Only chapter
Jo married Laurie in a small, intimate wedding at the foot of the Laurence’s garden. They had finally come to their senses and decided to give a chance to the rusty love they had for each other, the one that had cooled with time, space and distance.
The event was attended by her parents, Laurie’s grandfather, and Meg’s family. Amy was out of the country and Aunt March was undergoing an uncomfortable recovery from her illness in the warm weather of France, probably finding a husband for her sister now that she had the opportunity to make another union of value.
Anyway, it was a gloomy party. There were too many things unsaid in the condensed atmosphere built by their relatives. Jo could see the disapproval in her mother’s eyes every time they made eye contact. There was a feeling that she could not understand in James Laurence’s gestures and expressions towards Laurie. Meg was gentle, but she had never been a good liar and Jo could sense her sister’s surprise due to the haste of her marriage miles away.
They drank champagne and tea until their need for normalcy was satiated, until the edges of their minds were blurred and everything became lively and fun. Laurie was the worst, blushing and wistful while no one seemed to notice his sadness, sitting at the head of the table with his hand under Jo’s, but his mind elsewhere.
Getting together was what he had always wanted, the eventuality that everyone knew they would reach, their destiny despite their strong personalities clashing with each other. Why did it feel like a mistake?
Everyone drowned their thoughts in their drinks and the sweet, pretentious two-tier cake with white frosting.
The party ended quickly. Meg was the first to leave, hand in hand with John and Demi, giving them her congratulations and a smile too perfect to be completely genuine. Marmee and Robert were next, and Grandpa Laurence only waved before heading to his room under the excuse of being too old for the celebration.
Their marriage, lifeless and misguided, began.
She had a hard time adjusting to her new life. It was difficult for her mind to assimilate that Beth was no longer there, that Amy lived on the other side of the world, that she had gotten married.
It was difficult to find positive things and a routine when she knew she had done things on impulse and not because she really wanted to. However, there was not much she could do now, she was Jo Laurence and she had to get used to it.
She never could, not completely because Jo always knew she didn’t want to be a wife, but she already was, she was Laurie’s wife, her best friend’s wife. Jo knew Laurie deserved better, that she needed to try no matter how little he was home, how little time they spent together, how different their routines were, how far apart they were despite sharing a bed, breakfasts and a last name.
Jo tried, she really tried, but it wasn’t in her nature to be demure, to have submission and just serve. She was wild, stubborn and spontaneous, she wasn’t lady material, not like Meg, her mother or even Amy; Jo had got the idea from her early years, when expectations, gender roles and society were a thought in the back of her mind.
Jo had always feared getting married because of the standards towards wives, she knew that even men as flexible as Laurie would have requests and the right to expect a homelier role from her, she knew that if she married someone, that person would expect her to give up her writing or her strong ideals, her independence. But Laurie wasn’t asking for anything from her, they barely talked, and as he got up from the dining room and went into his office, Jo realized that this was worse, because it was a clear sign of disinterest. Her greatest fear came true: they had made the worst mistake.
For a long time, she tried to return to what they had, their friendship and trust, the things they had in common that made them fit. Those things were gone, they were no longer two rebellious children, they turned into bored and resentful adults.
Laurie drank, gambled, and was in his office all the time. He took a more active role in his grandfather’s company; in the legacy he had rejected many times before. Jo had no inspiration, Beth’s death had affected her deeply, but she still didn’t dare to accept it and express it. Sometimes she felt so alone that it hurt deep in her bones and soul.
Jo turned away from Laurie and Laurie turned away from Jo. It hurt because it was a bond she never thought would be broken, she always believed they had a friendship that would last until their last breaths.
And the worst part was that she couldn’t talk to anyone about it, Beth was no longer there; Marmee would accuse her of what Jo already knew, that her marriage was a mistake; her father, who had been away too long, just wouldn’t understand, and Meg was busy with her own life, her own family.
Sometimes Jo considered Amy, she wanted to write to her so bad, but she didn’t. Jo had begun to understand Beth, the need to keep in touch and the fear of overwhelm Amy and ruin her trip with her problems.
She never thought about if before, but it must have been awful to find out about Beth’s death in a letter, to know that there was nothing she could do to have closure and say goodbye. A cruel treatment she never stopped to analyse.
If they had done the same to her, Jo would hold a lot of resentment and hatred in her heart. She was afraid that Amy thought the same as her, that Amy wouldn’t want to know about her, so she never wrote.
