12. Memoirs

Hey, Edward. Emmett sailed past me into the living room, landing on the couch. You look about as happy as I feel, right now.

"Hey, Emmett," I said absently, poring over Carlisle's letter to Esme. There had to be something I could use, something that would give me a clue to where he'd gone. I was so entrenched in the letter I didn't notice the blatant glowering tone in my brother's voice until he gave a huge sigh. "What's wrong, Em?" I looked up-- Emmett was alone. "Where's Rose?"

"I don't know," he growled. And I could care less.

I raised my eyebrows. "That's considerate."

Dude, if only you knew. "Man, I wish I could--" he cut off, and then he was contemplating the irregular patterns on the ceiling.

"Emmett, what are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing, bro."

I swallowed my retort and went back to the letter. Emmett knew he wasn't fooling anyone, he just wanted to press his luck with keeping me out of his true thoughts. That was all right with me-- I could wait. Patience was coming easier to me, lately. I supposed that was a good thing, even if it was a little out of character.

I still couldn't believe I had stopped Em and Rose from attacking the dogs on the Quileute border. At that time, the thought of fighting the wolves hadn't even entered my mind. I had needed answers from them, not resentment. Sam had given me hardly anything to go on, but I had glimpsed a brief flash of insight from him: Carlisle had traveled down their property line, and they had followed him the entire way. That had been enough, for me. We knew which direction he'd taken, now.

"Edward," said Bella, coming down the stairs, "I'm going to call Charlie, all right? I'll use your home phone."

"Charlie just called," I answered, turning to look at her. "He said he had to go out of town to join another police force for a while. It's nothing big," I was quick to mention, watching her face tighten, "the other force is just short on men right now. He said it was a good thing you were staying with us."

Nodding, she came and sat beside me, at the kitchen counter. I'd chosen that place to reread the letter because I had never sat there with Carlisle. It was easier to concentrate without a stray memory popping up without my consent. I studied Bella in the early evening sun. "Is there anything you need? We could go by your house--"

"No, I'm okay. Alice thinks of everything," smiled Bella, then bit her lip as the double meaning to her words sank in. Alice hadn't thought of everything. She'd never even seen Carlisle when he left. It wasn't at all her fault, but still...

"Are you hungry?" I asked, distracting myself.

"Edward, it's only four o'clock."

"I just don't want you to starve, in this house full of vegetarians."

That drew a smile out of her again. "I know, it gets difficult to be the only human around here."

"I'm sure," I said softly, taking her hand. She had beautifully warm skin. It was a shame she had to put up with my own iciness.

"Edward," interrupted Emmett, "Esme's upstairs, right?"

"Yes. She's been there all afternoon." Sitting in her room, with that copy of Pride and Prejudice in her hands. I was starting to fear what would happen to Esme, our mother and now sole source of parental love. Her heart was broken, obviously, but her motivation seemed broken, too, maybe beyond repair. She'd barely moved the whole day. "Why don't you go see her, Emmett?" I said. "She'd like to know you're home."

"I'll just depress her." Flipping over on his back, Emmett eyed the two of us at the counter. "So, have you heard anything from Jasper and Alice?" He was thinking very hard about Alice, repeating the same thoughts about her over and over.

"Not yet." I frowned. What was wrong with him? "They went to see Tanya, you know."

"They did? Why?"

"She said someone needed to come to Alaska. She didn't want to say why on the phone."

"That's weird, isn't it?" Emmett's face was dark. "You don't think Carlisle--"

"No, I don't," I said bluntly, laying the letter down. "The wolves followed him off the border. He definitely went in the opposite direction as Denali. Besides, why wouldn't he just tell us that's where he was going?"

"Just an idea," sighed Emmett, sinking lower into the couch.

Bella moved closer to me, her knee touching mine. "Do you want me to go check on Esme? She might need some help..."

"No, I 'll go." I stood, kissing her, then walked up the stairs. "You and Emmett can chat. Maybe he'll tell you what he's attempting to shield me from."

"No way," he called back. "Just forget that idea, Edward!"

Shrugging, I flew up the stairs, stopping before Esme's door. I knocked, and heard her stirring inside, coming to let me in. When she opened the door, I tried not to look as worried about her as I felt, taking in her large, tired eyes and defeated manner. In her hand, held tight to her chest, was Pride and Prejudice. "Hello, Esme," I smiled. "May I come in?"

"Of course, dear," said Esme, her voice faint, as if she could suffer actual exhaustion. She smiled back at me, weakly, but with her lovely sweetness.

"Thank you." I came in and sat with her on the floor, where I could clearly see she'd been for hours. "Bella's very worried about you, Esme," I said, staring at her as she sank down across from me, the book in her lap.

"Oh, Bella." Esme was still smiling gently. "Such a wonderful girl, Edward. I know all of you must be concerned, but don't worry--" she took a breath. "I'm fine."

