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Amy March always expected uncomplicated joy on her wedding day. Why wouldn’t she? It was her wedding day.
But now, with this news about Beth…
She knew Beth wouldn’t begrudge her of course; Beth would want her to be happy. Laurie agreed, because of course he did; he knew Beth nearly as well as she did — as well as anyone but her sisters and Marmee did.
She’d expected a long engagement. If not long, then certainly not as short as the one she had, but she and Laurie simply couldn’t wait. Perhaps some childish part of her was afraid that once she went back to America, and Laurie saw Jo again… but no; Laurie was with her. Laurie loved her.
Him marrying her before they left France was just proof.
French weddings were strange, as it turned out. And she missed her sisters. She’d never once imagined a wedding without her sisters there.
She was doing the right thing, and she knew it.
It just hurt to think of them sometimes.
She knew how they’d react, of course.
Jo would ask her if she was sure she wasn’t making a mistake. Not because of Laurie — she’d never felt the way for Laurie that Amy did, and that was just a fact — but because she wanted Amy to be happy, and she had this notion that women didn’t need to marry to be happy. (Maybe they didn’t, but Amy was sure that marrying Laurie would make her very happy.)
Meg would have something to say about Amy growing up so fast, as if it had just happened one day, because Amy was the youngest and therefore was supposed to never grow up; she certainly wasn’t supposed to get married before her elder sisters, but Meg would understand, she knew, underneath it.
And Beth…
Beth would be happy for her. Beth would have that uncomplicated joy. Beth would know how much this meant to Amy — how much this had always meant to Amy — and she would show her nothing but the most steadfast support.
“Are you okay?” Laurie asked at the reception. It was a tiny thing, but Aunt March insisted on doing something, and Amy knew better than to argue with her too much. Besides, a party was nice.
“I’m fine,” Amy said. “I’m happy. I am. It’s just… it’s strange that they’re not here, isn’t it?”
She didn’t have to explain herself.
Laurie knew.
He knew them, and he knew her, and he must surely have been feeling some kind of similar way.
“It is,” he agreed. He didn’t tell her that they’d all want her to be happy (because they would, even despite Jo and Meg’s trepidations; they’d want her to be happy). “It’s even stranger that we can’t even tell them before we see them.”
A letter, after all, would barely get there before them.
This was the kind of news that’s best delivered in person, anyway. Especially given how everyone always expected Laurie to marry Jo, no matter how Amy felt about the whole thing.
But Laurie hadn’t married Jo. He’d married her. He loved her. He’d chosen her.
And she loved him more than she’d thought possible.
“I wish there were a way to tell them without having to wait over a week for a ship. Then the train after that.”
“I know,” Laurie said.
“I know they’ll be happy for us. It’s just…”
“You wanted them here.”
“It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly,” Laurie told her. “They’re your family. I wanted them here, too.”
Amy wasn’t sure whether to believe him, but… “They’re your family now, too. I mean, they always have been, but now it’s official.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“It’s officially official.”
Because she could (even though Aunt March would think it improper), Amy leaned in to kiss Laurie’s cheek. Honestly, she still couldn’t entirely believe that this was real, but it was. Laurie was here in the flesh beside her. He’d vowed to spend eternity with her, and she with him.
She was happy. It just didn’t come without a few complications.
Laurie squeezed her hand. She couldn’t wait to get him alone so she could kiss him all she wanted. Aunt March had told her vague things about what was meant to happen tonight, but Amy already knew. She’d weaseled the information out of — well, out of Jo, who’d weaseled it out of Meg. It didn’t matter. She knew.
And she was excited… and maybe a little nervous.
She knew Laurie would be unfailingly kind about it all, and when she thought about it, the idea of getting to touch him all over filled her with butterflies. But exposing herself to him… she felt her cheeks heat at the moment.
“What?” Laurie asked lightly.
“I’m just thinking about tonight.”
Laurie knew that Amy knew what was supposed to happen. She was half sure he’d have told her already if she hadn’t told him that she knew. They hadn’t discussed the details yet, of course, but they would.
“I’ll take care of you,” Laurie promised. “Not just tonight, but forever.”
“I trust you,” she said.
And she did. She trusted Laurie more than she’d ever trusted any other man. She could imagine things with Fred, but it didn’t fill her with the same feelings that it did when she thought about it with Laurie.
“Good, because it’s important that you trust me.”
His voice was light, but she knew he meant it.
“How could I not trust you?” she asked, and neither of them brought up the past, because that was the past.
This now was their present and future. Together. Married, for the rest of their lives.
She really did wish her sisters were there, but she didn’t know if she’d even be able to manage any of this without Laurie by her side. Aunt March certainly wasn’t a bastion of moral support.
Laurie squeezed her hand again. “You won’t regret this, Amy.”
“I could never regret you,” Amy promised.
And she couldn’t.