She stirred the food with her fork and drank the last sip of the coffee, suddenly she had no more appetite.
Amy returned to Concord in April. The weather was pleasant, and the clear sky glowed a vibrant shade of blue that afternoon, the most beautiful so far that spring.
Europe changed her mannerisms, some of her gestures, and her dresses, but Amy still had that childish complacency when she saw the wildflowers that grew along the roadsides, or that taste for terribly sweet tea and orange bread.
Jo gave her sister a big hug when she found Amy sitting in her old place at the table, telling Hannah something about an Italian dish Jo couldn’t care less. Amy hugged her back, squeezing her back tightly and placing her chin on her shoulder at an angle that allowed Jo to bury her nose in her sister’s neck, breathing in the smell of home, childhood and old days, the aroma of life before it fell apart.
Amy’s return cheered her up in a way Jo never expected, so Jo soon found herself crossing the wide path between her parents’ house and the Laurence residence every day, —«her house», she mentally told herself—, always returning at dusk.
However, Amy’s gleaming presence didn’t work its charm in the same way for Laurie, who suddenly had more work to do in Boston, leaving early and sometimes spending the night there. Jo barely saw him, and she knew it was strange considering the expansion of the company and the newly hired employees taking care of it, but she didn’t get ask, Laurie would tell her sooner or later, he always did.
Jo spent her free time with Amy, going downtown from time to time, reading together in the comforting calmness of their old living room, taking walks early in the morning or in the evenings, and even visiting Beth’s grave when the weather or their changing and nostalgic moods warranted it.
The two of them were never particularly close, not in the way that Jo was with Beth or Amy was with Meg, but they loved each other, and in those moments they spent together, it felt easy and effortless to rebuild their attenuated sisterly relationship, an occurrence deepened during their time away from Concord. They repaired and tightened their bond.
It was nice and easy, a distraction from Jo’s lack of marital life, from the loneliness and abandonment she felt now that she didn’t have Laurie as her friend, but as an absent, workaholic husband.
She hoped it would be a time of disconnection, something that would end before Amy left again, before she felt a loneliness that not even her understanding mother or her incredible niece and nephew could fill.
Jo didn’t like to think about it, but Amy had a life outside the country, she had a place to return to with Aunt March, a job in painting that was better suited to a glamorous city like Paris, not a small town like Concord. Amy would leave, it was natural, and it would happen eventually, just... Jo wished it would happen later.
Jo hadn’t paid much attention to the lack of interaction between Amy and Laurie, in the few moments alone they had or the lack of direct conversation when they were in a crowded place. It was strange how coordinated they were to not meet each other, to not coexist.
As far as Jo knew, they had spent time together in Paris, developing a strong friendship for a good couple of months until she never heard from it again. It must have been an argument and not a lack of interest, because Jo saw a handful of occasions when Laurie couldn’t hide the fact that he was watching Amy in the middle of a conversation with William Dunn, dancing with some old friend, or chatting over champagne on the other side of the room.
It was curious and it didn’t even occur to her to think that, for the first time, Jo was enjoying one of those opulent parties that she avoided like the plague. Amy was good at them from what she noticed, from the moments when she caught Laurie spying on Amy from a safe distance while she carried herself with the ease that only Paris could have given her.
There was something there, in the tense atmosphere and the distance, in the silent coordination they had, in the agreement not to be together again. Jo could ask Amy, but the logical thing to do would be to question her husband, get answers from him before disturbing her sister.
However, that night Jo said nothing.
Jo decided to watch from afar. Laurie seemed very alert to Amy’s movements and didn’t take his eyes off the entrance when the woman left for half an hour in the company of a lady friend of hers. Amy, however, did not spare a single glance at Laurie throughout the night, although Amy was able to smile at Jo from the distance when her husband briefly left her side.
Jo and Laurie returned home not long after, lying side by side, uncomfortable, restless, and eyes wide open in the middle of the dark night, curtains closed, each with their head elsewhere. And in the middle of the night, with the perpetual silence of the massive construction, Jo did not dare to ask.
Amy invited Jo to tea. It wasn’t a strange gesture on her part, but Jo had the feeling that her sister wanted to tell her something and the tea was just the excuse. Nevertheless, she accepted.
