A/N: I bet you didn't expect another chapter this fast, did you? :) Believe me when I tell you I've had QUITE the writing bug lately. The words have just been coming like rain, and I love it! Comes at the expense of avoiding all my responsibilities and staying up all night but, meh, opportunity costs.
I know you want to get to reading, so I'll keep this short. I realized I made an "oops" on a setting element in this story when I began writing: the hospital where Carlisle works. My initial research on locations for this story led me to put him at Swedish First Hill Hospital. However, I recently discovered that Swedish First Hill Hospital is not a Level I trauma center, it's a Level IV, and I need a hospital with a Level I trauma center for reasons I'm not going to disclose right now. ;) Thus, please note that Harborview Medical Center is now the hospital Carlisle works at. I edited Chapter 1 to reflect this change so it will be consistent with the rest of this story. Realize, only the name of the hospital has changed, no other details were impacted. The location is the same because both entities are located in Seattle. I just wanted to notify you about this minor adjustment to avoid confusion. I try my best to not have to go back and change things in chapters I've already published, but in the rare instances that I do, I like to be upfront about it. I know inconsistencies can be bothersome, so I thought it was best to go back and change the name. Oh the joys of publishing as you go! With that said, I happily present Chapter 7! I hope you like it!
Chapter 7 - Light
Walking into the kitchen felt like stepping into a Hallmark movie.
The kitchen, like most of the rooms in the house, had massive floor-to-ceiling windows that let in an abundance of light and provided a beautiful view of the forest surrounding the property. The cloud-covered sky filtered the sunlight, casting it down in a gray hue, although the snow on the ground brightened the scenery and reflected the light back up towards the sky. The evergreen trees were still frosted with a coating of snow from the recent storm. Looking out the large glass windows at the natural winter wonderland made me feel like I was in a snowglobe, and I was here for it.
The creamy white walls and wood floors exuded a rustic farmhouse charm that somehow managed to not clash with the modern influences like the slate teal fireplace wall and sleek, edgy furniture. There was a rounded, white vase packed full with red roses set in the center of the table, popping attractively against the charcoal gray quartz. My eyes locked onto the colorful feast that was laid out on the countertop. The smell had wafted upstairs to my room, but I hadn't been able to identify what food it was and now I understood why. There were. So. Many. Things. Freshly baked bagels, bread, and cinnamon rolls, all made from scratch. Fruit of all shapes and colors. Bacon and little breakfast sausages that were still sizzling away in cast iron pans.
I was going to be here for a while.
The most important thing in the kitchen, though, was the gorgeous Mrs. Cullen. She stood confidently in front of the stove, tending the rich, cheesy omelet in the skillet. She wore a flowy light blue dress with ruffled sleeves that looked like it was from a different time. The skirt of the dress ended just below her knees, leaving plenty of room for her expensive white pumps to show. She had a yellow and white striped linen bistro apron tied around her waist. It looked very flattering on her, contouring her hips and ending just above her knees to elongate her small frame. Her caramel-colored hair hung over her back and shoulders, perfectly curled and out of her way. Martha Stewart would have been green with envy.
"Superior to breakfast at Tiffany's," Dr. Cullen jested.
I'd forgotten that he was behind me. He must've noticed my gawking at the array of culinary artistry.
"Good morning, honey," Esme greeted, plopping the omelet on a plate and handing it to me. "Help yourself to whatever you would like."
"This smells amazing. Thank you so much," I said, speaking loudly to hide the sound of my growling stomach.
Esme grinned. "You are very welcome. Is there anything else I can get for you?"
"Do you have any coffee?" I asked, feeling a bit awkward. I hated asking for things.
"Of course! We have an espresso machine, so I could make you a latte or macchiato if you'd like, or just about anything, really. I could stock a coffee shop with my collection of syrups and spices," Esme giggled. "I ended up adding a coffee bar to my kitchen thanks to Renesmee and her friends. We usually go through at least a gallon of product per day when everyone's home. Do you have a favorite flavoring?"
"I like cinnamon and vanilla together," I replied shyly.
"Coming right up!"
Esme seemed genuinely excited and happy to make things for me. Was this what good mothers were like?
I started in on my breakfast, doing my best to not wolf it down too quickly. Eating fast was a skill I'd acquired as a young child in foster care—you had to be quick if you wanted to get enough to eat. Even then, food was scarce or heavily policed by controlling foster parents. I didn't find that toxic competition here. Dr. Cullen and his wife were compassionate people, and obviously there was no worry of a food shortage. I assumed the two of them had already eaten as I was the only one with a plate in front of me, although Dr. Cullen had a cup of tea in his hand. I wasn't an early riser by habit, but I would have to work on that since Dr. Cullen and Esme were apparently morning people. I took a swig of my latte, hoping that drinking it faster would give me a bigger energy boost.
