“High school stuff?” Mom said, working hard to conceal the smile pulling up the edges of her mouth.
“You know. Homecoming dances and football games and geometry. I’m deeply suspicious. Meg’s going to grow up and the fun will be over. We have to do something.”
Mom smiled and gave Jo another hug. “Meg will make new friends. But so will you. Think about it as a ‘the more the merrier’ deal.”
“I guess so,” Jo said darkly. “But before you know it, Meg’ll be talking about gas prices and visiting colleges far away, never to be seen or heard from again.”
“Talking about gas prices?” Mom repeated, confused.
“Yeah. You know. Like all grown-ups.”
“We do talk about gas prices a lot, I suppose. But I think Meg’s a few years away from that. And even when she does become an adult, you can just tell her you’d rather discuss other things, honey. And let’s worry about college visits another day, okay?”
“Can you tell Meg she’s not allowed to be friends with Brooks?” Jo sniffed.
“Um . . . no,” Mom said, trying again not to smile. Her eyes looked at Jo kindly. “Meg is too young to have a serious boyfriend, but she’s not too young to spend time with a boy she likes who likes her. Wouldn’t you be mad if I said you weren’t allowed to hang out with Laurie?”
“That’s completely different!” Jo said.
“Mmm,” Mom replied. “Maybe so.”
“Mom. It is. Anyway, getting older is bogus.”
“Elegantly said, my dear. There are many people who would agree with you. But I’m proud of you,” Mom said, changing the subject.
“For what?” Jo asked.
“For finishing your poem and entering it into the contest. That takes discipline. A lot of people say they want to do something creative in their lives, but you’re actually doing it. I hope you never stop.”
“Oh, I won’t,” Jo said. The idea of stopping her writing for any reason sounded completely impossible. “Thanks, Mom.”
They hugged again, and Jo did feel a little better. Over the next three weeks, everyone in the March family couldn’t help but notice that Jo checked the mail the second she returned home from school.
Finally, one day, she received the letter from the Worchester Weekly that she’d been waiting for. She screamed.
Everyone rushed toward her, wondering what was the matter.
“Jo! Are you okay?” Meg asked, worried.
“Are you hurt?” Beth asked, ready to run for the first aid kit.
“Dude, you made me drop my pencil,” Amy said, scowling. She was doing homework; it turned out that fifth grade was a lot harder than fourth had been.
“I placed! I placed! They’re going to publish my poem!” Jo yelled. She quickly explained to her sisters about the writing contest, and told them she’d received third place and that her work would be published in the next edition of the paper. They all jumped around in celebration, whooping for joy.
“You did it!” Beth said, bursting with pride. “This is just the beginning!”
“Nice job, Joey,” Meg said, smiling her biggest smile.
“I’m so happy for you!” Amy cried, giving Jo a big hug. “Dance party!”
All the sisters crowded around Jo, dancing and laughing. Jo did something very out of character then. She started to cry.
“I’m just so, so happy.” She gulped, surprised at herself.
Meg, Beth, and Amy gave Jo a big hug and spent the rest of the day celebrating.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bad News
“Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.”
—Madeleine L’Engle
“November is my least-favorite month,” Meg announced one morning, drinking a hot mug of cinnamon tea at the breakfast table. The sun was nowhere to be seen; the gloom was thick and the wind was cutting. Despite the awful weather and bleak mood, all the girls still had to get themselves to school.
“Not mine,” Jo said, although not very convincingly. “I like it because I was born in it. Besides, being contrary is kind of my thing, so I’m glad I came into the world during a grumpy month.”
“Since it’s yours, can you tell November to hurry up and get over with?” Amy asked. Her eyes were barely open as she ate a bowl of Raisin Bran. Her normally curly hair frizzed around her head in a giant snarl, because the air in the house was so dry and brittle.
“If something good happened, we’d think it was a perfectly great month,” Beth said. She always tried to look on the bright side of things. If she were anyone else, this trait would have annoyed her sisters, but since they all loved sweet Beth so much, it didn’t.
