Little Women and Me

by Lauren Baratz-Logsted

  So what was I doing still in Alcott-land?

  Nineteen

  Meanwhile, over at Aunt March’s …

  There were two things to come out of the time Amy and I spent living there while Beth had scarlet fever: 1) I realized for the first time just what a ginormous suck-up Amy March really was; and 2) Aunt March was buying into the whole thing, resulting in statements like:

  “Emily,” Aunt March confided, “I find that I like having Amy here so much more than having Jo.

  “Emily,” Aunt March observed, “Amy is so well-behaved. She has such pretty manners.

  “Emily,” Aunt March complained, “why can’t you be more like Amy? My word, you’re just as bad as Jo. As a matter of fact, I think you’re even worse than Jo!”

  “Worse than Jo!” Polly the parrot taunted. “Worse than Jo!”

  Obviously, the parrot was buying into Amy’s suck-up act too.

  Oh, and there was one other thing that came out of our time at Aunt March’s, an odd thing. There came a day when I admit I was complaining even more than usual about having to do whatever insane thing it was that Aunt March wanted us to do.

  That’s when Amy turned to me and said, “Honestly, Emily, your time here would go much faster and be more smooth and pleasant if only you’d get into the spirit of the thing.”

  “Maybe I could make things more smooth here at Aunt March’s,” I said, “but I don’t see how I could ever make it pleasant.”

  “I didn’t mean here specifically,” Amy said.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but then she tilted her head to one side, considering me. “Never mind,” she said at last. “Forget I said anything.”

  Twenty

  Having returned at Laurie’s urging, Marmee refused to leave Beth’s side, even though Beth was clearly on the mend. But just because Marmee wouldn’t leave Beth, it didn’t stop her from insisting that others do so.

  “Laurie,” she instructed, “please go to Aunt March’s to inform her and Amy that I have returned, and that the worst regarding Beth appears to have passed.

  “Emily,” she instructed, “please go with Laurie and do your best to stay put at Aunt March’s as instructed until I say that it is safe for you to come home.”

  As I left the room, wondering what I was even still doing there since somehow I’d managed to save Beth’s life, I heard her address Meg and Jo. “Honestly, girls. How could you have allowed Emily to visit here when you know she has never had scarlet fever? You should have sent her back to Aunt March’s the minute you saw her face.”

  “Allowed?” Jo used a rare scoffing voice with Marmee. “Sent? Have you ever tried to tell Emily to do anything when she has already determined to do the exact opposite?”

  There was a brief pause before Marmee finally admitted, “Indeed.”

  The first snow was on the ground when I rode with Laurie to deliver the good news to Amy.

  “It is too bad,” he said as the carriage bounced along, “that you have not been able to accompany Amy and me on our afternoon outings. I have seen a different side to your youngest sister in the time we have spent alone. Perhaps if you had been there more, you might have seen it too.”

  “A different side to Amy? What different side could there possibly be? With Amy, what you see on the surface is definitely what you get.”

  “You mean that she is vain and foolish?”

  I certainly wasn’t going to disagree.

  “Of course she is that,” Laurie continued when I said nothing, “more vain and foolish than any girl I know. But when one spends time alone with her, one realizes that she is also strong and even shrewd.”

  Shrewd? Amy???

  But then I remembered something else she’d said about a week or so ago when she’d advised me: “Your time here would go much faster and be more smooth and pleasant if only you’d get into the spirit of the thing.”

  At the time, I’d interpreted “here” as our stay at Aunt March’s.

  But what if Amy had in fact meant something deeper? What if this strong and shrewd Amy, according to Laurie, was instead referring to my time here in Marchville? Had Amy somehow figured out that I didn’t come from here at all?

  No, of course that wasn’t the case, I reassured myself as Laurie delivered Marmee’s message and Amy flew at Laurie’s head in gratitude just like Jo had done. Amy wasn’t shrewd enough to figure out something like that. How could she?

