Chapter Text
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” I grumble from my usual spot on the rug.
“It’s so dreadful to be poor,” sighs Meg. She turns her gaze from her dress to the window as her fingers mindlessly play with a loose thread on her skirt.
“I don’t think it fair for some girls to have lots of pretty things, and others have none at all!” Amy gripes like always. Her face rests in her hands with an affected little pout.
“We have Father, Marmee, and each other,” Beth quietly adds.
“We haven’t got Father and won’t so long as this war continues–” I cut myself off before finishing my sentence with ‘and may never.’
Everyone becomes quiet as they think it too. Beth pulls her legs up close towards her chest. I crawl across the carpet to put my head against hers.
“You know the reason Marmee proposed not to have presents this year. This winter is going to be a long one for all of us. We can’t do much, but we can make our sacrifices gladly,” Meg says in her most motherly tone.
“I suppose we can, but think about it. How much would it really help? We’ve each only a dollar. It can’t be worth that much to the army,” I prod.
“Maybe,” Meg mulls it over. “Maybe we could have a bit of fun. I have been needing a new pair of gloves.”
Beth picks up her head and adds, “I might like to get new music.”
Amy whines, “I want drawing pencils.”
“And I’ve been wanting this book for ages,” I finish. “Then how about it? Let’s go to town and get them.” I stand up and glance from face to face. Meg and Amy are willing, but something in Beth is keeping her back.
“What’s the matter Beth?” Meg notices too.
“What about Marmee? Oughtn’t we get her something?”
“Well, we work hard enough to buy one small thing for ourselves,” Amy states.
“I suppose you’re right,” Beth comes around to, though her little brow stays furrowed.
“I’m glad to get something for myself. It’s dreadfully tiresome to work each day,” says Meg. I quite agree.
“At least you don’t have to go to school with impertinent girls who laugh at your dresses and label your father because he isn’t rich!” Amy exclaims.
“If you mean libel don’t say label as if papa were a pickle bottle!” I laugh out.
“I know what I mean, and you needn’t be statirical about it. It’s proper to use big words and improve your vocabilary.”
I whistle at that. “Vocabilary? Aren’t we elegant?”
“Ugh, don’t, Jo, it’s so boyish!” Amy puts her hands on her hips and fusses.
“That’s why I do it,” I snap back. Oh, I just can’t stand her sometimes.
“How I detest unladylike girls.”
“And I hate affected little–”
“Amy! Jo! Stop pecking at each other!” Meg calls to order.
I roll my eyes and slump back down on the carpet, propped up by just my elbows.
Amy opens her mouth to protest Meg’s reprimand, but Meg quiets her down by continuing her lecture.
“Really, girls, you are both to blame. Amy, your little airs may be amusing now, but in a few years you won’t be just a goose but a proper nuisance.” Amy scowls at this deprecating view of herself.
Meg turns to me, “And you, Josephine.” Christopher Columbus. We’re off to a great start already. “You are old enough to lay off boyish tricks and plays. It didn’t matter when you were young, but now you’ve grown so tall and put up your hair, you must remember you’re a young lady.”
“No, I won’t, and if turning up my hair makes me one then I’ll wear it in two tails til I’m twenty.” I pull off my hair net and cast it at Meg’s feet.
Meg stares daggers at me, but I’m not done yet.
“Look at me,” and I’m on my feet again, pacing. “Dying to go and fight while here I am sitting and knitting like a poky old woman.”
Meg looks from me to my work basket with an exhausted expression. Beth gets up from the corner of my eye. She sits with me on the couch and comforts me.
“Poor, Jo. I’m sorry it can’t be helped. So you must be content with making your name boyish and playing brother to us. I like it this way, for it means you don’t actually have to go away to fight. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if you went too!” She speaks with such sincerity that I just envelope her in my arms and hold tight.