They sat in the garden, the vivid green of nature surrounding them, with the grass overgrown and insects buzzing in the distance. It was a beautiful morning, with warm, humid air and the atmosphere filled with the sweet smell of some of her mother’s flowers.
“Do you remember Fred Vaughn?” Amy took a sip of her tea, staring at the top of one of the nearby trees.
“Yes, I remember him”.
“We met again while I was in Paris”. Amy commented, with a shy but satisfied smile.
“You declared you would find him in London one day”. Jo smiled at the memory, removing the spoon from her teacup and imitating her sister as she drank from the porcelain cup.
“It was mere coincidence, I didn’t know he was there”.
“But what does he have to do with all this?”
Amy turned her body to face Jo, setting her tea down on the wooden table.
Amy was no longer immature, the childhood days where she used to be like that were long gone but seeing her acting so steadfast was a little strange. Jo smiled at it, amused at how much she had yet to discover about Amy and the life she built apart.
“Jo, these last few months I have been in a relationship with him”.
“Amy...”
“We are going to get married; he will come for me”.
“But... don’t you think it’s a little early? I mean, we barely know him, you shouldn’t rush it” Jo gave her a weak smile. “You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to”.
The words hung in the air for what seemed longer than just the half minute they were in silence. There was something there, a truth implied in Jo’s elusive answer; she didn’t wish to dismiss her sister’s feelings, but she had a nagging feeling that the words with which Aunt March had tried to persuade first her, and then Amy, still held Amy back from pursuing her own happiness; Amy should no longer marry for money, but for real intention. Yet the very nature of that thought was that Jo had sacrificed herself to that destiny, though no one, not even she, could admit it.
Amy curved her lips a little, a gentle smile breaking Jo’s train of thought.
“I know this may be new to you, but my relationship with Fred is not as recent as you think. I am very sure of this”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you are my sister, Jo, and I love you. These months have been great, and I am glad that we have mended our relationship, that we have become closer. I trust you and I wanted to tell you before I announce it to the others”.
Amy took her hands and gave them a squeeze, her sister was warm, and she could feel the gold band on her left ring finger, a ring she had never seen before, but one Amy now wore with pride and a pleased smile.
Jo squeezed back and put her arm around Amy’s shoulders in a loose hug. She trusted her sister, Amy was a little spoiled before, but she had become a strong woman and that was the thing that mattered to her. Amy was smart, she knew what she was doing, and deep down, Jo knew that Aunt March, despite being critical of others, held her sister in high esteem. If it weren’t a good idea, Aunt March wouldn’t have hesitated to intervene.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, drinking tea, eating pastries Hannah made, and telling each other little anecdotes about their times apart, recalling some stories from their childhood too. It was hopeful, if a little sad, Jo thought as she walked back to the Laurence Manor under the starry sky.
Jo couldn’t get Amy’s words out of her head. ’Fred Vaughn’. She heard good things about him from the blonde, but Jo knew that she needed to really know him before accepting him to take her sister, the only person who anchored her to the good days of the youth of them.
Jo decided not to go to her parent’s house that morning. Amy had told her of her intentions to visit Meg that day, and Jo just wasn’t in the mood to deal with the noise and energy of the kids, not today.
She adjusted her posture in the chair and reread the third line of the page for the tenth time. Jo couldn’t concentrate on the plot or even understand the words. She slammed the leather covers of the book shut and placed it on her lap. Her brow was furrowed, and she bit her lip hard as he looked out of the window.
“Jo, I thought you’d be with your parents” Laurie greeted her from the entrance of the room, leaning gently against the door frame before noticing his distracted wife. “Is something wrong?”
Jo didn’t know what to answer, but soon perked up, gesturing for Laurie to come and sit in the chair next to hers. As he walked in her direction, Jo noticed the little smile on her husband’s lips, almost like the young version of him, lazy and humorous. He hadn’t looked this happy for some time.
Laurie sank into the chair, making an approving sound at the soft cushion as he turned his torso towards Jo.
“You know Fred Vaughn, don’t you?”
Laurie’s face fell and his lips pressed into a thin line. Jo didn’t understand why, as far as she knew, they were friends, that was why he had introduced them a long ago.
“I know him,” he nodded.
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Jo, what’s happening? What’s the reason for your sudden interest in Fred?”