  But she was smart enough for one thing, I saw now. Laurie had said his impression of Amy had changed. And I saw for the first time clearly just how shrewd she was: Amy was an opportunist and, having the opportunity of Laurie all to herself, had seized upon it. Now the most eligible boy any of us knew had started to look at Amy in a new and more favorable light.

  Hmm …

  Oh, well. If Laurie was feeling a new passion for Amy, he certainly wasn’t showing it now. No sooner did Amy let him go than he collapsed on a sofa, like some frail lady in a Victorian novel, claiming to have slept not at all since the day before.

  Soon he was snoring softly.

  “I guess I’ll write to Marmee now,” Amy said, with a disappointed glance at the snoring boy.

  It wasn’t easy for me to stay away from home and Beth, but I did my best the first few days, knowing that Marmee would be firmer in kicking me out than Meg or Jo had been.

  I was helping Amy straighten up the parlor, yet again, when Marmee came to call.

  “Beth is doing well enough now,” she said, “although I prefer you both remain here for the time being, but I did so want to see the one daughter I have not seen yet.”

  Marmee opened her arms wide and Amy flew into them.

  Then, as if I wasn’t even there, Amy sat in Marmee’s lap and told her all about how hard things had been for her, being away from home.

  “Oh. You’re here,” Aunt March said to Marmee, rousing from where she’d been napping in a chair. “I hope you don’t plan to take Amy away from me just yet. In fact, I wish I could have her with me forever.”

  “No, I’m not taking them yet,” Marmee informed her.

  “Oh.” Aunt March looked disappointed as she cast a glance in my direction. “I was hoping you’d take away just the one. Really, anytime now would be fine.”

  “Marmee!” Amy cried, holding out her hand. “Look at the ring Aunt March gave me! She originally planned to leave it to me in her will, but decided I should have it early, because I am so good.”

  Marmee agreed that the turquoise was a very pretty ring, even if it needed a double guard to fit Amy’s finger. But she also thought Amy too young for such “adornment.”

  That’s when Amy proved her shrewdness once again.

  She spun some convoluted reasoning about how the ring would serve as a constant reminder that she must strive to be unselfish, like Beth.

  The very idea of Amy taking an unselfish approach to life for any length of time—HA!

  But Marmee swallowed it whole.

  I couldn’t keep myself away from home and Beth forever.

  And so, a few days later, I made the long trek through the snow to see how my favorite sister was doing.

  But as I peeked over the ledge to Beth’s room, I saw that Marmee and Jo were there, and neither looked like she’d be leaving anytime soon.

  The window was slightly open—Dr. Bangs had probably prescribed that a little pneumonia was just the thing for an invalid—so I was at least able to eavesdrop on them.

  Marmee and Jo were discussing John Brooke—the stalker with Meg’s glove.

  First Marmee said what a help he’d been to her in Washington and how glad it made her knowing he was still there, tending to Papa.

  Then Jo surprised me by spilling the secret about how Mr. Brooke had kept Meg’s glove so that he could have a piece of her.

  Then Marmee surprised Jo and me by saying she knew all about John’s love for Meg—if not the glove—and that he’d confessed it to her and Papa. />
  “He wants to earn enough money and position himself better,” Marmee went on, “before marrying her, but your father and I told him that we will not allow Meg to wed until she is at least twenty.”

  Then Jo went on and on, her usual predictable blather about wanting to keep Meg with them forever, blahblahblah. I was about to fall asleep out there when she said something I couldn’t have predicted, not in a million years.

  “I had always intended,” Jo said, “that Meg should marry Laurie.”

  What the—

  It was mind-boggling to think that Jo was so dense she thought Laurie should marry Meg, the March girl least suited for him. The rest of us, even Beth, had more fun in our little fingers than Meg had in her whole body. Even more mind-boggling was the idea that Jo had so little self-awareness, she didn’t see that she was the one best suited for—

  What was the girl—nuts? Anyone who’d ever read the story—anyone with half a brain—could see that Jo and Laurie were meant to be together. Yes, even me. The way they talked so easily, the way they clicked over everything, the way she affectionately called him “Teddy” and “my boy”—it was so obvious how much Jo liked him. And yet, no matter what anyone who’d ever read the story thought, no matter what anyone with half a brain could see, there remained just one tiny problem:

  I still wanted Laurie for myself.

