A/N: Here is chapter six! Sorry for the long time between updates. I'll try to update more often, but I'm not promising anything. So read and review! :)

Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Forgiveness

Esme

I can only stare glassy-eyed as Edward leaves the house in a huff. The words he has just spoken still sting, the more so because they are true. 'You don't give a thought to anyone else. Just like when you died. You jumped off the damn cliff, wanting to be with your damn son, not caring about anyone else but yourself.'

Carlisle touches my shoulder. 'I'll go after him, Esme, and bring him back.' I can only nod woodenly.

'He didn't mean it, Esme.'

'Oh, he meant it,' I say. 'And he is right. I jumped off the cliff for selfish reasons. I have been selfish.' Then, after a pause: 'Will he really leave?'

'No,' Carlisle says firmly. 'Edward has always been this way; arrogant, slightly self-centered at times. He easily loses his temper, and says things he doesn't mean. I'm sure he will come back eventually. We just have to give him space.'

'I hope you're right,' I say, but secretly I believe that he won't return. Why should he? He would be free of our thoughts, which he is forced to hear every day. I would not blame him if he chose not to return to us.

Carlisle must have seen the doubt in my eyes, because he adds, 'He will return, Esme. Give him time.'

Hesitantly I lift my head and gaze at him. 'I don't think he will,' I admit.

'We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?' Carlisle smiles, merriment in his eyes.

I return the smile, rather guiltily, as it seems unjust that we have joy while Edward is out there, suffering. 'Yes, we will.'

oOo

In a point of fact, it is Carlisle who is right, for Edward returns three weeks after he left so abruptly. As the sun sets that night, as Carlisle and I sit comfortably hand in hand on the couch watching the television, Edward creeps into the room, standing awkwardly before us, not quite meeting our eyes. He tactfully waits until the commercial break before he speaks. 'Esme,' he begins, 'I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you, and for the spiteful words I spoke. I…I spoke rashly, then. I…hope you can forgive me, for being so infernally rude.' He looks away, shamed.

'There is nothing to forgive, Edward,' I say calmly. 'I can understand why you reacted as you did. I hope you can forgive me, Edward, for being so thoughtless in what I was thinking. I should have censored myself. I'm sorry.'

'That's…that's alright,' Edward says, embarrassed. He must have expected anything but this. I watch as he flees the room, and I soon hear the beautiful harmonious sounds of a piano. Entranced, I turn off the television, and listen. The music weaves like a colorful tapestry; I can hear the emotions woven into the music: guilt, frustration, anger and loneliness. And also peace, and companionship.

I find myself following the music, lifting myself from the sofa and walking upstairs. As I stand in front of the open door, I watch Edward play. His fingers float across the keys, creating a sound so beautiful I almost weep tearlessly. He does not take his eyes from the piano, but he knows I am there.

'You play beautifully,' I say shyly, stepping into the room. Edward doesn't respond, doesn't stop playing, but I can see a corner of his mouth turn up. 'You know,' I continue, 'I always wanted to learn to play the piano, when I was human. But my parents thought it frivolous, and preferred I learn to be a good housewife and mother.' I also wanted to be a schoolteacher, one more dream that was snatched from me. Was it because I was such a horrible person that I didn't deserve to have some happiness?

'No,' Edward says, without ceasing playing. 'Far from it.'

I recall the events in my life, and disagree.

'Esme,' he turns to face me, 'you are the kindest, gentlest, sweetest person I've ever met. You deserve happiness, and more. Carlisle is lucky to have found you.' And then, after a pause, he adds fiercely, 'If I ever meet the person who did this to you I'll rip out his throat!'

I blink, for I did not count on Edward's mind reading gift, and know that if I were still human I would be blushing. 'Thank you, Edward, but that would be a bit extreme.'

'No, it wouldn't be,' Edward says darkly. 'He deserves that, and more.'

'Edward!' I protest. 'Charles is human, and has faults like any one of us has. He…'

'Why are you still defending him?' Edward snaps. 'Even now, when he's done all this to you?'

'I was his wife!' I snap back. 'Wives support their husbands.'

'You're not his wife now,' Edward says coldly. 'Don't you love Carlisle?'

I open my mouth, and then close it, stupefied. I watch as Edward stands and stalks out of the room, and I just stand there, as if my feet are rooted to the floorboards. 'Edward,' I begin. He pauses and looks back at me. 'Don't say anything about this to Carlisle, please. I want to tell him myself, in my own time.'

'I won't say a word,' he assures me. 'But you'll have to tell him eventually.'

'I know,' I say with a sigh.

Edward

I stalk down the stairs, ignoring Esme's stunned, turbulent thoughts. I make my way to the living room, to speak to Carlisle. As soon as he sees me he rises from the couch and clasps my shoulder. 'Edward…' He is at a loss at what to say, but his thoughts speak for him. What is it?

'It's Esme,' I say grimly.

'What about her?' he asks casually, trying not to show how worried he suddenly feels. As always his thoughts give him away. What's wrong with her?

I hesitate before speaking. I had promised Esme I wouldn't speak of it to Carlisle, but he should know. Carlisle is a doctor. He can help her. But if I tell him, I would be breaking confidence with Esme, and she would never trust me again.

Edward? Carlisle asks anxiously. He waits for my reply.

In the end, I tell a half-truth. 'She's been hurt before, badly. So badly that it has injured her mind and spirit. She believes that she is a terrible person, that she doesn't deserve to be happy.'

'What?' Carlisle's eyes glint with a sudden rage. How dare anyone hurt her! 'It was a man?' He looks to me for confirmation.

'It was a man,' I confirm. I don't need to tell him that it was her husband, or that she had been raped, beaten and abused in such horrible ways that it fills my mind with fury. He'll find out eventually, from Esme, if she decides to tell him. Or he'll figure it out himself. I wager on the latter.

What should I do? He thinks to himself anxiously.

I roll my eyes. This will probably give them both another excuse not to declare their undying love for each other. Until they do none of us will have any peace. For a moment frustration overcomes me.

Then I have an idea. What if I speed things up between them? They would be the better for it, and so would I. It would end the sexual tension between them sooner than if I did nothing, and I wouldn't be troubled by their lustful thoughts. So I say, 'Carlisle, Esme is longing to talk to you. She said it's urgent.'

'Really?' Carlisle's eyes light up. 'Then I'd better go see what she wants.' He walks quickly away, and rushes upstairs.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. This is going to be very interesting.