Littler Women

by Laura Schaefer

  “I don’t know,” Beth said in a voice just above a whisper. Hannah took her temperature and saw that it was a lot higher than it had been the night before.

  “Yikes. I think we better get you to Urgent Care. Amy, can you grab some comfy clothes for Beth to put on? She’s sick.”

  Amy and Hannah whisked around the room then, getting poor Beth bundled up as quickly as possible to visit the doctor, even though it was so early. Hannah jotted a quick note to Jo and Meg and left it on the kitchen table.

  Fortunately, there was almost no one in the waiting room at six a.m. Beth was seen quickly and received antibiotics. The doctor listened to Beth’s chest and said she was a bit concerned about some rattling she heard there. There was no way Beth would be going to school.

  Back at home, Hannah got Beth tucked into bed again, made her as comfortable as possible, and Snowball curled up next to her in bed, keeping her company. Then Hannah called a family meeting in the kitchen. As she waited for the girls to gather around the breakfast table, she started cleaning every surface in sight with antibacterial wipes, hoping to prevent the whole household from getting sick.

  Jo and Meg were bleary-eyed, having just gotten up for school. Amy was wide-awake and uncharacteristically silent. The cereal bowl in front of her was mostly forgotten.

  “Girls, Beth is sick. The doctor thinks it’s probably the flu. I’m going to keep her home from school,” Hannah explained. “When you get back home today, let’s keep things as quiet as possible so she can rest.”

  “Oh, no!” Jo said, instantly 100 percent awake. “I have to stay with her.”

  “Me too,” Meg added, stifling a yawn. She was not a morning person, but totally forgot about that fact in her worry over poor Beth.

  “Let me,” Amy whispered, thinking of how pale Beth had looked when she had gotten dressed.

  “I know you girls all want to help, but she’s very contagious. In fact, I think it would be best if you, Amy, slept in a different room for now. Can you bunk on Couchzilla? Or maybe stay at your aunt’s? We don’t need the whole house sick.”

  “I guess,” Amy said miserably.

  “And I think you all need to go to school as usual,” Hannah added. “I’ll call your mother as soon as it’s a reasonable hour to let her know what’s going on.”

  Tears filled Jo’s eyes. With Mom gone, Dad hurt, and Beth sick, it felt like her whole world was collapsing. “I have to check on her,” she sobbed, and was off like a flash up the stairs. Jo didn’t care if she got sick; she had to take care of her sister if she could.

  Beth’s fever was breaking, so she was very sweaty when Jo sat on her bed and smoothed back her hair. Jo helped her drink some cold water and change into fresh pajamas.

  “Thanks, Jo,” Beth whispered, managing a small smile. “I feel a lot better than I did last night. The doctor gave me medicine; it’s no big deal.”

  “I should’ve been in here with you,” Jo said, her lip quivering. “I didn’t know you were sick last night. I had to stay at Aunt Em’s later than normal to help her reorganize the china cabinet.”

  “I went to bed early. The doctor said I probably have the flu.”

  “I’ll stay here with you all day and read to you,” Jo announced. “And fluff your pillow and make sure you’re okay.”

  “Mom will be mad if you don’t go to school,” Beth said. “And I’m just going to sleep.”

  Jo bit her lip, knowing it was true. She also had a huge test that day. “I’ll run home the second the last bell rings,” she conceded. “Get better, Bethy!”

  “I will,” Beth said, and closed her eyes.

  Jo heard a knock at the front door—Laurie—and sat at Beth’s side for one more minute, to make sure her breathing sounded normal. Reassured, she backed slowly out of the bedroom, resolving to get back there the second she could.

  Barely even noticing which coat she grabbed, Jo flew out the front door with her backpack, as if getting to school faster than normal would make it possible to get home earlier as well. Her long hair swirled around her head in the wind and she fought to try to get it contained in a ponytail holder.

  “Hey,” Laurie said, immediately noticing the odd look on Jo’s face. “Everything okay?”