“But nothing good ever does happen,” Meg said hopelessly. “It’s just school, work, chores, and no fun. Ever.”
“If I were writing your story, Meg, I’d send you on a grand adventure to a tropical island,” Jo offered.
“Thank you,” Meg said, a little bit comforted. A tropical island was exactly what she needed, she decided. She thought of how Annie’s family got to travel frequently and how even when they stayed home, they were cheered by fancy foods and new outfits and premium cable channels. It felt deeply unfair to Meg that the Marches couldn’t live like that.
“Oh, man! It’s sleeting!” Jo said, peeking out the window. The already-drafty house felt even draftier.
“Don’t worry, girls,” Mom said, entering the kitchen already dressed for work in her thickest sweater. She started making coffee. “I’ll ask Hannah to get a fire going this afternoon so it’s warmer in here when you get home from school.”
“And Hannah and I are going to make a cheese dip later,” Beth said. “With marinara sauce. It’ll make the whole house smell yummy.”
A knock sounded at the door. It was Laurie, who took the same school bus as Jo and Beth, even though they had different stops. Jo let him in since he was a few minutes early. Normally, he met them at the corner, but it was too cold and miserable outside to stand there any longer than necessary.
“Hey, neighbor,” Jo said. “We’re almost ready; we just need coats.”
“Hey. Nice day out there,” Laurie returned, attempting to grin. He sneezed.
The phone rang.
“That’s weird,” Mom said. “The Center usually calls my cell phone if they need anything this early.”
A pit formed in the center of Jo’s stomach. When you had a family member in the military, a call at a weird time was the last thing in the world you wanted to hear.
“Hello?” Mom answered. “I see. I see. Thank you for calling. Yes, I’ll arrange to arrive as soon as possible. Please . . . okay. Yes. Good-bye.”
She hung up and everyone stared at her in silence, praying the news wasn’t bad.
“Girls, that was a military official,” Mom said, sounding unnaturally calm. “Your father has been hurt, but not too badly, so we can be very grateful for that. He is being treated for a concussion. They’re bringing him back to the States, to the army hospital in D.C.”
Beth burst into tears.
Jo bit her lip hard, terrified and relieved. Terrified at the thought of Daddy hurt; relieved at the news he was alive and headed to a safer place.
Meg and Amy looked stunned. All the girls rushed around Mom. They hugged and offered reassurances.
Hannah, who’d gotten up a little earlier than usual due to the ringing phone, wiped her eyes and turned to business. “I’ll start packing your things, Margaret. The girls and I will be fine.”
“Yes,” Mom said. “I’ll need to go to his hospital. I’ll need to find a flight. . . .” She trailed off. It had been many years since she’d flown anywhere, and couldn’t remember, at the moment, the most efficient way to buy a ticket.
“Please let me help, Mrs. March,” Laurie said quietly. He’d been trying to stay mostly out of the way as the family processed the scary news. But now he knew that he—or, more accurately, his grandfather—could help. “Grandpa goes to the city fre
quently, and I know he’d want to help you with your travel arrangements.”
Mom nodded gratefully, and Laurie took out his phone and fired off a text to his grandfather. “Actually, I’m just going to run back home. He’ll understand my being a little late to school on a day like this.”
Laurie gave Jo a quick hug and was gone.
“We’ll need to let Aunt Em know what’s going on,” Mom said distractedly. “Jo, can you go visit her? I’ll call the school to let them know you’ll be tardy.”
Jo nodded. The other girls had the misfortune of having to go to school as if it were a normal day, though it was anything but. Mom asked them to be brave and assured them she wouldn’t leave the house until the next day at the earliest.
Jo knew that her mother didn’t have the extra funds needed for an unexpected trip. She didn’t want her to worry, not when Dad needed her at his bedside to get better.
So Jo made a decision. Before leaving the house, she quietly went up to her little attic sitting room and retrieved something dear to her heart. Then she went about her day, resolving to help her family as best she could.
