Little Women and Me

Twenty-Four


The three years that have passed have brought but few changes to the quiet family.

Three years had passed? Whoa! How the heck did that happen? It was like being dropped into this world all over again.

I knew it was three years later because just a few moments before, the others had burst into the parlor where I was sitting and shouted, “Happy birthday!”

“It’s my birthday again already?” I said. I couldn’t believe it. How had a year passed with me missing it? “I’m sixteen now?”

“Silly Emily.” Beth laughed. “You’re eighteen now. You know that.”

Eighteen. That wasn’t possible! I hurried to the first reflective surface I could find, studied my image in it, saw Beth was right: I was taller now, leaner. I looked more like a young woman than a teenage girl. I looked around me. The others, except for Beth, who still looked the same, were visibly older too. Meg looked more proper than ever. Jo, whose hair had been cropped short the last time I saw her, now had hair cascading down her back once more. As for Amy, she looked downright sophisticated. She must be sixteen now. If she lived in my era, she’d be getting her license soon, probably tooling around town in a sports car before long. Amy was definitely the sort of girl who’d be given a sports car as a present on her sixteenth birthday. Not that I was jealous or anything.

Eighteen.

I’d been here four years and somehow I’d missed three of them.

Go with the flow, Emily, I told myself in an effort to calm my anxiety, just go with the flow.

Really, I’d been living in Crazy Town for so long now, what was one more stop on the road?



Before long the others tired of celebrating me and said it was time to head over to Dovecote. I had no idea what Dovecote was, but I didn’t let on, following along with the other girls and Marmee.

Dovecote turned out to be a small brown house. I wouldn’t have thought a brown house could be adorable, but this one was, the interior decorated so cozy it was as though the owners had been living there for years. By remaining quiet and simply listening in on the conversations of the others, I quickly figured that Mr. Brooke—well, John now, as the others called him—had prepared this house for Meg. Were they married then already? So many things I didn’t know—talk about story whiplash!

“Psst, Beth,” I said while the others talked loudly about the furnishings.

Beth turned. “What is it, Emily?” she whispered back.

“I was hoping I could talk to you about something, just the two of us. Is there another room here we might use?”

“Why don’t we step outside and get some air?” Beth suggested.

The others didn’t notice as we left the house. They were busy yakking about dishes and things.

“What is it, Emily?” Beth asked again as we sat down on the small patch of lawn, arranging our skirts around us. “This is so peculiar. No one ever wants to have a private word with me about anything.”

“I was wondering if you could bring me up to date,” I said.

“Up to date?” She was puzzled. “How do you mean?”

“I want you to tell me what’s been happening the past three years,” I said, then added, “with everybody.”

“But I don’t understand.” Now she was even more puzzled. Then she brightened. “I know!” she said. “This is another one of your games! It’s like that time when you asked me things that everyone knows just so that I might feel better about my lack of book learning.”

“A game!” I snapped my fingers. “That’s exactly it! A game. And here’s how we’ll play: I’ll ask you questions and then you answer them.”

“All right,” Beth said eagerly. “Although I do hope I know all the answers. I shouldn’t like to disappoint you with my stupidity.”

“You could never do that, Bethie,” I assured her. “Okay, first question. Pretend I’ve lost all memory of the last three years. What’s the most important thing that’s happened in that time period?”

“I can’t believe it.” Beth put her hand to her chest, closed her eyes in relief. “I thought this might be difficult, but you’re asking me easy questions. I know this one.” She opened her eyes. “It’s the war ending, right?”

Was she asking me or telling me?

And then it hit me. Wait a second. An entire war had gone and ended, and I’d somehow missed it?

“And of course you already know,” Beth went on, “that Mr. Brooke—that is to say, John—went to war for a year, was wounded, got sent home, and now he has set himself up as an under bookkeeper so that he might provide this lovely home for Meg.” Beth turned sad for a moment. “Not that I really understand what an under bookkeeper does exactly.”

“That’s okay, Bethie,” I said, recovering from my shock at a whole war ending in my absence, “I don’t either. Tell me what Papa’s been up to.” I hadn’t seen him around when I’d come to in the middle of my birthday celebration. Oh, God. I hoped he hadn’t died and that I’d just raised a sore subject for Beth that would make her even sadder.