  Twenty-One

  A few weeks had passed and I was still living between worlds: spending part of the time at Aunt March’s with Amy, and the rest of the time back home.

  There was constant chatter about the possibility of Papa returning now that his health was improving, and I wondered what it would be like to come face-to-face with the one remaining family member I’d supposedly known my whole life and yet never met, but no specific date was on the calendar.

  Now that Marmee had returned and Beth had turned her dark corner—Three cheers for Beth! as Jo might say—the household had rearranged itself once more. Beth could actually lie on the sofa in the study now, playing with her cats and sewing clothes for her dolls. I’d kept my silent vow to never think another bad thought about the headless and limbless Joanna and even gave an outward showing of this newly turned leaf by praising the garment Beth had sewn for her: a gown with a high-necked collar that somehow served to emphasize the lack of head.

  “Joanna looks extremely happy in that,” I told Beth.

  “How can you tell?” Beth asked.

  “By her smile, of course,” I said. “Joanna always smiles like that when she’s particularly happy about something. It’s like the sun coming out.”

  Beth seemed particularly happy herself at my words, my willingness to finally play along.

  Now that we were into the shortest days of the year, Jo’d taken to lifting Beth up in her arms, blanket and all. Then she would carry Beth around from window to window so she could see cheerful nature and the changes in the out-of-doors.

  I had to grudgingly give Jo credit, for being generous and for being strong enough to carry her. One time when Jo was out of the room, I tried, and nearly dropped Beth.

  Beth had lost so much weight it occurred to me that if my friends in the twenty-first century knew how effortlessly scarlet fever peeled away the pounds, they’d probably do anything to catch the disease. Hmm … maybe I could somehow take a vial of scarlet fever–infected blood with me when I time traveled back home? I’d probably be rich and famous!

  Not that I seemed likely to time travel back home anytime soon. I was beginning to wonder if I was doomed to remain here forever.

  I pushed that thought away.

  And in the meantime, while I was here, I focused my attentions on Laurie.

  My mom used to say that when a guy teased a girl it meant that he secretly liked her. I’d never believed that warped little theory, since whenever any boy teased me it seemed to only mean that he hated my guts. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe Jo had been right and there was some sort of weird chemistry between Laurie and Meg?

  I was thinking this because Laurie had played a prank on Meg.

  Laurie, being Laurie, took what little he did know about John Brooke and Meg and made a big mess out of everything. He forged two love letters to Meg, and she’d actually replied to one. When it all got out, there was much hand-wringing on her part. First Meg was upset that Mr. Brooke had written to her in such an “indiscreet” fashion. Then she was upset with herself for writing back in an even more indiscreet way. Personally, I’d have loved to see those letters. What could a man who’d stolen a girl’s glove as a romantic memento put in an indiscreet letter—“I find your ankles, when glimpsed beneath the bottom of your voluminous skirts, irresistible”? And what could my prissy older sister possibly have replied that made her blush—“I do love the idea of you looking at my ankles, but do wait until I am a bit older before gazing at them so forthrightly”? The mind reeled. Finally, Meg freaked when she discovered Laurie had written those letters after all, and that Laurie had read her reply.

  And now Marmee was upset by all of the above.

  Basically, she reamed Laurie out. How could he do such a thing? What sort of friend was he to either Meg or his tutor to think that such behavior was acceptable?

  And then everyone else piled on.

  Laurie seemed appropriately ashamed of himself. In fact, when he headed for the door, I could have sworn I saw a tail sticking between his legs.

  “Do you think, perhaps,” Jo said once the door had closed, “we were a little too hard on him?”

