Alrighties, sorry for the HUGE delay, but I don't want to bore you with my banal worries. I'm pretty nervous about this chapter, since I wanted to do justice to Carlisle. I wanted to put some more emotions into him, rather than just calm and smiling all the time. Thank you all for you encouragement, and please do R & R.

A Glimpse into an Angel's Mind

I have heard, in my vast and long life, of people who are privileged enough to find and meet their soulmate, their One True Love. I never really actually thought it was true. It was a rare gleam of the divinity, immortalized mostly by fiction, the most popular being Romeo and Juliet. I never doubted it existed; only believed that a fortunate few had been blessed with it. Of course, I never counted myself amongst those lucky few, never even hoped to. After all, I was definitely cursed to become what I was- how can one be cursed- such a foul one, at that- and blessed so divinely at the same time?

I was a fool. I didn't take in the fact that this world, the universe, is not like a coin, as they say. There aren't just two different ways. This world isn't black and white- there are myriad colours in between. And so there aren't just the blessed and the cursed. There are others in between, and I come there.

For she was sent to me from heaven, literally. She had fallen from a tree, and if I had seen her a split second sooner, I would have caught her, even if I was more than a hundred yards away, even if it would "blow my cover".

She was different, that I could see from the beginning. I could see it in her mischievous, warm brown eyes; the hidden grace in her sharp, childish movements. She was still a child, but when she would become a woman- oh, what a woman she would be! Like a dryad, perched on the tree, where I had seen her sitting, her chestnut brown hair shimmering in my enhanced vision.

Indeed, whenever I think of her, I remember her first in four distinct images- the girl, perched atop that tree; the woman who enchanted me not a month later; the corpse, when I saw her in almost that state, and the vampire, my eternal bride, with flashing crimson eyes.

When I saw her come into the crowded hall that warm summers' night, I knew she had transformed, transformed into someone I would always hold in awe.

There was a hush when she walked in, slowly, seductively. Several people couldn't recognize her at first. But I did. I would know the dryad anywhere, especially now with her dress like foliage, and her hair and eyes like warm wood.

"…Esme?" I could hear her mother's shocked whisper clearly, even though no one else could have.

"Esme!" The elder Miss Platt gasped, loud enough for everyone to hear. Then everyone seemed to arouse themselves and the silence faded away. But the spell had been cast; she was now the centre of attention, the star of the evening.

All through the evening, I watched the men flock around her, court her, covet her. And my pain, the pain increasing exponentially since years, rose to the fore again. The pain of loneliness. The pain yearning for companionship. For I knew Esme Platt would not be lonely. She would find her man someday, perhaps one amongst these very sheep flocking around her. And each of those sheep would find a mate, too. Have a family of his own, and never be lonely. And I, I was damned to loneliness for all eternity.

Ah, blessed indeed were these people!

It was later that night, after dinner, that I was quietly asked to attend to the Platts. They received me in a small smoking room, unused at that moment. None of the girls were there, it was only husband and wife that greeted me.

I sighed internally, knowing what was coming next. My little stint at trying to socialize with the humans had gone disastrously. I should have stayed nocturnal, a creature of the night. I had already been through this six times in three weeks. Each time, it broke my heart as I broke another girl's- I often felt sickened at my nature for misleading these good people and distressing the genteel women quite unnecessarily.

Not that all of the women were genteel. Miss Byrant just couldn't take no for an answer, the last straw being her coming to the clinic and persuading me to elope with her. She was sent away with an Aunt to "recover from ill-health", and no rumours suggesting otherwise were spread, thank goodness. It would have been bad for her, poor child.

Then there was middle-aged Mrs. Sprigg, who insisted on the most peculiar pains in the most awkward places- a new one for each day she came to the clinic, and that was everyday. I shudder lightly, remembering, but my shudders are lightning-fast and mild enough to be unseen by human eyes- the Platts' eyes, as it were.

Anyhow, I could easily see what this was about. I could see it in Jefferson Platt's eyes- calculating, and concerned at the same time. Lips set firmly, yet brow creased with confusion and anticipation- only a girl's father can have that look on his face. And Victoria Platt, the lovely woman I highly respected had twice the anticipation and concern writ on her face than that of her husband's.

They bade me sit down, which I did. They talked for a minute or two on general matters for which I answered in their same half-hearted manner. Then it came out- I do not remember the exact words- slowly, lucidly, with a certain amount of firmness from Mr. Platt, and a certain amount of gentleness from his good wife. All in all, it was the most dignified offer made to me so far.

"So you see, Dr. Cullen," Mr. Platt finished earnestly, "We really, truly would be honoured, if you would make us the good fortune of being our- our son."

This really touched me. I knew they had no sons of their own, and they were the first to allow to accept me in that capacity. But this only made me feel more treacherous. It was treachery indeed which made them want to include me in that family. How little they knew of me!

I have never wondered how I remember exactly what I said in reply that night. Of course, we vampires have brilliant recall memory, but this dialogue was one of Esme's strongest human memories. Apparently, she was listening in, and apparently, that was the point at which she truly hated me. Much later, when we were together, she called it a "Scarlett O'Hara moment".

Perhaps for all her adolescent feelings, she was fully justified in hating me. I've certainly never reproached her for that fact, it is only natural that she felt that way. Of course, Esme never can forgive herself for letting herself do so, regardless of what I tell her.

If anyone in her situation had listened in, they would have reacted the same way- but then again, perhaps I should let her do the recounting…