That evening, Mom was ready to go. Mr. Lawrence had booked her a flight in the morning using his vast collection of frequent-flier miles. There would be a car to take her to the hospital when she landed, and a place for her to stay in Washington.
Each girl had made Dad a card and assembled other small gifts and treats for Mom to deliver as well. They wished they could all go, but it wasn’t practical. Mom had been able to get a little more information from the doctors and nurses in her husband’s ward, and Mr. March needed to rest, so he was sleeping most of the time.
“Mom, I have something for you,” Jo whispered late that evening, once Amy and Beth had fallen asleep on Couchzilla. Mom had been reluctant to send the two younger girls to bed, knowing that the family needed to be together. She wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d be gone. Jo handed her mother an envelope.
“What’s this?” Mom said, surprised. She peeked inside and saw a healthy stack of bills. “Jo, this is a lot of money.”
“What did you do?” Meg said, catching a glance at the cash. She looked at Jo, worried.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Jo sniffed, offended at the suggestion. “I just didn’t want you to worry about money when you’re gone, Mom. And I want you to be able to buy Daddy anything he needs to feel better. So I sold my first-edition Treasure Island to Mr. Lawrence. I’ll earn enough with my writing to buy it back from him someday. And don’t worry, he loves it as much as I ever did,” she added bravely, her lip quivering.
“Oh Jo, you didn’t have to do this,” Mom said. But she was proud of her daughter for making such a sacrifice.
“Wow,” Meg said, impressed at Jo. She knew exactly how much her sister treasured her book and what it had taken for her to part with it. “What made you do it?”
“Well, I just wanted to help Dad. And having that old thing locked up behind glass wasn’t helping him. So it was an easy decision.”
After more hugs all around, Mom got all of her girls off to bed, even the exceptionally sleepy Beth and Amy.
When the house had fallen silent, neither Meg nor Jo could sleep. Meg had heavy thoughts in her mind and knew she’d feel better once she heard Jo’s regular snoring. But it never came. Instead, she heard a quiet sob from Jo’s side of the room.
“Joey!” she whispered. “Are you okay? Are you worried about Daddy?”
“No,” Jo said. “I feel bad about selling my book. But it’s okay, I did the right thing. I’m just a little sad is all.”
“I’m sad too. Let’s try to think of some happier things. Like Christmastime. Or movies. It’s been too long since we’ve made one with everyone, don’t you think?”
Jo smiled. She’d always figured that Meg was only humoring her when she agreed to be in Jo’s movies. But maybe that wasn’t the case.
“You’re right. I’ll get busy on a script again first thing in the morning. I find social studies to be the perfect time to really get some work done,” Jo said with a giggle.
“Jo! You’ll flunk out of school!”
“I will not. Let’s go to sleep.”
And so they did. As the house quieted down for real this time, Mom went to each of her daughter’s beds in turn, tucking their blankets cozily around them like she’d done when they were sweet little toddlers. She kissed all of their cheeks and smoothed the hair back from their faces, her heart filled with love for her girls.
The whole house held its breath then, waiting for the news of the world to get better.
Hannah’s Baked Cheese Dip
In difficult times, girls need comfort food. This will do the trick! Love, Hannah
Ingredients:
1 11-ounce log of plain chevre cheese
1 16-ounce can marinara sauce, any brand
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil leaves (for garnish)
1 package of crackers or mini crostinis
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Place the cheese in the middle of a medium-sized casserole dish. Open the jar of marinara and pour it all around the cheese log into the dish so it surrounds the log. Place in the oven and bake for approximately 25 minutes until the sauce near the edges of the dish starts to caramelize and the cheese begins to turn slightly golden in spots. Remove from oven, let cool for five minutes, and sprinkle fresh basil leaves all over the top. Then dunk your crostinis into the cheese and sauce and enjoy! Makes 8–10 servings.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Things Fall Apart
“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but
by the seeds that you plant.”