Are you? I wanted to ask, but I just took her hand instead.

I was at a loss for words: seeing my mother this way brought back memories with photographic quality, when Jasper had dealt us the blow. At first, I couldn't believe that Carlisle, the only father I truly remembered, was gone. But I'd read the truth out of their minds, I knew that the letter was real--in Carlisle's handwriting--and that I couldn't deny it anymore. I was in shock, I'd finally concluded, because I hadn't reacted like Esme, or like anything I would have expected. I hadn't gotten wildly angry, or exceedingly grief-stricken. If I was completely honest with myself, I doubted I would accept the reality of Carlisle's desertion unless I saw him walk away with my own eyes.

Desertion? Is that what I was calling it now?

"Do you think," said Esme, her voice low, "he would have told me he wasn't coming back, if there was any slim chance..." she trailed off, her hand tightening around mine.

"I don't know," I murmured. "I would have never thought he would do this, so I suppose my opinion doesn't count for very much."

"I never expected it either, son."

Son. Esme was my mother, in every aspect but blood relations, just as Carlisle was everything but my biological father. He'd given me this existence I had now. He'd taught me how to be nearly human. His life had been an inspiration to me, and his control had put me to shame. What was I going to do, now that my father had vanished?

"Esme." I hated breaching this subject, with her fragile state so blatant before me, but I felt it needed to be said. "I know how hard this is for you--" I swallowed, but pressed on. "I know that this house is bringing you pain. So, I wanted to tell you, if we need to leave, we can. All of us would be willing, I'm sure--"

"Edward," cut in Esme, turning uncomprehending eyes on me. "Do you mean to say you want to leave? Leave Forks?"

"Well, only if everyone else needs to," I responded, puzzled by her question. "This is a very traumatic experience, Esme. I thought a change of scenery--"

"You would leave Bella here?"

I winced. "I have to do what my family needs me to do, now. Bella's not pleased with the idea, naturally."

"I can't blame her," said Esme. "You simply can't leave Bella, Edward. Not again. It would kill her."

"I know," I agreed, "but she understands that I go where my family goes."

Before I'd even finished Esme was shaking her head. "Bella is family, dear; we need her as badly as she needs us. Besides, I couldn't ask you to go without her."

"We'll have to see what the others think, too," I put in, just to be ecumenical. But I could see the topic was closed; Esme couldn't leave. She said it was because of Bella, but I could divine the real reason easily from her bleak thoughts.

Esme, deep down in her heart, was clinging to the hope that Carlisle would return someday. It wasn't a futile hope, I guessed, but it was also not very realistic. If we left Forks, how would Carlisle find us, when he came back? That was Esme's line of thinking. I held no such hope-- Carlisle had known what he was doing when he'd written, By the time you receive this I will be

out of your reach. And, though it hurts me to tell you this: I will not be back. Even if I had lost faith in Carlisle's reliability, I trusted his word implicitly. He was not coming back.

But I couldn't tell that to Esme. "It's going to be all right, Esme," I assured her.

"You're so good to me, Edward." Her free fingers slid across the cover of Pride and Prejudice. "I'm so glad you're here."

"We're here for you. None of us are going anywhere." Had I always sounded this sickeningly sentimental? "Do you think you might be able to come downstairs for a while?" Esme wasn't looking at me; she was exploring her book, flipping through the pages and running her hand over the leather binding. "Emmett's home, you know. He wants to--"

Esme gasped, loudly. Look, Edward! My eyes dropped to the volume in her hand, which was open at the middle. There, folded up and stuck into the spine, was a sheet of smooth, white paper. "Take it out!" I said urgently, reaching for it myself before I knew what I was doing. She beat me to it, snatching it out and unfolding it in a second. The writing on the sheet was undeniably familiar. "Carlisle," I whispered, as Esme put one hand to her heart. Together, we bent closer, although we could have read the letter from thirty feet away.

My Dear Esme,

I wish I could have told you where I was going, so you would believe

that I loved you still, not that I left because of my own desires. Just

know, like I said in my last letter, that you are the only one I love.

If I could have stayed with you forever in happiness, I would have.

But we both know how life can come between what you want and

what must be done.

"My darling," whispered Esme, her throat tight.

In a way, I hope with all my being that you find these letters.

And yet, I also hope you remain with the conviction that I never

truly loved you, and that I deserted you all. Desertion would make

it easier for you to forget me. But, if yo do find these messages, I

can die in the knowledge that my family realized I would never have

left them on a whim. Continue reading these, my love, if you wish to

keep a clean opinion of me-- but I would understand if you never

know the truth.

With my whole heart,

Carlisle

Esme and I barely made it through the last line, much less the signature, without crying. Now we stared at one another with tears that could never fall veritably streaming down our faces. Esme's frame was distorted by sobs, and I knew by my own shaking vision that I was sobbing, too. "Carlisle," I choked out, and then we really fell apart.