Who knew a bet could change the course of your life so drastically? I didn’t. But then again I was only sixteen, and being as spirited as I had been was seen as a defect on my character. Girls were supposed to behave, cook and clean, and marry as soon as they were of age. But not me. I was too spirited for that. I had too much life within me to just cage it inside my soul. But I digress. Here is how it all began for me.
My brother Theo, older by just under two years, and I had been in a heated debate.
“It’s as simple as this, Es,” Theo had begun as we sat on the front porch sipping lemonade. “Women just can’t do what men can. They’re weaker, both of mind and body, to do the things men do.”
I had been infuriated by this. I was infuriated that he could be so ignorant and condescending just because he was in college and I wasn’t, though I wanted desperately to be. Ever since he’d been away at Ohio State University, studying in business, he had taken it to habit to make it known that he was superior to the rest of us…or so he had come to believe.
“You’re wrong, Theo,” I retorted, using the nickname he’d grown to abhor just to set him off. “Woman are already making headway in the world and one day, we’ll even have the right to vote just like men.”
“Sure; if you say so,” he snorted, a cocky smile on his face. “Knowing you, Esme, I’ll bet you can’t even climb that tree over there without having to have help with getting back down.”
See, Theo knew me all too well. He knew that I would do just about anything to prove a point. I had always been as stubborn and hardheaded as an untamed mule; luckily that only lasted through my adolescence. I stood up from the front steps where I had been sitting beside my brother, smoothed out the fabric of my skirts and looked down at him.
“I’ll take that bet. And what's the victor’s reward?” I asked, eyes narrowed as he stood up to meet a height more than four inches above mine.
Theo thought for a moment, never letting his eyes leave me, his eternal baby sister.
“I’ll tell you what. If you can climb that tree, I will not only drop that fact that men are a cut above women, but I will submit to you and take on the belief that women and men are," Theo paused, his lips raised in disgust as he said the word..."equal." I smiled, but I had to add one condition of my own.
“I also want your respect and…a dollar,” I said, head held high and delicate hands on my hips.
“A dollar? Do you know how much that is?” Theo whined, seeming more childish than even I was.
“Yes, a dollar. Is that a deal or are you scared that you just might be wrong for once?” I mocked.
I could tell during the thirty or so seconds that he didn’t speak, but kept his eyes on me, that he was considering it. He was most likely thinking that if he didn’t agree to the terms, that he would have lost the bet and that I would never let him live it down. Plus, he was too arrogant to admit defeat to anything, especially when his opponent was his younger sister. Then, when he frowned his trademark side-frown, I knew he would take the bet.
“Fine. It’s a deal but just know if you lose, you owe me a dollar, got it?” he said, returning to his normal boastful, self-centered self.
All I did was nod my head and I ran to the tree.
The walnut tree was well over a hundred or so years old and stood at a height higher than our home’s. It was spring so it had an abundance of bright green leaves, looking like a giant broccoli stalk in the middle of our yard. I stood at its base for a few moments, trying to plan my way of entry into it’s canopy of branches. I had to plan out where I would step and how I would get down, which was a lot harder than going up the trunk. Never in my life had I been able to climb that tree without having to yell for my father or Theo to get the ladder to help me down. But this was different. It was a bet that I intended to win at all costs. And that was how stubborn and prideful I was; I was willing to risk making myself look like an idiot just to beat my brother in one of many competitions we’d had.
Putting my right foot in a large dent in the tree’s bark, I grabbed at a knot in the wood with my left hand. Then I pulled myself upwards until I could reach another knot with my right hand, moving my left foot up as I tried blindly to find another foothold in the trunk. And so I continued to alternate between my hands and my feet, using all of my upper body strength to pull myself upwards until I reached a cradle-like face at the top of the trunk where all of the other branches began. I laid myself down there, taking in several breaths as I closed my eyes a bit, feeling triumphant and smug that I had completed the first half of my side of the bet. But then a loud voice from below shook away the bliss and replaced it with annoyance.
“Okay, so you got up there on your own,” Theo admitted sourly. “Now let's see if you can get down without father’s ladder.”
He backed away and, as he saw I was sitting up, he laughed and replaced his frown with another mocking grin.
“But I’m not going to hold my breath,” he added, laughing aloud.
“Oh, I wouldn’t mind the slightest bit if you held your breath…then again, you wouldn’t be holding it for very long,“ I countered.
“Well, Es, you always have been nothing but talk. So let’s see if you can put those words of yours into actions, eh?” he snapped back.
And so began the descent back down from my perch in the tree. As I attempted to find the footholds I had used to climb up with, doubt began to grow in me. I wondered if this was such a good idea but I quickly brushed away these negative thoughts as I pictured myself being handed a dollar by Theo and how the victory would taste so sweet on my lips. I could see his face, frowned in defeat with his eyes looking away from me as if I would remind him of my achievement. But as I thought more and more about the spoils of war, so to speak, I lost concentration and my feet slipped out from under me. I fell down to the ground from ten feet up and the second I hit the ground, I heard a terrible snap, as if of a twig, before the pain of my injury actually hit me. But when it did I screamed so loudly my father and mother came rushing out the front door, eyes wide and full of, at first concern, then just plain anger.
Theo was already at my side and was trying to pick me up in his arms. I bit my lip to try to keep from screaming again, biting it so hard it began to bleed. My caramel-colored hair was a tangle of dirt and leaves, making me look like a wild woman from one of the adventure books I enjoyed reading. Tears were already forming in my eyes as my brother carried me into the house, walking past my worried parents. He gently set me down on the kitchen table and my mother examined my leg while my brother explained which had happened.
“It was just a bet,” Theo tried to explain, though my furious father wouldn’t listen.
“It was stupid, Theo. You know Esme will do anything to prove herself right and now we’re going to have to pay for her to get checked out at the hospital in Columbus,” my father growled, shaking his head in disapproval and not even meeting my brother’s eyes.
Theo bowed his head in shame and mumbles an apology, knowing he had just put a dent in our already small income.
“It wasn’t his fault, father. I made the choice to climb up there. He didn’t force me at all,” I said in between winces while my mother tried to make a temporary splint for my leg out of a belt and a wooden spoon. The pain was so bad that I was beginning to feel dizzy and fatigued. I had started to have trouble keeping my eyes open but my mother kept trying to keep me from passing out. I just wanted to sleep.
