"A new play, written by Miss Jo March, will appear at the Barnville Theatre, in the course of the next few weeks, which will surpass anything ever seen before on the American stage..." Meg drawls, twitching her mustache as all four of her younger sisters giggle hysterically.
What a spectacle we are, dressed in top hats and holding pipes in our mouths, fake mustaches pressed to our upper lips and heavy suit jackets strewn over our shoulders. I sit in a big arm chair beside Jo, who's wild aubern hair is in a messy French braid she begged for this morning.
We might bicker a lot, but when it comes to her hair, Jo is sensible.
"Starring the greatest actress from
here to the Mississippi River, Miss Meg March." Said sister adds, grinning proudly with her newest manuscript clutched in an ink stained grasp.
"Weekly report!" Meg peers down at the newspaper in her hands, then eyes each one of us suspiciously. "Meg and Lillian— Good. Jo— Bad. Beth— Very Good. Amy— Middling."
Jo shoves my leg jovially and I giggle, happy when she gets in these sorts of playful moods. It's all due to the writing—the sun revolves around Jo March, and when she writes, it shines.
"Excellent," Beth giggles, while Amy says, "Well done, sirs."
Meg, being done with the report, comes over and hops onto my lap with a giggle as Jo rises to speak. Meg shifts around for a second to get comfortable and I wrap my arms around her waist, much like a mother would do with a young child.
"Mr. President and gentlemen, I wish
to propose the admission of a new member." She begins, smiling conspiratorially. "One who highly deserves the honor, would be deeply grateful, and would add immensely to the spirit of the club. May I have a drumroll please?"
We all stomp our feet charismatically, broad grins covering each rosy cheeked face. Jo stares each of us down in turn, before throwing her arms up in the air.
"I propose Mr. Theodore Laurence!" She cheers, and my heart skips a beat.
What?
Meg stiffens on my lap and crosses her arms over her chest, turning to give me a look. Beth and Amy exchange cursory glances, and then Meg huffs before speaking.
"No!" Meg scoffs, at the same time Amy adds, "absolutely not!"
Jo sighs exasperatedly and breaks out of character, staring at us with a frown.
"Come on guys, let's have him." She insists, and we quiet for a moment.
'Laurie in the Pickwick Portfolio?' I think, mulling over what I want to say. Of course I want him in, its Laurie, but I need to agree in a way that doesn't scream 'I'm desperate'.
"I'd think he'd be a lovely addition," I speak up, choosing my words carefully.
Jo gestures to me pointedly, looking pleased with my decision. "See? One of you has some sense."
"But he's a real boy," Amy sighs, peeling off her fake mustache.
"We don't want any boys—this is a club for ladies." Meg twists to face me again, her bottom lip jutted out in a pout.
"I think we should to do it, even if we are afraid," Beth chimes in softly. "I say yes. It's Laurie!"
"Now then, everybody vote, and
remember that it's our Laurie. Say, 'AYE'!" Jo cheers.
Meg and Amy both grumble to themselves in turn, before speaking out with reluctant 'aye's. Jo smiles again, once again conspiratorial, and gestures for us to gather round. Meg hops off of me and into the chair to my left, and we all scoot our own chairs nearer.
"And," she starts, her eyes shifting to the costume rack beside her. "as there is no time like the present!"
Not a second after she finishes her sentence, Laurie himself, in the flesh, bursts out from behind the clothing, a deep purple velvet jacket covering him and Jo's pirate boots on his feet. We all shriek, the room erupting into anarchic laughter and clapping.
"Ladies, please —this is my stratagem, I deserve the blame: Jo only gave into it after lots of teasing." He growls out in a comical voice, pulling more giggles from the five surrounding girls. He sinks into a dramatic bow, and then, catching my eye, tosses me a quick wink.
I try in vain to stop the blush from rising to my cheeks.
"Hear, hear!" Jo shouts, clapping her hands to receive our attention. "Let the man speak, you hooligans!"
