Stefan’s Diaries: The Craving Chapter 5

At the close of breakfast, maids whisked away the Dutch china and jam, and Winfield withdraw to his study, leaving me with the Sutherland women in the solarizelit parlor. Bridget, Lydia, and Mrs. Sutherland had inst tout ensembleed themselves on the brocade couch, period I perched at the edge of a green velvet chaise, pretending to gaze at an oil portrait of the family when in truth I was reckon the opera hat way to make my escape. My last, paltry feeding seemed a yonder memory, and the sweet symphony of beating hearts in this grand manor h each(prenominal) was becoming difficult to resist.During the meal, Id tried several times to free myself from the Sutherlands presence, with the admit of slipping out a window or escaping through the servants quarters. neertheless as though my intentions were written plainly across my forehead, I was ineffectual to shake my company for so far two minutes. When Id excuse myself to the facility, the aloneler had insisted upon escorting m e. When I menti singled Id fuck lying d give birth in my room, Mrs. Sutherland had pointed out that the couch in the parlor was the perfect place for a repose. I knew that they were grateful to me for returning(a) Bridget to them, but I couldnt explain their acceptance of me into their home. Especially given the convey I was in when I first entered it dirty, torn clothes, disheveled, and bloody.Mr. Stefan, Marg bet said, leaning against the towboat that separated the parlor from the foyer. Are you entirely all right?Fine, fine, I said. Why do you ask?Youre shaking your leg so life-threatening youre rattling the chair.I pressed my hand to my knee to steady 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 somewhat the park.Marg bet raised a perfectly arched brow. You sure seem to spend a lot of time in the park.I consider it my mho home, I said with a wry smile, reckon my cave with its cadre of statues. Ive endlessly found personality comforting.What a beautiful idea Mrs. Sutherland said, clasping her hands together. Would you thought 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, putting a hand to her very healthy-looking brow.You mean, prevail in and receive visitors all day so you can manifest them about your adventures, Margaret said, shaking her head. Im afraid I shall imbibe to beg off, too, Mother. Ive things to control to at home, now 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 lightly slapped her arm. Mrs. Sutherland ignored the sisterlike sniping, shaking out a light cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders. Come with us, Mr. Salvatore. We shall make a fine party of three.Resisting the urge to proclaim in frustration what would it take to leave this familys clutches? I squeeze 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 unmistakably mild day. If not for the suns low angle in relation to the earth, it would have been easy to mistake it for a brisk spring morning.We headed south, then c everywhere at Sixty-sixth Street 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 ponder they felt safe enough in my presence. I took a productive breath of the morning air, which seemed so clear and pure after the events of the old night. It was as though, with the rising sun, the entire world had been washed clean. Seed heads bobbed at the ends of long grasses and flowers opened toward the sky, taking in the last brigh t 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 diametric the North was. Yankee women wore bright colors, such as we hadnt seen in the sulfur for years scarlets, brilliant yellows, bold, sky blues in silk and velvet and dearly-won 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 spread 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 gray breeze whispers around.Mrs. Sutherland and Lydia prattled on about the weather, but they had lost my attention, for at that irregular a squirrel crossed our path. A jerky darkness overcame me, as if one of the few clouds in the sky had secarily passed in front of t he sun. My marauder instincts awoke. There was nothing delectable about its beady eyes or bushy tail, but in a flash I could admiration it the blood of yesterday. It invaded my nostrils and tickled my throat with desire.Please excuse me I I deal I see someone I know. I do my bantam excuse as I dashed off, promising to return in a moment, though I had no intention of doing so. I could ascertain Lydia and Mrs. Sutherlands eyes follow me curiously as I disappeared behind a thicket of bushes.There sat my prey, as innocent as Bridget had presumable 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 feed into me a paltry feeding, but a feeding nonetheless I leaned against the tree trunk, awash in exhausted moderateness. It had not been apparent until solely now how edgy I had been, every moment afraid of my proclaim hunger. Afraid of the stirrings inside 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 contingency 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 fell choke 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 thought rattled at the back of my mind, an counterchange explanation, that I was still with this family because I wanted to be.Mr. Salvatore, youre awfully quiet, Mrs. Sutherland observed. I take 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 middle of people, I admitted as we turned on to the bridle path.Mrs. Sutherland squeezed my hand. If she noticed its opposite 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 participation with Mexico, Mrs. Sutherland confided, as we passed a little girl 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 fill in 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 piece of cake into a sad affair, I apologized.Remembering and mourning neednt always be sad, Mrs. Sutherland pointed out. It is simply . . . what it is. property 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 human side even as I embraced becoming a vampire, how to not lose my soul. Keeping the past present was paramount. Just as my memory of Callie kept me from attack Bridget, my connection to my family, to the life that had once been mine, would help me keep my humanity.Though she didnt tally my own mother at all, for one instant, with the sunlight shining shine through her cap and illuminating her graying hair, her sharp blue eyes dumb 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 melancholy for her had abated in the years since she had died, there was a dull ache that was never absent from my heart. How much 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 bang him. I had wanted to follow in his footsteps, to take on the family estate, to gratify him as much as possible. My deepest wish 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 adversary 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 wise 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 sublime of you. Of course, I have no sons, and only one son-in-law. . . . She sniffed.But, Mother, Margaret and I are each 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 char ity for mothers who lack a invariable 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 perhaps I could master it. I could keep my hunger under control and take daily walks with Lydia and Mrs. Sutherland, nonessential them home for a cup of tea or a prompt 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 warmer as we make our way west, choosing paths at random until we came upon a familiar foot leading 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 . . . stead . . . upon your collar.Despite the laws of decorum, Lydia reached for it then, brushing a finger ge ntly near my neck. I shuddered in excitement and fear at her closeness. When she withdrew her pointer finger, it wore a taint of blood.I grew ashen. For this was the fact of my life. Despite the pains I took to control myself, the thoroughgoing efforts at constant secrecy, one speck of blood was all it took to dysphoric the balance. They would see me for who I was a liar, a murderer, a monster.The tinkling of Lydias jest 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.