“It’s broken, alright,” my mother interrupted. “We have to take her to Columbus to get this looked at, though. This splint won’t last long.”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled in a groggy voice, waving my mother away.
“No, your not,” she insisted, not moving an inch further away from me.
But before I could respond, I gave in to the temptation and closed my eyes. I was out within minutes and the last thing I could remember was seeing my father shaking his head at Theo, who hung his head low in shame and guilt.
By the time my parents had arrived with me at Riverside Methodist Hospital, it was dark. I remember being put on a bed by my father and brother and being rolled into the hospital’s front doors. Then there was the most vivid memory of my entire life: seeing the doctor who would attend to me. “Hello, Esme. My name is Dr. Cullen,” the beautiful man stated with a friendly smile on his face. “I’m going to be taking care of your leg today, okay?” I could only nod my head yes, still trying to comprehend the dazzling quality of this man. He began putting pressure on various parts of my leg, kneading his fingers gently into the flesh to feel the bones. When he hit the spot where all of the pain was stemming from, I yelped, but quickly bit my lip to prevent further sounds of discomfort. “It looks like you’ve fractured your tibia. What were you doing?” he inquired calmly, meeting me at eye level - unlike any man I’d ever known - in order to make me feel like his equal. “ I was climbing a tree so I could win a bet with my brother,” I said as he fitted a splint onto my leg. He laughed and asked, “What was the bet, if you don’t mind my asking. Rather than hang my head in embarrassment, I smiled and looked him right in the eye. “My brother said that men are better than women and I disagreed. So he said that if I could climb the tree on my own, he’d drop his case, take on my opinion on the subject and…” I stopped. “And…?” Dr. Cullen urged, still fitting the leather of the splint on my leg. “And he’d pay me a dollar,” I said very matter-of-factly. Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s a lot of money,” he stated. “I’m an exceptional negotiator,” I countered, smiling confidently until I felt the pain shoot up my leg again. “You must be,” he replied with a smile that could kill. There was silence for a little while as the handsome young doctor added the finishing touches to my leg brace. There was something that drew me to him and I had the most incredible butterflies in my stomach each time I looked at him. I believe that that was the night I fell in love with Carlisle Cullen. Summoning a nurse into the room, he asked her to get me a set of crutches. “I want you to use these for the next ten weeks so you can keep yourself from having to use your leg. After all, the brace can be damaged if you put pressure on it,” he told me as I first tried them. I lost my balance and nearly fell if it hadn’t been for Dr. Cullen who caught me mid-fall. I looked into his eyes, the tawny gold of his irises, and I smiled despite the butterflies in my stomach. He smiled back sheepishly and helped me get in proper position with my crutches. “Thanks,” I murmured, praying that he couldn’t hear my heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. “You’re welcome, Esme,” he answered, still looking at me funny. We were silent again for the few minutes it took me to hobble along to the waiting room where my parents and Theo waited for me. “Mr. and Mrs. Platt, I’m Dr. Cullen, the resident physician. Your daughter’s leg was fractured but it should heal nicely as long as she keeps using her crutches,” he explained to my parents. “The important thing is that she’ll be able to walk again after her leg heals. She shouldn’t have any trouble moving around in the future.” Dr. Cullen looked to my parents and smiled. “Your daughter is quite spirited, I understand,” he mentioned. My parents smiled and nodded their heads. “Yes, Esme is quite spirited…maybe too spirited. We are always urging her to take up behavior more appropriate for a girl her age but she is too unruly,” mother explained. “I agree. She’ll never attract a husband of means if she keeps up her stubbornness. No man wants a wife who will believe herself to be an equal to him,” my father added. Dr. Cullen shook his head, still smiling. “I think that any man who is allowed her hand in marriage will be quite lucky to have a wife as bright and kind-hearted as her,” he argued, glancing at me from across the room as I sat in a hard-backed wooden chair. And for the first time ever, I blushed. “Well I appreciate your kindness and help with our daughter but it’s already after dark and we must be going,” my father stated awkwardly putting his hands in his pockets nervously. “Yes, you really must be exhausted from such an eventful day. Have a safe trip home and make sure she doesn’t walk without her crutches for a minimum of ten weeks,” Dr. Cullen ordered with a smile before turning to me. “It was nice meeting you Esme. I have a feeling we will meet again someday but until then, be safe,” he told me, looking at me with kind eyes. I nodded my head and said good-bye. The last thing I saw was the back of my angel, walking back through the hospital’s restricted access doors.
For years I thought of Carlisle. I thought about him everyday and never forgot the look he gave me when he steadied me after I nearly fell using my crutches. I couldn’t decipher what the look had meant but for some reason, it stuck with me. Funny how after only seeing him once could leave such an impression but it did. I even dreamt of him, his face, his smile, his eyes; those golden eyes that seemed so old, as if they had seen the most ancient of things. Even though I went on with my daily life, Carlisle Cullen never left my mind, though I did push it to the back of my thoughts when I couldn’t be distracted. My leg healed within the ten week period that I had to be on crutches and we made our way to Columbus for my final checkup. When we went back to the hospital, however, I was devastated to find that Dr. Cullen was gone, having put in his resignation weeks earlier without my knowing. I was examined by another doctor, only making my heart sting even more as I wanted Carlisle to be the one to take off the brace. After it was removed, I solemnly went back home with my parents and was allowed to go back to my regular chores after having been given chores in the kitchen rather than outside, where I most enjoyed being. I returned to school and was able to catch on to what we were learning easily as I had always been the most enthusiastic pupil. The school was near the center of Hilliard; about three miles from where we lived on the outskirts of Columbus. I think I’d always known that I wanted to be a schoolteacher. I had always been the one in school who helped everyone else out, using patience and compassion. I may have been an “unruly” girl, as my mother called me more than once, but I was still patient and nurturing no matter what. By the time I graduated from school and received my diploma, almost every other girl I knew had already married or was engaged. It was down to my best friend Emma and I and the pressure to marry had intensified tenfold. But we had dreams, Emma and I. We had plans to move out West and live together; I would work as a schoolteacher while she ran the boarding house we’d be starting. It was perfect with one exception: we hadn’t told our parents yet so as far as they knew, sooner or later, we were still going to marry some boy they paired each of us up with. And that was the dilemma that we contemplated as we walked into Hilliard, where I had to go so I could pick up a few things at the grocers for my mother. “So how exactly are we going to tell them?” she asked as we strolled down Cedar Ave, arm in arm. “I mean, they aren’t going to be exactly thrilled that their eighteen-year-old daughter wants to live alone, hundreds of miles away, teaching at a school in California when she should be in Ohio, cleaning the kitchen after making dinner for her husband like a good girl.” I frowned at her. “Listen, Em, I have it all planned out. I’m going to tell them after Easter, when they are in a good mood,” I explained like it was no big deal. “And I’ve practiced what I’m going to say, too.” I stopped and unhooked my arm from hers as I stood up straight and put on the most innocent look I could manage as I imitated what I would say, right there on the sidewalk. “Mother, Father,” I began, my voice being a bit higher pitched for dramatic effect. “I want to tell you something. No, it isn’t bad. I just wanted to tell you that I want to move to California to work as a schoolteacher. Of, course I’ll have a place to stay. Emma is coming with me and we’re going to start a boarding house, too.” I put my hands over my heart and exhibited the face of someone who has been pleasantly surprised before continuing my act. “Really? You approve? Oh, Mother. Father. