13. The Remnants
"Edward?" I stopped at the top of the stairs. Was that someone crying? It had to be Esme. "Are you okay?" I walked forward, making for Esme and Carlisle's room.
"Hey, Bella," said Emmett, following me up the stairs in a flash and resting one huge hand on my shoulder. "Maybe Esme needs to be alone."
"Edward's with her, I think," I replied, turning to look at him.
"Oh, yeah."
There didn't seem to be anything else we wanted to say, so we crept to the room together silently. I pushed open Esme's door, and felt a sharp piercing sensation in my chest.
Edward had Esme in a tight hug, the closest I'd ever seen him to his adopted mother. Esme's head had fallen on his shoulder, her soft caramel hair obscuring my view of her face. There were no physical tears running down their cheeks, but they were both weeping. The reason I had only heard Esme's grief was because Edward was desperately trying to keep his own under control, cutting short his breathing and suppressing his sobs. It was such a moving scene, one that made me hurt to witness. Agonized by Edward's pain, I turned back to the large vampire next to me, seeking respite.
Emmett's face was contorted oddly, the usual easy-going humor evaporated from his eyes. I couldn't decide what hurt more: seeing Edward and Esme, who had already showed grief, in more pain, or seeing Emmett, my lovable older brother, suffering so openly. "Emmett, I'm sorry," I said, taking his hand.
"I'm okay, Bella," Emmett told me thickly, patting my hand. "Really. It's just--hard to watch them like this..."
"I know," I said, with feeling. Nothing was more torturous to me than Edward's pain.
I don't know how long we stood there, empathizing with the two members of our family. Esme's sobs gradually quieted as Edward held her. She pulled away slightly, smoothing out a piece of paper wrinkled in her hand. Seeming to see us for the first time, she tried in vain to smile. "I'm sorry you have to see me go to pieces like this."
"Hey, Mom, everybody's got to, sometime," said Emmett, with a feeble grin.
"I'm just sorry for you, Esme," I said, grimacing at the major understatement.
"Don't be, Bella, honey. The last thing I want is for you to hurt because of me."
Too late, I thought, glad that Edward couldn't hear it. "You okay?" I asked him, the love of my life.
He nodded, and gently picked Esme up off the floor. "I think we're both fine, now."
"Wait." Esme picked up the copy of Pride and Prejudice lying open on the floor. "I have to see..."
"Yes," gasped Edward, "he did mention these letters--"
"What?" asked Emmett, moving me out of the way and looking over Esme's shoulder.
"They're here!" Esme cried, violently shaking the book till its covers were flying. From the cream-colored pages fell pieces of white paper, so numerous I lost count.
Edward's jaw dropped. "Look how many!"
"Those aren't--" Emmett started slowly.
"Carlisle's handwriting!" I had, stupidly, stooped and taken one of the white papers, unfolding it to find the neat letters I'd seen on my own hospital forms.
"He couldn't have written these in a couple hours." Emmett was shuffling some of the papers around in his hands, his face slack with disbelief. "Not even a couple days. This one's been stapled together--it's four pages long!"
"By all that's holy, Esme," exclaimed Edward. "This letter has green ink; Carlisle hates that color. This must be from when all we had were those green pens."
"But, that was a month ago," said Esme, her face going white. Everyone shared dumbstruck looks.
"." Emmett growled. "Alice couldn't have gone that long without seeing him."
"A month?" whispered Esme, the papers slipping from her fingers.
"That doesn't mean anything," Edward said quickly, shooting a glare at Emmett. "Carlisle was probably just writing these for his own use. Maybe he was planning to give them to you for your anniversary."
"What are they about?" I asked timidly. Even though I had been the first one to unfold the letters, I hadn't scanned the contents.
"Everything." Esme said this with a strangled voice. Edward put one arm around her shoulders. "Listen." She cleared her throat and started to read.
Dear Esme,
Today I had a very difficult time concentrating on my work
(you can imagine how dangerous that might be!). I kept
remembering the way the sun had glinted off your hair
as we had gone running through the woods, and your
beautiful smile. That smile is one thing I shall never
become acustomed to, no matter how long we're together.
Don't change anything about it, however, even if it does
distract me--distraction is a small price for me to pay.
I hope you had a wonderful day today, alone in that
house. Don't worry--Edward will be home in two hours. I
know you're looking forward to hearing him play again.
That composition he is modifying now is outstanding.
How unfortunate that no one but our family can hear
him play. If not for the restrictions we must follow, he
would undoubtedly be world-renowned by now.
And I should be home in three and half hours, if all
goes well. I've been more than ready to leave, today.
Maybe that's because this really was not even my shift--
Dr. Snow was ill again, you remember.
Well, enough prattling, I suppose. I have to leave the
letter here, my dear. Duty calls!
Carlisle
"I thought he always liked working at the hopsital," said Emmett, surprised.
"He did," replied Esme absently. "But that doesn't mean he didn't wish for home sometimes."
"Home," murmured Edward, drawing me to him. "The only place we can be ourselves."
There was a long silence between us, all of us lost in our thoughts. Esme was sorting the letters, taking the ones in our hands and adding them to the leaves in hers. "There's twelve letters here, not counting the actual pages. This is incredible." She shook her head. "When did he have time for this? Why? Unless he knew--"
"He had to, didn't he?" asked Emmett numbly. "He'd known, a month ago, he was going to..." His hands clenched spasmodically. "You know what? I'm going to go find Rose. There's something she needs to tell you guys." Without another word he was gone, whooshing out the door.
I raised my eyebrows at Edward. "Do you know what's gotten into him?"
