AN: So this is my first fanfic. Please review and constructive critisism is welcome. I want this to be good! I know there must be errors somewhere and I intend to correct them.

I am NOT Stephenie Meyer. She is a goddess in the land of writers and I totally worship her work. Therefore, she owns everything and everyone related to the Twilight series.

Chapter 1 Human

I fell off the branch from a dizzying height, tumbling through sharp twigs, screaming all the way, to land on the hard ground with a sickening crack. I nearly went into shock from the searing pain that spread from somewhere near my knee. With every beat of my heart, the area throbbed and the pain magnified. Hot tears leaked out of my eyes from the unbearable pain. Gradually, I noticed my mother kneeling next to me, trying to support me. I needed a doctor fast- my leg was turning an unhealthy shade of purple and green.

"Where is the town doctor? I think she may have broken her leg!" My mother practically screamed at an innocent bystander. The poor man paled considerably. I shouted in pain when a stone stubbed my toe. Mother was not concerned for my health or the pain I was enduring, she only worried that I would become a cripple. In short, that no man would find me suitable for a wife.

"I-I heard the doctor is out of town for the weekend…," he stuttered.

We had to go to the hospital in Columbus, OH. By the time we arrived, it was just past 10 P.M. and my leg had swollen up to the size of a small melon. I was instantly carried into a large, white room and set on a clean bed. The other four occupants of the room peeked out from behind their white curtains curiously. Then I heard the quick steps of the city doctor entering the room.

All pain was forgotten as I stared at the tall, handsome man standing next to my bed. His skin was smooth and pale, like flawless marble. He had sun-kissed blond hair combed back in a neat, business-like way but his golden eyes were kind. He looked like an angel with his unearthly brilliance.

"My name is Dr. Cullen. Looks like you broke your calf bone, Miss Platt. How did you manage that?" Dr. Cullen spoke with an exceptionally smooth voice (even his voice was beautiful!). I detected a soft, British accent. He looked at my swollen leg disapprovingly.

"Esme fell off a tree in our farm and landed on a hard rock. Lord knows what she was doing up there." (I had been reading a girly novel) Luckily for me, my mother had answered for me. I was still studying Dr. Cullen. He looked extremely young to be a doctor- maybe in his early twenties. Although there were dark circles under his eyes, (I guess doctors had a very tiring job) he still looked like a magnificent angel.

Dr. Cullen gave me painkillers with sedatives to help me sleep. The medicine kicked in immediately. The last person my foggy mind focused on was the glorious face of my doctor.

When I woke up, my leg was cast in a bulky, white cast and the earlier pain reduced to a dull ache. The room was bathed with a faint pinkish-orange color. I looked out the windows. Fluffy cotton candy clouds filled the sky like a field of pink sheep. It was the dawn of a new day. I would be milking the cows back at home.

"Miss Platt! Good morning." Dr. Cullen smiled at me. He walked in through the wide doorway, his polished shoes lightly tapping against the hospital floor. I noticed his perfect rows of white teeth brightened his features considerably.

"You too,Dr. Cullen. Um...where's my mother?" I asked, feeling much better this morning.

"She left for home after I set your cast." Of course, typical Mother. We were not wealthy and barely supported ourselves by our own produce of fruit, vegetables, and milk- all from our very own farm. I sighed resignedly.

"So...how long do I have to stay here? Not that I don't like this hospital but my parents need help to run the farm." To tell the truth, I really didn't care whether I ever left the hospital. At home, my mother would only lecture me endlessly on the principles of becoming a lady and a good wife. Then my father would boss me around- I'd wash, cook, clean, sew, and basically serve his needs. Sometimes, when he was displeased, my father punished me…

But here...I ogled the god in front of me shamelessly...who would want to leave that blindingly faultless smile? That soothing, chocolate-smooth voice? Those strong, muscular arms?

