Even nature was different here. Northern trees were round, quaint, elliptical maples where our lush oaks spread out, soaking up the sun to the furthest tips of their branches. The pines were spiky and blue, not the tall, soft, grand ones the soft Southern breeze whispers around.
Mrs Sutherland and Lydia prattled on about the weather, but they had lost my attention, for at that moment a squirrel crossed our path. A sudden darkness overcame me, as if one of the few clouds in the sky had momentarily passed in front of the sun. My predator instincts 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 know.’ 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 Sutherland’s eyes follow me curiously as I disappeared behind a thicket 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 trunk, awash in exhausted relief. It had not been apparent until just now how edgy I had been, every moment afraid of my own hunger. Afraid of the stirrings inside me, and how they might control me at any instant.
My relief was so great that I didn’t 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 fell back 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 alternate explanation, that I was still with this family because I wanted to be.
‘Mr Salvatore, you’re 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. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the midst of people,’ I admitted as we turned onto the bridle 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 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 replace him in my heart.’
‘Uncle Isaiah,’ Lydia murmured. ‘I barely remember him. But he was always kind.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I did not mean to turn this outing into a sad affair,’ I apologised.
‘Remembering and mourning needn’t 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 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 attacking Bridget, my connection to my family, to the life that had once been mine, would help me keep my humanity.
Though she didn’t resemble my own mother at all, for one instant, with the sunlight shining down through her cap and illuminating her greying 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 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 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 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 competitor and my closest confidant. I wondered where Damon was right now, and what harm he might be doing. I couldn’t judge his bad behaviour – I’d 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.
‘You’re 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 each very accomplished, in our own way,’ Lydia said, ignoring the pointed remark about sons-in-law. ‘She does the books for Wally. And I am helping to form that charity 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 perhaps I could master it. I could keep my hunger under control and take daily walks with Lydia and Mrs Sutherland, accompanying them home for a cup of tea or a lively debate with Winfield about the war.
Lydia continued on, making her case for her own independence, her mother sighing despite her apparent pride. The sun grew warmer 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 shuddered in excitement and fear at her closeness. When she withdrew her index 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 Lydia’s 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 night-timehero-turned-careless-houseguest, as we made our way back into the sunlight.
After returning from the walk, I found myself being sewn into a brand-new suit while Mrs Sutherland instructed the tailor on where to pin and prod me. I knew I had to leave, but I also couldn’t tear myself away from Mrs Sutherland quite yet. We spent the entire afternoon chatting about my mother and her French relatives, along with my wish to one day travel to Italy to see the Sistine Chapel.