"Not a clue," he answered heavily. "He's blocking me out of his thoughts, thinking about inconsequential things over and over."
"Weird," I said, trying not to suspect Emmett of anything. Looking at the clock on the desk in the corner, I turned guiltily to Esme. "I'm really sorry, I know this is a bad time, but I'm kind of hungry--"
"Of course, dear. Go ahead." Esme smiled warmly at me. "Edward, make sure Bella has something hot to eat, please."
Edward ushered me ahead of him, his hand on my back. "You think she'll be okay?" I said in a low voice, knowing Esme could hear me, regardless.
"Define 'okay'," Edward muttered back as we descended the stairs. "What would you like to eat?"
"I don't care, whatever you have."
He sprinted to the kitchen, then returned to the living room with a frozen chunk of meat. "How does steak and potatoes sound?"
"I can cook, you know."
"I've seen you in action," he said, grinning. "You can oversee me, if it makes you feel better."
"I think I'll take you up on that." I sat at the counter while he turned into a whirlwind, blurring around the kicthen. "You missed a spot," I said airily, sarcasm lacing my voice.
"Really? Where?"
"Touché." Pots clanked together, then I saw Edward's head emerge from a floor cabinet. "You don't have to make very much, okay? I can't eat an entire steak."
"As you wish. Do you actually intend to watch me the whole time? It will take about thirty minutes, give or take several nanoseconds."
"You can cook a steak that quickly? You're not trying to poison me, are you?"
"Because I'm just dying to see you contract Mad Cow Disease." Rolling his eyes, Edward stood still long enough to plant a kiss on my cheek. "Don't worry, love, I promise you won't be fatally injured from my cooking."
"What a relief," I sighed, brooding over my reflection in the stainess steel mixing bowl on the counter.
For a minute there was nothing but the sound of cutlery and the sink turning on and off as Edward washed the potatoes. My thoughts drifted back to the letters that had poured out of Esme's book. Had Carlisle known that he would be gone a month before he left? If so, it couldn't very well be an emergency that took him away. But it was just too depressing to think that the leader of the Cullens had plotted his escape for weeks. Not to mention, from the tenor of the letter Esme had read, Carlisle had made it clear that he loved Esme and his family dearly. That letter had not at all resembled a goodbye note.
Maybe the goodbyes came later, I mused. There were plenty more letters, any one of them could be the final straw, where Carlisle made his final farewells--
"Edward!"
Esme's cry had come so unexpectedly that we both froze, half a potato resting in Edward's hand.
A whiff of air from the back door blew my hair across my face. The fabulous body of Rosalie appeared before us, framed by the doorway. "What?" I said, dizzily.
"I am so sorry," gasped Rosalie, running forward and seizing both our hands in crushing grips. Startled, I jerked in my seat. Rosalie had never touched me. Never. And now, she was holding my hand like I was a dear friend-- a sister.
"Rose--?" Edward cut himself off as a blank look stole over his face, which was almost instantly replaced by a devastated expression.
"Edward?" I said, hesitantly. He began to wince, his shoulders hunching as if actual blows were raining down on him. "Edward, what is it?" I asked, starting to hyperventilate.
Rosalie gave our hands one final squeeze, then broke away sobbing and flew through the house to the front door, grabbing a small bag behind the stairs as she went. From there she shot into the dusky blue light outside, becoming invisible to my human eyes.
"Rosalie, no!"screamed Esme, flying down the stairs, a letter smashed in her hand. "No! My precious daughter! Rose, come back!" Her cries turned into helpless sobs.
I stood, too shocked to do anything but stare at the front door swinging lazily on its hinges, and Esme's form bending low over the stair railing. Edward was shaking beside me, but somehow his hand found mine. "What should we do?" I whispered.
He never had the chance to answer me. Emmett came bursting into the house from the back, rushing past us and turning circles where he stood, searching wildly.
When his eyes took in the gaping front door, he let out a howl that shook the entire house. "NO! ROSALIE!" He whirled, snarling, to Edward. "When did she leave?"
"Just now," Edward replied, tonelessly.
"Go find her! Bring her back!"
"Emmett--" Edward reached out to his brother.
"You're wasting time! Let's go!"
"Emmett, listen--"
"BRING HER BACK!" Emmett was terrifying; for the first time looking to me as a vampire should, uncontrollable. "You're the fastest, Edward! If you don't even try to stop her, I swear--"
"I can'tstop her," answered Edward wretchedly. "She asked me not to, Emmett."
"I DON'T CARE!" Emmett's eyes slid from Edward's face to mine. "Bella." The word, my name, sounded like a threat.
Edward paled. "Please, Emmett. Don't."
"Then go after her," spat back Emmett.
"Emmett, don't," said Esme. "Think of what you're doing!"
"It doesn't have to be like this," pleaded Edward.
"Then bring her back!"
Emmett stepped forward slowly, looming over me and Edward, coming closer. Edward crouched in front of me, blocking my view. I whimpered, unable to swallow my fear.
My whimper seemed to snap Emmett out of his fury. All at once his eyes lost their crazed look, and his shoulders fell. "Bella," he choked out. "I didn't mean it." Then his face twisted. "Rose," he said tightly. "Rose." He turned on his heel and dashed out the front door.
Left desolate in the silence, the three of us stared at one another. Tears ran silently down my cheeks, and I wiped them off without acknowledging their existence. "Where is she going?" I asked, my lips feeling numb.
"I don't know," Edward whispered, his words sticking in his throat. "I don't know, Bella."
Esme took a raspy breath. "I do."