I hoped everyone thoroughly enjoyed New Moon. I thought it was loads better than Twilight. I actually liked this movie. I have high hopes for Eclipse (my personal favorite book) now. One thing I wished was for more Volturi Carlisle. He looked absolutely delish in the old school digs. I would have loved another two and a half hours of that. I wasn't a fan of Esme's vamped up appearance. I liked her softer look from the first movie better. The waves in her eye, the not as intense smoky eye.

Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Comparisons are Easily Drawn

They teach me swiftly about the life of the vampire. Without sleep, my days stretch into one long endless day. There is no time for the immortals, no need to pass the hours with tiny numbers. Night is as clear as day with my new eyes and I revile in my new freedom. I still ache for my little boy in the quiet moments when I cannot keep my mind occupied. They told me that I would be barren, that I could no longer be what I wanted to be, a mother. But Edward with his ability is always on hand to play me a sweet tune on the piano to distract me from those truths.

The doctor goes back to work a few days after I come. He leaves me in the trusting hands of Edward. I find out the small house we are living in is thirty miles out of the way of society and sixty miles away from the hospital where he found me. He runs to that hospital everyday now, although he tells me that he has given notice and in a few weeks, we will move to another place. Someplace where I won't be recognized. Someplace where we can start again.

Until then, Edward keeps me occupied while Carlisle is gone. We hunt constantly, my thirst never seeming to fade. I want to test my control around humans but I am nervous when I cannot even control myself in the presence of animals. Edward is in no rush to test me and we spend hours combing through the forest. He is quiet around me and often I catch him looking at me with a small glance of wonderment.

I lay my kill onto the earth, the lion's body folding in its emptiness. I look up to meet Edward's eyes and once again, I see that emotion flash in his eyes.

"What?" I ask him, sweetly smiling.

"It's nothing." He replies shaking his bronzed head. He looks at me one more time and then gathers his thoughts. "You remind me of my mother."

I am startled enough to sit back on my heels. He already told me he was seventeen when he was changed. I am just twenty six, old enough to be his sister certainly, but not his mother. And I know of how he came to be a vampire, of what his mother had requested from the doctor.

"Not the way you look." He goes on quickly. "The way your thoughts are. I couldn't really hear her thoughts back when I was alive just bits and traces, but for some reason I imagine they were very similar to yours. Full of compassion, full of love."

It is the highest compliment anyone has ever paid me. I do not know how to respond, but I feel incredible amounts of motherly love towards this boy. For that what he really is.

"She was a good mother. I have to keep on reminding myself. Everything from before is so blurry. But her face is clear and the way she smelled when she used to kiss me goodnight." He continues, his eyes lost in the memory.

I know what he means. My past is growing more and more distant. But my baby's face is startlingly clear and whenever the edges of that memory begin to distort, I pull up every little detail fiercely.

"I like you Esme. You being part of our clan, our family, it just feels so right."

"Thank you, Edward. I cannot lie and tell you this is what I expected with my life. But if I do have to live forever, I would very much like to spend it with you and Carlisle."

He smiles at me and we continue our hunt to satisfy ourselves.

Later, I find myself alone with blank paper. Carlisle has not yet return from his shift at the hospital and Edward is buried deep into a book. My hand picks up a fresh paper and I let the inspiration flow out of my arm. A house begins to take shape under my hand, a modest two story brick. I add some decorative landscaping to the front of the house and then eagerly begin planning the interior. Rooms begin to form on the paper and I can almost smell the fresh wood as I sketch bold pine rafters.

I am so involved in my creation that I am slightly startled when Carlisle appears beside me. He sits next to me on the roomy loveseat, so close that our cloth covered thighs are almost touching. I cannot explain my accelerated breathing and so I lightly smile at him.

"I did not know you were such a good artist." He says, taking a few of the papers from the table to look at them. His eyes are intently studying them, taking in minute details.

