Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. You know the drill.

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After supper, the men sat on the porch, drinking whiskey as my mother, Cynthia, and I sat in the living area. Mother and Cynthia were deep in conversation; their laughter resounded against the walls. My mind wandered to Charles and the way he didn't stop staring at me. I almost wish I felt a spark of feeling for him, but I didn't.

"Esme?" Mother interrupted my train of thought. "Come now."

I stood up, walking to the door behind Mother and Cynthia. We stepped out to the porch to the booming laughter of the men.

"Well," Father began, "it was good to have you here, John." They shook hands.

"Perhaps we'll have another engagement soon," Cynthia chimed in, nodding as her brown hair bobbed up and down.

My parents nodded in agreement. I smiled.

Charles stepped forward, took my hand, and kissed it. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Platt."

"Oh, uh…" I flushed. "You've been most kind. Thank you."

I stayed with my parents on the porch, watching as the Evensons left. I heard Mother sigh and Father pulled an arm around her. I left the two of them to be alone, walked back into the house, and directly to my room, burying myself in papers.

—

"Evenson?" Claire questioned, nonchalantly pushing the baby perambulator back and forth.

"Have you heard of him?" I asked, rummaging through a stack of school papers.

We were sitting together on a park bench. The sky was cloudy and the wind was cool, blowing a cold breeze from farther north. Leaves were beginning to change from green to orange, yellow, and red: reminders of autumn. I pulled my sweater tighter around me.

"Well, I do know he is quite amiable… He has good prospects and he's not married." A smile crept across her face.

"Claire, honestly!" I cried.

"I am being honest, Esme. Besides, don't you think it's time you married and settled?"

I shrugged, sighing a little. "Perhaps … but I just want to be a school teacher. I want to leave here. I'm tired of things here, being here my whole life – it's not fulfilling."

"I always thought you would be the first one to get married," Claire stated. "You have always been beautiful, Esme."

I groaned silently. She was beginning to sound like my mother. "Could we not talk about this, Claire?"

She shrugged. "I was just commenting…"

Three weeks had passed since the dinner with the Evensons. Since then, we dined with them thrice more, and they with us another two times. Charles was amiable, yes, but the desire to be married had not yet equaled my yearning to be a school teacher.

"Does he talk to you like he wants you?"

"Claire!"

She laughed. "I'm only asking. We are women, Esme, I can ask."

"And I can choose not to answer."

"Hm, you are too secretive."

We continued our walk until we reached Claire's house. We parted and I continued on home. I hurried to the house, putting my books and things on the porch. Just as I was about to depart again, Father opened the door.

"Esme, come, I need to speak with you." His voice was stern.

I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was doing home early as I followed him into the house then into his small office. Much to my surprise, I found Charles sitting comfortably. However, he immediately stood up, smiled at me, and left, shutting the door behind him.

"Father—"

"Esme, sit."

I obeyed. "Father, I was—"

"What are you doing with your life, Esme?" A blunt question.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Father, you know I wanted to be a school teacher," I stated. "I thought we already discussed this."

He waved his hand, nonchalantly.

"And I want to move west to teach…"

"You could stay here and teach in Columbus."

I shook my head. "Father, that's not what I want. Please, I want to go—"

"Your mother and I have been thinking… And with Charles coming here this afternoon, it seems our wishes have been granted.

"Wait, I—"

I couldn't even get two words out before my father interrupted again.

"Esme, I believe it would be best that you stay here. Your mother and I have discussed it several times and were hoping you would agree. I don't think it right for a young lady like you to move, completely alone, to be a school teacher."

Frustrated, I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. "What is Charles here for?"

"He's been asking about you" – oh – "and I've given him my permission—" He was interrupted by the opening of the door. Mother walked in, a smile across her face.

"Esme, you're here! How grand!" she exclaimed. "Charles and I were just talking about you. He is most amiable, very agreeable, don't you think?"

I bit my lip. "I suppose but—"

"Honey, we would think it the entire world if you really married him!"

I looked at both my parents. "Is that the reason I'm here?"

"As I said, Esme, I've already given him my permission to ask you and I am in high hopes that you will agree," Father said.

