Storm Approaching

"Well, well, well. How goes it, Esme?"

Startled, I turned around to see Charles Evenson, standing under a tree, grinning at me.

"None too bad," I shrugged, regaining my composure, pretending to not notice when he came up and sat next to me on the bench.

"Good," he replied with genuine good humour.

Charles turned out to be everything I expected him to be, with a considerable amount of the unexpected thrown in. For one thing, he was attractive. That was expected, but he wasn't as handsome as I had imagined him to be. I couldn't imagine why. He had a sort of film-star look, with his blond hair and murky grey-blue eyes. He also had a very gleaming, perfect white smile, though that repulsed me , for some reason. 'What do you want- blood-covered fangs?'-I'd asked myself humourlessly.

He also turned out to be a lot more jovial than I had expected. With Mel, he was still her older brother, so he had his limits. With me, however, he seemed to have no such qualms- I could tell that when he got comfortable with my first name within minutes of our first meeting. Since then, he found every excuse to be around me, often making Amelia invite me to what should have been private family dinners. I didn't really resent his attention- I was used to attention of that sort, and getting it from a new, unknown person was a sort of novelty for me. The novelty quickly wore off, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy his company. I did, but there was nothing more than that. Soon after that, of course, Amelia got married. It had been but two days since her wedding, when he found me, sitting in the park, watching Edward play.

Presently, we were both watching Edward as he jumped into some patches of wet muck, squealing excitedly.

"Edward," I called out. "Please don't dirty yourself like that, dear."

I was uncomfortably aware that Charles was watching me.

"But it's fun!"- Edward insisted.

"It's dirty," I countered back. "Now we don't want you to look like a smelly little pig, do we?"

Edward hesitated, then with a sigh that seemed to signify some deep, inconsolable tragedy, he stepped out of the sticky puddle and trudged towards me.

"You're good with children," Charles said, suddenly, reminding me of his presence. I have to admit, I always forgot everything and everyone when I was with Edward, and so when I suddenly became aware of Charles at that moment, it wasn't my first lapse of awareness.

"Yes," I said, agreeing with him. "I rather like them, you see."

Charles grinned another of his dashing smiles which was supposed to drive the girls crazy. But for some reason, his smile didn't affect me at all.

"You got me there," he said. "I don't really mix well with children. Wouldn't know what to do with 'em."

If he thought he was impressing me with his 'man-of-the-world-type-of-eligible-bachelor' stunt, I was far from impressed.

"Oh, I suppose you'll know when you have children of your own," I said carefully, biting back the sarcastic retort that had risen in my throat.

He looked at me thoughtfully. "Perhaps."-he said softly.

The look unsettled me. It was like he was analysing what he saw of me. I didn't like it. Who would like to be scrutinized at as though they were some item in a store window?

"Or of course," he continued, still scrutinizing me, "I could just marry someone who adores children. That would balance us out, I think."

I nearly grimaced with frustration. The way Charles flirted with me was outrageous. It would have been alright up to an extent-me and my friends often flirted just for the fun's sake. But when Charles flirted, he seemed so… serious. As though he meant everything he said. Which just unsettled me more.

Edward had by then dragged his feet up to me, and announced his presence with a violent sneeze. Quickly, my attention locked onto him. "Edward!"-I half-gasped.

He answered with another sneeze.

"I told you you'd catch a cold. Come on, let's get your feet warmed up." I took his hand and stood up, turning to say goodbye to Charles.

"Well, goodbye, Charles. I must be off, before Edward catches anything more nasty." I glared at Edward as I spoke. Charles grinned from his seat where he was still sitting. It was like he could see through my attempt to include innocent little Edward in our conversation.

He played along, nonetheless. "Miss Platt," he said softly, nodding his head, mocking me with his formality. "Goodbye, little man," he told Edward, shaking his hand.

"Goodbye," Edward said solemnly, sneezing again immediately.

And with that, I scooped up Edward into my arms and hurried away.

I remember that particular conversation very, very well, because with it began the doomed events that were to last for this lifetime of mine.

It began with Edward.

Edward was ill.

And so the entire Platt household was in an uproar.

It was the 'flu. At first, we were just mildly worried. After his sneezing fits in the park, Edward was immediately placed under house arrest, and I was suitably reprimanded. Although, I happened to be the most distraught one, so they just let me off with a mild telling-off.

For a week we were complacent- worried, but not unduly so, when it got worse. While it had seemed to be a normal case up until that point, Edward's condition suddenly worsened. The fever would just not abate, he had trouble breathing, and would barely eat.