“It’s nothing bad if that’s what is worrying you. I was just remembering the day at the beach.” Jo felt a little guilty for lying to him, but it wasn’t her place to tell Amy’s news if her sister wasn’t ready yet, hopefully she wouldn’t keep the secret for too long and soon the family would find out about Amy’s engagement to Fred, the ring he gave her was not exactly discreet.
“Okay,” Laurie furrowed his eyebrows before sighing and leaning against the backrest. “Fred is the Vaughn heir, he has three siblings, Frank, Kate and Grace. He is in business with his father and spends a lot of time between Switzerland, London and Paris due to his work. I honestly don’t know what else to tell you, we haven’t been in touch for a while.”
“Oh, thanks, I guess.”
“Do you need anything else?”
Jo shook her head, fiddling with the cover of her book still in her lap.
“No, that’s it.”
Laurie didn’t leave; he stayed next to her looking out over the garden. They had grown accustomed to the silence, but their conversation was welcome in the sense that, even briefly, it felt like a taste of the interactions they used to have. It wasn’t the same, but it was something.
“You know, Teddy, it’s a really nice afternoon, why don’t we go for a walk?”
“Actually, I think it’s a good idea, Jo,” he said, reaching out his hand and squeezing her forearm.
They left and joined the path between their house and Orchard House. From the outskirts they could see the empty place, immersed in a stillness that was not typical of the March residence.
As it turned out, they had a good time. They visited a moor and, on the way back, passed through a stretch of woodland, close to where the wooden letterbox stood, half rickety and surprisingly still standing despite Laurie’s years and little carpentry experience at the time he made it.
It was a conciliatory moment, although Jo began to recognize how obsessed she was with her childhood, almost as if she hadn’t been able to overcome it, as if she couldn’t forget that stage of her life no matter how grown up she was, despite the time that had passed since those golden bright days.
Everything was different now, though in substance things remained the same. They were Laurie and Jo, the unlikely pair of inseparable kids now in the skin of two adults together in marriage. Laurie wasn’t the same playful cheerful soul he used to be, and Jo lost her stubborn, wild frenzy.
And, yet, that afternoon, after dull months and barely any quality time together, there was understanding and a real connection. Yes, they were broken and shattered, and there was some lingering tension and uncertainty, but it also felt like the hopeful beginning of something, a chance to perhaps resume their friendship left behind.
Jo liked to think that she had a permanent role outside of people’s lives; there was a certain comfort in being an observer, in not intervening in other’s routines. She believed it was useful for her writing, being able to adopt other people’s conversations and drama to add secondary plots to her stories.
She was sitting on one of the couches in her parents’ living room, there was a family gathering and no one seemed to notice her absence in the dining room. Jo hunched over, a pen between her fingers as she forced herself to write something, coping with a writer’s block she couldn’t shake since Beth’s death. Sometimes Jo thought about giving up, but she had promised Beth she would continue writing even after her death, and one day she would have to take the plunge.
But not now.
Jo sighed and put the paper away. Laurie was in the front yard playing with Demi, and everyone else was milling around in the warm kitchen filled with the smells of freshly baked bread, chicken, and some strong-smelling fruit.
Amy hadn’t arrived yet, and it probably had something to do with Aunt March’s return to Concord, with the mysterious excitement of receiving their aunt and refusing to allow anyone to accompany her. Jo didn’t want to make assumptions, but she suspected that Fred was finally coming to see Amy and the family.
Jo busied herself and helped Meg with some chores in the kitchen, stepping aside to do the dishes when she noticed the pile growing in the sink. Normally she wouldn’t have offered herself to do it, but there was something therapeutic about the feel of the water and the smell of soap.
‘I’m still good at guessing,’ thought Jo as a carriage pulled up outside and out stepped Amy, Aunt March and Fred, his masculine voice and distinctive accent audible even inside the house. Jo dried her hands on a towel and went to the entrance to say hello.
Aunt March was older than Jo remembered, but she looked strong and well despite the change in time, weather, and her illness. Fred was there too, standing next to Amy and dressed in a dark suit that matched the skirt of her sister’s dress. He looked almost the same as the only time they saw each other, just with a more mature face and a neatly trimmed beard framing his pale face.
Jo greeted her aunt and shook Fred’s hand. The man seemed happy with her sister, although in some ways he seemed a little out of place among the crowd of familiar faces in the house. It would only be a matter of time before the novelty faded away.
After the exchange, Jo scanned the place and frowned, Laurie was nowhere to be found, at least not anywhere near there.