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me. Of course I’ll miss you. Oh, thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” After completing my portrayal of how it would go, knowing it would never go that way though, I took my bow as Emma applauded my acting skills. “Bravo, Miss Platt. What a performance. Are you sure you should be a schoolteacher because you have a talent for acting,” she laughed as she looped her arm around mine again. “Now, I hope you don’t actually think that that is how it is going to go because if you do you are way too optimistic.” We laughed for a good three minutes before falling into a deep silence. We kept walking until we reached the grocers. Emma stopped and looked at me as we let an elderly couple exit the store before we entered. “Es?” she asked. “Yeah, Em?” I replied, furrowing my brow at the worried look on her face. “They’re not going to be too happy about all this, are they?” she continued, referring to our parent’s reactions. “Let’s just say, we might want to practice ducking for cover before we break it to them because I know my mom will probably throw whatever she can get her hands on at my head,” I joked, making the worry leave Emma’s face only to be replaced by a smile. “Practice. That might be a good idea,” she responded before we fell into fits of laughter. Yes, it was nice to have a bit of a laugh about our parent’s reactions but I think we both knew that they were not going to be happy and we also both knew that there was a probability that they might ruin our chances of ever achieving our dreams. And that thought made each of us concerned…considering Easter was three weeks away.
It’s funny how things could change so quickly you don’t really have time to react. Things can go from absolutely amazing to the worst of the worst in what seems like the blink of an eye. I guess it is the way life is; turning the tables on you just when you think everything in your life is great, making you feel alone and hopeless at the same time. I had thought that things were going perfectly, despite the whole telling my parents about my plans thing. I thought that Emma and I were set, that our plans were foolproof and carved in stone. But how wrong I was. When Emma came to my house only one day before we were going to break the news to our parents, I knew something was wrong just by looking at her face. Her eyes had lost their spark and her smile was too big, like she was hiding a frown behind it. And, she never came to my house seeing as it was over five miles in the opposite direction. I opened the screen door and stepped onto the front porch, more nervous than a man on death row. “Emma. What are you doing here?” I asked, though not in a rude manner; it was more of a concerned manner than anything else. “I needed to talk to you about something and it was kind of important,” she replied, fidgeting with the gloves on her hands. Why is she wearing gloves in the middle of a heat wave? I wondered, considering I had pinned up my hair to keep from getting too hot. “So you walked five miles in this weather just to talk to me about something?” She gave me a look of desperation. “It’s important.” I motioned for her to walk with me and we began making our way along the edge of the wheat fields, hidden by them and bathed in their welcomed shade. I waited for her to speak since she had come to me but when we walked for over three minutes in silence, I knew she wasn’t going to begin without encouragement. “What’s going on, Em? Did something bad happen to you?” I prompted, looking at her bowed head, her face concealed by a wall of her flaxen hair. “You could say that,” she murmured so softly I could barely hear her. “I need to tell you something but I want you to promise you won’t get angry with me, okay?” I nodded in agreement. Emma took a deep breath and started to speak. “My parents received a notice that the bank is going to foreclose on our house. We’ve been having trouble paying the bills and we needed money badly,” she explained, her face now visible as she lifted her head to face me. She was crying. I was about to ask if there was anything my family could do to help with the Kulenski’s financial difficulties when I realized something. “What do you mean you needed money?” I inquired. She said nothing as she turned her back to me. She was doing something with her hands. Taking off her gloves I thought. I could hear that she was still crying by the muffles sniffles and hiccups. I couldn’t see what she was doing though, until she turned back around, holding her up her left hand so that back of it was facing me. There was something bright and sparkling that was on her ring finger. An engagement ring. I backed up, leaning against the same tree I had fallen out of only a few years before. I couldn’t speak I was so shocked. This girl, who had not only believed that marriage was more like a death sentence than a celebration but had also made plans with me to move away and live together, was now engaged. After realizing I couldn’t yet speak, she spoke instead. “You know how George Nelson has liked me since I was like twelve? Well, my mother invited the Nelson’s over for supper last week. Since then he had been sending me flowers and even wrote me a poem. Can you believe that?” she laughed, trying her hardest to smile without looking sad at the same time. I was still speechless so she went on. “Well, last night, he came over again to ask my father’s permission to marry me and proposed right there in front of my whole family in the kitchen and I said yes,” she said, holding up her hand. “This ring was his grandmother’s. Isn’t it pretty?” I didn’t respond. I knew who George Nelson was. The son of a wealthy banker in Columbus, he was one of the rich boys who lived in the lap of luxury and married us beautiful country girls who were basically trained from birth everything that a husband wants in a wife. But not only was he rich beyond belief, he was known to use his status to get what he wanted. He was also, what in my opinion is the worst kind of man. He was the kind of man who thinks women were here on this earth to serve men like slaves and to bear their children as if they were machines. And now my best friend, who I’d known since we were born, the one who I had been as thick as thieves with all our lives, the one who would never have submitted to any boy like him, had actually gone and gotten herself engaged to the worst of them all. After taking a deep breath and regaining composure, I glared at her for the first time ever. “So let me make sure I’m hearing you correctly. You and I have made plans to leave Ohio to make our own lives, made promises to achieve our dreams, and now you are not only betraying me but throwing all that away to get married to a man who thinks women are things to be owned and put on display just so you can have his money, diamonds, and flowers?” I snapped, never taking my glare off of her. By then, she was squirming and putting her gloves back on. She looked at me with helpless eyes, as if trying to implore me to understand and forgive her. “It’s not like that, Esme and you know it,” she retorted, glowering back at me. “If I don’t marry someone with money and influence, my family could lose everything they have worked so hard for. They came to this country from Poland with nothing and they made a life for themselves through hard work and hope. Everything that means something to us could be taken away. I can’t let that happen and you would do the same thing if you were in my shoes so don’t patronize me.” She had stopped yelling and was back to looking back down at the ground in shame. “I have to do this. I don’t have a choice,” she whispered in a barely audible voice. “And if you can’t understand that then, what do we have left?” When she had been shouting at me, she had been saying things that should have hurt me. But it was this last question that made my heart feel like a knife had been driven into it. She was saying that if I couldn’t understand her motives, then we couldn’t be friends anymore. All those years of tree climbing and playing and laughing, down the drain. Gone. Done. Over with. And though I would have loved to be able to understand her reasons, I simply couldn’t. Not only that, but I couldn’t be there for her in her situation because, to be honest, I didn’t have a clue what I would have done if I were in her shoes. Not a clue at all. I didn’t even have to respond. Emma could read my thoughts in the now diminishing blue of my eyes. As she walked away, she didn’t say a thing. All I heard as the first tears fell was the sound of her shoes on the dew-covered grass, the thud getting fainter and fainter as she got further and further away. By the time the sound was gone, I had collapsed onto the grass sobbing. The last thing I had heard was that she and George had moved into the city to be closer to his work. I never got a wedding invitation. I never got a letter. I never got anything. And I never saw her again.