"I suppose you may leave today, but I suggest you stay for another day until your- "

"Oh no, I'll stay for another day. In fact, I feel really tired already. That tree I fell off of was so high! I've never had a broken bone anywhere before. I'll have all my friends sign my cast when I get back home...Aren't the clouds so pretty today…?" I grinned sheepishly at my rambling words. Dr. Cullen did not look irritated, however. He actually looked interested.

"Go ahead and talk all you want. I'm not going anywhere soon and I have been deprived of real company for a long time."

It was remarkably enjoyable to talk to Dr. Cullen. My best friend, also my only neighbor for one and a half miles, had been gone to visit her dying grandmother and I haven't had anyone to talk to for a month now. And with my parents' strange new behavior now that I was 16 (of marrying age), my first broken bone, and my new dreams, there was a lot I needed to talk about.

I poured out funny and depressing stories of my parents and the average farm day. When I told him about how my father's face got as red as a rotten tomato when he was in a bad mood and when he had raged at me for an hour straight, Dr. Cullen looked displeased. He scrunched up his brows and the edges of he mouth turned down in a frown. The expression was so comical on his beautiful features that I burst out laughing. His face broke out into a sunny smile and I switched the subject to my dreams and ambitions to be a schoolteacher.

I wanted to move West and see the Pacific Ocean. I often imagined teaching little children the ABCs in a little oceanfront schoolhouse, where I could take in the beauty of the sea from my teacher's desk. I have always loved young children. Sometimes, I think I was born with a motherly instinct. The one and only time I have ever told my parents about my dream, my father's cheeks turned into the color of a plum and a vein on his forehead throbbed threateningly.

"A humble schoolteacher? Esme Anne Platt! You are to wed a wealthy man of good standing. No more, no less, is that understood? Your mother and I are depending on you. There is no future as a poorly paid woman schoolteacher in the West. What respectable lady lives alone?" In other words, they expected me to marry them into wealthy-ness.

Adding to our conversation, Dr. Cullen mentioned that this would be his last month in Columbus. An important hospital in Chicago had hired him. I literally shook my head when he admitted his age. He was actually almost 35 years old! No, he could scarcely be over 25. When I told him that, his eyes twinkled happily. He told me I could call him Carlisle if I wanted. It was not a common name, actually quite old-fashioned, but somehow I felt that "Carlisle" suited him. I told Carlisle to call me Esme.

A nurse bustled in with a tray filled with bread, milk, and fruit. I was about to take a swig from the glass of milk but I remembered my manners.

"Have you eaten yet Dr. Cul-Carlisle?"

"No. I will have some breakfast after my shift ends here- but thank you for your concern." Then he sat there, just three feet away from me, on an easy chair, and watched me eat.

I'm sure the food was good but with Carlisle watching me with his golden eyes, I could not taste the food and it mostly went down automatically. I stared back into his eyes shamelessly. I concentrated on the shape of his mouth, his eyes, and his strong jaw. A sliver of weak sunlight lit up his golden hair in a way that made it seem almost multi-faceted, like a diamond. I played on the fantasy of one day running my hands through that angel hair. However, I was only 16 at the time, and he a respectful city doctor. I was plainly just a child in his eyes. His beautiful, honey eyes. My spoon scraped against empty china plate. My eyes had not left Carlisle's since he had sat down in that chair to watch me eat.

Seeing that my plate was empty, he stood up to go. The spell was broken and I hastily tried get out of bed. I had forgotten about the cast on my leg and the weight of it was like an anchor. Caught off guard, I lost my balance, and would have fallen if not for the doctor. He caught me in his arms and for a split second, I could smell his distinctive scent (a wonderful cologne I supposed), but I was already sitting on the bed again while Carlisle strode out of the room rapidly.

I was worried that the close proximity had bothered him but presently, he returned with a pair of crutches. Within a few minutes of coaching, I could move around with ease. Carlisle looked pleased at my new skill.

"You are stronger than I thought. I think you can leave today." I opened my mouth to protest. To leave him now after having met him the night before? To go home an succumb to my monotonous parents? No. Way.

"I'm proud of you, Esme." My mouth snapped shut.

