Turmoil [Emmett Cullen] (3)

[4- Projects]

It took us the rest of that Friday to get settled into the house. Esme gave me one of the unused bedrooms to convert into an office space. It couldn't fit much but I didn't really need much.

But as much as I tried, this house didn't feel like home. Maybe it was the house. Personally, I didn't like the house as much as my family did. Don't get me wrong, it was nice but for me, I preferred the look of modern houses. I guess for everyone else, this style of house was comforting, in the way the contemporary style was to me.

Or, most likely the reason I had such a difficult time adapting was because of me and my somewhat difficult tendencies. Since we had arrived, I began the process of compartmentalising, my mental process of keeping things separate. Compartmentalising was the only way I could separate my anger and guilt. A small part of me - the rational side- knew I needed to talk to someone about it, actually work out my emotions.

But I was too stubborn to acknowledge that. And even if I could overcome my personality obstacle, the rational side of me paled in significance compared to this burden of guilt. My logical thoughts remained just that, a thought.

And so it continued, repressing the hell out of every single thought about the birthday party and every dumb thing I did before then. By repress, I meant direction every ounce of my attention to various projects. The only problem was I couldn't find a project to keep my mind active enough to forget Bella's birthday.

Everyone else seemed to immediately find a project to occupy themselves. On top of becoming a surgeon at the local hospital, Carlisle was asked to teach evening courses for pre–med students at Cornell University. He started almost as soon as we moved so I rarely saw him.

Emmett purchased an old 1970s Jeep and planned on restoring it. It would be a huge undertaking; the car was essentially a shell and rusted from the inside out.

Edward came home Sunday morning and I only saw him a couple times; he spent most of his time in his room.

Through the Ithaca Historical Preservation Society, Esme had located a rare, 17th century, Federal–style mansion that had been left to disintegrate after the family who owned it had passed away. From what she had told me, the house was a historical monument but it needed too much work and money for the society to take on. Esme wanted to buy and rebuild it, doing everything with historical accuracy.

I decided to join Esme on the project. If anything, working on restoring this house would be an excellent distraction until I found my own project. We had a meeting scheduled with the head of the society today to discuss the project. 

"Are you sure you don't mind me tagging along?" I asked Esme as we drove over to Ithaca's historic center.

"No, I'm happy someone has taken an interested in my work," she beamed, though I could see the smile didn't touch her eyes as it usually did. Esme was finding this move difficult, more so than any of us, besides Edward of course. All she wanted was for us to be happy and without Bella, I don't think Edward could ever be.

Esme parked the car and we found the preservation's society small office space.

"Hello, I'm Esme. We spoke earlier on the phone." The woman manning the front desk looked at us in daze.

"Yes. You're interested in restoring the Bletchley property," she stuttered.

Esme smiled warmly, "Yes. This is my niece Eleanor who will be accompanying me." I smiled at her and her heart sped up. 'Wowing' people never got old.

"I must warn you, the restoration will be very expensive. Are you sure you're prepared to undertake the project?"

Without sounding cocky, Esme answered, "I assure you my husband and I are well funded."

"Ok, well I'll just get you to fill out some paperwork and the project's all yours!" The lady enthused.

Unfortunately this lady was quite chatty.

"I'm sure the Ithaca Journal would love to do a feature for the paper next Sunday! And we have a fundraising banquet next month, you could be our featured guest!" She rambled excitedly while Esme filled out the forms.

"Thank you for the kind offer but I'd much rather keep a low profile," Esme insisted. The lady got the cue and probably in fear that we would pull out, she shut up.

Once all the administrative stuff was done, Esme drove us to the property and it became evident why the society couldn't afford the renovation.

The roof had almost completely crumbled and the outer walls weren't too far behind. I couldn't see a single window that wasn't broken, cracked or missing. There was a strong, damp smell, most likely from the rotting carpet. Rebuilding this house wasn't as simple as fixing a couple of windows and giving it a fresh coat of paint. This would be a complete restoration, from the foundation to the roof. Almost every single aspect would need to be fixed in some way.

To me, it looked like a lost cause. I would have given up but Esme saw it differently.

"It's actually in much better condition than I thought." I looked at her in shock and she chuckled.

I followed Esme around the property as she took detailed notes. I could see her draw these incredibly detailed sketches in a matter of minutes.

"First things first, I want to remove everything that can't be salvaged. I already have a contractor in mind; he's worked on a number of similar historic homes. When we get home, I finalise my drafts for the plan and we'll start sourcing materials this afternoon."

We spent the rest of the day removing everything that couldn't be restored  such as the broken glass and rotting carpet. Everything that had historic value or could be reused such as some of the intact bricks or hardwood was consolidated in a pile at the back. Fortunately, the house was at the end of a secluded street so Esme and I could move everything by hand without worrying about neighbours seeing us. What would have taken several days only took us a couple of hours.

The more I worked along side Esme, the more admiration I had for her. Of course I already respected her but seeing her work gave me a completely different insight. The way she envisioned something, and then that idea materialised was incredible to witness.

I was proud to be her daughter.