  “No,” Jo said, walking very fast past the place where they normally caught their bus. “Beth has the flu. Hannah already took her to the doctor and she just needs to rest, but I wish I could stay home with her. Can we walk today? I can’t deal with the bus. . . . I need some fresh air.”

  Laurie looked relieved and hurried to make her pace. The flu wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and he’d had a lot on his mind lately, so a walk sounded good.

  There was a fall dance at Laurie’s small school in a week, and even though he knew Jo disapproved of middle school dances—or at the very least, found them ridiculous—he wanted to ask her to go with him. Practically every boy in his class already had a date, and he didn’t want to be the only one to show up alone. There was no one Laurie could have more fun with than Jo, and he wanted her to meet his friends at school.

  “I hope she feels better soon,” Laurie said in a rush. “I had the flu last fall and it was miserable, but after I went to the doctor I was totally better in a week.”

  “Thanks.” Jo was so distracted by worry for Beth, she didn’t notice when Laurie kept clearing his throat.

  “Listen, there’s something I have to ask you,” he finally choked out after they had walked about two blocks in hurried silence.

  Jo noticed Laurie slowed down a lot just then, and a pit of dread formed in her stomach. She’d known for a long time, practically since they first met, that her insistence she and Laurie were just friends was pretty one-sided. But she’d desperately hoped he would quietly come around to her way of seeing things and not bother her about anything more. Today it seemed she would not get her wish.

  “Laurie . . . ,” she said, trying to figure out a way to make him stop before he started. But he was determined to say what he needed to say. He stopped walking completely and faced her.

  “There’s a dance at my school next week and I know you hate dances but I want you to go with me. It’s on Friday. As my date.” Laurie’s speech was jumbled and rushed, but he was proud of himself for getting it out. He looked at Jo expectantly, his heart filled with hope and his face flushed with fear.

  Jo let a few moments go by. Now that she’d heard what he’d had to say, she felt a little shocked, even though she’d seen it coming. Jo didn’t mean to leave her friend hanging, but she had no idea what to say.

  “It’s true I hate dances,” she began, giving Laurie a halfhearted grin.

  “I know,” he said, giving her a small grin back. They both knew that what Laurie had said wasn’t really about the dance, though.

  “I’ll go with you because you’re my friend and I like hanging out with you,” Jo said, trying to be nice.

  “Thank you,” Laurie said. He still felt unhappy. “But . . .”

  “I can’t go with you as your date, Laurie,” Jo said firmly. “I can only go as your friend.”

  “But why?” Laurie said miserably. “And don’t say we’re too young. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. I just . . . I like you.”

  “I know you do, Laurie,” Jo said. All she wanted to do was drop her backpack and run as fast as she could, away from him and away from the awkward conversation. But she knew she had to stay. Why did this have to be so hard? “And I don’t deserve it at all.”

  “Yes, you do. I have more fun with you than I have with anyone. And I think you’re pretty,” he added, his nose bright red.

  “You are killing me,” Jo said, and made a face, trying to get him to stop acting romantical by being silly. It wasn’t working.

  “I am not,” he said, starting to get upset. Why did Jo have to make everything serious a joke?

  “Laurie. I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you. I just don’t . . . I don’t want a boyfriend or anything like that. I do
n’t know if it’s because I’m not ready or if it’s because I see you almost like a brother or what. But all I can be is your friend. I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Laurie felt terrible. He started walking again and looked at Jo with a pained expression. “Okay. Okay, then I take it back. Let’s not go to the dance. Forget I asked. This is my turn; I’ll see you around.”

  It wasn’t his turn. Jo watched his slumped-over form walk away from her and sighed.

  It didn’t seem possible, but Jo felt even worse than Laurie did at that moment. Why, why did he have to choose today of all days to talk about this stuff?

  Jo kept walking and cataloged her problems one by one: Dad was injured. Mom wasn’t home. Beth was sick. Laurie had gone bananas. It was impossible. She started to feel angry. Seriously, why did Laurie have to choose today to ask her to a dance? He knew she was upset about everything going on in her family, and he still asked. She kicked some rocks and decided she didn’t need that kind of stress in her life.