The effects of my falling out with Emma were evident in the way I behaved. It was plain in the carelessness I had when doing my chores and the way I barely spoke to anyone. I had turned into something I never wanted to be: submissive. It would be an understatement to say that my mother and father were pleased with my new demeanor. In fact, they showered me with praise for my newly obedient nature and my serenity. They felt that they were the reason I was this way; I think they thought that is was them who had “tamed” me, but it wasn’t. I didn’t care if they thought that. I knew the real reason and it burned a hole through my heart each time it came to mind. My fiery nature had been doused and put to rest. I was a shadow of my former self. A shell of a person, hollow and benign. The old Esme was gone. She was in the past and had been replaced by this thing that you might call me. I never talked back. I never disobeyed a request from my parents. I was the perfect daughter. I had become something different altogether and I despised it. I was Esme Ann Platt, pious and dutiful child of Theodore and Evelyn Platt and I was miserable. To fill the void in my life and to keep me busy, I took a job at a privately funded, privately run orphanage in the city. My job was assistant teacher to Marion List, the head of the Education department. Basically, I taught the forty or so children at the Isaiah Jacobson Orphanage reading, writing and mathematics while she stayed in her nice office, only coming out to scold a child or to scold me. But, despite the constant chastisement from Marion, I absolutely, positively loved my job. I fell in love with the children there. For me, teaching was my calling and I taught with as much passion as possible. Though it was no teaching job in California, I enjoyed it nevertheless. Over time, I grew happier. I was eager to get into the city everyday and I was saddened when I had to leave. My mother noticed my demeanor changing yet again but this time it was for the better. I was smiling more and I was much less gloomy. And I think that it was those children, those wonderful and innocent children, who did this to me. It was those children, each and every one of them, that saved me from despair and showed me that there are still good things in the world. In my second month at Jacobson, I was summoned to the office of the head administrator, Karl Van Der Heap. A portly, middle-aged man with a hard professional manner, Karl was known to be tough but fair. I liked him though. After all, he did hire me. But I thought it unusual for him to call me of all people to his office at the end of the day just as I was about to leave. Now, I had always had a guilty conscience and a negative attitude so I automatically assumed the worst. My hands shook as I walked up the three flights of stairs to the other end of the building where all of the administrative offices were. As I stood outside the door to Mr. Van Der Heap’s office, I took several deep breaths to calm myself down. I kept telling myself that everything would be okay and that he probably just needs to ask me something simple. It didn’t work; I was still more anxious and nervous than a man on death row. So, in order to at least look presentable, I smoothed my hands over my dress so the wrinkles would disappear and I added two more pins to my hair to keep it from getting too unruly. Straightening my back as much as I could to improve my posture, I opened the door and entered the office. Mr. Van Der Heap motioned for me to sit in the hard-wooden chair across from his desk. He was silent and only watched as I sat down as if searching for fear in my eyes. It must have been visible because I though I saw his mouth almost twist up into a little smile before returning to his cold grimace that seemed to be plastered onto his face. I shifted in my seat as he picked up a folder from a stack on his desk and began flipping through it. It was my employee file, which held everything from my employment history to the reviews and reports I’d received from the supervisors I worked under. With a face that held no emotion, he read through each page slowly for roughly ten minutes. I just sat there, fidgeting with my hands and looking aimlessly around the room though I kept glancing back at my employer across from me. The squeak that emanated from his leather chair each time he shifted in his seat made me squirm even more as I got more paranoid about what was going on. Please, don’t let this be bad. Please, please, please, I thought, praying silently that I would still have a job when I left this office. Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I was still scared for my job. After he was done with my file, Mr. Van Der Heap set it down back at the top of the stack of employee files and leaned back in his chair. I could feel his eyes scrutinizing me but I didn’t let it phase me…that is, until he began to speak. “Miss Platt, you have quite a file here,” he started, tapping his finger on my file. “It might very well be this file that determines your future employment here at Isaiah Jacobson Orphanage.” What does he mean by that? Am I getting fired? I asked myself mutely. I let him go on. “I have been forced to make some changes in who will continue to work here and who won’t and it is your job that has come to my attention most often.” “Plea—“ his raised hand telling me not to speak. “I don’t think you are fit for the title of teacher assistant anymore. That, your, position is going to be given to someone else who deserves it,” he continued. By now, I was trying my hardest to hold back tears and was biting my lower lip to keep from speaking at the same time. I loved my job. I loved those children, whom I had taught and nurtured with love and compassion since I had arrive there. I hoped to God that Mr. Van Der Heap didn’t take everything I loved in life away from me. “Which is why, I have decided to make you head of the Education department,” he finished. “Please, Mr. Van Der Heap. Don’t fir--“ I began before stopping myself, “Wait, you are promoting me to head of the department?” I questioned, astonished at what was happening. “Isn’t that Marion List’s job?” He looked at me, raising his eyebrows. “Not anymore. It’s yours now. We need someone younger and less old-fashioned to teach these children and your reports are remarkably good. Marion may have the experience, but you have a fresh mind with more, how do you say, contemporary ideas as to what our children need in an education. We need you, Miss. Platt.” As he spoke, I saw the room spinning around and I felt a dizzy sensation, almost making me lose my balance as I stood up. “Are you alright, Miss. Platt?” he asked. “Do you need a glass of water?” I smiled and felt my equilibrium returning to me. The room stood still and my head was clear of any dizziness. “I’m fine,” I assured him. “But please, call me Esme.” “Alright, Esme. Will you accept the job?” he urged, folding his hands across his desk. “Absolutely,” I answered, nodding my head. Mr. Van Der Heap stood up held out his hand and shook mine roughly, still not smiling. I, on the other hand was beaming with joy at my new job. As I was about to take my leave, he stopped me. “Miss—I mean Esme. Don’t make me regret my decision to give you the job. If you mess up it could terminate your employment here.” I smiled wanly and nodded my head. “I won’t disappoint you, sir.” I walked out of the building and went home, feeling happier than I had felt in a long time.
