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“Anything interesting from the girls?” Aunt March says. They’re in the drawing room of the hotel, and Amy has the letter from Jo held tightly in her hand. She places it down on the writing desk.
“Oh, not much Aunt March,” Amy says, turning the information over in her mind. Beth is ill…and they’re not sure what to do, and mother has been called. “Beth is sick,” she says.
“Oh, poor girl,” Aunt March says. “I always did wonder about her constitution.”
*
Later that evening Amy is at the Lavigne ball, dressed up in her finest gown. The ballroom is a wide circle, filled with dancing couples, and Fred is with her, having danced already. It’s loud in the room, and hot, and Amy’s dress really is too tight, she can barely breathe.
“I’ll get you a drink,” Fred says.
“Please,” Amy says, and she slips away from Fred to the open doors for a breath of fresh air. Amy closes her eyes, and when she opens them, like a dream, Laurie is there.
“I thought you liked this sort of thing,” Laurie says. “The parties.”
Amy doesn’t know how to respond. “I do,” Amy says, because that’s what you’re supposed to say.
“You don’t look happy,” he says. He slurs his words--drunk--and she hates seeing him like this.
“And you do?” she asks.
“Me. Of course,” he says. “I’m happy happy happy.” He lounges back against the door frame, and it creaks a little.
“Oh really?” Amy wants to step backwards, but in the doorway there’s nowhere to go. They’re too close, not enough to be scandalous, but too close for comfort.
“Why should I be unhappy?” he asks.
“Jo told me, you know,” she says. “That she turned you down.”
Laurie stands up a little straighter. “Of course,” he says. “Jo…forget about Jo,” he says.
“Yes, I can tell that’s what you’re trying to do, “Amy says, and she notices Fred walking over to them, drinks in hand, and she waves.
“Fred!” Laurie exclaims, stepping aside to let Fred join them.
Fred hands Amy her drink and smiles and so Amy pulls herself together and smiles pleasantly at him.
“Thank you,” she says.
“A drink for the lady,” Laurie says.
“I have to thank you for introducing us,” Fred says.
“Yes, indeed,” Amy says to Laurie, and she smiles at Fred, more genuinely this time. Fred is a good man, handsome, rich, everything she should want.
“Of course, always happy to play cupid,” Laurie says, though he shoots her a look.
Fred doesn’t seem to notice.
“Now if you will excuse me,” Laurie says. “I have people to meet, people to see,” he says, and heads off towards two women that she’s seen him with before. Amy watches him go, jealousy curling in her stomach and then takes a sip of her drink. She looks out into the garden.
“Amy?” Fred says, and Amy starts.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Now where were we?”
*
The spring air is cold on her skin and Amy huddles further under her shawl as she waits for the carriage. Fred has already left, and Aunt March is inside but there’s something refreshing about being outside after the stuffy party. Unfortunately that means she's alone when Laurie sidles up alongside her, and Amy can smell the whisky on his breath.
“Hello,” she says.
“Hello Amy,” he says, swaying slightly. “I came to tell you that I am sorry,” he says
Amy isn’t going to let him off that easily. “Sorry for what?” she asks.
“For being an ass,” he says. “For being a drunk, for being a lout, for being…” He sways against her, leaning his shoulder into hers, curls tickling the side of her neck. “Do you forgive me?”
“You’re drunk,” she says.
“Drunk skunk,” he says. “Forgive me? Say you forgive me.” He wheedles, leaning even closer and Amy pulls away, pulling her shawl around her shoulders.
“Don’t,” she says. “If you’re really sorry, apologise when you’re sober.”
“Apologise when I’m sober,” Laurie repeats, as if he’s trying to remember it. “When I’m sober, sober sober…”
“Yes,” she says. “I expect you’ll conveniently forget.”
“I won’t. I won’t Amy,” he says.
Amy sniffs. “Yes you will,” she says.
*
But the next day Laurie is waiting for her outside her art class. He’s dressed simply in a suit and he looks wonderful--he always does--no trace of the hangover he must surely be experiencing.
“Care to go for a walk?” he asks.
Amy knows she should say no, Aunt March and Fred are expecting her…but she still has some time, and it’s Laurie. He looks contrite, and it seems against all odds, he has remembered their conversation last night.
“Alright,” she says, and he takes her gently by the arm, and they walk down the street. “So-,” Amy starts, but Laurie interrupts.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Beth?” Laurie asks.
“I was going to,” Amy says. “Jo wrote to you too?”
“Yes,” he says.
Amy feels a burst of jealousy, and something--God, she hopes nothing too obvious--must show on her face.
“Not like that,” Laurie says, quickly. “I think she wants to remain friends. And it’s not that I don’t want to be friends because I do, but…”
Sometimes, just once, Amy wishes they could have a conversation without mentioning Jo.
“But anyway, how are you?” Laurie asks.
“I’m fine,” Amy says, automatically. “And Beth…I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Amy adds. “There’s really no reason to worry, people get sick all the time.”
“Yes, they do.” Laurie stops by a bench and gestures, and she sits down with him. “You could go home,” he says, seriously.
She laughs. “I can’t go home. I have…I have my art classes, they’re all booked up and Aunt March paid in advance for the hotels.”
“I would go home,” he says.
She snorts. “Would you?”
“Yes,” he says. “If I had family that were sick…if I had a brother or a sister.” Laurie looks a little sad, and Amy realises of course both of Laurie’s parents were sick, and they never got better. It makes her feel worse, the thought of that happening to Beth. What if Beth doesn't get better? But at the same time…
“I can’t,” Amy says. “My family are…Aunt March chose me to come to Europe with her. Everybody is relying on me. And with Fred…”
“Fred,” Laurie says, and his face goes a little colder.
