Chapter 4: Desires

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Esme

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I stood before the tall mirror in the small room I was given in Carlisle's house. A stranger looked back at me in the same pose and position. She was my height, a few inches over five feet, and she had a similar slight build that even in womanhood had a childish gangly quality. Her posture was straight and well balanced like a dancer. Her hips were just the right curve to match her breasts, making a perfect hourglass shape where I expected my own bottom heavy figure. Instead of creamy skin, hers was pale and incredibly smooth. Her hair was the same length mind had been, falling in warm auburn waves but it had more shine and volume than mine should have. I reached up to touch it and the stranger did too. I focused on her breathtakingly gorgeous face. Perfectly heart-shaped and startlingly pale, I searched for my human features in the reflection. There were my long lashes, the slight bowing of my brow, the slight upturn of my nose, and the slightly boyish width of my chin. But my eyes were completely gone. There was no brown there, only red, brilliant crimson red. Looking back into those eyes I shivered.

A knock on the door interrupted my assessment of my new self.

"Yes," I answered, my voice sounding too singing and silky to be my own. Edward opened the door slowly and came in, a pile of folded cloth in his hand.

"Carlisle thought you might like a change of clothes," he said in explanation. I looked down, suddenly embarrassed at my own torn and bloodied dress. I hadn't changed since the day my son died—I flinched at the memory—and it was dirty with sweat and spilled tea I was too lifeless to clean up. My regrettable tumble down the cliff had torn in badly and added bloodstains. Now it hung by one shoulder and bore my legs and midriff inappropriately after my wrestle with my first kill. The claws that couldn't harm me now had shredded the thin spring dress.

"Don't worry about it," Edward said, seeing into my mind. "We were all clumsy hunters at first. It get's easier."

I just nodded, feeling like my cheeks should be burning in shame but they weren't even warm. I was sorry to have lost that comforting feeling. Try as I might, it had always been the one reaction I could never disguise.

"I certainly don't miss blushing but I suppose on a woman it's more endearing," Edward said and held out the clothes, which I accepted. They smelled faintly of soap, sunlight and Edward himself.

"Your gift takes some getting used to, I guess," I mumbled.

"Yes, but you'll adjust. I try not to comment on every thought I hear. Carlisle just stopped bothering to speak aloud after a while but he never had anything to hide from me… or well I thought he didn't. I'm sorry we don't have any women's clothes," He said as I unfolded the poorly patched and mended pants made of soft, heavy cloth. The shirt was in little better condition. "Carlisle said he would try and get something next time he's in town if you give him your measurements."

For a moment I was anxious about giving him an inch by inch measure of my body.

"I'm sure he could estimate them for himself after tonight," Edward commented with barely restrained amusement. I felt the invisible blush return. "He is a doctor. He's seen a woman's body before. I'm sure he'll treat you with the same dignity he would any other patient."

Of course he will, I told myself. You're being ridiculous, Esme. You're hardly dressed as it is. What will giving him the correct numbers change? I opened my mouth to tell Edward what they were but my eyes fell on the mirror again and I paused. I realized that I didn't know what my measurements were anymore; my body had changed in the past week. Between pregnancy, childbirth and now this altogether different change my body was completely new to me.

"Here," Edward held out a measuring tape to me. "I'll leave you alone to… change." He said. I just nodded as he ducked out of the room. Slowly I sat on the bed even though I didn't really need it for support. My legs weren't tired and they never would tire.

It didn't bother me as much as it probably should have, waking up in a body that wasn't really mine and a life that was irrevocably different than the one I had gone to sleep in. No, it was almost déjà vu. It felt like walking home from the doctor with one hand over my belly and just knowing that my body was different and Carlisle's words echoing in my mind. It felt like waking up my first morning in Ashland after a hurried escape from Milwaukee when my cousin Mary told me my mother and Charles were coming to get me. I could still remember, though it was hazy and indistinct, the feeling of my heart hammering in my chest and my breath coming faster and faster when Mary said, "We're going to pick up your mother and husband from the train station tomorrow and you should be there. You can't keep running from this, Esme. Your mother's lost the farm and she's nowhere to go. It's exceedingly selfish of you to give up a good home and security for all three of you," she looked meaningfully at my hands, protectively placed over my growing child, "just because Charles isn't everything you dreamed he'd be. No man is perfect, even my George. You can't expect my husband to support his own family and yours. Even family charity has a limit."

A growl from downstairs jerked me out of my memories. Through the walls and floorboards I heard Carlisle's voice:

"What is it, Edward?"