"Remind me to keep an eye on your caffeine intake, Caeleigh," Dr. Cullen teased.
"I'd prefer that you look the other way," I quipped, taking a smaller sip this time.
He chuckled. "Is that so?"
I shrugged. "More espresso, less depresso."
He and Esme both snickered at that one, and Dr. Cullen shook his head at me good-naturedly. "I suppose I can allow it."
I loved the warm banter that naturally occurred between Dr. Cullen and me. In the few days that I'd known him, humor had been an integral part of forming our connection. His gentle teasing and joking around in the hospital had made me feel more at ease with him, and it led me to believe that he truly enjoyed having me around. I was used to being a burden in the lives of those I came into contact with, but maybe it could be different with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. Hopefully the endearment they showed towards me now wouldn't diminish with time.
"Caeleigh, while the three of us are together, there is something Esme and I would like to talk to you about," Dr. Cullen heralded.
The fluffy, delicious food I'd consumed suddenly felt like a rock in my stomach. "Am I in trouble?"
"No, of course not," he refuted, a line appearing between his brows as if he were mystified why that would be my assumption.
"We wanted to have a discussion about schooling options," Esme elucidated.
I gulped. That rock was not getting any softer. "Oh."
"Delicate subject?" speculated Dr. Cullen.
"Only a little," I muttered.
"Tell us more," Esme coaxed, her motherly face empathetic and mild.
"School has always been a bit…difficult," I confided. "Not really academically but, mentally and logistically. I'm a really good student when circumstances are ideal, but sometimes when I'm really anxious or depressed, I stop doing my homework and fall behind. I fail classes that I'm perfectly capable of passing all because I don't do the work. Not because I don't care about my education, just because my brain gets overwhelmed by other things without me even realizing it until it's too late. Then I feel bad about myself and sort of get sucked into a shame spiral. I end up avoiding everything because I'm too ashamed to tell my teachers what's really going on with me, so the situation just becomes worse. I've repeated my freshman year of high school twice already. I just feel like there's no coming back from that, you know? Another piece of it is that I've changed schools so many times that I don't have any friends. I'm okay at making friends, but I have a hard time keeping them."
I hadn't realized I was crying until Esme offered me a tissue. When I'd decided to open up about the topic of school, I hadn't expected anything that angsty to come out. Apparently it was a touchier subject than I'd been aware of.
"We thought you may have some struggles in that area, which is why we wanted to consider what might be in your best interest moving forward." Dr. Cullen conscientiously ventured. "Our children attended the local school here in Forks, Renesmee is currently enrolled there, so that is one choice. The alternative would be homeschooling. Both avenues have their pros and cons, but we approve of either option. We believe you are mature enough to choose the best fit for yourself, so take some time to mull it over and let us know what you decide."
"We can also explore both options with more depth," Esme added. "If you'd like, we could tour Forks High School and meet with the principal. I proactively formed the bones of a homeschool plan in case you're curious what that could look like as well."
"Whichever route you choose, we will make sure the necessary accommodations are put in place to help you be successful," Dr. Cullen assured me. "It's okay that you've had a rocky couple of years. I know it must feel devastating, but I promise it is not hopeless. Problems can always be figured out, sometimes we just have to think outside of the box. And when that's not enough, we build a new box and think outside of that one too."
I breathed deeply, filled with the sweet sense of relief. "You know what? I would love to be homeschooled."
"Are you sure? There's no rush to make a decision. We could take a few days to gather more information," Esme offered.
"No, I know I want to be homeschooled," I stated with perfect certainty. "If I go back to a regular school, I'm just going to have all the same problems. I need a change; I don't want to fail again."
Dr. Cullen smiled. "Homeschool it is."
"I didn't want to say this before because I didn't want to influence your decision, but I'm delighted to not have to hand you over to someone else for eight hours a day. I get to keep you home with me!" Esme cheered.
"And I may give a guest lecture from time to time," Dr. Cullen alluded, giving me a wink.
"You're a professor; she's not in college yet!" Esme lightheartedly demurred. "Leave her to the proper schoolteacher."
Baffled, I whipped my head towards Dr. Cullen. "You're a professor?"
"Very part-time, but yes."
I squinted at him, suspicious. "What else don't I know about you?"
He and Esme looked at each other and laughed. I gathered that I was missing some sort of inside joke. I almost asked what was so funny, but I knew I probably would regret getting an inside look at the humor between passionate lovers. Screw them and their stupid, nauseating, perfect, finish-each-other's-sentences romance.
"Have you gotten any information on my little foster siblings?" I asked, changing the subject.
"I inquired about them when I spoke with your caseworker this morning, and she couldn't provide much of an update. It's a unique situation because they aren't your blood relatives; however, your caseworker supports the idea of visitation for the lot of you. She has a meeting with her supervisors tomorrow to discuss it. She did tell me that they have all been evaluated and placed in new homes. They are safe and in good hands now," Dr. Cullen told me.
