I remembered being helped from the car and led inside a warm house. With Carlisle's arm around me, I shuffled along a hallway and sank down upon a plush mattress. He removed my shoes then assisted me in my slightly clumsy attempts to unbutton my shirt and pants. Esme entered the room just as he pulled the covers over me. She set a tall glass of water on the bedside table, and Carlisle encouraged me to take several sips before I sank down onto the pillow.

My eyes closed immediately, my mind hazy. I felt a cool hand press lightly over my brow and heard a few murmured words: Esme's query, "…ill… the flu?" and Carlisle's soft reply, "… no fever…just exhausted, I think."

I fell asleep while they were still in the room.

I woke once during the night to use the bathroom, finding the glass beside the bed refilled. A bottle of Tylenol had been left for me, as well, and I managed to swallow two tablets with most of the water before succumbing to slumber again.

I felt fairly well in the morning, all things considered. My headache had retreated, and the general sense of fatigue had diminished.

I found Carlisle and Esme in the kitchen. Both smiled at me and asked how I was feeling. They seemed pleased by my report, although Esme declared that I would need several more nights of good sleep to regain my health fully.

She insisted that she would prepare breakfast for me (brunch was probably a more appropriate term, since I had slept until almost ten o'clock). Once again Carlisle advised that I should acquiesce, so I did.

While I ate, they discussed their upcoming vacation. Carlisle would be off for ten days, and they were planning to spend a week at an inn near Tofino on Vancouver Island. Esme explained that Carlisle loved to hike, and, while she enjoyed some time outdoors, she also loved to garden, read, and paint. The inn they were visiting was convenient to many hiking trails and had an extensive garden that supplied much of their renowned restaurant's produce. Esme was excited about several opportunities she had arranged with the chef to join him in the gardens.

I had just finished eating and was enjoying a second cup of coffee when the phone range. Esme answered, stepping into the next room once she realized it was her office calling.

Carlisle asked if I had any plans for my break, and I told him that I was hoping to do some independent study on new surgical techniques.

When Esme returned, her cheerful demeanor had changed. She told us that the lead architect on the hotel project had abruptly left the firm to take a position elsewhere. The senior partner wanted her to take over, hinting broadly that her success on the project would likely lead to an offer of junior partnership.

"That's wonderful, darling," Carlisle said, kissing her cheek.

She shook her head. "Yes, I know… But it means that we'll have to postpone our trip. I'll need to be at the office at least twelve hours a day until the deadline in three weeks."

"Tofino can wait," Carlisle assuaged. "This is your dream, darling."

"It is," she agreed, "but you've been looking forward to the trip for a long time. You haven't had a break in ages."

"I'll still have a break," he replied. "I'll just spend it here. There are always journals to catch up on—"

Without thinking, I nodded in agreement.

Esme shook her head. "Absolutely not!" She tapped a finger gently against Carlisle's chest. "You need some time away. There's no reason you can't go without me."

"Sweetheart," he protested mildly, "I have no desire to go to a romantic inn alone."

A smile twitched at her lips. "Then go somewhere else." Turning to me, she added, "And you, Dr. Masen, are even more in need of a vacation than my husband is." She eyed me critically. "You could definitely use some time outdoors, in the fresh air and sunshine. Do you like to hike?"

"I used to go hiking and camping with friends when I was in high school," I responded. I hadn't thought about that in a long time, but I had always enjoyed being in the woods, inhaling the clean, pine-scented air and sleeping under a canopy of stars.

"Then it's settled," Esme concluded. "You two are going on a backpacking trip."

Carlisle and I exchanged a look. I hadn't known Esme for very long, but already I realized that once she had issued her gentle edict there was no room for argument.

"It sounds good to me," he said.

"Okay," I agreed. "I'm in."

One week later, Carlisle and I drove from Seattle to the Olympic Peninsula. He and Esme had spent some time hiking and camping in the Olympic National Forest during breaks while he was a resident. He explained that he loved the remoteness of the area, particularly in the late spring before summer visitors arrived.

