curls bouncing around her face. She walked with us. "How is your leg?"

"It could be better," I replied.

"When do you get that hideous thing taken off?"

"A fortnight."

—

I never could forget Dr. Cullen's laugh. I couldn't forget his smile, the color of his skin, the complex color of his eyes, and mostly the way he simply cared. For the next six years, I watched as many of my friends married: Claire, Veronica, Rachel, Elisabeth, and Amy. I smiled at each birth of Samantha's three children, giving them gifts, playing with each of them. I was with Veronica as she birthed her first and only child, and I was with her husband as we laid her in the ground.

Life carried on, time went on, and I moved on. I had a growing love for children and longed to be a schoolteacher, to have a spot in childrens' lives, teaching them, and watching them learn. They brought constant smiles to my face.

"Esme?" It was my mother's voice. She knocked at my door.

I was buried in school papers, attempting to get through university despite the struggles.

"Supper's ready."

I nodded. "I'll be there."

"Esme… I ask you to come now. We have guests."

I had forgotten. "Oh, right, Mother. I apologize. Give me a few minutes and I'll be there."

Mother smiled and left.

I went over to the vanity in a feeble attempt to make myself look decent. I ran a brush through my hair and changed into a pale blue gown. I entered the kitchen to the sound of laughter. I recognized my parent's laughs but not the three others.

"Esme," my father said with a smile.

I smiled back. "Father, I'm sorry I'm late."

He shook his head. "Nonsense, child."

Child. I was twenty-one and he still thought me a child. Father, please.

"Miss Platt, I presume?" asked the man to my father's left.

I smiled, nodding, taking in his features. His dark brown hair was parted to the side, had it not been sleeked back, I knew it would cover his hazel eyes. His skin was light and soft when he took my hand into his and kissed it.

"My son, Miss Platt," the older man to my father's right said. "Charles."

"Charmed," I said.

"My wife, Cynthia," the man continued. "And I'm John."

I kissed his wife on both cheeks as we exchanged greetings. I felt Charles's wandering eyes on me as my father invited us to sit down and begin eating.