  But then she thought about not playing video games with him or kicking the soccer ball around. She thought about how she’d feel when the river froze over and her skates and hockey stick waited by the door.

  When she finally reached school and slid into her desk a half second before the first bell, Jo wanted to cry. Instead, she took out her notebook.

  No words came to her.

  • • •

  Somehow, Jo made it through the school day. She’d spent equal amounts of time worrying about Dad, Beth, and Laurie. The funny thing was, she really wanted to see Laurie and make things normal somehow, but she knew it was impossible. The only kind thing to do was to leave him alone. So, that evening she turned her attention completely to getting Beth well, as if she could make it happen through sheer force of her will.

  “I’m going to sleep in Beth’s room tonight and watch over her,” Jo announced to Hannah. Jo had just about every single item in the refrigerator out on the countertop. She was trying to put together a tray of food that Beth would actually eat, and she couldn’t figure out what she might like.

  Hannah opened her mouth to object, but then saw the set of Jo’s jaw and decided to leave her alone. Jo was famously stubborn and sometimes it was just easier to let a girl learn her lesson by catching the flu than it was to insist she be sensible. “All right. Amy’s already gone to Em’s for the night, so you can have her bed.”

  “I’m staying with my sisters too,” Meg said. She was trying to help Jo with the tray of food, remembering to add things like utensils. She was also busily making hot cocoa for herself and for Jo and Hannah. “I’ll put my sleeping bag on the floor if I have to.”

  Hannah looked up to the ceiling as if asking her higher power to make the girls change their minds, but again she declined to argue with them. “When all three of you end up sick, your mother is going to kill me,” she said, resigned. “You’re more stubborn than the horses I used to raise, and that’s saying something.”

  “No, she won’t,” Jo said, one notch more cheerfully than before. “She knows we’re impossible. And thanks, I’m taking that as a compliment. Dad says stubbornness is a fine quality in a girl.”

  “Yup,” Meg added solemnly. “He does.”

  Hannah smiled in spite of herself and gathered Jo and Meg in a quick hug.

  Everyone went up to Beth’s room and made sure she drank some juice and ate a few bites of toast. Her fever had been intermittent all day, and at the moment, it was in full force. Her rattling cough had also deepened and she was whimpering a bit because her whole body ached, from the ends of her limp hair to the tips of her toes. To make matters worse, a blizzard was gathering steam outside, the snow piling up on all the roads with impressive speed.

  “Can’t we give her more Tylenol?” Meg asked. Beth was buried under her comforter and looked miserable. “Extra-extra-strength?”

  “I’m afraid not.” To Beth, Hannah said, “Shhh, shhh, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay. Try to close your eyes and just breathe, honey.” To Jo and Meg, she explained. “She’s just had a dose. It hasn’t kicked in yet, which is why she’s so miserable, but it will. Here’s a washcloth; you can use it to cool her forehead.”

  Hannah let Jo and Meg tend to their sister, keeping watch over them all. “I heard from your mother today, and she’s getting a flight in the morning. She’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon.”

  The news cheered Meg and Jo, but then Jo remembered the snowstorm and glanced out the window. “Planes won’t be able to land in that. But it could stop snowing any minute now.”

  “Let’s just get through the night and let the weather worry about itself,” Hannah said. But her face betrayed her concern. Jo was right. Planes would definitely not be able to land in that. Nor would any vehicle be able to drive through it, save a large pickup truck with a plow attached to the front.

  All three nurses kept watch over Beth for the next hour. Jo and Meg took turns cooling her head with the cloth, and Hannah reassured them. Then Jo read Beth the best parts of her favorite book, Anne of Green Gables.

  Finally, it was time for everyone to try to get some sleep. Hannah went to her room next door and collapsed in exhaustion, but not before issuing the instruction to wake her at any time if Beth needed anything or if her fever rose even one tiny notch.

  Jo told Meg to take Amy’s bed and she spread out the sleeping bag directly next to Beth’s bed. She didn’t fall asleep. Instead, she kept vigil, patting Beth’s back and watching her breathing. When Beth coughed in her restless sleep, Jo was right there to give her water to drink out of a bendy straw.