After receiving my promotion, people began to say I seemed infinitely happier. And I was. I mean, I still missed Emma and I still would have loved to go to California but at the same time, I had found my calling with the orphaned children of Isaiah Jacobson’s. I grew to love them more than anything else. Though I had not given birth to a child or become a mother yet, I discovered what it meant to be a parent just by teaching the children what they needed to know and nurturing their young minds with love and compassion. But that wasn’t all I learned. I learned how I could advocate for these children just by using my new appointment as head of the Education department. Though I had always loved teaching the children, we had barely enough books to supply half the classes and many of the books were in poor condition or outdated. One of my first proposals under my title was to try to get The Board, as we all called it, to approve an increase in funding for books, pencils, paper, and a new chalkboard for the single classroom that the orphanage had. I set up my case with a simple explanation as to why we needed these things; I didn’t use any fancy tactics. Just the truth and my fervent passion for not only teaching but also for my love for my pupils. The Board approved all requests, increasing our budget over thirty percent and offering to have a chalkboard installed the following week. As it turned out, I was a natural at the art of persuasion. But the most important thing was that it made not only the kids feel better with new supplies…I felt better as well. Though I worked in the city, I still lived at home with my mother and father since Theo had gone off to take a job in New York City. My mother had stopped her attempts to find me a nice rich boy to marry months before when I had first taken the job, realizing that it was a futile effort that needed to happen naturally. She still prayed, however, for me to find a husband like all of my other friends. It kind of defeated the purpose of trying to let it happen naturally but she considered God a part of nature so she didn’t feel bad. After all, I was almost twenty and, she hoped, I would find someone sooner or later. She had always wanted it sooner though, despite the fact that it might not turn out to happen that way. For the next year and a half, I taught the children and that was my life. There was nothing else I did that would have any substinance other than molding the minds of youngsters like the children there. I grew close to them all but I had a few that I considered extra special, though not my favorites, as they were all my favorites. I tried to make learning a fun thing for them and got as creative as possible. And I taught them things that weren’t exactly academic as well. Things like manners, respect, honesty, and humility along with many other virtues that were needed for everyday life. Things I had to learn the hard way. A few days after my twenty-first birthday, class finished up early so I left sooner than usual. Not wanting to deal with my parents in the heat wave we were receiving, I decided to walk around for a bit in the city and enjoy the afternoon. I wandered into a variety of shops selling things from clothes to books to beauty products that promised longer hair in twenty-four hours and perfume that would attract any man on the planet. Being the intelligent girl that I was, I decided upon browsing the bookstore, Betsy’s Book Barn, a shop that barely looked like a barn at all but had an intriguing selection of books. When I walked in, I caught a glance at myself in the mirror, seeing my gaunt reflection from weeks of working and disheveled hair that could use an extra pin or two to hold the messy bun on my head in place. I realized how I had matured since I was a child. How I had grown into a woman of substance from an unruly child of defiance. I was my own person now and nothing would hinder my progress in life. I bought a few fictitious books by Edith Wharton as well as some brochures on the fight of the suffragettes in America, which I would have to keep out of reach of my parents. By the time I arrived home, I knew something was amiss because I could see the flickering of our good candles on the kitchen table through the window and I could smell my mother’s famous pork roast, cooking slowly in the oven. What’s going on now? I asked myself in a whisper as I opened the door to our home. Immediately I was bombarded by my mother who apparently had seen me coming up the road. “Where have you been, Esme?” she demanded, practically dragging me upstairs to my bedroom. “Look at you. You look like you’ve just walked five miles in the mud.” “I did just walk five miles in the mud, mother,” I said, looking at her like she was crazy while she scoured my closet, throwing dresses out onto my bed as if in a fit of rage. She stopped and poked her head out from the other side of the closet door. “Oh, right. I forgot about that,” she mumbled before going back to her work. “What are you doing, mother? What is going on?” I finally asked when she gave no explanation as to her severely erratic behavior. Holding out my best red cotton dress and my favorite light blue one, she lifted each one up. “Which one do you want to put on?” she asked as if nothing was wrong about this picture. “I kind of like the—“ I cut her off. “You didn’t answer my question. What is going on? Why are you picking out my clothes? Why are you making a nice dinner like this? What is with you tonight?” I pressed, hands on my hips in as assertive a position I could manage. You know that look that a kid gets when they have been caught in a lie or have been caught keeping information from their parents? Yeah, well that is exactly what my mother looked like right then and there. She wouldn’t meet my eyes and her head hung a little low. Both of these were signs that she had done something that I wouldn’t have liked and I think I had an idea as to what that thing might be. “I invited a few people over for dinner tonight and I just want you to look nice for them,” she explained quietly, folding her rejected dresses and returning them to the closet. As I rubbed my temples in frustration, I closed my eyes and sighed loudly. “What people, mother?” I demanded, feeling my patience diminishing. She didn’t stop putting my clothes away, an obvious attempt to not have to look at my facial expression. I didn’t blame her for not wanting to see how irritated I was getting. She continued on, like a little bee in its hive, not even looking up when she finally spoke. “Only Robert Evenson and his family. And they should be here any moment,” she said, finally looking me straight in the eyes. What nerve. “Oh. Fantastic. Thanks for telling me in advance so I could at least mentally prepare myself to have to deal with pointless small talk and endless questions about my possible husbands…or lack thereof,” I scoffed as I slipped the light blue dress over my head, letting it slip over my figure like liquid. At least I’d look nice during the impending torture of the coming dinner. My mother scowled at me as I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Esme Anne Platt, you will not be rude to these people. I won’t have it. You are twenty-one years old and you will act like an adult rather than the usual child you are,” she stated in her usual patronizing tone. “Mother, if you are looking for an example of the overgrown child you are talking about, maybe you should look at Theo, not me,” I retorted, narrowing my gaze at her. She was about to slap me across the face for defaming her prized son when there was the loud sound of a car horn coming to our end of the lane. It was the first time I was thankful that the Evenson’s were coming to visit us.