They entered the living room and soon after Jo saw her husband greeting Aunt March pleasantly before turning to Fred and greet him reluctantly, very forcefully by the way his eyebrows were drawn together or his firmness as he gave Fred’s shoulder two blows, almost as if he wanted to hit him for real.
Her suspicions returned, and her entire afternoon was spent observing the others’ interactions. The family had welcomed Aunt March’s presence and were being quite receptive to Fred. They talked throughout the meal and dessert, but not once did she see Laurie relax, in fact, he looked quite uncomfortable next to her, playing with the food with his cutlery until it was reasonable to escape from there, almost at dusk.
“Don’t you want to look for the flowers for the arrangements then?” Amy asked Jo from her place on one of the couches.
Fred was staying with Aunt March, and her sister was visiting them almost every day to arrange things for the wedding now that her parents had given them their blessing and were beginning to grow fond of her fiancé.
Amy was alone now, Fred had gone to Boston with John, and Aunt March hadn’t left her room, not even to have breakfast with them earlier that morning. The place was quiet, there were only a couple of employees wandering around, a gardener and two women who cleaned and kept the kitchen tended.
“Huh?”
“You’re distracted. If you don’t want to look for the flowers it’s okay, we can do this another time”
Jo shook her head.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“What’s the matter?” Amy reached out her hand to Jo’s forehead and touched it gently. “You don’t have a fever, are you unwell?”
“It’s just... Amy, what happened between Laurie and Fred?”
The colour in Amy’s face drained, and her wide eyes confirmed Jo’s suspicions.
“Why…?”
“Amy, please”.
“Laurie didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Tell me what?”
“Come on, let’s go to the other room.”
Amy took Jo’s hand firmly and pulled her into her aunt’s office, secluded and uncrowded just enough to give them privacy, which set off Jo’s alarm bells. It couldn’t be that bad, at least she tried to convince herself.
“When I was in Paris, I met Fred by chance. Aunt March was ecstatic, and I was flattered that someone like Fred was interested in me. We started spending time together and, at that point, Laurie came along too. The Laurie I met in Paris was different, he was heartbroken and hurt by your rejection, so I figured he just needed some company to heal, and we started hanging out”
“So, something happened, huh. What was it?”
“Jo, I don’t know how to tell you”
“I need to know, Amy... please.”
“Nothing really happened between Laurie and Fred.” Amy shifted uncomfortably in her seat before sighing. “There were rumours that Fred would propose to me and it was a fact that I would say yes. I don’t know how Laurie came to that conclusion, but at some point, he thought it was a good idea to ask me to marry him, and I obviously turned him down.”
The change in Jo was visible, her eyes widened in surprise and her hand covered her mouth. She didn’t know what to feel, but she was overwhelmed because everything started to make sense, it was like the pieces were falling into place. It was a bigger figure, an image she didn’t like at all.
Amy clasped her hands together; she was a nervous wreck.
“Listen, I thought you knew, I thought Laurie would tell you, otherwise I would have talked about it with you. I want you to know that what I have with Fred is serious, Jo, I’m in love with him and he’s in love with me, and Laurie was just confused and hurt, he never meant to declare a love for me he never had in the first place. You both… you were meant to be together”
“Meant to be, yes...” Jo murmured.
“Jo, are you mad at me?” Amy asked with an uneasy expression.
“Life is too short to be angry at one’s sisters,” Jo gave her a small, but reassuring smile. Of course, she was hurt and upset, just not with Amy, but with Laurie, with life, the decisions they made and how things turned out.
Her marriage with Laurie was never transparent, but it had never been more evident than in that moment. Yes, it hadn’t been fair of her to write that letter to Laurie when she knew she didn’t love him romantically, not as much as he deserved, but he had never mentioned that part of his past, his intentions to marry Amy and then, return home and marry her instead.
None of that was good, so Jo ended her stay with Amy not long after, assuring Amy that she had nothing against her, and left. Jo took a walk to compose herself and even made a detour to Beth’s tombstone, silent, dusty and with ivy growing over it.
Jo returned home later, greeted Mr. Laurence, and walked up the wooden steps to the music room that Laurie had converted into his space. He was playing the harmonious chords of a melody that Jo had never heard before, a melody that sounded lugubrious, that expressed a tragic feeling of sadness. The piano filled the silence of the hallway, so Laurie didn’t notice her when she entered the room.