"Homes? Plural? They're not all together?" I asked, growing worried.
"I do believe they were separated, unfortunately. I do not know the specific arrangements. It's difficult to find a foster home that can take four young children all at once, especially when none of you are related," Dr. Cullen explained.
I scrubbed my face in frustration. "That shouldn't matter! We were together for months! The five of us were closer than some biological siblings ever are! Why can't the bozos at the county office understand that? We were shipped here together from Texas for God's sake!"
Dr. Cullen and Esme shared a look. I didn't know what that meant, but immediately felt bad about my outburst.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice," I apologized, embarrassed that I'd ruined the sunshiny mood.
Dr. Cullen reached across the counter and took hold of my left hand. "I don't blame you for being angry. I know this is frustrating and that it feels very unfair. You just want to look out for your loved ones, yet you're powerless to do so. Anyone would be angry in your shoes, Caeleigh. Let's try to be patient together and see what your caseworker comes back with after the meeting tomorrow, all right?"
I nodded. "I'm just worried about them."
Dr. Cullen gave my hand a sympathetic squeeze and looked kindly at me. "I know, sweetheart."
"They're lucky to have someone in their life who loves them like you do, even when you can't be there with them," Esme added tenderly.
I finished my breakfast quietly, struggling to put the thought of my foster siblings out of my mind. I listened halfheartedly while Dr. Cullen and Esme chatted with each other about this and that, plans for the day, current events and whatnot. The discussion turned to something about a new virus that was making its way to the United States, Dr. Cullen shared his theories about it. I tuned out most of their conversation, not because it wasn't interesting, but because I just couldn't stand to have any other anxiety-provoking topics rattling around in my brain.
"All finished?" Esme asked, reaching for my plate.
"Yes, thank you again," I said politely.
"Of course, honey," she responded, giving me another warm smile. "Now that you've eaten, would you like to see the rest of the house? I want to make sure you find your bearings and feel comfortable in your new home."
"Yeah, I'd love to," I said. "I need to get the lay of the land before I end up lost in a closet somewhere. I'm not used to big houses."
"I'll leave you girls to it. I'm going to head up to my office and follow up on some things for work. Don't be afraid to interrupt me at any time, I welcome the distraction," Dr. Cullen said, getting up from the kitchen island and kissing the top of my head as he walked by.
I followed along as Esme brought me through all the parts of the beautiful house that I hadn't seen yet. I learned her childrens' names as she pointed out their bedrooms; Emmett and Rosalie, Jasper and Alice, Edward and Bella, although they had their own cottage a few miles away, so they didn't usually stay overnight, but they visited all the time. There was a room for Renesmee as well, but she usually slept at the cottage. Esme explained that Renesmee was Edward's niece that he and Bella adopted after her parents passed away many years ago. She was more like their daughter rather than Dr. Cullen and Esme's.
I was initially weirded out by the fact that the children were all in love relationships with each other, but as I thought more about it, I decided it wasn't all that strange. They weren't related, and all were young adults now. Perhaps it was unconventional, but really there wasn't anything inherently wrong with the situation. Who would I be to judge?
I learned that Dr. Cullen and Esme had the only other bedroom on the top floor with mine. In addition to Dr. Cullen's study, which I was already familiar with, most of the third level was taken up by a huge library. I'd thought all the books in the house were contained within Dr. Cullen's study, but that was false. There were thousands of books in this room, I'd never be able to read them all.
The room at the far end of the hall was Esme's studio. It was colorful and cluttered, more than I would have expected it to be. The rest of the house was immaculate, but apparently Esme wasn't necessarily the neat-freak I'd pegged her to be. Various paints, papers, and sketches were strewn all over her studio. I felt like seeing that helped me get to know her a little better. She was more laid back than I'd gathered from my first impression.
It was quickly becoming easy to view Esme as my mother. This frightened me. I'd never experienced this in a previous foster home, but something about how she carried herself just drew me in. I wanted to connect with her. She was just… motherly. Her wide, dark gold eyes and soft, heart-shaped face were always gentle and ever-comforting. For some reason, I sort of associated her with the Blessed Virgin Mary. Esme was every bit as compassionate and intelligent as Dr. Cullen, perhaps she was a bit more shy than his outgoing personality. I could see clearly why they were together, they complimented each other so well, two sides of the same coin.
We ended up in my bedroom—it felt so strange to regard it that way, my room. I had a hard time claiming it, I felt like I was staying in another girl's bedroom. It was big, beautiful, and fancy, too nice for a girl like me. I loved it, of course, I just felt out of place. Esme's eyes landed on my unmade bed, and I started having heart palpitations.
"Sorry, I forgot to make my bed this morning," I sheepishly apologized.