As we made our way down the stairs, I tucked a few pins in my unruly hair while my mother nearly tumbled over herself trying to get to the door with her usual punctuality. When she opened the door, Robert Evenson, his wife Amelia and their son Charles were already ascending the steps of our porch. Smiling warmly, my mother invited them in with cheery “hellos” and interested “how do you dos” while I just stood aside to let in the family. The patriarch of the family was a tall, immensely intimidating man of almost six and a half feet high with straight jet black, though graying, hair and sterling grey eyes. His wife was a mouse of a woman, petite and simple looking with dull light brown hair. She wasn’t much to look at and beside her towering son who had inherited his father’s height, she was even less noticeable. Charles, who was nearly four years my senior, was the bearer of an underdeveloped rounded face and his father’s hard grey eyes, making him appear less approachable and sociable. Suddenly I found myself being nudged forward by my mother, who held my shoulders as if displaying me like a china doll in a storefront window. “Robert, Amelia. This is my daughter, Esme,” she introduced before adding, “The last time you saw her she was not yet fifteen.” Amelia smiled wanly, extending a gloved hand and meeting my gaze with kind eyes. “So nice to see you again. My, you have grown into quite the woman, if I may say so myself,” she said louder than I had expected her to. I blushed at the embarrassing comment but was secretly overjoyed to have someone who thought I was grown up tell me so aloud. Before I could reply, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned around to see a face I hadn’t seen in just under eight years. “Jack!” I exclaimed as I jumped up to hug the younger of the Evenson brothers and one of my best friends from my childhood. “Well isn’t that a hello to remember,” he laughed as he squeezed me back, lifting me up off my feet and setting me down again. I broke away to look at what the years had done to him and realized, time had blessed him greatly. He had been gifted with the best of his parent’s features: his mothers long eye lashes and full lips, his father’s chiseled facial features and charming smile. He was at least six inches taller than I, forcing me to stand on my toes when hugging him but I didn’t mind. As children we had played together constantly, though he was almost three years older than me. Jack, my brother and I had been a trio of sorts, closer than blood. But when the Evenson’s moved to Columbus when I was fourteen, our tree-climbing, lake fishing, rough housing days went away along with my first real crush. Yes. Me, the eternal independent feminist, had at one time been secretly in love with this charming, highly attractive man. I beamed up at him, smiling more than I had since I’d heard the news of the Evenson’s invitation to dinner. But it wasn’t because I was happy to see him as it was that he seemed to look at me differently, almost as if he was attracted to me. But maybe I was jumping the gun, so to speak. Who knows. Before I could begin an actual conversation with my best, and most missed, friend, my mother cleared her throat to catch our attention. “Sorry to interrupt, but dinner is ready and on the table,” she said cordially, ushering the way to the dining room. As we walked to the table, I felt not one but two pairs of eyes on my back. I turned my head just enough to see who it was, pretending to look at a painting of my grandparents. Both Jack and Charles were eyeing me peculiarly, as if I was something they were competing for. It was the strangest feeling to be looked at by men with interest rather than with disdain. I realized, just from my female intuition, that I was something the Evenson brothers desired. Just the thought of me being desirable by two older men was enough to tweak my ego for a little while. Dinner was uneventful. My parents talked with the Evenson’s about everything from politics to the economy to the war. I generally stayed out of the conversation since my mind was too occupied by the thought of Jack. Finally, I excused myself from the table and went outside to just try to breath, hoping the fresh air would help me clear and calm my mind. I sat on the porch swing, kicking off my uncomfortable shoes and closing my eyes. I tried to picture something to distract my mind. The children from the Orphanage, the hustle and bustle of the city, even the face of my nearly forgotten love Carlisle Cullen. It was so nice to imagine his stunning face and beautiful golden eyes, the image being just as clear as it was the day I met him. But as I was immersing myself deeper and deeper into the memory, I felt a hand on my shoulder, making me jump in surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry for startling you,” Jack apologized, looking right at me with crystalline blue eyes that made me melt inside. “Startled? Me? Never,” I said playfully. He chuckled. “Well, of course not. You are, of course, the infamous Esme Platt. The same one who was never afraid of spiders or snakes.” He was being sarcastic, I knew that. After all, he knew that I was and had always been terrified by both. I gave him a dramatic frown, only making him smile more. But I got lost in his gaze and didn’t even notice that he had been talking. “May I sit down or is there no room for an old friend here?” he asked, smiling a captivating smile that only he could pull off with genuine ease. I broke his intent look and moved over. “Sorry. That was rude of me,” I said, flustered at my impoliteness. “Here, there’s still some room.” In actuality, there was quite a bit of room but he sat close to me rather than further away as he could have. Why he did this, I had an idea. We sat in silence for a few moments, looking around us and making the idea of us sitting together, alone, even more awkward than it already had been. I knew he was looking at my profile, my refined chin, full lips, my caramel hair that tended to seem luminous in the moonlight, or so I had been told. Turning my head to see him staring at me, I put on a look of wonderment and innocence. “You know the last time I saw you, you were a gangly, little fourteen-year-old girl with a penchant for getting into trouble and now look at you. You’re a beautiful, strong woman who has a steady job and an intelligent mind,” he observed aloud, cocking his head to the side though still grinning fiendishly. I blushed but quickly played it off. “Oh, Jack, don’t tease me. If anyone’s changed, you have. When I last saw you, you were a lanky, awkward-looking sixteen-year-old know-it-all and it was you who had the penchant for getting into trouble, usually getting me into trouble as well,” I countered, trying to lighten the uncomfortable air. I had never been one to take compliments very well, always claiming the givers to be flattering me or exaggerating and then trying to make it into a joke to make it easier to deal with. But Jack, knowing that I would do this, didn’t go along with the joke. “I’m not teasing you, Esme. I’m being honest and you know it,” he pressed on, until I looked back up at him, causing our eyes to lock on each other. My joking smile faded into one that was more genuine. I just looked at him for a few moments, letting myself drown in the cerulean pools that were his eyes. “You really think so?” I asked breathlessly while not breaking our eye contact. Without warning he reached out with his hand to tuck a loose strand of my hair behind one ear, allowing the back of it to brush across my jaw line in the process. My eyes closed as I felt his skin touch mine, igniting a spark inside me that sent a shockwave of electricity shooting through every corner of my body. I found myself looking up into his tender eyes and I parted my lips to speak but I quickly forgot what I was going to say when he took my face in his hands, pulling me within inches of his head. “Yes,” Jack murmured, taking in my face like a newborn child taking in the world for the first time. “I know so.” And that was it. As he pulled my face closer to his, I parted my lips, ready for his to touch mine. I closed my eyes, hoping he was doing the same thing. I gasped when his tongue parted my lips further, making my legs shake in amazement. Surrendering myself to that kiss, I found I was on new, uncharted territory that had to be explored to be made clearer. I had never kissed a man like that before…actually, I had never kissed any man before aside from the affectionate, family kiss that I gave my father. But a romantic kiss like that? I was a complete and total novice. For some reason, in my head during the kiss, I couldn’t stop thinking about two things: what this meant for Jack and my friendship and, of course, the man who would always have a place in my heart, Carlisle Cullen.