“Papa is the minister in our small parish now.”

Whew. He hadn’t died.

“Everyone goes to him for advice. He’s half a hundred years old, has much gray in his beard, and is considered to be quite the wise old man.”

Old at fifty? I mean, half a hundred.

“Oh, I do like this game, Emily!” Beth said. “I know all the answers. Ask me more questions!”

“So Meg is married already?”

“Silly Emily—of course not! She’s getting married tomorrow, which is why we are all here today, to help prepare the house. Marmee has been so busy of late with Meg and all her preparations, she has barely had time to do anything else!”

“And how about Meg—is she happy with this house?”

“You know Meg. When she saw what a fine home Ned Moffat made for Sallie Gardiner after their wedding, she was a trifle jealous. But then she remembered how much John loves her and how hard he worked to make this charming little home for her, and then everything was all right again.”

Ned and Sallie had gotten married? Had I been at the wedding? If I had, I hoped I hadn’t made a fool of myself!

“And what about Jo?” I said, my attention turning to my old nemesis. “What’s she been up to?”

“She never went back to Aunt March after my … illness. Aunt March decided she preferred Amy. She even hired a special art teacher to give Amy drawing lessons so that Amy might be persuaded to stay. So Jo continues in her reading and her writing for The Eagle—did you know they pay her a dollar a column now? Of course you did, silly Emily—and she is also working on a book. In between all that, she takes care of me. As you can see, I am the same as I have always been.”

I did see that.

“I’ve got another question for the game,” I said. “I haven’t seen Laurie. What’s he been doing?”

“Oh, good—another question I know the answer to! Why, Laurie has been at college, but he still comes to visit us every week and sometimes he even brings his college friends. Meg doesn’t pay attention to them, of course—she is too busy with planning her life with John—and of course I am too shy to even talk to them. But they like Jo, whom they seem to regard as another young man. Oh, and they really like Amy. In fact, some have grown quite besotted with her. Amy, as you know, has a way with young men.”

Yes, I did know.

“Amy says that Meg should have servants for her house, like Sallie Moffat does, but Meg says she will be quite content with Lotty to run errands for her.”

Who was Lotty?

“Amy also teases Laurie when he visits about one Miss Randal.”

Who was Miss Randal? I didn’t remember any Miss Randal from the original book!

“I think you are up to date now,” Beth said, “except to tell you that Aunt March, after vowing not to give Meg a penny if she married John, developed a ruse whereby a friend of hers appeared to give Meg elaborate linens for her new home. But of course we all know who was behind it. Oh, and Aunt March is also giving Meg the pearls she promised to the first March bride.”

“How generous.”

“Yes, everyone is generous to a bride. That is why each of us has done so much to make this a home for Meg and John.”

“Each of us?” I echoed. “And what have I contributed?”

Beth’s face clouded over with puzzlement, but then it brightened at the sight of a tall guy, at least six feet, vaulting over the fence.

“Laurie!” she cried.

Wow. He looked even hotter than he had three years ago. “Beth.” He raised his hat at her, turned to me. “Emily. My, you’re looking even prettier than last time I saw you.”

I was? Involuntarily, I raised a hand to my hair. It was pinned up, but it felt thicker somehow, like it must be a lot longer.

“Everyone else in the house?” he asked. “Good, right,” he answered his own question. “I’ve got another present for Meg, so I’ll just head on in.”

“He’s still wonderful.” Beth sighed when he was gone. “Of course he always teases Jo. He says he predicts she’ll be the next to marry. And of course Jo always says that’s absurd, that she will never marry.”

She would say that.

Beth sighed again. “Are we finished with the game?” She rose with difficulty from the grass—she was still so frail. “I would like to rejoin the others now.”

“Just one more question,” I said, “and then the game is over. What have I been doing the past three years?”

Beth’s face clouded again, even worse than before.

“Oh no,” she said. “Finally, a question in the game I can’t answer. You know, it’s funny, but for some reason, right now I just don’t know.”