"Oh, don't worry about things like that," Esme waived. "I'm not a stickler for things like that."
I relaxed. "I think it's just going to take a little time for me to understand how things work around here. You and Dr. Cullen are so generous to me, I'm just afraid of disappointing you."
Esme placed her hands on my shoulders. "The only thing you need to worry about is being a teenager. We just want to feel safe and comfortable so you can be yourself. We know that you've been through a lot of troubling circumstances, and we just want to be a supportive environment that you can grow and heal in. I promise you that's the only expectation."
I nodded. "Like I said, I'm still adjusting. You're probably going to have to give me a lot of reminders."
"It's disorienting to experience genuine love and care after being abused for so long that you don't know anything different," Esme said.
"Sounds like you can relate," I deduced.
Her mouth forced a tight-lipped smile that didn't match the pained expression marring the rest of her face. "Story for another time."
The first four days of living in the Cullen House were quiet, slow, and lovely. Dr. Cullen—or Carlisle as he'd invited me to address him—had taken the rest of the week off from work. I'd felt guilty that he'd done so on my behalf, thinking of all the sick people who could have benefitted from his medical skills if he wasn't stuck at home with me, but he'd assured me that his leave was of his own volition and that there were plenty of other healthcare professionals to cover his absence. This was the first occasion he'd taken time off for since he began working at Harborview Medical Center. He'd thought it was important to stay home with me during this critical early period of adjustment. This "cocooning" strategy, he'd called it, was intended to help develop a healthy attachment to him as a caregiver and give me a sense of security in my new home. The concept sounded a bit strange to me, but I didn't oppose it. I enjoyed being around Carlisle very much.
I'd been spending nearly twenty-four hours a day with him in this first week. He'd continued to stay in my room at night per my request, cradling me as I fell asleep. Esme prepared an extravagant breakfast every morning, and the three of us would spend at least an hour around the table together talking, laughing, bonding—becoming a family. Carlisle usually had to sneak away to his study to work for a couple hours each day, but he'd allowed me to join him if I wanted. Sometimes I would lounge quietly on the couch with one of his many books, and other times I chose to hang out with Esme. Yesterday, she and I had spent the better part of the afternoon in her design studio, perusing various architectural blueprints and interior decorating vignettes. Her elaborate plans showcased her classy, timeless taste and her talented eye for design. She also had a collection of oil paints that she allowed me to experiment with. I created a flower painting that I thought looked pretty good for an amateur, but it would be hideous compared to the artistry that was on display in Carlisle's study. That attribute hadn't stopped him from hanging my tacky little painting right next to the masterpieces on his wall, though.
This cocooning stage was sweet and beautiful, but also brief. This morning Carlisle had let me know that we needed to go back to the hospital today for a follow-up image of my abdomen. I'd whined a bit and tried to convince him that I'd be fine without it, that I didn't need my spleen to be in working order anyway, but his decision was firm. He'd said we could make a day of it, get food from anywhere I wanted and explore some parts of the city I hadn't gotten to check out yet. While the bribe did entice me, it unfortunately didn't overpower my anxiety. Esme had offered to come along for moral support, but I knew she preferred to stay home, so I politely declined. She did so much for me already, I felt too guilty to ask for more. Carlisle promised me that I'd be taken care of by the best of his colleagues and that he wouldn't leave my side unless I wanted him to. I wished I'd had more choice in the matter, but I'd agreed to go willingly. Perhaps I could talk my way out of it during the nice long car ride to Seattle.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I know you're nervous, and that doesn't bother me one bit, but you needn't fret," he comforted. "I've asked my best resident to handle your appointment today since I cannot treat you now that I'm your guardian. I will be right there the whole time, just as your foster father instead of your doctor. We're going to meet the doctor in my office because I think that will help you feel more comfortable. He'll perform a brief physical exam to satisfy the requirement from the state, and then you'll go for your abdominal CT. I've already spoken with radiology, and they are just fine with me joining them in the booth during your scan. Laura, the PA you met, is on standby to do the pelvic exam we discussed a few days ago should you feel up to getting that done today. You don't have to submit to the pelvic exam if you aren't ready, but I just wanted to have that option available to you. Do you have any questions before we head in?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat so I could talk. "No, let's just get this over with."
Carlisle stepped out of the car and walked around the vehicle to open my door for me. As I got out, I noticed that the parking spot was marked by a sign with his title on it, specially reserved just for him. Walking up to the main set of doors, my eyes were immediately drawn to the place on the front steps where I'd waited for Carlisle the night that I met him. I remembered how cold and miserable I was, how much pain I was in—I'd resolved to give up on life. Having changed my mind at the last second, I'd attempted to hide from Dr. Cullen, but I'd been too late. He'd already had me in his sights. My body filled with warm gratitude towards the compassionate doctor. I hadn't been invisible to him.