It felt like everything was going so quickly all around me but I was still going at a regular pace. I would imagine myself on a busy Columbus street, standing at an intersection, everyone speeding around me as I walked leisurely with a smile plastered on my face…one that Jack had put there just by loving me. Many would think that, considering the times, I was a hopeless case on the grounds of marriage because of my age and my independent, self-sufficient, revolutionary lifestyle. I was a twenty-one-year-old woman with no need for a man and no intention to be ruled by anyone other than myself. I had defied all norms of the era; I was the opposite of the woman many in Ohio were at my age. Most were married off and starting families of their own while I was just beginning my first romance. But I didn’t mind. I’d always believed that things come in their own time and that everything happens for a reason. Call me a hopeless romantic or just plain hopeless. It doesn’t matter to me. Our courtship was unlike any that I had ever witnessed; it was unorthodox and would have been considered dishonorable but we didn’t care. We were in love. It was as simple as that. All those years prior, when I had been madly in love with him and him with I, they seemed to be coming back together. Fate had reunited us and I planned on taking full advantage of that. We saw each other every chance we could find. Though our parents knew of our courtship, they were oblivious to just how intimate we had gotten as time went by. To be honest, it was good that they didn’t know because they would have been shocked at how reckless and lovesick I had gotten, though I wondered how blind they could have been. I mean there was a noticeable change in my behavior. I was distracted and consumed by my thoughts of Jack constantly yet no one acknowledged anything. Someone could be talking to me and the only thing on my mind would be the last moment I’d spent with Jack. It didn’t matter what was going on; the kitchen could have been on fire and I would have to have been burning in order for me to notice. My mother approved greatly of our “mutual interest”, as she called it, mostly because he came from a family of substantial means and by marrying him I could secure my family for the rest of our lives. Whenever she saw us strolling around the fields near my house, she would smile coyly and make a silent escape to leave us alone together. Unbeknownst to her, though, he would visit my window nearly every night, like my very own Romeo, and I would sneak out as quietly as possible so that we could walk to Warren Lake, the lake on the eastern end of my family’s property and just lay together underneath the stars, amongst the fireflies and crickets. About six or seven months after we'd had that first kiss, Jack snuck to my house on a borrowed bicycle and woke me up for our nightly visit to the lake. When I arrived outside after dressing in a white cotton dress rather than my nightgown, I knew something was amiss because Jack was holding a white rose and a blindfold in his hands. He handed me the rose and kissed me passionately. I smiled and drew the rose’s petals along his cheek and neck, still recovering from the kiss. God, he was a good kisser. “Well, hello,” I crooned into his ear, sounding breathless and euphonious at the same time. I looked at the blindfold he was holding in his other hand and looked back up at him, a curious, puzzled expression on my face. “What’s that for, Jack?” “Its to keep you from seeing,” he said, receiving a frown from me. “Of course its to keep me from seeing. It’s a blindfold. That’s what it does,” I replied, hands on my hips. “The question is what don’t you want me to see?” He laughed. “Well if I answered that, I would be spoiling the surprise, wouldn’t I?” he asked rhetorically as he walked behind me and slid the blindfold over my eyes, making it nigh impossible for me to see. He kissed my forehead and put his lips to my ear, so close that I could feel his breath on the skin. “No peeking,” he whispered. I could hear him grinning just by his voice. Putting his hands firmly on my shoulders, Jack led me through the fields and I could tell by the sound of the lake insects that we were at our spot on the bank of Warren Lake. But there was something odd that I could smell; I wasn’t sure what it was until he untied the blindfold to reveal his surprise for me, making me gasp in awe. Surrounding a large blanket were twenty or so jars with dozens of glowing fireflies in them, illuminating the entire spot like candelabras with wings. No candles. No lamps. Only the fireflies cast light on the two of us and the setting he had prepared. There were two wine glasses and a bottle of expensive wine, obviously something he’d bought especially for this occasion, along with a little bowl of fresh strawberries and black raspberries from the bushes that grew around the lake. Heavy stones held down the blanket and there was a little vase of the same white roses as the one he’d given me earlier. I was in complete awe and all I could do was stand there, smiling in the light of the fireflies. “You did this all for me?” I asked, tears coming to my eyes at the pure love that had been embedded into the entire spectacle. They were happy tears, the happiest tears I had ever shed in my life. “Yes. I did this all for you,” Jack replied quietly, as if any increase in his volume might shatter the moment. Then, returning to his usual, cheerful self, he added, “It took me all of four hours to capture the fireflies but it was worth it considering I was doing it for you, Esme.” I turned around and kissed him with more emotion and fervor than I ever had before. I was just so filled with love for this man and I thanked God for bringing him into my life. Our lips melded together, as if they were one, for a good four minutes before I pulled away and whispered into his ear, “I love you, Jack Evenson.” Rather than being caught off-guard and shocked by the chance I had taken by officially declaring my love for him, he smiled and took my waist in his hands, pulling me closer to him than I ever had been before. “I love you, too, Esme Platt,” he murmured. “With all my heart and all my soul…forever.” It was then that Carlisle Cullen’s face flashed through my head but quickly disappeared back to the deepest corners of my mind when I caught Jack’s mouth descending onto mine. I knew I would never stop loving Carlisle but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still love Jack just as much. After he retreated from our kiss, he took my hand and led me along a little path, lined with the firefly jars, to the center of the blanket where the wine and fruit had been placed. We both sat down, my head resting on his chest while he poured the wine with his other arm and the one that was draped around me. He looked down at me as he handed me the clear, yellowish wine in a fine, crystal glass. I sat back up on my own while he watched me sip the liquid to see if I liked it or not