"I merely wish to say, that as a slight token of my gratitude and as a means of promoting friendly relations between adjoining nations, I propose this set of keys for a little post office I've made in the forest by the pond." He smiles as we cheer, and he begins to make his way around, pulling said keys out of his jacket. "Allow me to present five copies of the key, and with many thanks for your favor, take my seat as part of the club."
When he gets to me he slips an iron key with a blue ribbon tied to the end into my open palm. His fingers linger over mine for a beat longer than what would seem normal to onlookers, and he holds my gaze, hazel eyes sparkling.
"Thank you," I whisper, feeling warm, and he mouths a quick 'you're welcome' before passing out the rest of the keys to my siblings.
I sit still for a few minutes, my eyes following him around the room, feeling a warmth slow like honey spread throughout my limbs. I've never fallen in love—could this be what that feels like?
Sensing heavy eyes on me, I glance to my left, catching Jo's gaze linger on mine boldly for a few seconds before she looks away, something like a scowl beginning to form on her lips. An icy cold rushes over me, and I wonder if Amy really was right.
Does Jo like Laurie?
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"Laurie, it's wonderful!" I gasp.
In front of me, each one nailed to its own skinny tree amongst the cluster, is a group of individual little mail boxes made of wood. Each one has a ribbon tied to it in coordination with the owners key, and I can't help but admire the handiwork.
"Did you make them?" I wonder, turning my head to smile at the boy beside me.
He rocks back on his heels in the grass, unable to hide the prideful grin that appears on his face.
"Yes," he states, and gestures to mine. "go on, open it."
I hold his gaze curiously for a second before turning to open my own mailbox, the little blue ribbon tied to the top floating in the spring breeze. The key turns with an almost inaudible click, and then the door opens, revealing the contents of the box.
Inside are an envelope with my name written across it in beautiful cursive, as well as a square covered in wrapping paper with a bow and a folded up note tied to the top. I shoot the boy next to me a look of surprise, and he smiles, watching me quietly.
"You don't have to abide by my request but, I'd prefer if you opened the bo—er, the package back when you're in your room. The note too. And the letter, frankly. It's kind of—" he scratches the back of his neck, and to my great amusement, the tips of his ears turn pink. "It's a bit embarrassing."
I giggle airily and nod, locking my mail box up before clutching the items against my chest.
"I will," I start, and then gesture to the box again. "I really do appreciate this. This is one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me."
"Sincerely?" Laurie gapes, his eyebrows raising. "If no one does things for you like this then I should—" he pauses, cutting his thought off midway, and shakes his head at the ground. "I'm glad you liked it. I hoped you would."
"I do," I beam, and shift a bit closer to him.
Taking the hint, he bends his head towards mine. He pauses, and then, with an amused grin on his face, holds my face with one hand and uses the other to gently peel off one of Amy's fake mustaches from my lip. I laugh aloud when I realize I've had it on this entire time, and the moment it's gone he leans forward, planting a chaste kiss against my mouth.
"We'd better go inside or else the girls will start to wonder," I whisper after he pulls away too soon.
He nods, and moves like he's going to kiss me again, but then the rumbling of a carriage coming up the road stops both of us in our tracks. Laurie turns his head curiously, and we watch Aunt March's carriage roll into the drive, the horses nickering to each other.
"How odd," Laurie comments, voicing my own thoughts allowed, before titling his head towards the house.
I follow a step behind him, watching his hand twitch by his side for a moment like it's itching to grab my own.
I feel the same way.
The coachmen opens the door and gestures to me, and I'm surprised to see the carriage already packed with an overnight bag. When someone had the moment to do that by the time Laurie and I walked up the drive, I have no idea.
As if sensing my confusion, Marmee steps out the front door. If she's surprised to see Laurie next to me she doesn't show it, instead smiling at him as she strides up to us, wicker basket in hand.
"Lillian, Aunt March sent a telegram about an hour ago. She's calling you to tea—says it's an important matter. I've packed you a day dress inside the bag, and here are some muffins Hannah baked—hello Laurie." She reaches out to touch his shoulder lightly in greeting, before turning to me again. "Run inside and freshen up, will you? And bring some of the honey we got from the market along."
