I don't own Twilight.
Now that we got to have a little laugh, darkness is coming.
Chapter 13
The ladies lit the stove to heat water for a bath. There was no way Dr. Cullen or Emmett McCarty were going in a carriage with Edward stinking like he did. The water was barely starting to heat when the men wrestled a belligerent Edward on to the back porch. They had found his trousers but his other shoe was still missing.
After some spectacular curse words that made the ladies blush and leave the kitchen, Edward was deemed good enough for travel. Emmett was to take him to a remote cabin and keep him away from the drink. Dr. Cullen believed that if Edward was kept sober for long enough that he could be reasoned with and return to his responsibilities.
It was an unhappy and damp trio that left for the cabin, Dr. Cullen would return as soon as they had Edward properly ensconced. Leaving the ladies time to start on the cleaning. They were making fairly acceptable progress despite the fact that Mrs. Esme was not a cleaner, but a supervisor. The furniture had been righted and the floor, after three scrubbings was no longer sticky. What ever was stuck to the ceiling was proving most difficult to remove and Isabella had decided that that was a task for another day.
Mrs. Esme had gathered the unbroken crockery and was soaking it in the same washtub her son had used on the porch. She hummed quietly to herself, a tune only she knew. She stopped when she heard a gasp coming from inside the pantry. She ran inside to find Bella on her knees starring at the floor.
"What happened, what frightened you?"
Isabella did not answer but continued her starring. Esme followed her eye line where it rested on a wooden stick roughly the length of her forearm. It was tipped at one end with what looked like dried jam. Perhaps when Edward ran out of clean spoons used this tool.
"I don't understand, Bella?" She looked at the shaking girl.
"St…..St…..Step-mother." Isabella stuttered.
Esme understood. Dr. Cullen had filled in some of the details of Bella's life as he knew them.
"She did something to you with one of those?" She asked Bella. Bella nodded her head. The last beating she received was with one of these. It had belonged to her mother. Isabella was not allowed to touch it, ever. It had been carved and stained at one end to resemble a thistle. It reminded Isabella of a magic wand and she had so wanted to play with it.
"Burn it." Esme commanded. "Burn it and be free of her. She is gone and she can't hurt you any longer"
Isabella looked at the older woman in shock. Could she do that? Would it be that simple to exorcise her demons by fire?
Esme placed a hand on Bella's shoulder. "I burnt my father's belt. Did me a world of good. Cursed his name, too, and I even spat. But don't tell Carlisle, he thinks me too much a lady."
Isabella blinked rapidly. She reached over to the offending item and held it in one hand, feeling it's weight.
"What is it?" Esme asked not knowing the kitchen implement.
"A spurtle. From Scotland. Used to stir soups and oats." Isabella answered.
"Well, it looks like it would burn up nicely. Come, take my hand." Esme stood and led the girl to the stove.
Isabella looked again at the spurtle and with defiance dropped it in the stove. The burning of the tool was anticlimactic. No shrieking demons arose to curse and yell. No multicoloured sparks or purple smoke came from the stove. It just burned as a regular piece of wood, although a little sweetly from the jam sticking to the end.
Isabella found herself strangely relieved. She turned to meet Mrs. Esme's eyes and promptly collapsed into tears.
AN: Please do not take offence if you are Scottish. A spurtle looks like it would be a good beating stick. I'm sure oatmeal would agree with me. And I really like the word.