A Beautiful Sadness 4/?

[braceface_freak]

Name: A Beautiful Sadness (4/?)
Author: Braceface_freak
Rating: PG-13
Paring: Carlisle/Esme...duh. Other canon characters too.
Summary: How can a beauty be so sad? How can grace survive amidst devastation? How do you break a heart of gold? And how does one piece it back together?

Again more angst this time, but enjoy anyhow......


Disclaimer: I do NOT own Twilight, books or films. I do not own Carlisle, or Esme or Alice. If I did we’d have so much more Carlisle/Esme, because I just ADORE them!

Have fun….I’ll speak to all you LUVERLY people later.

Oh and this chapter is dedicated to fellow Carlisle/Esme fanatic and my new-found friend x-Fanpire-x.

Chapter 4-Father
“Father,” Esme said as she watched her father polishing his favourite shot gun at the kitchen table, she considered her decision about when to confront him again. He was still dressed in his smartest, least patched suit from the wedding earlier this morning. Little Susan, now Mrs. Skinner, had been a beautiful bride and the last of their small group to be wed. The last………..save for herself. Her father did not move his attention from his beloved firearm, he grunted to show he had heard.
“Well, it’s just that…….”she stammered.
“Come on spit it out child,” he ordered harshly. Strangely encouraged by his indifferent cruelty, Esme’s forehead creased defiantly and she felt a sparkle ignite in her dark eyes.
“With all my friends married and all the eligible men taken,” she said teasingly, using the words her mother and father was always bombarding her with, “I think it’s time for me to leave home, I was planning on going south and training to be a teacher….”
“WHAT!?” The male exclaimed, the metal gun barrel clattering raucously on the table-top, but Esme had not finished and no matter what, she was going to do this. For her…………….And for him.

She would always remember Tuesday, because that was the night everything changed. After months of hiding within her pain, Esme had sneaked from the claustrophobic sameness of the house and was sat, perched on the fence, looking out over the farmland stretched out before her like a painting. She tugged the sheet she’d wrapped about herself tighter around her shoulders as she gazed up at the shining heavens above. The night was clear and cold, the stars glittered freely. She had spent a night much like this not that long ago, the only difference was the single man who no longer graced her with his magnificent presence. The memory hurt. But there sat under the stars, it was more of a dull ache than the sharp stabbing she had grown accustomed to of late. In her ears his voice echoed as if he were still beside her, his golden eyes sketching over her features as he talked in his perfectly gauged voice. Recalling his words with perfect clarity, the sounds he had created etched exactly in her memory, she stared up at the full moon. The pure, white orb dripped milky light onto the Earth, bathing her in an ethereal glow while the stars sparkled behind. In that instant, with no warning, something changed deep within her soul. A soft breath of air caressed her face carrying a familiar scent. She was certainly getting delusional now, lack of sleep was catching up with her. The wind could not truly smell of him. And with the ghostly, sweet fragrance came a voice, speaking words she had never heard him say before,
“Esme. My Esme. Remember the stars always.”
The young woman blinked and shook her head in disbelief, caramel waves gleaming in the moonlight. Her overactive imagination was getting its own back, making her hear things that could not possibly be real. The breeze, the smell, the words vanished as quickly as they had began. But the change remained intact. She could feel it. The hallucinations she had just experienced was her mind’s way of making sense of the sudden turn-about, her brains way of letting go off some of the hurt it had been clinging to recently. Weak, but undeniable, a seed of brightest light had been planted in the blackness of herself, a slither of hope for her to tend and nurture. Instead of desolation she felt something warm within her, rooting her back into the world that could be so spectacular with so much to see and do, if one wanted to take advantage of it. The gloom was not entirely banished, the despair thrived yet it was not alone and if she fought she may even be able to reclaim most of what she had had before. And fight she would, for him, for herself, against anything that stood in her way of the stars.