The place was a bit messy, with papers scattered everywhere, pencils, some worn out music books and a dozen of crumpled paper sheets all over the floor. Jo took one of the pages at her feet, there were musical notes and some meaningless scribblings. Laurie was at the bench, eyes closed as he eagerly and passionately played the antique piano.
It had been a long time since he quit, you could tell by the lost notes and his rusty movements. Jo remembered that, when she asked him about it, Laurie told her that, in a world of geniuses, he was a middling talent; Jo never understood his words, not until that afternoon, until her talk with Amy, until she learned about the path of acceptance her sister went through in Paris, until she learned about the affair between Amy, Fred, and Laurie.
Now it was so obvious, Laurie was in love, terribly and hopelessly in love, but not with her.
Laurie stopped playing, breathing heavily as he wrote something down on a piece of paper, still not noticing her there in the room with him.
“We need to talk, Laurie.”
“Not now, Jo. I’m finishing this and it’s important.”
“We are going a talk now, Theodore Laurence!”
Laurie turned around strangely, he hadn’t heard that demanding tone of voice in a long time and of course he found it unusual, but he couldn’t say anything because Jo looked really upset in front of him, dwarfed by the high ceilings of the room, but with her frown, flushed face and wild eyes.
He closed the lid of his piano and sorted the sheets music a little, but Jo didn’t move.
“What’s wrong, Jo?”
“When were you supposed to tell me about you and Amy?!” Jo was a nice lady, but pointing at him like that, in a furious silence and with sharp eyes, she was just scary.
Still, her gestures were nothing compared to the way the situation made him feel, like he had been caught in the intricate lie he managed to build. This unfolded fact was intimate, an ache he was doomed to feel alone... until now.
“So, Amy told you...”
“She did. She told me how you asked her to marry you before you came back. Did you ever think about telling me? Laurie, I’m your wife, we’re married!”
Laurie scoffed.
“Marriage is a two-part thing. Tell me, Jo, when you wrote that letter, did you really love me? And I’m not talking about our friendship, were you really in love with me?”
“That’s not what I asked. It’s not what we ought to be discussing at this very moment”
“Then you are being unfair! We both entered into this marriage deceived.”
“Laurie...”
Laurie bit her lip, his expression defeated as he stood in the centre of the room. He was not a man who usually cried, but he was so sad there, unsuccessfully holding back tears, with his eyes reddish and hurt. It was a pain he had managed to keep uncover, a pain that, until that moment, had seemed to be making its way from the deepest recesses of his heart.
“I’m so sorry, Jo.”
“I’m sorry too, Teddy.”
Jo was the first to approach, wrapping her lanky, thin arms around Laurie’s neck, letting the top of his head rest on her shoulder, cowering and crying softly in her tight embrace.
Jo stroked his back, up and down in a constant, comforting motion. Jo cried too, but it was more a consequence of everything than knowing that Laurie wasn’t in love with her. She cried at the loss, at the lies and their fractured friendship, but it was cathartic.
Laurie moved away first, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his white shirt, plopping down on the piano bench.
“I can’t believe we let this happen to us,” Jo confessed with her hands on her face and her hair dishevelled in strange directions from the tugging she gave herself in the middle of their argument. She felt lighter than she had been in a long time, although in some ways they had gone through a long and uncomfortable process to achieve this moment of honesty.
“Me neither, Jo.”
They both sighed, Jo and Laurie were so similar that it was practically ridiculous they didn’t realize sooner how wrong they were.
Amy got married in Concord against all odds. Aunt March and a handful of Fred’s relatives attended the event, as well as friends of the Marches and some other associates of the Vaughn’s who were based in the United States.
It was a lively union in every sense of the word, filled with happy music, outdoor tables, fine fabrics, and lots of people. There were neat floral arrangements, delicious food and a sparkle in the atmosphere that was never felt in the place again.
From a side table and overlooking much of the garden, Jo and Laurie just sat, watching the union with different eyes. Jo was happy for Amy, for her sister to achieve a happy ending, to surrender to love in a world where almost everything was strategy and practicality. Laurie, on the other hand, found himself lamenting in every sip of liquor he drank, in the red berry taste of the cake, and in the sound of those harmonious pieces of music that tortured him with every chord.