We were worried to death. We called in many doctors, many specialists from al over the country, tried every possible cure on him. For a month I couldn't rest or eat or do any sane activity. Mother couldn't stay with Edward for too long, she still had to lie down most of the time. Thus it was me who was stuck at Edward's bedside, never moving, never relenting, watching every laboured breath he took.

Then slowly, very, very slowly, Edward got better. I wasn't really sure when, but the doctors slowly relented to admit that Edward might, after all, live through this. This pronouncement was given so begrudgingly, that I couldn't really believe it until Edward actually stood up, and started to eat more. When he laughed for the first time, I cried. It had been so close, so close… Our affection towards Edward increased tenfold after that.

Barely a month after Edward's recuperation, Charles Evenson landed a bomb in my house.

He proposed to me.

His flirting should have had tipped me off, but I was still shocked. I knew Charles was just as promiscuous with all the other women, but I didn't really think he had me on his mind.

And he didn't even deign to ask my parents. He just pounced on me one day, under a tree in the park.

I had come out "for a breather", as my mother had urged me to do so, not trusting myself to bring Edward along. He was too weak to step outside into the cold, anyway.

So I went to the park, which seemed to symbolically represent my irresponsibility. As I headed to the bench to mope in peace, a figure suddenly materialised from behind the tree, forebodingly dark against the brilliant snow.

"Esme!"

"Charles! You gave me a fright!"

"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, and brushed it away, moving on. "I have something to tell you."

"Yes?"

"I want you to marry me."

I was stunned into silence. Surely, this had to be the strangest proposal ever! And wasn't that question missing something? Something like the tone implied by a question mark?

"Are you asking me, or are you just letting me know?"-I asked him, keeping my voice neutral. But he missed the sarcasm implied.

"Of course I'm asking you."-he said quickly, impatiently.

"Oh."

"Well?"

I hesitated. "I suppose the appropriate response right now would be- 'This is so sudden!'"

With an exasperated click of his tongue, he suddenly grabbed me around the waist and pulled me so close to him that I had to lean away for fear of bumping our heads.

"Charles!"-I protested.

He ignored me. "So deliciously unreachable you make yourself," he murmured, his voice making my stomach clench. "But by God, Esme, I mean to have you!"

And then he kissed me.

This was the first time I had ever been kissed by a man. I found that I liked it. In a way.

Charles' kiss was hard, his cold, smooth lips jamming into my soft ones with so much force that my lips hurt. His hands snaked around my torso, holding me tight to him, while the electric jolt that flashed through me at his touch made my blood boil inside me. It was passionate, hard, and it left me breathless until I rammed my weak fists against his shoulders, begging him to stop. But he would let go, not until I made a wheezy, protesting moan at the back of my throat. I was ashamed to admit that the moan was half-breathlessness, half-passion. Charles was a good kisser.

Charles immediately let me go, but still held me in my arms.

"Well?"-he demanded, his voice breathless.

"Well?"-I wheezed back.

"Do you want to marry me?"

I actually paused mid-breath. Did I want to marry Charles? A nagging voice at the back of my head said a loud, firm "NO!"

As much as I liked his kissing, did I really want to be his wife? Why not?- I asked the pessimistic voice defiantly.

Think, the voice replied. Isn't obvious?

I sighed a mental sigh.

Carlisle Cullen.

But Carlisle Cullen was gone. He was never coming back. Did I have to live my life alone, never accepting any other man? What was the point? He wasn't coming back. And certainly never for me.

And what about your schoolteacher plans? I nearly groaned. If I were to get married to Charles, I definitely would never become a schoolteacher. Not in a million years. These sort of things would never do in the Evenson household. Hell, these sort of things wouldn't do in the Platt household as well.

"I'm sorry, Charles," I said, gently breaking away from him, my voice still quivering with the dizzying aftershock of his kiss. "But my answer is no."

He seemed stunned for a moment. "Why?" He sounded incredulous.

"I… have other plans."

His brow darkened. "What plans?"

I raised my chin a little. I would not let him mock me. "Just- plans. I don't mean to be married so soon."

Charles stared at me for a second, then roared with laughter. "Not so soon? My dear, dear, Esme, people are already talking about you. There are rumours you will live out your life as a lonely old maid. And not the nice kind, you know," he winked.

I glared at him. "This conversation is over."

He was solemn again. "Oh no, it isn't. I told you I mean to have you." He leaned in, and whispered, "And I will. Or so God help me."

My heart thudding- whether from fear, or anger, or lust I didn't know- I turned on my heel and hurried back home.

With that began the darkest last years of my life.