a/n To answer a PM, the title of this story is Latin for "My family, my life." I thought the Latin was a nice touch—Carlisle probably knows it very well.
Also, if you'll recall, Edward took over a year to get used to the idea of having Carlisle as a father. You'll notice Esme takes considerably less time. That's just how I read her character. That said, Esme's memories are not as warm and fuzzy as Edward's. If domestic violence makes you sick, please feel free to skip the italicized memories later on.
You have to see this car. It's pretty, fancy, and cost a good chunk of change in the 20s. But not way too much. http://www . jaylenosgarage . com/your_garage/cars/7834 . shtml
Blue Spruce and Mistletoe—Maine, December 1921
Esme watched from the front window as the snow began to fall. This was not where she had planned to spend Christmas, but it so far exceeded any plans she may have had.
Except for one thing.
Heaving a sigh, Esme ran a hand over her flat stomach. Three months. It had been three months since the worst day of her life, which had also been, in some ways, the best day of her life. Three months ago, she had tried to kill herself by jumping from the highest cliff she could find and into the frigid waters of Lake Superior. She had awoken three days later to find herself not only healed but perfect.
That day was the day she had accepted that there was a God, and she must have done something to please him.
Now, as she sat in a little house on the coast of Maine, she thought she must truly be blessed to have been taken in so willingly. Carlisle was more wonderful than she could have imagined, and she was quickly falling more and more in love with him. Dangerous, maybe, but she didn't care. He was wonderful. And his son, Edward... Well, he took a little getting used to.
Right on cue, the gangly young man with the bronze colored hair came rushing inside, a grin on his face.
"Almost enough for snowballs," he said excitedly, and Esme laughed.
"If you throw snowballs at me, I'll throw back."
Edward laughed. "I've got a surprise for you," he said, and he seemed even more excited about his surprise than the snow.
Esme smiled indulgently, wondering what he could have possibly gotten her that she could need. She already had Carlisle. She allowed Edward to grab her hand and drag her outside. He pulled her to Carlisle's car, a big Holmes sedan with four doors, the fanciest thing she'd ever ridden in. Once she was perched in the front seat, Edward was instantly behind the driver's seat. She'd never seen him drive before.
"You know how to drive?" she asked, a little enviously. Charles had never let her drive, hadn't even let her learn.
"Yep." Edward turned the key in the ignition, and the car started, shuddering and shaking and roaring. He glanced over at her, and smiled again. "I could teach you sometime. It's really very easy."
Esme smiled and folded her gloved hands in her lap as Edward pulled away from the house. It would be wonderful to learn how to drive. She thought longingly of learning the control she needed. Maybe when she wasn't constantly thirsty, she could go into town and do some shopping.
The conversation was light as they drove through the softly falling evening snow. Every so often, Edward would ask Esme a questions—what her favorite color was, what kind of books she liked to read, if she preferred classical to romantic music. She supposed she didn't need to answer aloud, since he could read her mind, something she still wasn't used to, but it was nice to have a conversation with someone.
After a while, Edward slowed the car to a stop and parked on the side of the road. Esme frowned, looking around.
"Where are we?"
Edward grinned and, like an excited little boy, pulled her hand and led her into a nearby field of...
Christmas trees.
"Pick one," Edward said, smiling. "I've already paid the owner so you don't have to smell him." He winked.
Pick one? "Which one?" she asked, automatically afraid to make any decision that might upset him.
"Any one you want." Edward turned her so that she was facing the trees, which varied in size from a little above her waist to well over Edward's head.
Slowly, timidly, Esme put one foot in front of the other. If she were human, she'd have nervous butterflies in her stomach. What if she picked the wrong one? Would he be angry? She bit her lip.
It was a quiet afternoon in mid October. The sun was muted behind the clouds, but what light could escape filtered down in red and yellow hues through the leaves on the trees. It was a beautiful sight, and Esme sighed heavily as she thought of how she wished she could just go for a walk.
Maybe once she was finished putting away the groceries, she'd see if Charles would be interested in sitting outside with a glass of lemonade with her. Maybe, if he was in a good mood today...