"But Father, what about what I want?" I argued, standing up.

"I am not giving you permission to move, Esme! To be in the wild, trying to survive on your own!"

"But I'm not going to be 'in the wild,' Father!"

"Esme, this is the end of the discussion! You will marry Charles. He likes you, Esme. How many men have you turned down before? You are twenty-two now. Soon you will too old for anyone to marry and I will not see my daughter unmarried!"

His words stung like a slap in the face.

"Esme, dear," Mother began, her eyes pleading, "your father and I only want what's best for you… And seeing all your friends married, surely you wish to be too."

I blinked away oncoming tears. Saying nothing, I stood up and ran out the room, bumping into Charles in the process.

"Miss Platt—"

"Excuse me, Charles," I forced the words out in order to be amiable with him. I ran out of the house through the open field and fell to the ground.

Mother was right when she said I wished to be married. How envious I was as I watched my friends get married, as I played with their children, yet it was even truer when Father asked me how many men I had turned down. Yes, there had always been men who wanted me. Men who were amiable at the least; men with good jobs in the city; men who planned to stay in the city and never ever leave… But I preferred men to want me because they loved me, not for my beauty. I preferred men who wanted to move from the city, from the state of Ohio. I preferred those who had dreams of becoming someone more… I wanted to please my parents but I wanted to please myself. Charles Evenson was a nice man, five years my senior I learned, with a good job in the city. Surely he could take care of me and surely I could learn to love him. Surely. It was a feeble attempt to convince myself.

Yet my mind wandered. Looking up, I noticed a tree – the same tree I had fallen from and broken my leg. My hand brushed the place where the scar had long been faded. I closed my eyes, remembering the gentle face of the man who helped me. His face was scarred in my memory. I saw compassion in his topaz eyes as I watched him cast my leg and bandage the wound, his hands icy cold. Dr. Cullen. If I ever crossed paths with him again, surely his face was enough to remember. If only I knew his first name, if only… But that was five years ago, and he had moved to the west. Maybe he was the reason I wanted to move west… Maybe he was already married. But I brushed the thought away just as I brushed hair from my face.

"Miss Platt?" a voice from above said.

I opened my eyes. Charles Evenson was standing above me, blocking the sun. I sat up. "Charles, I—"

"Esme, I was rather hoping you would agree…" his voice trailed off. I saw softness in his hazel eyes.

We were silent. He took my hand into his and kissed it, but I pulled away instantly and stood up. "I'm agreeing for the sake of my parents, Charles, because I love them and want to see them happy." My words were cold but true. I had no feelings towards Charles.

"And your happiness, Miss Platt?"

"Is measured by the happiness of others, I like to believe. If they are happy, then I am happy."

"I am happy."

I glanced at him and sighed. There would be no end of this, I presumed.

"I will court you, if you like, before we actually get married," he continued. "After all, we hardly know each other…"

Then why are you asking me to marry you? my thoughts objected. Openly, I nodded. "For a few weeks."

This brought a smile to Charles's face. He stood up, leaving me alone under the tree. I watched his figure fade into a mere silhouette and then disappeared completely. I lay down again, covering my face with my hands, trying to stop the oncoming tears. Much to my dismay, I was soon interrupted again. I heard the grass rustle and a body sat next to me, but I ignored it.

"Esme." My mother.

I looked at her, not caring to sit up.

"Are you upset?" she asked.

"Mother, this is all … so sudden," my voice faltered.

"He likes you very much." She was trying to be reassuring. "You were doing nothing to further your prospects with marriage so your father and I decided for you."

I sighed.

"You don't hate us, do you?"

Incredulous, I stared at her. "I couldn't hate either of you, Mother." It was only half a lie. I could never hate my mother.

A smile spread on her face. The crow's feet around her eyes more defined than I remembered. "I respect and understand your dreams, Esme, but … you are twenty-two and soon you will be too old for marriage."

Her words were a stake to my heart. "I'm not that old, Mother."

"Charles is a good man. He will take care of you. Surely, you see that."

I nodded but said nothing.

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Author's note: Eventually, this is all going to go by rather quickly. Read and review? Thanks.