I stopped walking and dried my eyes with my mitten.
"Caeleigh, what's the matter?" Carlisle asked softly, putting his hand on my back.
"I was just remembering the night you found me on the steps over there," I said.
Carlisle didn't need further explanation from me, he understood completely. He squeezed me against his side and kissed the top of my head, pausing for a couple of seconds while we both recalled that difficult night. I knew it had been emotional for both of us, and I'd been so afraid of what would happen next. The girl on the stairs never would have believed how wonderfully different her life would be just a few short days later.
"Look how far you've come," he said, sharing my sentiments exactly.
"All because of you," I thanked.
"You give me too much credit. The biggest hurdle was asking for help, which you did all on your own," he disagreed mildly, doting on me with a smile. "Come now, let's keep going. We don't want to be late."
Speak for yourself, Carlisle, I thought. I was delighted at the idea of prolonging the appointment for as long as possible. Better yet, what if we just skipped it altogether?
"Good morning, Dr. Cullen," a female voice greeted from the welcome desk as we entered the lobby.
"Nice to see you, Morgan," Carlisle replied cordially.
Unlike the first time I'd been taken to Carlisle's work office, we were able to avoid the intrusive stares of his colleagues—for the most part. I guessed that the fact that he was wearing his civilian clothes and not his customary white coat probably helped a little bit by making it less likely for people to recognize him. We took the elevator all the way up from the lobby instead of climbing the stairs for part of the journey, and no one really bothered us until we walked into the area dedicated to internal medicine, which Carlisle's office was within. At that point, a number of healthcare workers swarmed us, rapidly overwhelming me and causing my already-brewing anxiety to skyrocket.
There were so many voices chattering in the welcoming, happy, curious, high-energy interaction that the actual conversations blurred together. My anxiety also made it hard for me to concentrate clearly on anything anyone was saying. I gathered that much of the jabber consisted of pleasant greetings and innocuous questions, some of which were directed at me; Carlisle was obviously highly respected and admired by his colleagues. If I wasn't on the verge of a panic attack, I might have actually enjoyed the attention. All I had on my mind at the moment was the effort to decipher which one of them was going to poke and prod me once we got to Carlisle's office.
"It's wonderful to see you all, but I have to get this one here taken care of. I'll be back in the trenches with you in no time," Carlisle affably concluded.
He guided me the rest of the way to his office, and I was relieved to take refuge in the calm, quiet, familiar room. There was nothing scary in here. Not yet, anyway, until the doctor shows up. For now it was just Carlisle and me, and I relished the opportunity to quell my nerves before the dreaded appointment.
"Terrified of doctors and you end up having one as your foster father… Just your luck, huh?" Carlisle chaffed, making me smile.
"You're not so bad," I conceded. "I'm just going to have to get used to being around medical professionals."
"You're not their patient, Caeleigh. They are normal people who happen to work at a hospital. They're just my colleagues, it would be no different if I worked at a bank," Carlisle reminded me.
"I know," I said. "I'd like to be able to view them as regular people."
His forehead creased. "Were you triggered by them coming up to us?"
"A little bit," I confessed. "I know they just wanted to say hi to you, and I love that they care about your family, but I was daunted by their presence."
"I'm sorry that happened, sweetheart," he sympathized, embracing me. "If it helps, I trust every single one of them. They would never ever harm you."
"I know that's probably true, and honestly, I don't know whether I'm actually afraid of them or just scared thanks to what they remind me of," I said, a shiver running down my spine.
Carlisle sighed heavily, and I backpedaled instantly. "It's not that bad, though. I'm sorry I overreacted."
He loosened our embrace and tenderly tipped my head up with his hand to look at his face. He looked perplexed. "What? Caeleigh, no, don't invalidate yourself. Oh, my dear, I wasn't suggesting that your response was inappropriate or exaggerated. My frustration wasn't aimed at you. I'm disappointed that someone in the medical field traumatized you. Those in our profession aren't supposed to hurt people, that commitment is in the very first line of our oath. I detest that someone who was supposed to take care of you brought suffering upon you instead of keeping their promise. In no way is that your fault, Caeleigh."
"Oh," I replied, realizing I'd misinterpreted his sigh.
"I wish there was something I could do to fix it," he said, massaging between my shoulders. "Whenever you're ready to talk about what happened to you, even a small part of it, I'm here."
I nodded gratefully. "I know you are."
He kissed my forehead before taking my hand and guiding me over to the couch. "Get comfortable, I'll grab you some water. My resident should be here any minute now."
As if on cue, there was a spirited knock on Carlisle's office door.
"Come in!" Carlisle allowed.