—Robert Louis Stevenson
With Mom gone to Washington, the dreariness of the March house grew even worse. Hannah did her best to keep things cheerful, stoking the fire and cooking delicious meals with Beth’s help. But the girls’ spirits sagged. Despite hearing from Mom as soon as she reached the hospital that Dad would eventually make a full recovery, the sisters felt like normal life and regular happiness were far away.
“Amy, what is that smell?” Meg asked suspiciously, putting her nose into her younger sisters’ bedroom one day before dinner.
“Don’t boss me. Nothing,” came the retort. Amy was eating something on her bed while halfheartedly doing homework.
“Is that chili-cheese sauce? You’re stinking up the whole house! Can’t you eat in the kitchen like a civilized human being? Besides, we’re having dinner in fifteen minutes.”
“No, I cannot. Mind your own business,” Amy said. But she did get up and brush past Meg, chili cheese and all.
Meg sighed and decided to let it go. She cracked a window for a few minutes to clear out the smell and wiped up a spot on the carpet where Amy’s snack had spilled.
The wind whipped, the snow began to pile up, and the days shortened.
Each girl continued to trudge to school every day, and Jo continued her afternoon routine of visiting Aunt Em while Meg babysat the King twins. Amy started hanging out at friends’ houses when she could, and Beth asked for Hannah’s permission to visit the Community Center after school each day to help with its day-care program. It made her feel closer to Mom to help out at her work, and the little kids adored her. Beth had a natural talent when it came to quieting fussy babies, so she was a very welcome presence when she arrived each day.
One afternoon, when Mom had been gone about a week, Beth arrived at the Center to find that her favorite little one wasn’t feeling well. The baby, who was only six months old, had a low-grade fever and was clearly uncomfortable. The mother had been called and was working on finding someone else to cover her shift so she could pick up her daughter. Though the regular caregivers were reluctant to let Beth hold the feverish babe, it was only when Beth insisted that the tiny infant finally relaxed and went to sleep in her young arms.
Beth rocked the baby in a quiet corner of the room for a full forty minutes, right up until her
mama was able to pick her up. The pair made a peaceful picture: Beth, only eleven years old yet seemingly much older, holding and rocking the baby girl; the twosome’s breathing perfectly in sync and Beth’s voice barely audible as she sang her charge sweet lullabies.
Two days later, when Beth returned to the Center, she learned the baby was home sick with influenza. Her mother had taken her to the pediatrician and she wouldn’t be coming to day care again until she got better, which could take as long as a week. Beth began to play with the other kids, yet felt more tired than usual. All she wanted to do was lie down on the play mat and take a nap. Her eyelids felt weighted down and her skin felt hot.
“Beth? You look a little flushed. Are you feeling okay?” Cynthia, the head day-care teacher, looked at Beth with concern and immediately placed her hand on Beth’s forehead.
“Actually, I’m a bit tired,” Beth admitted. “I guess I must not have slept enough last night. I’ve been waking up at the slightest sounds lately.” It was true: Each March sister was restless at night with Mom gone.
“I hope you’re not getting sick, sweetheart,” Cynthia said. “You feel a little bit warm to me. Why don’t you go home early today and get some rest, okay? Do you need a ride?”
“Okay,” Beth said. “Yes, I do. I’ll see you on Friday.”
Beth got a ride home with one of the Center’s volunteers, and crawled right into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin when she got there even though it was only five p.m. Hannah took her temperature and saw that it was 100, a little high but not dangerous. She made Beth some soup and tea, then they both agreed she should try to sleep and see how she felt when she woke up.
Beth had a fitful night and sat up at dawn feeling a lot worse than she had the day before. Hannah brought her some water, toast, and orange juice on a tray.
“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked as quietly as possible, as Amy was still asleep in the same room. “Did you get some rest?”
“Beth! What’s wrong? Hannah, what are you doing?” Amy sat up in bed, alarmed. Hannah wasn’t in the habit of bringing anyone breakfast in bed, so Amy knew right away something was up.
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