  “Too hard?” Marmee looked like she didn’t know what to do with such a comment. Unlike in my real life, where my sisters and I constantly pushed back when our mother yelled at us about something, I’d never seen any of the March girls push back against Marmee. Her and her pontifications: they were judge and executioner around here.

  “It’s just that,” Jo went on, “it is only Teddy. He never means any harm, even if he does sometimes cause it. Plus, it was sort of my fault for acting as though I had a secret, forcing him to angle for it.”

  “I suppose … possibly …”

  It was the closest I’d ever heard Marmee admit to being even remotely mistaken about anything.

  “I know!” Jo said brightening. “I have a book I need to return to his grandfather. I’ll bring it now and while I’m there, I’ll just stay around long enough until I run into him, and then I’ll fix everything. If I know anything, it’s how to handle Teddy.”

  HA!

  She left the room, returning a moment later with a heavy-looking volume.

  “I’ll go with you,” I promptly said, grabbing on to one end of the book.

  “Oh no, you won’t,” Jo said, tugging the book back. “I hardly think it requires two people to return a single book.”

  “It’s a heavy book,” I pointed out, grabbing the end again. “Besides,” I added, “remember our pact!”

  “It’s been a long time since you brought that up,” Jo seethed.

  “Yeah, well,” I said, “we have had a few other things on our minds around here lately.”

  “Oh, fine,” Jo said. “We’ll go together. But it will look ridiculous if we walk all the way over there with each of us holding on to the end of a single book.”

  And then she yanked the book out of my grip so swiftly and violently, I swore I suffered book burn.

  “Let me do the talking,” I whispered as we approached the Laurence household.

  “You?” Jo said, straining to sound equally hushed but failing. “But this was all my idea!”

  “I know that,” I said, still the voice of cool and quiet reason, “but you’re always saying impulsive things, always getting so hotheaded. I know you think you know how to manage Laurie, but really, you only think that. I happen to know that if given half the chance you’ll louse this whole thing up and make matters worse.”

  “Harrumph,” Jo harrumphed as we jointly knocked on the door. “We’ll see about that,” she added as the door opened and we stepped over the th
reshold.

  Yes, Laurie’s house was big, but it wasn’t so big that Laurie could have gotten lost in it. Still, after jointly returning the book to his grandfather, it took us a long time to find him. He finally answered the door to his bedroom when we knocked on our third round through the house.

  “I’m thinking of running away,” he announced.

  “We’re sorry we all reacted so strongly,” Jo said before I had a chance to get a word in. “We know you didn’t mean any harm. You were simply being you.”

  Oh, there’s a way to make someone feel better, I thought, rolling my eyes. Tell them they can’t be blamed for being a jerk because it comes naturally to them.

  “It’s not that.” Laurie dismissed her concerns. “Or at least it’s not all that.”

  “What is it then?” I rushed to ask before Jo got the chance to. Hey, I could act concerned too!

  Apparently, in addition to being ashamed of what he’d done, Laurie was now upset at something his grandfather had done.

  “He could tell something was wrong when I came home,” Laurie said. “But when I would not tell him the cause—because I couldn’t do that, could I? That would be giving away the secret regarding Mr. Brooke and Meg—he, he, he …”

  “He what?” Jo prompted. You could see she had no patience for anybody with a speech impediment.

  “He shook me,” Laurie said. “Physically, he shook me.”

  I had to admit, I’d heard of shaken baby syndrome, a form of child abuse back home, but I’d never heard of shaken teenage-boy syndrome before. And I had to further admit, it didn’t sound all that bad. After all, Mr. Laurence was an old man. How hard could he have shaken Laurie? Surely not hard enough to do any real damage.

  What a wuss Laurie was sometimes. An adorable wuss, of course.

  “Of course, the shaking wasn’t the worst part,” Laurie said.

  “I see,” I said sympathetically, when really I saw nothing. If he wasn’t upset about the shaking, then just what was he upset about?