I nod quietly, trying not to let the unexpectedness of all this trouble me.
"Will you hold these?" I ask, raising Laurie's gifts in my arms, and he nods, understanding I want to take them with me in the carriage and not inside the house where the other girls will see them.
I sigh slowly and turn to the door, then pause. My eyes dart back to Laurie's and he gives me a comfortable smile—as always, he's the picture of ease.
I allow this image to calm me as I head into the house, entering my room to find Amy brushing Beth's hair on Meg's bed, Meg sat at her vanity organizing her neck ribbons and earrings, and Jo is flopped on my bed, her feet where my pillow (now on the side table) normally is and her head where my feet go, Hamlet in hand.
"Did you get this from Laurie?" Jo asks as I step in, her tone suspiciously polite.
"Yes," I mumble, and Amy 'harrumphs' to herself when she accidentally knocks the ribbon she wanted to use for Beth's hair onto the floor. My quietest sister sits patiently with one of the kittens in her lap.
"You and Laurie seem awfully close," Jo continues, sniffing as she turns the page.
I glance over at her.
Her eyes aren't on me, but her lips are turned up into a tiny smirk at the corners, and I feel currents of annoyance begin to work their way into my bloodstream. 'Ignore her', I think, not sure what game she's playing but not liking it.
"We're good friends," I say honestly, because we are. I just leave out that we've made out once or twice.
But only because it's unnecessary information.
"Mmhmm." Jo hums, and I grit my teeth as I shove lemon and verbena soap and a wash cloth into one of my small bags, as well as a stopper of peppermint oil.
"Where are you going?" Meg asks, noticing my bag, and this causes Amy to get distracted from her brushing.
"Aunt March's," I reply, and Amy squirms with energy.
"Will you bring back some paint?" Amy pipes up, asking the question I knew she wanted to the second I mentioned Aunt March.
"As always," I giggle, and run my hand over her smooth double braids as she grins up at me. "And a small dress for your doll if I can find one for it, Beth."
My quiet sister gives me a warm smile, and reaches out, holding onto my hand for a brief second.
"Thanks," she whispers, and I nod, turning to Meg.
"Could I borrow the white lace neck ribbon?" I ask, and she hands it to me so I can tie it.
"Only if I can borrow your blue one," she says, and I nod because of course she can.
"Don't forget about us little women while you're gone," Jo remarks from my bed. "some of us aren't as destined to be a house wife as others, I suppose."
"What's—" —gotten into you? I want to finish, but instead I close my eyes and count to ten, before exhaling. "Bye girls, I'll see you all for dinner."
A chorus of 'bye's and 'have fun's follow me out the door, and Jo is silent as I shut it and head downstairs. I grab the bottle of honey off the shelf and stick it into my bag, giving Hannah a quick kiss on the cheek as she makes me promise to 'behave myself' which she orders with an amused smile.
I'm laughing by the time I'm out the door, and I stop in my tracks, staring at the scene in front of me.
Laurie is standing with his arms behind his back, hands clasped, and he listens to Marmee speak with a hushed tone. She gestures a lot with her hands as she talks, but even so, I have no idea what's she's telling him.
"Ready," I call out breathlessly as I wander down the drive, and Marmee finishes what she's saying with her eyes on my face.
"I will," Laurie is promising her with a sincere look in his eyes once I stop beside them, and Marmee fixes her warm gaze onto him for a moment, reaching out to touch his cheek.
"I know." She says, sounding wise and motherly, before turning to look at me. "Here's your basket, dear." She hands it to me, and I loop it over the arm I'm holding my bag in. "Have a safe trip, and try and be back before nightfall. We're having cottage pies."
I nod and kiss both her cheeks before she squeezes me in a hug, giving Laurie one last meaningful look as she heads into the house. We wait in silence for a moment before he reaches out, slipping his hand comfortably through mine as he leads me to the carriage. I spot my present and letter already on the seat—he must've set them down before he spoke with my mother.