I gaze around at everyone. We live in a big house. It’s not as big as our neighbor’s, but it is a good size. We call it Orchard House. Each evening, my family works in the front room. There is a sofa and a large chair. My favorite seat is a low chair by the door. Meg is in the easy chair now. She looks like a womanly woman pegging away at her knitting. Marmee tasked us all with making socks for the army this winter. Meg’s already made several. I can’t get through one without getting distracted. She sits so nice. Her pinafore is pinned in a proper bow, and she doesn’t have a hair out of place. Meg works as a governess, but she deserves to be a queen.
Amy is to her side, and she’s pegging away at her sums for school. Amy is a little blonde thing who flits about in the most obnoxious ways. She takes too much pride in nearly everything. All except her nose. Amy is attractive, but she thinks her nose is the worst in the world. She blames me for dropping her on it when she was little and quashing it permanently. I have no recollection of doing such.
My Beth, or Little Tranquility as Father calls her, is my dear one. She’s so patient, kind, and a hard worker. She does all that is asked of her and more, and she doesn’t ask for praise. We love her all dearly. Her soft brown hair is tied at the back of her head, and her little eyes gaze up at me pensively. She squirms out of my arms and goes to her basket by my feet. It isn’t full of yarn, but it does contain quite a few kittens. She places a small one in my lap.
I stroke its head softly as Beth sets Marmee’s slippers by the fire to warm.
“These look quite worn,” she says quietly. “Perhaps I won’t buy my music with my dollar,” she smiles. “I’m going to buy Marmee new slippers for Christmas.”
I beam at her. “That’s my Beth, so wise! I’ll get her something too. No, I’ll get the slippers. Father told me to be the man of the house, so I must,” I say proudly.
“I’ll get her good winter gloves. She needs them more than I do,” Meg looks up. Beth resolves to make her handkerchiefs. We all turn to Amy expectantly.
“I’ll get her a little bottle of cologne. She’ll like it enough, and I’ll still be able to buy my pencils!”
I chuck a pillow at her. It hits her squarely in the face.
“Jo-o,” she begins to cry, but instead of petting her, Meg scolds and says she ought to be more giving to Marmee. Before Amy can complain further, Marmee comes in, shaking off her boots and calling out to us.
We all spring up and tend to her. We eat supper and hear of her day helping the war effort. We’re nearly finished with the meal when she says, “I have a surprise for you girls.” She fishes in her pocket and pulls out a letter!
I jumped up so hastily I upset my cup. Ah well, I clean it up quickly, and we go into the living room to hear its contents.
Marmee reads, “Give them all my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them, by day, pray for them, by night, and find my greatest comfort in their affection at all times. I know my girls will fight their enemies bravely while I am away, so when I return, I may be prouder than ever of my little women.”
We’re all a bit teary as everyone holds onto each other tight.
“I’ll work harder than ever tomorrow and tonight for that matter,” Meg says and picks back up her knitting.
I begrudgingly grab mine too. I sit cross-legged on the floor and add, “I’ll try and be what he likes to call me, a little woman. I’ll mind myself here and try not to want to be somewhere else.” I think it’d be easier to fight a confederate than fight my ancient aunt who I work for.
Beth doesn’t say anything but wipes her tears and continues working like Meg. Amy sighs and follows suit. Marmee pulls out the sheets we’d been working on previously and groans escape more than one of us.
“Let’s finish them tonight and not worry about it the rest of the week,” Marmee suggests.
We all hem as Beth plays for us. We drop the linen when finished and stand round to join and sing with Beth. We can all plink out some chords, but Beth has such love for the old piano that she doesn’t care if the key sounds sour. We sing anyway despite some of us having little musical prowess.
When the notes trail off, Marmee bids us goodnight. “I thank you all for finishing the linens tonight when I know you all could have kept putting them off, but I’m glad you are learning to bear your burdens, girls.”
“Remember when we would play Pilgrim's Progress? And carry around the rag bag like Burdens and trudge around the garden like it was the Valley of the Shadow?” Meg reminisces.
Marmee smiles fondly, “Yes, you were all so sweet at it. Now you have your own real burdens to carry on, and I know you girls will continue to do it beautifully. Goodnight my girls,” she kisses us each on the cheek and watches as we drift upstairs.