"Architecture mostly. I find the essence of people too hard to be captured on paper. But the rise and dips of a building, the way the rooms fit together like a puzzle, present endless amounts of opportunity. My husband and I, when we were first married, renovated a house. I helped with some of the gutting and really got into the designing." I tell him. His brow furrows slightly over the word husband.

"I guess I am not married anymore." I say.

"Yes. Technically and legally you are dead. You are not married."

"Good." I do not expect the relief that washes over me. He was never a good husband to me and I realized a long time ago that I would never have to return to him. But I am relieved anyway to hear Carlisle confirm my guesses.

"We could build this house." Carlisle says, gesturing to my sketches. "If you want to of course. We are going to move in a few weeks and it might be nice to build a house there that could be ours." Ours. I enjoy the sound of that word. It seems to promise that Carlisle feels for me as I could feel for him.

"Why did you change me into a vampire Carlisle?" I ask him, catching him unaware with my question. He gives me a long look and then sighs.

"For a very selfish reason."

"And that reason is?"

"When I set your arm for you, I was charmed by your personality. Then, when I smelt your blood that night in the hospital, I was drawn to it. Another doctor told me your story. He told me about your son and how a man had seen you jump from the cliffs. And then I saw you, lying there bruised, bloody and ready to die. But I did not want you to die. Because I wanted you for myself. I think I have wanted you since I first met you. And I apologize for stealing your death from you."

He knew when he changed me. He knew of my son and my pain. He knew why I threw my body from an impossible height. And yet he still changed me because he wanted me. Without knowing if I would want him back.

"I do not really mind that now." I reassure him.

"I understand that you may not share some of the same feelings I have for you. I promise not to make anything uncomfortable for you."

"Who says anything about me being uncomfortable?" I interrupt him.

I slide myself so that our thighs press together, not just our thighs but our upper bodies as well. His hands come up as he turns his body towards mine. Softly, one hand finds its way to the middle of my back, its partner snakes through my hair. Our faces come close together and I find myself trembling. Lips softly touch and we part looking for confirmation in each other's faces. Without hesitation, he draws my face close to his and I can feel his lips smile as we kiss again and again.

I have never felt anything like this. I have never known love with tenderness. My husband would mash his mouth hard against mine. Carlisle peppers my lips with sweetness. I find myself intoxicated by the taste of him in my mouth and I eagerly want more. Our bodies press tightly together and my hands travel over his back.

It is thrilling, the kisses, and each one gets deeper and deeper. I do not want to stop. I am not even sure if I will be able to stop. We do not need to stop for breaths and so we continue. And I lose myself in his arms. A slight cough from the next room is all it takes for Carlisle to pull away. I duck my head in embarrassment. Apparently, Edward can hear our thoughts from a room away. And even though I cannot see him, I imagine his face is twisted up into a smirk.

"I'm sorry." Carlisle apologizes before disappearing from the room, his eyes never meeting mine.

I should follow him but I remain on the couch. My heart aches inexplicably as I think of the golden eyed man. I love him. I want with him what I have always wanted. A child. It is not because I long to hold a baby, to coo softly in his ear, to rock him to sleep. It is because I want to see love come alive. For that what a child is, pure love. That dream is lost to me now.

I pick up the pencil again and shuffle to a blank piece of paper. My hand is hesitating, unsure of where to start. I am so used to geometrics and straight lines that it is difficult to draw curves and softness. But slowly my son starts taking shape on the page. And when I finish, I look at it. There is no denying it is a good drawing. Small, detailed fingers and toes. The whorl of a dimple in a cheek. The bow of his tiny mouth slightly curved into a smile. But what shocks me the most is what I have accomplished with this portrait. I have captured his essence, something I could never do before. It haunts behind his tiny eyes staring at me from the page. The pain starts deep in my stomach and vibrates throughout my chest. Forceful sobs escape my throat and I want to shed tears but I cannot.

He is my first, my last and my only.

As always, reviews are welcomed and cherished.