I glanced warily at the doorway and saw a man entering the room. He looked to be in his early thirties and had dark blonde hair that was slicked back. He was dressed fairly casually, wearing semi-fitted cargo jeans and black high-top sneakers. The only giveaway that he was a doctor was the black scrub top he wore over a long sleeve shirt. He hadn't donned a white coat, and I didn't even see a stethoscope. I wondered if this was the way he usually dressed or if Carlisle had clued him in on my fear of doctors and told him to dress down. Either way, I felt a little more at ease. I'd expected some old, cranky scientist to stroll through the door, but this young resident was the opposite of that vibe.
"Dr. Cullen!" he trumpeted in a jovial, husky baritone voice. "Back at work already?"
"Not quite," Carlisle answered. "Just visiting."
The resident laughed warmly. "Good, I'm enjoying the break from you."
"I'm certain you are," Carlisle chortled, sitting down in the armchair that was perpendicular to the couch.
"It's good to see you," the resident imparted genuinely. His friendly brown eyes then focused on me. "And you must be the VIP patient I'm here to see."
"Caeleigh," I stated shyly.
"It's nice to meet you, Caeleigh. I'm Dr. Conrad Hawkins," he introduced, carefully extending his hand.
We shook hands, and then Dr. Hawkins walked across the room to perch on Carlisle's desk about seven feet away from me. He positioned himself directly across from me as one would for a conversation but kept that good distance. I inferred based on his movements that he was being very intentional to not intimidate me. Now I was convinced that Carlisle had divulged my medical anxiety to Dr. Hawkins. I was so embarrassed.
"All right, Miss Caeleigh, we're going to take care of your comprehensive assessment today," Dr. Hawkins presented, typing rapidly into the iPad he carried. "As you know, all kids are required to have a wellness exam after being placed in a new foster home. I reviewed your past records, there's nothing that stands out to me to be concerned about. Today should be the same as appointments you've had previously, there shouldn't be any surprises. We'll talk for a little bit, I'll do a physical exam, get bloodwork, take care of that follow-up CT, and then get you on your way. Sound okay?"
I nodded, although I was very uneasy about getting blood drawn. The last time I'd had to get labs, it had taken eight people to hold me down. I fought back tears as I remembered the distressing procedure.
"Do you have any questions before we get started?" Dr. Hawkins asked. "I can see you're a little anxious."
I glanced over at Carlisle. He smiled reassuringly and nodded in encouragement, wordlessly reminding me that I was safe. I looked at Dr. Hawkins once again, noticing his warm, patient expression. I stood up, slightly unsteady on my feet, and cautiously approached Dr. Hawkins. I'd only moved about a foot and a half closer to him, but I was really proud of myself for making it that far. My instincts wanted me to run in the opposite direction as fast as possible to get to safety.
"Um," I went nervously, "I've…had some bad experiences with doctors in the past, so things like this are really hard for me. Can we pause the exam if I need a break?"
"Absolutely," he agreed.
Accepting the circumstances for what they were, I gave the doctor permission to examine me. The desk became a makeshift exam table—somehow, despite being a hard surface, it was more comfortable than the typical padded bench. We went through a couple of questionnaires, and then he performed a basic physical, making small talk with both Carlisle and me while efficiently moving through the assessment.
"Tell me, are you being taken care of at the Cullen House, or do I need to give Dr. Cullen here a very stern talking-to?" Dr. Hawkins inquired in a serious tone, but there was a smirk on his face letting me know he was just teasing.
"I'm being treated very well," I confirmed.
"I'm glad to hear that," Dr. Hawkins replied. "Although, I was hoping I'd get to tear into Carlisle the way he tore into me when I ordered an MRI for a patient with a pacemaker my intern year."
I smiled at the dig he made at Carlisle, but the reason that such action would have been a problem went right over my head. Carlisle and Dr. Hawkins had a good laugh about it, though. I chalked it up as humor that only those with medical knowledge would understand. What I did comprehend was the comic relationship between the two of them, and knowing that they got on as well as they did made me begin to like Dr. Hawkins. Without a doubt, he was the doctor Carlisle trusted most.
"Okay, Miss Caeleigh, everything appears normal. I'll submit documentation of your completed health screening to your social worker so you all don't need to worry about that. Aside from the CT, all that's left to do is drawing some blood. Would you like to go downstairs to the lab, or would you prefer we do it here?" Dr. Hawkins asked.
"I hate needles," I groaned, ignoring his question. I could already feel a sweat breaking out on my forehead and palms at the idea of being stuck with a huge needle.
"Why don't I take care of that, Conrad," Carlisle interjected, rising from his chair and coming to stand next to me. "If you would please put the order in to the lab, I'll draw her blood here, and then we'll meet you in radiology in a few minutes."
"Fine by me," Dr. Hawkins agreed, smiling. "I'll see you in a little bit."