through my facial expression. If my face didn’t show it, the deep sigh of ecstasy that I gave off when I took my first sip. The beverage tasted delightful with the perfect balance of sweet and tartness. “I take it you like the wine,” he inquired as he took a taste of his own glass, smiling knowingly. I nodded my head and smiled back. It seemed like time had stopped as we drank the wine and ate the strawberries. He held me close, his arm draped around my body as my head rested on his chest again. We were silent, just relishing in the happiness that we both felt being together like that. There were no words that needed to be spoken. Everything we felt was communicated just by listening to the beat of each other’s hearts and by the tightness of his embrace. He loved me. I knew that now without a doubt. And I loved him. More than I could tell him through words. It seems that despite the assortment of words that I could use to describe how I felt for him, not a single one could do it justice. There was no word that I could use to express the pure love that I felt when I was with him. After a while, we had finished the bottle of wine and I think we both felt much calmer and more relaxed, though we still had our wits about us. I had been resting my head on his shoulder when he suddenly sat up, startling me so that I nearly fell over. Once I regained my balance, I looked at him puzzled by the mixture of anxiety and nervousness on his face. “What is it, Jack? What’s wrong?” I asked him, my voice a little hoarse from having not been used in about two hours. He looked at me dead in the eyes before turning away to pull something out of his pocket. It was a box. A dark blue ring box. I was speechless. I could barely breathe. I couldn’t think or move and I think my heart had jumped into my throat. “Esme Anne Platt,” he began, opening the box. “ Will you marry me?” Seeing the ring made it even harder to breathe. It must have been the largest diamond I’d ever seen. There were two smaller ones on either side of the big one and all three were encased in white gold. From the looks of it, it was old but stunning nevertheless. Even though I was severely shocked by his proposal, there was not a doubt in my mind about my answer. I shook myself out of my paralysis and managed a smile as I looked back from the ring to Jack’s face. He looked back at me, his eyes never leaving me even with the cacophonous sound of the nighttime wildlife and the illumination of us both from the jarred fireflies. My God, did he look handsome. His chiseled face was made more defined in the light and his green eyes shone with a new brilliance that made me melt. I had never thought of what I would do if I were proposed to by anyone; I had always believed marriage to be constricting and cage-like. But I guess it was one of those things that you have to experience to actually know what you would do in that particular situation. And in that moment, I knew exactly what to do. When he looked at me, unsure, I smiled and began to cry. “Yes,” I said before I kissed him ardently, giving myself over to the kiss just as I had only months before when he’d first kissed me. I kept saying yes in between breaths as I kept on kissing him. The next thing I knew he was laying me down on the blanket as gently as he could, the only light being from the fireflies. He leaned over me, brushing a lock of my hair out of my face and behind my ear and kissing my lips again. I knew what was about to happen, what we were about to do, and I was ready for it. After all, I loved Jack. He looked into my eyes for several moments before caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered, taking in my face like he’d never seen it before in his life. I smiled up at him and nodded my head. “Yes. More sure than I’ve ever been in my life,” I replied, my voice low but steady. And so, we made love for the first time, amongst the fireflies glow and the cool summer night air. We were a tangle of limbs but he made love to me gently, as if he thought I was breakable. It didn’t matter if we weren’t married...yet. It was more perfect than I ever could have dreamt it to be. I knew in that moment, that my life would never be the same but I was fine with that. I wanted this kind of a change and I welcomed it with open arms. But the most important thing I knew was that nothing could ever tear us apart. Nothing.
We announced our engagement the next day, both of us anxious to spread the word of our love. Everyone was thrilled, especially my parents. I was finally doing what they had always wanted me to do and I was marrying a man of good means, which was a key factor in choosing a husband. Husband and wife. It sounded so awkward yet I loved the sound of it. I loved him more than life itself and I was happy to see that everyone was just as happy as I was. Even Jack’s brother Charles was happy for us, though I knew he had at one time desired me. I was happy. Jack was happy. Everyone was happy and it felt like things were finally coming together. It was already three months into the engagement when the worst, most unthinkable thing occurred. I came home from the orphanage one day, holding a few invitation samples in one hand and a few wedding magazines in the other, hoping to go over them with my mother to see if I liked anything I saw in them. I opened the front door and looked around the foyer to see that no one was bustling around like they usually were at dinnertime. “Hello?” I called, my brow furrowed in confusion. “Mother? Father?” “We’re in here, Esme,” came a shaky voice from the kitchen. It sounded like my mother’s voice but I’d never heard her crying before. Why is my mother crying? I thought as I quickened my pace down the hallway towards the kitchen. I had a feeling that something bad had happened when I saw that the kitchen was crowded with people. My mother, my father, Theo, the Evenson’s, Charles, Jack, even their younger sister Inez was there. Jack was sitting at the head of the table, holding an envelop in his hands. All of the women were crying, especially Amelia and Inez who were holding each other as they shed their tears. This was bad. Very bad. “Mother, what’s going on?” I asked, dropping my things to the ground. She didn’t reply. Instead she looked to Jack who handed me the envelope. I took the letter out of it as it was already opened and unfolded the paper so I could see what it said. I couldn’t even finish reading it before I looked up in shock, tears already forming as I backed up into the wall, grabbing the back of a chair for support to keep me from collapsing. It was a draft notice. Jack, the love of my life, was being drafted, taken away from me and thrust into the deadly trenches and toxic clouds of mustard gas. He was going to war. My mother and Inez came to my aide when they saw I was about to crumple to the floor. Holding me up by my arms, they steadied me and tried to get me to sit down. I waved them away and told them I was fine, though the streams of tears comi