"Nothing," the boy responded, "just something in Esme's memory."

Oh, I thought, he can hear me. I forgot. I'm sorry, Edward. It's nothing, just a memory. I shook myself out of the melancholy mood and stood up. That life was behind me. I was starting over again and I was determined to be positive about that. Quickly I stripped away what was left of my dress. In my faster, stronger hands the seams simply popped and the existing tears just lengthened until the dress came away from my body in ragged strips of stained cloth. I took a deep breath and let them fall to the floor. I was more careful and slower as I put on Edward's borrowed clothes, more aware of my own strength. I was very glad he gave me a belt because I needed it. Even that was too large for me and I had to punch a new hole with the buckle to keep the pants on my waist. At least, I rationalized, I am better covered.

I looked at myself in the mirror and the person that looked back was almost more alien than before. The pants felt strange after so many years in skirts. I tried to remember when I had last worn pants but it was surprisingly foggy compared to the crystal clear memory of new mind. I gave up the effort and went about measuring my new form, trying not to look at the mirror too much. I looked around for something to write down the numbers with but realized that I had no trouble at all pulling them out of my head; prefect recall had its conveniences.

Edward was sitting at the piano downstairs looking over some sheet music.

"Was it you I heard playing… before?" I asked, remembering the sounds that had first broken through the haze of pain.

"Yes, it seemed to calm you somewhat."

"It did, thank you," I didn't think I could put enough gratitude in my voice. His music had been my first lifeline, the only thing that dragged me back from madness. How could I ever repay him for that?

"I'll think of something," he said and for a moment I was confused.

This really is going to take getting used to, I thought to him and he just chuckled. Carlisle walked into the room a moment later, dressed in fresh clothes that smelled like the same soap as mine and traces of cedar. I had to consciously stop staring at him. I'd thought he was beautiful when I saw him through human eyes but they missed so much. I wanted to examine every inch of his face with my new sensitive eyes and know this man who had saved me.

"Is that a new piece?" Carlisle asked Edward. I realized he only spoke aloud for my benefit.

"Yes," Edward replied, "I've just finished transposing it. I think you'll like it."

"Another time," Carlisle apologized. "I'm in enough trouble at the hospital for the past few days. I'd rather not be late as well."

"Of course," Edward said, dropping the sheets on the floor and settling himself in front of the keys.

"Have a good day," I said softly as Carlisle headed for the door.

"Will you be alright?" He asked me, the care in his voice soothing me and exciting me at the same time.

"Yes, I think so. It's bearable now," I said, lifting a hand to my throat. It still itched a little, but it was a ghost of the burning from before.

He gave me a pitying smile and nodded.

"I'll watch out for her," Edward said in response to some silent thought of Carlisle's.

"I'll be home before dark," Carlisle promised. He picked up his bag and was gone. I stood beside Edward and listed to Carlisle's feet on the porch then the sounds of his car starting. I followed the engine noise as it receded down the gravel drive then onto the road into town. When the sound was gone Edward began to play softly.

The new piece began gently and almost sadly flowing up and down under his skillful fingers. Then with a short and sudden pause launched into a melody line that was bluesy and bright, weaving into and through the gentle theme from the beginning that faded away as the happier melody shifted up and became gentler.

Does it have words? I asked Edward in my mind, glad I didn't have to interrupt his playing. He just nodded toward the stack of paper on the floor as his fingers wove in apparent effortlessness across the keys. I reached around for them gently, aware that paper was even more fragile than the dress I had (further) ruined.

It Had to Be You by Isham Jones was printed in bold black letters across the top and I gasped softly as the perfect song came to a fitting end. The last note seemed to hang in the air of the old house like all good music. The ending was proper but I was sad to have it over.

"A fitting song for the two of you," Edward said and I nearly fell over.

"W-what?"

"I hear your thoughts about Carlisle. From the moment you woke up it was clear what you feel for him. It's not new is it? I suspected that you might—"

"Please stop," I cut him off and set the delicate paper on the piano top before I accidentally ruined it. "Please I—I don't want to talk about that." My hands shook terribly and I clasped them together in front of me. "Please. And please don't say anything to him I—I'm just not ready for that." There was a panicked edge to my words and thoughts. I've had so little time with him. This is too good to be true but I want it to last just a little longer… just be with him a little longer…

"Alright," Edward assured me, "I'll say nothing, I promise. But you should know that he—"

"Please don't! I don't want to know what he's thinking. It's—it's not—" I shook my head. He would want privacy too, I thought to Edward.