"It's so quiet, so absolutely tranquil among the towering pines," he told me. "You can clear your mind and energize your spirit. I've always felt more centered, and more satisfied somehow, after a few days in the forest."

I had finally caught up on my sleep and felt better physically than I had in some time. I hadn't understood just how exhausted I was until I'd had a few good nights of sleep. I was ready for an outdoor adventure. Indeed, as we left the city behind and drove into a wooded area, I realized I was looking forward to it more than I'd anticipated. Being away from the university, the hospital, and the city held tremendous appeal to my over-worked mind.

Carlisle was a genial companion. While I had never spent more than a few hours at a time with him in the past, I felt certain that we would get along well during our five-day trek. The drive was pleasant, with easygoing conversation and stretches of comfortable silence. Neither of us was particularly gregarious; we spoke when we had something to say and appreciated the calm quietness in between.

Once we reached the edge of the forest, Carlisle stopped at a ranger station to purchase a camping permit. He and the ranger chatted for a little while. They had met once several years ago when Carlisle had helped with a search and rescue operation. The park ranger—McCarty was his name—was a jovial fellow who clearly admired Carlisle. He wished us a good trip and told me that I was fortunate to have such a skilled outdoorsman as my companion.

Carlisle drove a short distance to the lot where we would leave the car then unloaded our packs. Soon we were walking along a trail. The day was cloudy, and a light mist shrouded the trees.

"It's rarely sunny here," he informed me, "but when the sun does break through, it's almost breath-taking."

I nodded, shivering slightly in the chill. I wore a light but warm coat, and I knew that once our pace increased I would feel more comfortable. The mist gave the forest an ethereal quality that was somehow welcoming to me. I felt as though I had entered a different world. The solitude was wonderful.

Carlisle smiled when he noticed my expression. "You look happy," he noted.

"I feel happy," I replied. "This is just what I needed. Remind me to thank Esme."

"She usually knows best," he said with a chuckle.

"You're a lucky man."

"I am," he agreed.

"How long have you been married?" I asked.

"Almost ten years—although sometimes it feels like it's been much longer. But I don't mean that in a negative way."

"I think I understand." I wasn't entirely sure that I did, but he spoke with such warmth that questioning him seemed insensitive. Besides, it was probably my lack of experience in the romance department that left me slightly perplexed by his response. "How did you meet?" I inquired.

"She was a patient when I was an intern."

Esme was so elegant and graceful. With an ironic grin, I said, "Let me guess. She had a broken leg."

Now his blissful expression shifted slightly. "No. If only it had been something so innocuous." He took a long breath before speaking again. "She was a victim of domestic abuse… her husband. She was six months pregnant and went into premature labor after a beating. We couldn't save the baby; we almost couldn't save her."

"Oh God, Carlisle, I'm sorry." My voice was husky with emotion.

"I've tried to bring her every bit of happiness that I could in the time we've been together. She deserves that."

"Of course. She's an amazing woman."

"Yes, she is."

"She treated all your med students as if they were her own children," I added, feeling a need to elaborate. "And she's been exceptionally kind to me. She'll be a terrific mother one day."

Carlisle's steps halted abruptly. "She can't have children, Edward."

I could see that it pained him to tell me this. While the new physician in me prickled with professional curiosity, I hesitated to question him further about the matter. So I simply said, "Oh. I didn't realize…"

"Nor should you have. We've considered adoption, of course, and may pursue that in earnest in a few years—perhaps one or two older children, since they tend to be overlooked. Right now we're both focusing on our careers."

I nodded. "It seems like you're both on track there."

"We hope so." Trying to lighten the mood, he gave me a half-smile and said, "And what about you? You've never mentioned a girlfriend or even going on a date. I know med school took up all of your time, but what about when you were in college?"

"I finished my Bachelor's in two-and-a-half years," I reminded him. "I barely had time to eat or sleep."