“Yes,” Amy admits.
“You’d really chose Fred over your own sister?” he says, and there’s something about his tone that is just too much, and Amy finds herself bursting into tears.
“Oh, oh no,” Laurie says. “I’m sorry. Truly. This was supposed to be an apology,” he says. He hands her a handkerchief, and puts an arm around her shoulder.
“No, no, it’s just-,”
“I’m being an ass again,” Laurie says.
Amy laughs through her tears. “Yes,” she says. “I want to go back I do, but…really what could I do? I’m no doctor,” Amy says.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Laurie says. “It’s just I didn’t understand, at the party. Why you were upset.”
“I wasn’t upset,” she says. What she wants to say is; nobody else noticed.
“No no, of course,” Laurie says, but he doesn’t remove his arm, and when she tries to return his handkerchief he motions at her to keep it.
“I have far too many anyway,” he says, and Amy shakes her head. “I know you disapprove,” Laurie says, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
Amy wants to deny it but the fact of the matter is, she does. When she looks at Laurie, it’s like she can almost see behind the man in front of her to the man he could be.
“I thank you for this one anyway,” she says and tucks it away in her bag. Laurie removes his arm from across her shoulders and Amy misses it immediately.
“Now come on, I’ll walk you back to the hotel. And if there is anything you need…”
“Thank you,” Amy says. What I need is out of reach, Amy thinks. Can you wave a wand and make my sister better? Can you transport me home?
*
The next letter from Jo is clearly stained with tears.
“Amy?” Aunt March asks.
But Amy can’t bring herself to say the words out loud. Beth is dead. And Amy is here alone in Europe and she never even got to say goodbye.
Amy passes the letter over. “Of course we’ll have to go home,” she says. After her mistake with Fred there’s no point in being here anyway, Amy thinks bitterly, as she waits for Aunt March’s assessment.
But in the end, all Aunt March says is “Yes.” And then, “My dear, I’m so sorry.”
Amy can feel the tears threatening, so she just nods.
*
The journey home with Laurie is whirlwind, a confusing mess. They’re married. They’re actually married…and instead of being happy, Amy finds herself bursting into tears at the most inopportune times. Of course she’s happy, and Laurie is wonderful and understanding and kind but…Beth is dead. And she’s never coming back. They drop Aunt March off on the way home, and then it is the last few miles to the house, but as the carriage creeps closer to home, Amy just wants to run away and leave everything behind.
Laurie is quiet but he keeps sneaking glances at her.
“What?” she says.
“This…this is going to be a surprise,” he says. “For your family.”
“I know,” she says. A better person would have written and explained, wouldn’t have been so cowardly. But there’s still a part of her that fears that Laurie will see Jo and decide he’s made a mistake.
Laurie reaches out for her hand and holds it tight. “I don’t regret it,” he says, softly. He takes a deep breath. “And I’m going to talk to Jo,” he says. “When we get back. Explain everything.”
Amy’s heart sinks. She wants to remove her hand from his but Laurie just holds on tighter.
“Wonderful,” Amy says. “And what exactly will you be explaining?” she asks.
“Jo…I have to confess, I haven’t been answering her letters at all.”
“You haven’t?” Amy says.
“No,” Laurie says. “But I should have.” He looks down. “That’s twice now that I…said what I said, and then ran away. I’m ashamed.”
“You don’t have anything to be…”
“I do Amy, I do.” Laurie looks up at her. He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and even after taking Laurie to bed, the feel of his lips on her hand still makes her stomach flutter.
“Laurie…”
“And you see, Jo…she was right, we weren’t suited, and I treated her like…like…I need to tell her. Explain.” He strokes her hand. “That I understand. And that I’m sorry. And to you too, I’m sorry, sorry for leaving,” he says.
“Really?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood, though her heart is beating faster. “I never thought I’d hear you admit that. The great Laurie, mistaken.”
Laurie smiles. “It has been known to happen.”
“Once or twice,” Amy says.
“Yes,” Laurie says, but there’s still a tension in his frame.
“Okay, talk to Jo,” she says. “I understand.”
“Thank you,” Laurie says, and he looks exhausted. “And…”
It takes Amy a while to figure out what he’s waiting for. There was an apology there for her too. “I accept your apology,” she says.
All the tension goes out of Laurie and he slouches back in the carriage seat.
“What?” Amy asks
“I wasn’t sure if you would forgive me” Laurie says.
“You weren’t?” Amy says. “Laurie, I love you.” The look on Laurie’s face is almost comical. Of course they’re married, but even despite that, they still haven’t said the words often.
“That doesn’t mean…love’s complicated,” Laurie says. “I think I’ve come to understand that.”
“Yes,” Amy says.
“And…I love you too,” Laurie returns, stiltedly.
“I know that,” Amy says.
“Do you?” Laurie asks. “Because I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life.”
And there’s something in the way he says it--quiet, sure, like it’s something that Amy can finally count on--that makes her tear up. And then with the tears, she’s thinking about Beth again, and they just won’t stop. Laurie pulls her into a full body hug, as much as is possible in the carriage.
What she wants to say is, “I love you.”
What she comes out is; “I’m so sad,” she says, “and I miss Beth so much.”
But Laurie, Laurie understands. “I know,” Laurie says, and when she finally pulls away and looks up at him, his eyes are wet too.