"Yes, I suppose your right," he huffed in agreement but his expression was annoyed. "In that case, what kind of music do you like? I'm endeavoring to learn a little of everything right now."

"Umm…" I blinked a few times as I thought back into my human memories. I don't know, I realized. Charles had always hated the radio and before that the only music I heard was in church, we didn't have a radio at the farm. Edward scoffed.

"I'll soon fix that," he said ruefully and spun back around to his piano. "This is on of my favorites and a good enough place to start as any."

Music filled the house again, just a few notes at a time, picking up slowly in a lethargic beauty like a quiet midnight. I let it wash over me, standing at his side. The notes were clear and crisp in my new ears and I felt free to love these new sounds. There was no guilt in my joy for the first time. I put a hand on his shoulder.

Thank you, I thought. His smile became a grin. I found myself looking forward to the joys of this new life; Edward would play for me and I would see Carlisle again. In that moment those two thoughts were enough.

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Esme

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I was standing at the window later that first night of my immortality when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I already knew what Edward's steps sounded like and these were different. Carlisle must be home, I assumed and went to the door of my room to let him in.

I wasn't quite prepared for the way seeing him would take my breath away. How can I deserve this? I thought again. How can I deserve life with him when I so willfully tried to end my own? He was staring at me quite surprised. I wondered what my face must look like to him. Was I beautiful or did all vampire faces look like mine and he was simply accustomed to them? My eyes fell then on the trunk in his hand and the familiar smell on it. I knew immediately, even without my eyes to confirm it, that the trunk was mine.

"You're looking well," Carlisle said softly.

"Y-yes. I'm… settling in," I said awkwardly. I didn't know what else to say. "You went to my apartment?"

"Yes," He said and held out the suitcase. Taking it I thought at first it must be empty before remembering that I was much stronger now. What had seemed like a great weight as a human was hardly an effort to lift with one outstretched hand now.

"Thank you but… won't they notice these things are gone? I know I can't go back but I don't want you to get in trouble for taking them," I said. He followed me into the little wood paneled room. He stood in the doorway as I opened the case eagerly.

"I—well… The hospital was never able to identify you that night. When your body went missing they assumed it was a paperwork error. I forged an autopsy and dental x-rays that will be discovered misfiled by one of the orderlies. I took the liberty of leaving a note with your landlord explaining your sudden departure."

"What did you say?" I asked, looking over contents before me. My few photos, clothing, bible, sketchbooks, pencils, and various bits were packed away with ordered care.

"I said you were going back home to stay with relatives, I didn't specify who or what relation."

I nodded my acceptance and smiled at the lingering hints of Carlisle's scent on each object as I unpacked it.

"Thank you. I know they're only things but it's nice to have… some connection to who I used to be."

"You're still the same person you were three days ago," he said but I was already shaking my head.

"I know that. I mean before… before L-lyle and Ashland… before Charles." I unpacked my bible and the little picture of my family on our farm. My father looked back from the frame grimly as I remembered him but there was kindness in his eyes I had overlooked for so many years. "At least now I have a change of clothes," I said on a cheerier note.

"Yes, I'm sure getting out of Edwards hand me downs will be a blessing."

"And I can draw again…" I said picking up a pencil from the case only to have it snap in my hand and my words trailed off. "After I get more control of myself maybe." I nervously glanced at Carlisle's expression. It was somewhere between understanding and consoling.

"You will get used to it," he assured me. "I can't say life will ever be the same but it will be…"

Better because you're in it, I thought.

"Manageable," he settled on after some internal debate.

"Edward seems content," I said.

"Yes, he's come a long way. I'm sure having someone who's been through this more recently will help you. I rarely think about my first years and few of my experiences could help Edward with the change."

"He's a good companion for you," I noted and he laughed at it.

"Yes," he nodded, looking at the floor but unable to hide his sheepish smile, "I had to wait a long time before I found him. For a while I didn't think than any others of our kind would ever consent to live the way I do. There are others though, at least one other group that I know of."

"Why do you not live with them?"

"They are… less transient than I am. I love the work that I do, helping people—humans. But to do that I have to move around every few years, I draw too much attention otherwise."

"That's why you left Columbus?" I asked. The staff of the little clinic had told me he left for a better job with very little notice.

"Part of the reason," he said stiffly. "I had other reasons then." Was I one of them? I wondered.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked instead, changing the topic. I busied myself with moving the few clothes into the old dresser with exaggerated care for both (it looked as old and dilapidated as the house itself).

"Doing what?" Carlisle asked.

