A/N: It's Christmas. I WILL finish this story!
Chapter 4: Decorations and Drinks
Her arms were restless. They had been restless ever since the decision to visit her son had been made. That was three days ago and now, Esme sat in the backseat of the car with Carlisle's arm cradled in her own. Her husband indulged her grip with an encouraging smile and a gentle pat on her knee.
It was the most vivid recollection she had of her son. Holding him in her arms. He was small and weak. But oh how beautifully he fit in the cradle of her arms! Even when her mind recalled the horrors that followed a lot more vividly, this was all her body knew of her time in the hospital. Not the anguish of childbirth. Not the weakness of her own malnourished body. No. Her body only remembered the joy of holding her child.
"We're almost there…" Renesmee announced.
Beside her, Edward easily glided the car over the treacherous and icy roads of Ashland. It wasn't the first time they had revisited the place where she first entered this immortal life. It was, however, the first time she had dreaded the place so much. Her grip on Carlisle's hand tightened and her husband pulled her closer into his side.
"It's going to be alright," he whispered into her hair and pressed a soft kiss to her head. Esme leaned into his touch, for it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Her children had worked tirelessly, she knew. Edward and Jasper. Alice and Rose and Emmett. Bella and Renesmee. Each of them had scattered to a different place, managing a different thing, talking to a different person, laying down the groundwork for a different aspect of the story. All so that she could meet her child without any hurdles.
In the end, it was Carlisle, Edward and Renesmee who were going to meet him with her. Carlisle, for she needed him by her side. Edward and Renesmee were posing as her deceased sister's children, her niece and nephew, and hence, related to her.
"They're nice people grandma," Renesmee smiled at her, peering around her seat, her coppery curls catching the soft glow of the passing lights. "They'll love you!"
Esme returned her granddaughter's smile, though her hands smoothed over her skirt in a nervous reflex. Just then, Edward turned the wheel smoothly, guiding the car into a street lined with large houses on either side. Every house on the street was decorated with varying degrees of festive decors - some whimsical, some elegant, and others utterly outrageous.
Carlisle barked out a laugh when they crossed a minimally decorated house. In the middle of its front yard was a brightly lit sign saying "SHOW OFF" with an arrow pointing accusingly to its neighbor.
The neighboring house in question made even Esme forget her nerves for a moment. It was…decorated, certainly. Save for the short driveway leading up to the garage, every inch of the front yard and outer walls of the house was a fever dream of festive chaos. Gigantic candy canes stood guard like sentinels along the path, while oversized ornaments dangled precariously from eaves dripping with icicle lights. An animatronic reindeer twitched near the garage, its head bobbing unnervingly as if caught in an eternal loop. The entire house screamed Christmas with a reckless abandon. For a moment Esme wondered how the family even reached their front gate.
"Kevin said two houses down from Santa's crash landing site," Renesmee mumbled. "I think he meant two houses down from this."
Carlisle squeezed her hand again when Edward pulled to the side of the road in front of Kevin's house. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and comforting.
Esme took a deep breath. And then one more, before she gave a small nod.
Edward was already out of the car, moving with his characteristic grace to open her door. He offered a hand to help her out, while Carlisle rounded the vehicle to join her. Renesmee stood just a few steps ahead.
Esme leaned against the door for a minute, taking in the place in front of her.
Like the other houses on the street, this one was a large house too. Gray and white, and two stories high. And just like its neighbor, it was also covered in Christmas decorations. Not even close to the level of gaudy like the one they saw just a moment ago. But it was not a carefully curated minimal decoration either.
It was more…haphazard. Sectioned and layered. As if different people had decorated different sections of the house. And then other people came in and added another layer of decorations. Strings of multicolored lights looped unevenly around the porch, blinking out of sync with each other. A wreath made of mismatched ornaments and tinsel hung slightly crooked on the front door. A huge, inflatable Santa stood in the front yard. Far, far too huge for the yard or the house, and decorated with lights and stickers and ornaments the way a Christmas tree would be. The house radiated a charming disorder, like the result of too many loving hands and too few compromises.
If someone took a picture of this house, it wouldn't belong on any instagram or pinterest, going viral. It would belong on fireplace mantles and family albums, to be looked at fondly and impossible to remember without a smile.
With her hand firmly in Carlisle's grip, Esme took her first step towards the house.
She could hear and smell many people and things inside but she refrained from prying too much. Whatever waited for her inside, she would meet it once the doors opened. Her family stood with her. She would be all right no matter what.
She walked up to the front door at a slow pace and Carlisle matched her step for step.
"They're here!" Someone screamed inside the house and Esme suppressed an involuntary smile as every conversation within came to an abrupt halt.
