Stefan’s Diaries: The Craving Chapter 5

At the close of breakfast, maids whisked away the Dutch china and jam, and Winfield retreated to his study, loss me with the Sutherland women in the sunbathelit living-room. Bridget, Lydia, and Mrs. Sutherland had inst anyed themselves on the brocade couch, while I perched at the edge of a potassium velvet chaise, pretending to gaze at an oil portrait of the family when in truth I was collusive the best way to make my escape. My last, paltry feeding seemed a distant memory, and the sweet symphony of whipstitch meetts in this grand mansion was becoming difficult to resist.During the meal, Id tried several times to let go myself from the Sutherlands presence, with the aim of slipping out a window or escaping through the servants quarters. But as though my plans were written plainly across my forehead, I was unable to shake my company for even two minutes. When Id forgive myself to the facility, the exactlyler had insisted upon escorting me. When I mentioned Id enjoy lying fi ne-tune in my room, Mrs. Sutherland had pointed out that the couch in the parlor was the complete(a) place for a repose. I knew that they were grateful to me for returning Bridget to them, just I couldnt explain their credence of me into their home. Especi solelyy given the state I was in when I first entered it dirty, torn clothes, disheveled, and bloody.Mr. Stefan, Margaret said, leaning against the editorial that separated the parlor from the foyer. Are you entirely all proper(ip)?Fine, fine, I said. Why do you select?Youre shaking your leg so hard youre rattling the chair.I pressed my hand to my knee to tight my leg. I usually start my morning with a walk, I lied, pushing myself to standing. In fact, if I may excuse myself, I think Ill take a stroll around the park.Margaret raised a perfectly arched brow. You certainly seem to spend a lot of time in the park.I contract it my secant home, I said with a wry smile, picturing my cave with its cadre of statues. Ive of all time form nature comforting.What a lovely idea Mrs. Sutherland said, clasping her hands together. Would you mind if we joined you? Its a beautiful day, and we could all use some fresh air.Mama, I think it would be best if I rested instead, Bridget said, displace a hand to her very healthy-looking brow.You mean, stay in and receive visitors all day so you can buoy tell them roughly your adventures, Margaret said, shaking her head. Im afraid I shall have to beg off, too, Mother. Ive things to attend to at home, this instant that it appears my sister is fine and my husband misses me.I cant imagine why, Bridget muttered uncharitably.Lydia shot her youngest sister a look and get out slapped her arm. Mrs. Sutherland ignored the sisterly sniping, shaking out a light cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders. suffice with us, Mr. Salvatore. We shall make a fine party of three.Resisting the urge to shout in frustration what would it take to commit this familys clutches? I forced a smile on my face and held out my arm to Mrs. Sutherland.The second we stepped outside the massive front door, the sun assaulted my eyes. It was a bright, lemony yellow and the sky a perfect blue. For early November up north, it was a remarkably mild day. If not for the suns low angle in notification to the earth, it would have been easy to mistake it for a brisk spring morning.We headed south, then crossed at Sixty-sixth avenue and walked through the wrought iron gates of the park. notwithstanding the events of the night before, neither Lydia nor Mrs. Sutherland showed any hesitation or fear. I suppose they tangle safe enough in my presence. I took a thick wind of the morning air, which seemed so clear and pure by and by the events of the previous night. It was as though, with the rising sun, the entire reality had been washed clean. Seed heads bobbed at the ends of long grasses and flowers opened toward the sky, taking in the last bright sun of the year. The droplets of dew had already dispersed from the previous night.We were not the only ones out to enjoy the day. The park was packed with families and strolling couples. I was struck once again with how different the North was. Yankee women wore bright colors, such as we hadnt seen in the South for years scarlets, brilliant yellows, bold, sky blues in silk and velvet and expensive cloths like European lace, delicate stockings, tiny leather boots.Even nature here was different. Northern trees were round, quaint, elliptical maples where our lush oaks blossom out, soaking up the sun to the farthest tips of their branches. The pines were spiky and blue, not the tall, soft, grand ones the soft Southern press stud whispers around.Mrs. Sutherland and Lydia prattled on about the weather, but they had lost my attention, for at that effect a squirrel crossed our path. A sharp darkness everyplacecame me, as if one of the few clouds in the sky had momentarily passed in front of the sun. My marauder ins tincts awoke. There was nothing delectable about its beady eyes or bushy tail, but in a flash I could taste it the blood of yesterday. It invaded my nostrils and tickled my throat with desire.Please excuse me I I believe I see someone I pick out. I made my trivial excuse as I dashed off, promising to return in a moment, though I had no intention of doing so. I could feel Lydia and Mrs. Sutherlands eyes follow me curiously as I disappeared behind a clash of bushes.There sat my prey, as innocent as Bridget had likely looked to her attacker last night. It eyed me as I approached, but did not make a move. In a flash I was upon it, and it was over even more quickly. As I felt the blood seep into me a paltry feeding, but a feeding nonetheless I leaned against the tree t performk, awash in exhausted relief. It had not been unmistakable until just now how edgy I had been, every moment afraid of my receive hunger. Afraid of the stirrings