They didn’t pay much attention to their surroundings and other attendants, but Marmee and Robert seemed happy from their places next to the bride and groom, and James Laurence, hanging out with the Vaughn men, seemed serene and relaxed as he yielded to the conversation and enjoyed company, gently kissing the bride’s cheek and patting the groom’s shoulder.
The party went on much longer than expected, and Jo and Laurie left at dusk, leaving behind their entire family and almost all the attendees who said they were having a good moment in that special celebration.
From a safe distance, Amy greeted them effusively with her and Fred’s arm intertwined, saying goodbye with a complacency that was not a product of the opulent occasion, but of her new title as wife in a marriage that happened for love.
Jo reciprocated and Laurie pretended not to see the gesture, then they both walked back home.
At the edge of the night, the story of a lovely happy marriage began.
Jo went to bed early, but Laurie decided to stay up. The place was quiet, and darkness reigned in his office. There were certain areas where moonlight spilled over, at least enough so that he could pour one, two, three drinks without spilling the whiskey.
He had largely stopped drinking, after the talk with Jo, but there was something painful about that night that warranted his unconsciousness, the loose and imprecise movements he could only achieved when drunk, the softness about everything that only the drink could offer him. He didn’t want to think about anything, so he drank and sat on the open windowsill, his legs dangling outward while he found an angle where his glass wouldn’t fall.
That afternoon, that night, what he feared the most came true. He could already admit it, Amy March was a Vaughn now and he couldn’t do anything about it. Even if he had done it, he was half convinced that it wouldn’t have worked
Laurie didn’t want to consider a reality in which he would have done things right, in which he would have courted Amy properly and not fled back into Jo’s friendly arms at the first sign of rejection. As it turned out, the possibility of it took his breath away and made him feel lost, useless.
But in the privacy of his sleeping mind, he sometimes dreamed that he had her.
He drank two more drinks and trudged to his darkened room. Jo was asleep on her side, clad in a horrible cotton nightgown, but Laurie didn’t try to change his clothes and sank into the warm blankets, face up and his mind awake despite the alcohol coursing through his system.
He didn’t know how he had lived so long without noticing his feelings for Amy until it all blew up in Paris. He didn’t know how no one seemed to have noticed after.
He took his music pad from the nightstand and wrote, not a novel like Jo, he didn’t have that talent after all but scribbled what seemed like a piece of song.
It was obvious what he felt because it was visible there, in the sad opera he created, in the heroine with golden hair and a blue dress. In the way he longed for Amy from a distance, in his thoughts during the day and in his dreams during the long nights. Laurie wanted her so badly that it physically hurt, deep in his chest he felt like he was short of breath and many times he found himself trying to make his way to her as if his heart was unaware of the paths they had chosen, as if he wasn’t married and instead he had the chance to make a space for himself in her life.
He had fled Paris because of the memories of Amy when she rejected him, but he escaped from London because there was a world of possibilities, because in every corner, in every pretty street, in every museum, he saw the lost opportunity,what could have been.
Returning to Concord was a conscious decision to get distance, to get it all out of his mind. He was also back for the loss of Beth, but he’d be lying if he said Amy wasn’t the main reason.
Amy was doomed to be a private thought in his head, being a reality in the farthest corners of his mind, where his hope prevailed, where a reality together existed. However, that was never going to happen, and he knew it, he was already married to Jo and Amy was forever linked to Fred Vaughn, in love with him.
He would be happy for her if he weren’t selfish, if he hadn’t lost her because of his poor movements and hasty choices in Paris. Now, at that moment as he closed his notebook, he realised that he had also lost Jo. His indecision cost him the love of his life, and his insincerity cost him his best friend.
He was doomed, but he had made peace with it. It would be a while before he got Jo back, but he would never get Amy back, or himself, the person he became the moment he fell in love —a contented, freer and enchanted version of Laurie that would never return from the tombstone where he lay—.
Amy smelled like spring flowers, summer tea, autumn pumpkins, and the hot chocolate they used to drink in the winter, before Laurie was aware of how much life would ever change.
He felt guilty as he rolled onto his side in bed, in his mind, he was with Amy, not Jo who sighed next to him in her heavy sleep. It was a bittersweet feeling, but the happy days of childhood were over and that explosive, spontaneous relationship with Amy was buried in the past, in a specific moment in time, in the peculiar streets of Paris, in the crevices of Europe’s streets and its dead love stories.