Dr. Hawkins bounced confidently out of the room, closing the door behind him. I looked to Carlisle with pleading eyes, silently begging him not to make me do this. My body was vibrating so vigorously with fear that I was about to go over the edge of the desk and onto the floor. Carlisle took a seat in his leather office chair and slid me onto his lap, situating me parallel with the desk. He scooted his chair in closer so that I was snug between the desk and his body. He arranged my left arm on top of the desk, flipping my hand so that my palm faced the ceiling, and I realized he was discreetly setting up for the procedure. He had me locked in so I couldn't run away.
"No!" I panicked, fighting against his crafty enclosure. "Let me go!"
"Caeleigh, it's okay," he said softly. "Let's take a deep breath together."
"But you're restraining me!" I cried, wriggling around.
"Sweetheart, I'm placing you in a comfort hold in preparation for the phlebotomy, yes, but I'm not doing anything else yet. Do you see my hands? No needle," he assured. "I'm not planning on pulling a fast one on you. I wouldn't violate your trust like that."
"Where's the needle?" I demanded, unable to see any medical supplies from my restricted point of view.
"Everything is in this cabinet right here," Carlisle told me transparently, pointing to the black metal storage cabinet that sat behind his desk.
"I don't want my blood drawn," I complained.
"I know, sweetheart. Unfortunately, we don't have a choice. This is really important for your health. Bloodwork provides a copious amount of helpful information and allows us to prevent serious health issues," he explained. "I'm not going to tell you that it won't hurt because it may pinch a little, but it should be less painful than the tetanus antitoxin shot I gave you last week."
Hearing that lowered my anxiety a bit. The shot he'd administered had definitely hurt, but it wasn't bad at all—not nearly as bad as I'd imagined it would be. I reminded myself that Carlisle was especially gentle, he had never caused me true pain. If something inevitably hurt a little bit, he always apologized and comforted me. He took the time to help me through my anxiety and waited for me to give him consent to do whatever needed to be done. I'd perceived him positioning me the way he had as a threat, but after slowing down and thinking about it, I realized that he'd placed me in this tight hold so that he'd be able to effectively soothe me while he drew my blood. He wouldn't have me safe and snug in his lap if he didn't care that I was afraid.
I calmed down by taking a few deep breaths and relaxing into Carlisle's body. I gave him permission to do the venipuncture and closed my eyes, resolving not to open them until it was over. I heard crinkling sounds as he opened the necessary items, and then felt a cool, wet swab on the inside of my elbow. He placed a tourniquet around my arm which quickly became uncomfortable as it dug into my skin like a strong rubber band. I felt a sharp prick, and then he released the tourniquet, and the rest of the procedure was virtually painless. He drew multiple vials of blood, but it was over before I knew it.
"All done," Carlisle said.
I opened my eyes to see him securing a small square pad over the puncture site.
"You did so well," he praised, embracing me fully. "You were very brave for me, and I'm also proud of how open and cooperative you were with Dr. Hawkins. You advocated for yourself, and I didn't have to step in until the very end. You've been doing a lot of hard things lately, and you are overcoming your fears like a champ. I hope you're proud of yourself, too. You've certainly exceeded my expectations. You're amazing, Caeleigh."
"Thank you, Carlisle," I replied, soaking up his praise. It felt really good to have someone building me up for once instead of criticizing or gaslighting me.
We cuddled in his office for a while before going up to radiology for my scan. Carlisle and Dr. Hawkins both stayed in the little booth outside the imaging room while I laid in the CT machine. They checked in on me frequently which helped the time pass. I complained of being bored at one point, and Dr. Hawkins started jabbering on as if he were the captain of a spaceship I was riding in. I couldn't roll my eyes hard enough.
The results of the CT confirmed that my spleen had healed, there was no more blood in my abdomen, and I didn't need to come back for any more tests or scans. This news made me giddy. After the past several days, between needing to come to the hospital for my injuries, getting a whole bunch of procedures and tests done, Carlisle giving me a daily checkup at home, and all the fuss today, I was so ready to be done with it all. Well, almost done.
I'd decided to agree to the pelvic exam. I didn't want to have to come back to the hospital or go to a different clinic in Forks, so we met up with Laura the PA in a private exam room in the relatively quiet outpatient department of the hospital. Carlisle waited outside the door while Laura performed a painless and thorough exam. Surprisingly, while the nature of the exam made me nervous, I didn't find it triggering at all. Laura told me she didn't see anything concerning, and that I would get the results of the vaginal fluid analysis no later than tomorrow. She sent me to the adjoining bathroom with a plastic cup to collect a urine sample, and we were all finished after that.
"I'm glad we got a redo after our first interaction didn't go so well," Laura said, grinning at me as she opened the door to let Carlisle know it was all right to come in.
I smiled. "Me too. Sorry I kinda freaked out on you that day."
She laughed. "No worries. You had a good excuse for freaking out."
"Thank you for taking care of her, Laura," Carlisle said as we got ready to leave.