“I’ve worked so hard, got all the right results and I have even talked to Mrs. Hutton about what I need to do.” There was silence for a moment and Esme wondered whether he was considering her idea. Dare she risk the hope? She felt those familiar, cold eyes upon her face, only waking from her wishful thinking when he called her mother with a sharp shout. Julia Platt entered the kitchen with a scowl, feather duster still in hand; her eyes passed over the figures of her family and she knew something was wrong; the creases in her husband’s forehead were even deeper than normal.
“What is the matter?” She asked tiredly. Her spouse jabbed a finger at their child and slammed his free hand in the table, Esme shuddered.
“Your daughter,” he accused meanly, “Wants to travel south and become a teacher.” With a shocked, almost horrified expression Julia met her daughter’s eyes, but the twenty-one year old held her ground, undeterred by the furious looks directed at her. For once she would get what she wanted.
“Esme darling,” her mother began, dropping the cleaning implement and grabbing her arm tightly as if that hold would keep the girl from fleeing, “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Mother it’s what I’ve been dreaming of for years,” Esme pleaded, fluttering her lashes and staring into her mother’s face. Eyes and muscles usually stretched so tightly over her bones softened for a second and Esme’s hope became stronger. However it was her father’s grave tones that interrupted the moment,
“No, no and NO!”
“I am doing this father.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Mother,” Esme’s dark eyes begged her mother to intercede and persuade the man to change his mind. But Julia Platt shrugged, she knew her husband well and she knew that he was not going to allow this, not after the other night when he had planned their child’s future down to the tiniest detail.
“It’s too late dear,” she said comfortingly, “Your father and I have arranged for you to meet a man.”

And Esme’s hope shattered.

“A-a man?” She stuttered, barely able to comprehend the information she was being given. She knew her parents had been annoyed at her lack of interest in the opposite sex and marriage, but she had never guessed they would do this!
“His name is Charles Evenson,” her father spoke with an even, careless tone, “He’s well known in the town, comfortably wealthy and attractive. A better match than you could have ever dreamed of before.”
“A-a man,” Esme muttered again, her eyes dropping to the floor. A face swam in front of her vision but she blinked and it disappeared, his memory rarely lingered long anymore.
“We have arranged for you to meet him at the church tea dance in a fortnight’s time. From now on I will hear no more of this teacher business in my house,” her eyes drifted back to her papa’s stern features, which were as always emotionless and distant, “Do you understand?”

Grabbing his gun viscously the greying man headed purposefully from the quiet, uncomfortable atmosphere that filled the room without waiting to hear the answer he received. Stopping only when she replied in a way not matching the one she had given him in his mind.
“Or what?” Slowly he turned on his heel, face purple and brutish and breathing labored. What had got into this child? First notions about running off and having a career, and now this impertinent disobedience, he would have to rectify this atrocious behavior somehow!
“How dare you!?” He exclaimed, his wife retreated knowingly into a corner, flattening herself against the wall in an attempt to make herself invisible, she had seen that face before and she was more than aware as to what it meant. But Esme only comprehended when his calloused, farm-hand made contact with her rosy cheek, the sting brought tears to her eyes. When she managed to gather enough courage to match her father’s glare again she was biting her lip to hold back the sobs building steadily in her throat. Her father had hit her before, but never like that, never around the face and never so violently. Esme was scared. When he talked, his brows were knitted together and hanging like heavy, funeral shrouds over his eyes, his tone was laden with power and hardly controlled rage, “You will do as I say Esme.” It was his parting phrase and as soon as his retreating back had moved out of her line of sight Esme gave her mother a frightened look, she only got the same expression in return.

Her skirts flying out behind her the twenty-one year old flew up to her bedroom, her safe-place. As gently as possible she shut the door behind her, not wanting to give her wound-up father another reason to show this newly revealed side and then fell to her knees on the wooden floor. Running her trembling hands through her tousled curls she tried to calm her rapid breathing. The fear that was rising in the pit of her stomach was making her feel sick. She felt herself stuck between a rock and a hard place with no way of escape. What was she going to do? What would the future hold for Esme Anne Platt: marriage or teaching, heaven or hell, life or death?

Esme could hear her father’s deafening snoring through the thin walls of the house as a clock counted the seconds somewhere in the dark of her room. Sleep just would not come for the young woman. Her cheek throbbed painfully, the burning sting still there in her bones.

Creak. Beneath the covers Esme’s entire body tensed, every muscles coming to life in an instant.