"Moving from place to place, working as a doctor among humans?" I asked.

"In America, since 1858," He said evenly. I turned to stare at him disbelievingly but he still looked no older than perhaps 30 if I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"H-how old are you?" I sputtered breathlessly. Carlisle laughed.

"Old," he responded in tired voice though his face was hopeful. "I was born in London many years ago and spent most of my immortal life in Europe before I crossed the Atlantic. America was knew and still unsure then but it seemed like the kind of place where I could do good."

"We must all seem like children to you," I said. My new mind had no trouble figure out that he was at least 200 years old.

"Honestly, no. I can say from experience that it's true, 'you never stop learning'. Edward himself has taught me many things in the last few years. You have surprised me more than I thought possible in the last 24 hours."

I'm not very special, I thought. "Thank you," I said instead, running a hand over the fabric of my favorite blue dress.

"It's not much, only what I could carry inconspicuously," he said, misunderstanding.

"No," I shook my head and looked pointedly down at my hands, "Thank you for finding me, saving me, and letting me stay. For all of this."

"Esme," he said, softly shocked. It gave me a strange electric thrill to hear him say my name. I made the mistake of looking up into his burning golden eyes. They held mine powerfully. "You don't ever need to thank me," he said, voice tempered with guilt, "and you are always welcome with us." Under his gaze I could only nod wordlessly. I was very glad for a second that I couldn't cry or my eyes would have been swimming.

"I'll leave you to… settle in," he replied and turned away, closing the door in his wake. I finally breathed. I didn't need to but it was comforting. If I had a beating heart it would have been pounding but instead there was only the tingling electric aftershock. I wondered if I would ever get accustomed to living with Carlisle Cullen.

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Carlisle

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It was about 2 weeks after Esme joined our house hold—I still struggled to call it a coven—that she came down the stairs one evening with the little box of ashes in her hands. She held it gingerly as if it were made of thin glass and not wood and iron nails. I looked up from the medical journal in my hands when she entered then flicked my gaze to Edwards grim face to gauge her thoughts. He met mine in a resigned way.

None of us had been brave enough to broach the topic of her son with Esme. She seemed so focused on figuring out her new life that it never seemed like the right time to bring up her past. Hunting came naturally but she still struggled not to lose her clothes in the process. Her thirst bothered her nearly constantly but that was normal for a newborn. I knew from Edward and others I had met, that it would fade soon if she kept up her current pace of consumption. More than that she struggled with the normal things. Handling anything delicate was hard for her because she had never been strong by any stretch of the imagination. Her heightened hearing also made her jumpy and nervous at times. The first time Edward had angrily smashed something—a small table as it happened to be—she jumped and a whimpering sound broke through her lips. I'd rushed into the room just in time to see Edward's horror stricken face as he watched whatever memory tormented her. He had apologized so profusely after than and treaded around her softly for the following day though I could see his fists clenching when he thought of why. It was hard to suppress my similar reaction to thoughts of Esme's former husband. I hoped with time she would come to be comfortable in our presence. Edward could think of nothing better to do about it so we settled on silent patience.

More than that we were adjusting to life with Esme. She was unfailingly kind and brightened both of our lives in ways we couldn't expect. Edward was won over to her in a matter of hours. He took great pleasure in finding her new music to listen to and even tried to teach her. She was always hesitant in such lessons; afraid she might break the instrument. At night the three of us explored the lake coast and the wilderness. Edward enjoyed having someone to race with. Compared to him, I was hopelessly out paced, but Esme's newborn strength let her keep up with him. I looked forward to those nightly outings through my shifts at the hospital that seemed just a little longer now that I had her waiting at home. Every evening, save this one, she had been waiting on the shaded porch for me. Watching the smile break over her face as I pulled into the drive quickly became the best part of my day. I knew she was just happy that we could begin out nightly explorations but it still made something in my chest flutter every time.

Today she had not been there, and when I came into the house Edward was bent over a new piece, focusing intently. I realized now as Esme descended the stairs he was endeavoring to give her some privacy, or just to escape her mind.

Esme stopped at the bottom of the stairs, eyes downcast at the little box in her hand. I noticed she was wearing the darkest of the dresses I had ordered for her: a long sleeved navy housedress trimmed in red and offset with a white collar.

"Could we go somewhere specific tonight?" She asked hesitantly, shifting her weight awkwardly.