"Oh dear Lord!" a different person whispered and then spoke at a louder, more matronly volume. "Now, everyone, be on your best behaviour! Remember, no politics, no religion, and no board games! We have to create a good impression on the Cullens!. Be. Civilised."
Renesmee waited for a moment before she rang the doorbell and the door immediately swung open.
A middle aged woman stood in the doorway, her eyes lit with a bright smile. She pulled Renesmee into an unrestrained embrace, greeting her with a familiar enthusiasm and proceeded to do the same thing to a startled Edward.
"My, my, boy. You are freezing. Come on in. Get out of the cold." She waved the two kids in and stepped aside to let her and Carlisle pass through too.
"Dr. Cullen, Esme, my dear, it is so wonderful to finally meet you all!"
Esme was just as quickly pulled into a warm embrace, one that she returned with only a momentary hesitation. Carlisle was greeted with equal enthusiasm and the four Cullen followed the woman further into the house.
"Kevin, go get some hot chocolate for your friend and Edward dear. And mulled wine for the adults. It's freezing outside."
Renesmee bounded out after her friend to do as was instructed.
"My name is Betty. I am Kevin's grandmother."
Esme hummed a distracted reply and Carlisle smoothly covered for her, keeping the woman engaged. She took in the inside of the house.
It was a welcoming place, indeed. The kind of home where every trace of perfection was worn away by the vitality of laughter, roughhousing, and an undeniable presence. The air buzzed with warmth, not just from the thermostat—set generously—but from the spirit of the people within. Stools and plastic chairs were scattered across the room, seemingly added as an afterthought to accommodate the cheerful overflow of guests.
Inside, the house's interior mirrored the haphazard charm of its Christmas decorations. Garland strung across doorways dipped unevenly under its own weight, and mismatched stockings hung from the mantel.
The living room was full—full of people, full of noise, and full of life. A quick glance revealed at least fifteen people of all ages, their voices overlapping in a harmonious cacophony. A part of Esme's senses kept up as Betty began her whirlwind of introductions.
Some people hugged her tightly, their embraces firm and warm, while others offered handshakes accompanied by wide, toothy grins. A young woman pressed a mug of mulled wine into Esme's hands, its fragrant steam curling up with the heady scents of cinnamon, orange, honey, and wine. Before she could take her first sip, an older man in a worn sweater appeared with a mischievous glint in his eye. He tipped a flask over her cup, pouring in a generous splash of whiskey.
"You'll need it in this house, I promise," he whispered conspiratorially, his lips twitching into a smile as he winked.
She smiled and nodded whenever appropriate. But in truth, only a sliver of her attention was on Betty. She wasn't here to meet these people. She would socialize as expected of her. But her heart…her reason to be here…it was just him. Her son. The child she never got the chance to even name.
Her eyes ran over the room, again and again, looking for him. The children respectfully saying 'hello' to her looked far too old to be him. A pair of twins perhaps 5 years old, and a boy just a bit older.
They couldn't be her child, surely.
Nor was there any crib in the living room. No child's babble or gurgles or soft but accelerated heartbeats. Nothing.
"Mrs. Cullen?" She turned towards the kitchen when Kevin called out to her. "You ready to meet Pops?"
With great care, Esme placed an indulgent smile on her face and nodded. Betty took a sweet moment admonishing Kevin for his rudeness before she turned to Esme again.
"Mrs. Cullen…Esme, dear…you have no idea how grateful we are to you for indulging us over this."
"I truly do not mind." Esme said what was expected of her when Carlisle placed his hand on the small of her back. She needed that. She needed Carlisle to ground her for she truly wanted to do nothing except rush to her son. But she did not know where he was! So, she stayed still and polite and patient. And she matched Betty's slow pace as she was led further into the house. Up a flight of stairs and down a short corridor.
She walked as if in a daze and came to a halt when Betty opened a door. She followed her inside when she was gestured to do so and held her breath.
Her son was here. She could finally meet him again! She could finally cradle him in her arms again and hold him close.
Betty stepped to the side, and Esme's eyes scanned the room for her baby. Over and over again, she looked through the small but neat room. The books and the tables. The beds and the curtain. The old woman standing beside her or the even older man sitting in the arm chair. The wheelchair to the side or the stack of medicines placed in a neat little basket.
She registered it all and disregarded it all. She was here for her baby, and that was all she wanted to see.
"Pops," Betty called out softly, to the old man in the chair who opened his eyes when acknowledged. "This is…"
The man was old and wrinkled and stooping in his chair. But there was nothing feeble or frail about him when he looked up. And with eyes shining with unbelievable recognition, whispered out… "My mother!"