"What the hell is this?"
Esme spun around, startled. She was met by the sight of her husband of six months holding a can of coffee and frowning down at it. She was confused.
"It's coffee, dear," she said, a little nervousness creeping into her voice. Why was he upset?
"Really?" Charles sneered. "I never would have guessed." He crossed the kitchen in two strides and grabbed both of her wrists in one of his big hands. She flinched as he shoved the coffee can in her face. "Read the goddamn label, you useless piece of shit," he growled. "What does it say?"
"Maxwell House?" she asked, confused.
"And what should it say?"
Oh. She hung her head, realizing what the problem was. "I'll go back to the store," she said, staring at her shoes. He let go of her wrists, and she felt the tears begin to sting her eyes. "I'm sorry, Charles."
She jumped, yelping as he pushed her back into the counter. "How hard is it to buy the right coffee?" he shouted, still just inches from her face. She kept her eyes on her shoes. "Jesus, Esme, you're fucking useless!"
"I'll take it back," she whispered, wringing her hands together. Please God, she begged silently. Please...
"You bet you'll take it back," he yelled. She cried out when his hand connected with her face, hard. She'd be lucky if it didn't bruise. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, dammit!" She shook her head, terrified. "Look at me!"
"Please," she whimpered. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I promise."
"Right," he growled, and she heard his belt unbuckle and whip out from his belt loops. "You won't buy the wrong coffee, you'll just fuck something else up." She screamed when he grabbed her, turning her around and pushing her up against the counter. Her screams turned to sobs as he brought his doubled up belt down on her over and over.
Later, she walked back slowly from the market clutching a can of Eight O'Clock Coffee, her husband's favorite. Charles would probably be angry that she was taking so long, but it hurt to walk any faster...
"Esme?"
She jumped and looked up to find Edward staring at her. He looked like he wanted to throw up, and she realized that he would have heard all of her thoughts.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, and she looked down at her shoes out of habit.
Edward was silent for a moment before she felt his hand, very gently, slide under her arm. She jumped a little, but let him lead her out into the trees. They walked quietly, and she looked up at the big spruces as he led her through.
"Do you see any you like?" he asked, and his voice was a little timid.
Esme timidly nodded toward a beautiful young blue spruce that stood a little taller than Edward. "Is that one alright?"
Edward followed her gaze and smiled. "Is that the one you want?"
She nodded timidly, and he grinned at her.
Two hours later, Esme opened another box of ornaments that had come from a Sears Roebuck catalog. Carlisle had arrived home an hour before with them and surprised her with a kiss on the cheek before setting her loose with enough decorations for the entire house. She'd set to work at once, and at the moment, Edward was wrapped in garland and hanging a wreath over the fireplace while Carlisle wrapped the tree in fancy electric Christmas lights. The fancy radio in the corner was playing Christmas music that she could just hear over the boys argument about whether or not the lights would ever really catch on with the general public. She smiled as she thought about them as "the boys." Her boys, really.
She wasn't paying too much attention to them, so she was surprised when a strong arm wrap around her from behind and lift her up. She giggled as Carlisle kissed her cheek, grinning at her. Edward rolled his eyes.
"Of all the things to order from a catalog," he muttered, and he went back to his garland.
Esme looked up to see that Carlisle was holding a sprig of mistletoe over her head and she laughed.
"I've never gotten to kiss anyone under the mistletoe," he said, defending himself as he gave her a chaste peck on the lips. "Someday, Edward, don't be surprised to find me stalking you with the stuff when you go crazy for some girl."
Edward rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "Not going to happen," and Esme grinned at Carlisle.
"I'll help you," she whispered in his ear, and she laughed again when he carried her to the doorway and lifted her up so she could hang it up.
She glanced around the room after he had let her down and gone back to his lights, and smiled. Her life had taken an interesting turn, and she was grateful for it. Finally, she could spend Christmas with her family.
a/n Up next: HRH Rosalie Hale... Reviews are greatly appreciated!