"Anywhere you'd like," I replied almost automatically, so long as there are no humans there. I had to add the last part in my head. The last thing any of us wanted was an accident. Esme had yet to come very close to any humans but she'd caught far off traces of their scents and knew the overpowering instinct to hunt that threatened to control her. I cringed to think of the beautiful kind woman I knew she was draining the life from anyone. It surprised and shamed me that I recoiled less from the thought of innocent death than I did from the guilt I knew would plague her.

Esme was quiet for a long moment after she made her request. Once or twice she opened her mouth to speak but was overcome with emotions that played out over her face, half hidden in her curls. Finally she looked up at Edward helplessly.

"She would like to go to the cliff," Edward said for her, "where her old life ended."

Her old life, I thought, that's an interesting way to look at it.

"Alright," I said aloud. "Let's wait a few hours for darkness to settle in." She just nodded and turned to move slowly back up the stairs.

When the last traces of light were gone from the sky and there were more starts than planets, we silently convened downstairs. Edward and I had both changed into dark colored shirts as seemed appropriate.

We traveled in silence that night, a somber mood hanging over us. I knew that this night would have to come but I had hoped it would hold off just a while longer. But then I would always want to delay Esme's pain. That little box represented more to her now than the short life of her only child. It represented her humanity. She could never have children again; I had taken that from her. Slowly, haltingly I had explained that to her the morning of her second day with us. She had just nodded numbly and gone upstairs in silence. I'd looked to Edward for help but he only shook his head. The subject had never come up again.

I had looked up the records at the hospital when I went back. Her child, Carlisle Ethan Richardson, had died the night after I met him of a short but severe lung infection. It was relatively fast but I couldn't help thinking of all the children I saw dying in Chicago. In the worst months of the Spanish Flu I saw too many pregnant mothers, and few of the children who survived birth lived more than a week. The little blue-lipped bodies, still and silent were as clear in my memory as they had been in life and I cursed my immortality. I didn't want to think of Esme, warm and human as I had seen her that last time, holding a the little boy with my name staring up at her with brown eyes just like hers and cloudy with death as hers had been in the morgue.

All at once we had arrived. The cliff was not far from Ashland but the wind was with us tonight, blowing the scent of the town away from us. It looked out over the expanse of the icy lake. Below the rocky beach wove along the forested coastline. A path wound around the cliff here, a more popular place in the summer, but today it was empty, without even the trace of human passage.

Esme walked to the edge, the little box of ashes in hand, her hair and dress whipping in the cold wind. I could picture what she looked like the last time she was here and an irrational jolt of fear shot through me. I half raised my arm to draw her back from the edge. I knew in my rational mind that the fall couldn't harm her now but I was terrified to see her disappear over that precipice. Edwards hand on my arm stopped me.

"Let her do this," he whispered.

We watch as Esme silently opened the box. She paused, eyes fixed out across the water.

"I don't know what to say," she said softly with a short tearless sob. "He was so small and… and perfect and he was mine. I loved him from the moment he came into my life and I knew I had to protect him. That meant protecting me too. My little boy… there was so much of life that he missed but he was loved… even nothing else he was loved. That counts for something. I lived so long thinking no one loved me, but my little boy… he was always loved. I will always love him and I will never forget."

Edwards hand slid off of mine and I stepped forward to Esme. Gently I put a hand on her shoulder. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small square of paper. It was all that I could give her, and it was pitifully little.

She gasped when she saw it and gingerly accepted it, her eyes caressing the image of her child. The hospital took photos of every newborn for their records. Most were sleeping in their photos but little Lyle was awake and looking curiously up at the camera. Whether by chance or design is lips were pulled up slightly in a childish smile.

"Wherever he is," I told her, "he knows." She just nodded and I stepped back again.

"Goodbye," she whispered to the wind and let the little box tip out over the cliff side. A sudden gust picked up and lifted the fine gray powder, sending it swirling in a hundred motes of twisting wind over the landscape.

Edward began to sing a soft hymn, letting the words flow indistinctly one into the other as his clear tones rose and fell. Esme just stood on the cliff edge with the photo against her chest and silent dry sobs shaking her shoulders. I ached to hold her and cover her to keep away the grief and pain. There was no shield though, not one that I could give her.

We returned home in similar silence but there was a perceptible difference, like a weight lifted. Esme returned to her room when we reached the house but threw us a small sad smile and a whispered "thank you." I just nodded to her and Edward sat down at his piano to play soft comforting songs to fill the house.

Was there anything more we could have done for her? I asked him silently. He just shook his head.

I suppose it's enough not to be alone, I thought.

Edward smiled a little and threw me an expression that said, you would know.

Yes, it was enough. I didn't need two and a half centuries to learn that.