"My pleasure." She turned to me. "Make sure you swing by the cafeteria and grab some hot chocolate on your way out. Believe it or not, it's the best hot cocoa in Seattle."
Carlisle allowed me to take Laura's recommendation and get a hot chocolate to-go. He did give me some grief about having two macchiatos and a hot chocolate all in the same day, but I brushed it off, telling him I deserved my reward. I didn't understand why he acted like caffeine was evil.
"Oh my goodness, freedom! At long last!" I exclaimed, a bit dramatic as we walked to Carlisle's car. "I can't comprehend how you could possibly enjoy working in a hospital. It's so cold and depressing, and there's people screaming and bleeding all over the place. The only good thing about that wretched place is the tasty hot cocoa."
Carlisle chuckled at my interpretation. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it. To each their own, I guess."
"How do you see it?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"I see it as the place where I get to live out my calling. Even in the hardest times of my life, I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to help people. It brings me happiness. I get to heal people when I come to the hospital, and that gives me a sense of great purpose. It's hard to describe why I love my work so dearly, but I just do," he said.
I contemplated in silence for a moment before responding. "I'd like to see it from your perspective someday. I've only ever been a patient, and I've had some pretty bad experiences in medical settings, but maybe I could come to see it the way you do. I want to help people too. Maybe I could be a nurse or something. I don't think I'm smart enough, though."
We were back at the car now, standing on either side of it at our respective doors. Carlisle stopped what he was doing and looked me right in the eye.
"You can be whoever you want to be," he told me vehemently. "It's not about being smart enough, it's about never giving up. No matter where you come from. No matter how insignificant you think you are. No matter how many times you fail. It's about never giving up."
His inspiring words gave me goosebumps. He was suggesting that there was hope for me after all, which was a lovely but inaccessible thought.
Carlisle believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who left a review last chapter. I love reading them, and it's nice to hear from you all after being gone for so long. It's fun to see that engagement is increasing, it brings me so much joy to interact with you all and share my writing with you.
Now, on to chapter discussion. Lots of little hints and Easter eggs in this one. Did you catch some of them? I'm trying to be really intentional about laying the foundation for future events. I really enjoyed writing the beginning piece of this chapter. It's the first time we get to see Carlisle, Esme, and Caeleigh really interact as a family. I love seeing how she slowly warms up to them. Of course, there'll be a whole new dynamic added when the Cullen kids come home from Alaska.
Something I'm always trying to balance is having lots of sweet, slow, heartfelt moments while keeping the plot interesting and the pace of the story moving at a good rate. I don't like rushing through for the sake of getting from plot point to plot point. Exciting is good, but fast feels cheap. I also don't want to bore you. I mean, I'm not bored with my writing, but sometimes I wonder if some parts feel too slow to other readers.
Also, if anyone is familiar with the TV show The Resident, yes I'm borrowing Dr. Conrad Hawkins. He won't be a central character in the story—this is not developing into a crossover, it's not critical that you know who he is—I just needed a doctor that wasn't Carlisle, so I nabbed Dr. Hawkins because, why not? The choice likely has a bit to do with my devastation of the fact that The Resident was canceled. :'( Playing with his character made me feel a little better.
For a little peek behind the curtain of my writing process, one of the things that you all don't see is that while I'm writing the chronological chapters for this story, I also get little plot bunnies for future moments popping up, so I'm simultaneously working on those as well to have ready when they can be fit into the storyline, kind of like a puzzle. One of the challenges/fun parts of publishing an in-progress story is that I can't go back and change things to suit a future moment, so I'm constantly adapting and shifting and getting creative on how to make things happen. Believe it or not, I don't yet know every little (or big) detail about this story. At this point, I haven't even decided on the ending. I of course have a framework and a direction, but really the story writes itself as I go, and the ideas that come up are surprises even to me. For example (don't worry, not a spoiler), I was thinking through something that has to happen in the near future, and the single question of how to precipitate that event led me down the path of writing a whole sequence of events, connections, and relationships that I hadn't even thought of when brainstorming for this story, and all of those filled 58 pages in Google Docs! 58! And the moments aren't even completely fleshed out because the story is still developing, and that also doesn't include my notebook pages of bullet-point ideas that I haven't felt compelled to begin typing out yet. Crazy! I tell ya… I completely understand why Stephanie Meyer keeps a notepad by her bed and will stay up writing all night. One of the perks of "prewrites", as I like to call it, is that it is so satisfying when I can finally input those into the current chapter, and it often helps me post faster and more frequently, which I'm sure you as the reader appreciate!
Okay, that's probably all the prattling you want from me. If you're still reading this, you're a rockstar. I'm certainly not known for my brevity. :)
Please leave a review with any questions, comments, or concerns! I love getting into discussions about my stories or Twilight in general. Connecting with you all is the best part about sharing my writing, so please reach out if you'd like. See you next time!