I'd never had crutches before and at first, I thought they were rather amusing but getting down the steps to the carriage was a huge task. Dr. Cullen had to help me down and once again, I was in his arms. At last, I made it into the carriage.

"Until we meet again," said Dr. Cullen.

"Until we meet again," I echoed. "And get some sleep!" I watched my inhumanly good-looking doctor retreat into the hospital with my head poking out of the window. He was smiling at my last sentence. Somehow, I knew I wouldn't see him again for a long time, but never the less I would see him again.

Years passed. I watched all my friends marry good men and move away in spectacular bliss. None of my suiters were rich enough for my parents. Not that I really cared anyway. None of the young men I saw were the equal of Dr. Carlisle Cullen. As I said before, my father was deeply opposed to my plan to be a schoolteacher in the West and before long, I was alone at the Platt farm, milking cows and cleaning the house all day long. I felt lonely without my circle of friends but no man has caught my eye yet. Even though I have always known Dr. Cullen was way above my league (and that he had moved out of Columbus), I've never quite given up on him. I could still remember the softness of his voice, the exact tint of his hair, and his glowing skin. I even recall the fragrance of his cologne. I would give anything to see him again, to go back to that day I broke my leg when the local doctor was out of town. For now, I was content with my peaceful life on the farm. Little did I know that a certain Charles Evenson would soon shatter my quiet world.

My parents were good friends with the Evensons. They were avery prosperousfamily and their son, Charles Evenson (who was a staggering nine years my senior), had very good prospects as a business owner. For my 22nd birthday, the Evensons threw a party for me. I thought this was just kind generosity but it was more like a gift to soften me up. Barely 15 minutes into the party, Charles proposed to me in public.

I really should have seen it coming. Mother had been strangely optimistic the whole week, my father had bought luxuries we usually couldn't afford, and tonight, Mother had lavished her precious pearls and silks on me. I barely knew 31 year old Charles Evenson and now there was nothing I could do other than to accept the proposal. I couldn't leave my parents in a swamp of debt from their hasty overindulgence. And if I refused, there would be hell to pay from my father. My parents would be humiliated indefinitely for rejecting such a perfect match.

After all, Charles Evenson might not be so bad.

I was dressed in a lovely white muslin dress with puffed sleeves. Standing next to me, Charles shifted uncomfortably in his black tuxedo. Finally, the old priest ended his monotnous droning and asked the life-altering question.

"Do you, Charles Evenston, take Esme Platt as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." Charles' dark orbs stared deeply into mine.

"Do you, Esme Platt, take Charles Evenston as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do." I sealed my future.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride," ended the priest. The audience twittered expectantly.

Oh no, I was dreading this part. Would the audience see that my kiss was not genuine? I'd never even had a conversation with Charles Evenson! How could I really love him? My heart pounded to burst through my chest. What would his kiss be like? Charles turned to me and lifted the veil. I felt his arm snake around my waist and pull me towards him. My eyes stretched wide open as he leaned in towards me and his lips joined with mine.

I had never really kissed anyone before. There was my very first kiss, at a tender age of twelve, when little Bobbie Wright had pecked me over a game of Spin-the-Bottle. Then there was Walter Bishop, my beau when I was fifteen. He'd kissed me several times, each only a momentary sweetness masking the awkward moments on my doorstep. We'd only been together for two months, and it was all just kid stuff, really.

Charles was actually quite gentle with me. His lips caressed mine for a civilized second or so and then he released me. The warmth of him lingered over my mouth. No tongue. I felt elated that it was over. In fact, I thought that maybe in time, I could grow to like Charles Evenson. Yet a tiny voice inside my head whispered that no one but Dr. Cullen himself could guarantee my happiness.

I drifted off to the wedding party on the arm of my new husband. Charles was polite and gracious to all of our guests, greeting them by name one by one and exchanging compliments. I tried to do the same but I probably knew only 20 of the guests. Eventually, I just settled for smiling amiably at everyone, like a love struck newlywed. Sickening. But there was nothing else I can do.