"Ah, that's right. In high school, then?"

I shook my head. "I went to a couple of dances my sophomore and junior year with a girl named Tanya, but that was about it."

"You do know that several of your med school classmates were quite interested in you, right?"

I had never really thought about it. "Were they?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"A few nurses, too—both male and female."

I chuckled. "Are you wondering which I prefer?"

"It's none of my business," he said lightly. "And it wouldn't matter to me, either way."

"Just for the record, my preference is definitely girls."

"Hmm. I think that Miss Stanley—Dr. Stanley now—would be quite happy to accommodate you."

"Jessica?" I grimaced. "No thanks. She's not my type."

"Do you have a type?"

I considered that for a few moments. "I'm not sure. I suppose I'd prefer someone thoughtful and quiet, intelligent and inquisitive… not someone brash."

"Then definitely not Jessica," he agreed with a grin. "Well, I hope that one day you'll meet someone who can bring you as much happiness as Esme has brought me."

I gave a small shrug. I had been alone for a very long time. Just developing a friendship with Carlisle felt like a new experience, and it was enough for now.

We veered off of the trail after an hour or so. Carlisle knew the forest well enough to lead us through the dense evergreens and toward a meadow where we planned to make camp for the night. We stopped by a stream for lunch, and shortly after we began moving again the sun peeked through the thick layer of clouds. I blinked in the brightness.

The weather remained pleasant for the rest of the day. We reached the meadow in the late afternoon and set up camp. Carlisle had chosen a very pretty spot. Surrounded by dense forest, the lea was a little oasis. Tiny lavender and white flowers dotted the lush, green grass. While I had enjoyed the quiet darkness of the woods, the open space was a welcome sight. It was the perfect place to spend the night.

Carlisle began setting up the tent while I cleared a small area for a fire. I stepped back into the trees to gather some wood. I found a large, dry branch and broke off several sizable pieces. Arms full of firewood, I began walking back toward the meadow, taking small steps, since my armload impeded my field of vision.

Despite my careful movements, my foot caught on something hard, and I felt myself falling forward. I released the bundle of wood before I hit the ground, but one of the pieces rasped over my cheek. I landed with an "oof" and then an oath, my face stinging almost as much as my pride.

Slowly I got back on my feet and picked up the wood, this time carrying only what I could hold in each hand. I kept my eyes on the ground as I trudged back to the meadow.

When I stepped out of the trees, Carlisle looked up from his task. His smile turned to a scowl when he saw my face. I dumped the wood into the firepit with a shake of my head.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I had a little altercation with the firewood," I explained. "The wood won." I lifted my hand to touch my throbbing cheek. My fingers felt damp, and I was dismayed to find a streak of red across my hand.

Carlisle's eyes moved over me. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. It's just a scratch."

He walked back to his pack, kneeling down to remove the first aid bag. He gestured for me to sit in front of him then unzipped the kit, removing a packaged alcohol wipe. He held my chin gently with one hand and used the other to dab my cheekbone with the alcohol; I tried not to wince at the sting. He inspected the damage with a clinical eye.

"Just a superficial laceration," he informed me. He cleaned it thoroughly and applied some Bacitracin.

When he had finished, I thanked him then apologized for troubling him.

"It's no trouble, Edward," he replied genially. "These things happen." He slid up his sleeve to reveal faint white scarring on his antecubital crease. "I was trying to impress Esme with my rock climbing skills a few years ago, and I slipped."

"Ouch," I offered sympathetically.

"It could have been worse. I didn't fracture anything, but I needed a few sutures. I gave Esme quite a scare. I purchased a better kit after that, mostly to ease her mind." He chuckled and added, "I also had to promise her that you and I would avoid rock faces."

"No arguments from me. The last thing I want to do is practice my suture technique on you."

Still grinning, he said, "So we're agreed: No rock climbing and no more wrangling with killer trees."

I pressed my hand beneath my sore cheek. "Agreed."

To be continued…