  Meg couldn’t sleep either. The hours ticked by and the house was so still, but not in a comforting way. It felt like everything and everyone was trapped in a tumbling, unhappy snow globe. It seemed impossible that the sun would eventually rise. Over at Aunt Em’s, Amy also had a restless night, tossing and turning and wishing she were in her own bed. In Dad’s hospital room many hundreds of miles away, Mom sat up on her cot and barely even tried to sleep.

  “Is this the worst night of our lives?” Meg whispered to Jo. She had no idea what time it was, but it felt like it had been dark forever and would stay that way. There was no hint of the dawn. She crawled out of bed and sat next to Jo on the floor, as close to her as she could possibly be. Together, they kept watch over their sick sister, and waited.

  “Yes,” Jo said with no trace of doubt in her voice. “Poor Beth. If she gets better, I’ll never complain about anything ever again. I swear it. I’ll be a better person every single day. I’ll clean our room. I’ll find Laurie a girlfriend, even.”

  “Um, what?” Meg had been nodding along to everything Jo was saying, making her own silent pledges to do a better job with her homework and be a more playful babysitter to the twins and help Hannah more with meal preparations. But when Jo got to the part about Laurie, she was puzzled.

  “Ugh, never mind,” Jo whispered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay,” Meg said. She knew Jo would talk about it. Jo wasn’t the secretive type, even when the secrets were her own.

  “He asked me to go to a dance with him at his school,” Jo whispered, and put her head onto her bent knees. Then she wrapped her arms around her head as if she could make herself disappear.

  “Oh,” Meg said. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’d go as his friend,” came Jo’s muffled reply. Meg couldn’t understand her.

  “Jo! What?” Meg’s whisper was insistent.

  Jo raised up her head. “I said I’d go as his friend. But that’s not what he wants. He wanted me to go as his regular date. He said he thinks I’m pretty.”

  Meg smiled. Jo was pretty. But then she saw how unhappy her younger sister looked, and understood. “I’m sorry, Jo. I know you just want to be friends with Laurie.”

  “Exactly. And the stupid thing is, since he asked me, he’s all I can think about. But not like that,” she added hurriedly. “I just want things to be normal, like they w
ere last week.”

  “I get it. Sometimes I wish I were still in eighth grade. It’s weird being a freshman. The high school is so huge, and it seems like everyone knows exactly what they’re doing except for me.”

  Jo smiled. Meg understood. “What should I do?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  Beth stirred then, and struggled to sit up. She was sweaty again, a good sign. Her pale face was less pained than before, and she looked peaceful in the small bit of light coming in to the room. Meg and Jo got up in a flash and got closer to her to see what she might need.

  “Meg? Jo?” Beth whispered, confused. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Beth! How do you feel? We’re here to take care of you,” Jo said. “We’ve been right next to you all night.”

  “I’m okay. Better. Thirsty,” Beth whispered. Meg handed her a water bottle and she drank eagerly. She coughed and settled back into bed. Jo took her temperature.

  “Ninety-nine-point-one!” she cried, triumphant. “That’s almost normal! She’s getting better.”

  “Shhh!” Meg said with a relieved smile. “You’ll wake Hannah. I think ‘almost normal’ is perfect.”

  Hearing Beth’s peaceful snores, Jo and Meg relaxed. They both fell asleep right on Beth’s small twin-size bed with her, and woke up several hours later to a beautiful sunrise streaming into the bedroom through the tiny, frost-coated window.

  The golden light shone down on a pillowy, glistening world covered in drifts of snow and jeweled ice crystals. It was dazzling.

  “It looks like a fairy wonderland,” Meg whispered, the first one to peer out the window.

  Jo joined her. “Wow,” she whispered. “You’re right. It’s so amazing.”

  Meg and Jo smiled at Beth, who was still sleeping soundly. The next sound they heard filled their hearts with joy: It was the door downstairs opening and the familiar sound of their mother’s heavy boots stomping the snow off onto the rug.