"What was that all about?" I question, unable to contain my curiosity.
He pauses by the carriage and opens it for me, allowing me to set my stuff down and climb inside before he speaks. He moves up onto the step so that he's eye level with me, one arm leaning up against the top of the door frame, holding it open with his other hand.
"She just wanted to say she liked the post offices," he says, his eyes trained on a spot in the distance.
"That's all?" I press, and his eyes wander to mine. He seems distracted.
"Pretty much," he says quickly, and then smiles a bit. "she invited me to dinner. Have fun, but not too much fun at your tea. Hurry home so you can read to me."
I laugh lightly as he closes the carriage door, then steps up again with his arms crossed over the open window pane, and he props his chin on his arms. I hear the coachmen move onto his seat and then ready the horses.
"Come back quickly," he insists again, his head tilting a bit to the left as he watches me from underneath his long lashes.
I shift in my seat, leaning forward so that I can absorb the image of his freckles splashed across his nose and his hazel eyes soft with affection up close before I bridge the gap between us, kissing him tenderly. He reaches out, one hand warm against my face, and opens his mouth with mine, before kissing me again, a bit deeper. He tastes of cinnamon and honey.
As if he remembers that anyone could be seeing us right now, he pulls back and then pecks my lips one more time quickly, a dopey grin on his face.
"Go on, now," he insists, and waves me off, the coachmen clicking his tongue to alert the horses.
"Bye!" I call breathlessly, holding my face out the window.
As we roll off, I watch Laurie through the back of the carriage, the tiny square window providing the faintest image of him, and my fingers raise to my lips, still buzzing from the kisses he left there.
It leaves me smiling the entire ride to my aunt's.
________________________________
When I get to Aunt March's, I know there's something off the moment we roll into the drive. Another carriage, even grander than Aunt March's, sits in front of house, and in the confusion once we park I take everything out of the carriage but Laurie's gifts.
Something tells me I'd better save them for later.
The coachmen carries my overnight bag (which has my change of clothes in it) and I carry my basket inside, opening the giant wooden front door with practiced quiet. As soon as I step in I notice the smell of baked goods—Aunt March does not bake. This is a sure sign of trouble.
As I round the corner a figure barrels towards me, almost knocking me and my muffins and my soap onto the floor. The boy in question freezes, and both of us gasp loudly, him recovering from the shock faster and throwing his arms around me, picking me up in the hug.
"You sneak!" Sawyer cheers, and then sets me down. "How could you not tell me you were Auntie's niece? I thought we were friends."
"What—what are you doing here?!" I demand, too stunned for formalities.
"I told you at the ball, we're visiting from London and—"
"No, no, no," I interrupt, almost throwing my basket with the force of my hand gestures. "What are you doing in my aunt's house?"
"We're family friends!" He laughs as if this is all obvious, and squints at me, blue eyes catching the sunlight through the windows. "Now come on, you gotta meet my brother. Remember when I said he might go to the party? Well he didn't show. But..."
I don't hear the rest of what he says because when we round the corner, my ears begin ringing. He hasn't even noticed us yet, but from here I can see how extravagantly blue the boy's eyes are. He resembles Sawyer greatly—same brown hair, same eyes—and I kick myself for not noticing sooner. But how could I have known if the only time I saw him was in black and white?
Sawyer notices my expression of pure horror and pauses his rambling.
"I know right. Everyone has this reaction. He has the face of a baby angel it's quite annoying." He whistles lowly, and the boy looks over at us, a dazzling smile taking over his handsome face, and my heart stops.
It's him. The boy from the photograph.
Sawyer's brother is Tom Gently.
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how we feeling boys? the next chapter is a whopper so I hope you're excited hehe.
also I just noticed that I named the Gently boys 'Tom' and 'Sawyer' and it was completely subconscious I think the ghost of Mark Twain might've possessed me
anyways comment heheheheheHheehHHEHEH