“Esme….” She relaxed a little, as the lean shadow of her mother closed the door and stole across the floor to perch upon the edge of her mattress, her fingers stroking her hair and cheek tenderly, “I am sorry darling,” the woman whispered as her voice cracked painfully. A droplet of water splashed onto Esme’s shoulder.
“It wasn’t your fault mother,” the younger female reassured, wiping her mama’s tears away in the gloom.
“Do you really wish to be a teacher Esme? With all those little, screaming children and all that writing?” Esme nodded, it hurt to think that those thoughts now seemed no more than a fading dream; she wanted that future so badly. Her mother’s brow folded, but the scowl was not one of disapproval or anger. She sighed. “You really do want it don’t you? It’s good to have a dream Esme.”
“Someone else told me that a long time ago.”
“Then they were very wise.” And beautiful, kind, loving…..Esme listed in her head, her chest ached, just overtaking the pain in her cheek.
“Yes.” Esme agreed, before she pushed the memories to the dim recesses of her mind. They had been dragged from the mud twice today; she couldn’t remember a day when she had thought of him so much in years. It was nice to have control over when and where to bring up those treasured images.
“But Esme, I think you should meet Charles Evenson.” Esme rolled her eyes, heaving a sigh, “Let me finish,” her mother continued, “Your father may not be the most romantic of men but he’s picked an excellent match in Charles, Esme. He’s charming and intelligent. Give him a chance sweetie; you never know you may like him.”
“It’s not the same as loving someone though,” Esme mumbled coolly, her mother took her hand with a comforting smile.
“Whatever your novels tell you Esme, there is no truth in love at first sight. It’s a lie. It can begin as indifference, which turns into respect, then like and then love. It takes time.”
“But I’ve never met him before.”
“Then you can not be sure that you don’t like him.” Esme stared at her mother beneath lowered lashes, their eyes locked in mutual understanding of each others anguish. “I don’t want you to be stuck here forever.” Squeezing her eyes shut Esme dragged in a calming breath, thinking over the flurry of thoughts crashing around in her head while her mother observed hopefully. Esme did not wish to stay here all her life, and marriage was a sure escape but……..what would that mean for her ambitions? Few men were obliged to allow their wives to work and if Charles was wealthy it was unlikely he was one of those rare ones. And what about her belief in true love, could she really marry without that? Was her mother correct? Was she just being naïve? What was truly making her delay marriage? Was she still clinging to a childhood fantasy of a man long, long gone? Why did that blonde spectre refuse to let her heart go? Three minutes later she flicked open her dark orbs, there were still many unanswered queries but she knew her short term actions.
“Okay mama,” she whispered half-heartedly, “I will go to the dance and I will meet Mr. Evenson and I will give him a chance.” Julia Platt smiled, but it did not seem to reach her eyes, reaching over she kissed her daughter’s cheek and meet her eyes with a thankful expression.
“You’re a good girl Esme,” she mumbled sadly, Esme didn’t understand her despondent attitude, after all she’d just agreed to her terms without a struggle. With achingly slow movements Esme’s mother stood and tip-toed back across the room.

“Mama?” she asked, the other’s female hand lingered, quivering almost unnoticeably, on the door handle.
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you tell anyone about papa?” Instantly Mrs. Platt’s body tensed, her hand clenched around the cold metal and she refused to turn to face her inquisitive offspring.
“Because Esme a wife is loyal and obedient to her husband. And it reflects worse on her than him. Your father’s behavior is quite acceptable; it’s mostly my fault anyhow.”
“Oh. Goodnight then mother.”
“Goodnight Esme.”

Again I know this is quite angsty, but I like writing angst and Esme’s story is rather tragic….until Carlisle rescues her………….of course.

Anyway I hope you like this, and I hope you think it worthy of reviewing because I had a severe bout of lack-of-review-itis. So anything will be greatly appreciated, and you’ll get credited next chapter….Oh the thrill of it! LOL!

A HUGE thanks to all my reviewers so far, you’re GREAT guys:
inscribed-on-my-heart, mera222, AzureFalls, chrissi, Moumou38, CarlisleandEsme,spaceout474, falling-sprinkles,teishamarie, TrueImmortality, , x-Fanpire-x, marauders4eva(LJ, carebeark5(LJ) and angel_tiriel (LJ).