privileged of me, and how they might control me at any instant.My relief was so great that I didnt even hear Lydia approach, ruining my chance of escape. Stefan? she said, looking around, no doubt curious to meet the person I had run off to greet.It turns out that I was mistaken after all, I mumbled, reluctantly rejoining Lydia and her mother on the path. They cut down rearwards into polite conversation, while I kicked along silently next to them, berating myself for my slowed reflexes. What was wrong with me? I was a vampire. Removing myself from the Sutherlands presence should have been no hard task, even in my weakened state. An unpleasant concept rattled at the back of my mind, an alternate comment, that I was still with this family because I wanted to be.Mr. Salvatore, youre awfully quiet, Mrs. Sutherland observed. I stole a glance at Lydia, who gave me a smile, clearly acknowledging that her mother did not deal in subtlety.Forgive me. Its been a while since Ive been in the midst of people, I admitted as we turned on to the hinder path.Mrs. Sutherland squeezed my hand. If she noticed its icy pallor, she must have taken it for a chill. Since you lost your father? she asked gently.I nodded. That explanation was easier than the truth.I lost a brother in the battle with Mexico, Mrs. Sutherland confided, as we passed a little girlfriend and her father walking a long-haired dachshund. We were the closest of nine brothers and sisters. Despite our numbers, none of my siblings could ever regenerate him in my heart.Uncle Isaiah, Lydia murmured. I barely remember him. But he was always kind.Im sorry to hear that. I did not mean to turn this outing into a sad affair, I apologized.Remembering and mourning neednt always be sad, Mrs. Sutherland pointed out. It is simply . . . what it is. Keeping their lives present in our own.Her words cast a true light through all the confusing thoughts that had been clouding my mind of late how to remain in touch with my man side even as I embraced becoming a vampire, h ow to not lose my soul. Keeping the gone present was paramount. unspoilt as my memory of Callie kept me from attacking Bridget, my connection to my family, to the life that had once been mine, would champion me keep my humanity.Though she didnt resemble my own mother at all, for one instant, with the sunlight shining down through her cap and illuminating her graying hair, her sharp blue eyes softened with feeling, I suddenly felt she could be my mother. That, were the circumstances different, I could be happy in her home.Oh, how I missed my mother. While my deep grief for her had abated in the years since she had died, there was a dull ache that was never absent from my heart. How more than of the tragedy that engulfed our lives could have been avoided if she were still alive?I missed my father, too. Up until the moment I killed him, I respected and loved him. I had wanted to follow in his footsteps, to take on the family estate, to please him as much as possible. My deepest wis h had been that he could respect and love me back.I even missed my brother, or rather who he used to be. Though he vowed to get revenge on me for turning him into a vampire, in life he had been my truest companion in the world, my playful competitor and my closest confidant. I wondered where Damon was right now, and what harm he might be doing. I couldnt judge his bad behavior Id had my share of bloodlust after I had turned. I only hoped his humanity would return to him as mine had.You are a unused woman, Mrs. Sutherland, I said, returning the squeeze of her hand. She smiled at me.Youre a remarkable young man, Mrs. Sutherland noted. If I was your mother, I should be very proud of you. Of course, I have no sons, and only one son-in-law. . . . She sniffed.But, Mother, Margaret and I are individually very accomplished, in our own way, Lydia said, ignoring the pointed remark about son-in-laws. She does the books for Wally. And I am helping to form that sympathy for mothers who lack a stable income.Mrs. Sutherland cast a private smile at me, and in that moment I dared to hope. Perhaps it was possible to stay here, to become part of this family. It would be a dangerous game, but peradventure I could master it. I could keep my hunger under control and take cursory walks with Lydia and Mrs. Sutherland, accompanying them home for a cup of tea or a lively debate about the war with Winfield.Lydia continued on, making her case for her own independence, her mother sighing despite her apparent pride. The sun grew bullet as we made our way west, choosing paths at random until we came upon a familiar foot trail in the middle of the park that led straight to Seneca Village. My home.Perhaps it was my sudden distraction that caused Mrs. Sutherland to look at me so closely. Mr. Salvatore, she said, half-concerned, half-afraid. You have a . . . spot . . . upon your collar.Despite the laws of decorum, Lydia reached for it then, brushing a finger gently near my neck. I shudde red in excitement and fear at her closeness. When she withdrew her pointer finger, it wore a speck of blood.I grew ashen. For this was the fact of my life. Despite the pains I took to control myself, the exhaustive efforts at constant secrecy, one speck of blood was all it took to upset the balance. They would see me for who I was a liar, a murderer, a monster.The tinkling of Lydias laughter broke the silence. Just a bit of jam, she said lightly, wiping her finger on the low-hanging branch of a passing tree. Mr. Salvatore, she teased, I know we have made you feel very much at home, but while you are our guest, perhaps you should be more careful with your table manners.Mrs. Sutherland began to chide her daughter, but seeing the happy relief upon my own face, she smiled as well. Soon we were all laughing gaily at Stefan Salvatore, the nighttime-hero-turned-careless-houseguest, as we made our way back into the sunlight.