Pilgrimage
A/N: I don't own Little Women or its characters. I wrote this last night after getting frustrated with my writing skills and thinking about the washing-up. Hope you likey. More to come.
…
Jo sighed, dragging the last baking dish to the side of the sink, hot soapy water dripping its way everywhere. She rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead tiredly before flicking the rest of the water off her hands as the drain gurgled, sucking the water down where she'd removed the plug earlier. Looking out the window as she pulled the cloth from her apron pocket she began to dry the evening's dishes, musing on the mellowness of the sun's setting light as darkness was thrown across the lawn.
Footsteps fell across the stone floor of the kitchen and Jo relaxed as a pair of arms slipped around her, warm breath wisping the ends of her hair behind her ear. Any other night she might have stepped out of his embrace and scolded the boy of a man for not helping out as he should but Jo found her throat was thick with emotion she'd rather not think of as the last light of the day slipped over the fence.
"Want some help?"
Jo nodded in response, not trusting her voice when his arms disappeared and his fingers brushed hers instead, taking the plate she had been drying from her hands. Jo kept her eyes on the window lest they slip to his and the careful quietness she'd built all day fell apart.
She picked up another plate knowing not what to do with it when Laurie had the only cloth for drying she hadn't burnt on the oven. Holding it uselessly with knuckles as white as the bone that almost poked through Jo watched the greens and yellows of the day morph into the pinky-purples of their nightly counterparts. She wished she could feel the usual settling of her mind but something remained rod-straight in her soul tonight and she could barely swallow for ease when the hushed blue of night tugged across the sky, lighting stars she'd rather not search for.
Laurie took the plate and she foolishly looked across. The cloth was cradled across his palms as he turned the porcelain carefully, his eyes safely on the job and Jo was thankful though she said nothing. She picked up the first plate and bent to place it in the cupboard, repeating the task as all the dishes were dried. Laurie's hands were soon empty and she had barely time to close the window and hear the click of the latch before she felt the string of her apron's tie being pulled loose. Laurie undid the difficult knot with greater ease than she intended when she'd donned it at eleven and he was peeling it off her shoulders, throwing it to one of the chairs, tugging her closer.
She wished he wouldn't but Jo didn't stop him and when he turned her around and folded her in his absurdly warm embrace she even leant her head into his shoulder taking a deep breath. His scent was fresh from the heather he'd rolled in after lunch, Demi's questing fingers picking the soft itchy flowers over the tall man's head as he lay on his chest. Jo closed her eyes, telling herself it was okay to be a little selfish, just a little and let Laurie hold her in the kitchen when John was waiting in her father's study.
"Teddy," she croaked when minutes passed and her arm had inadvertently found its way around his back. Laurie's arms tightened in response and Jo rubbed her cheek against him, feeling as though it might actually be possible just for once for his strength to seep through into her.
Maybe then she could face John without her traitorous eyes filling with tears. If she could look at him without her heart breaking then – Jo felt an inescapable sob hiccup its way out and she gripped Laurie a little closer.
His cheek brushed the crown of her head and she squeezed her eyes shut, sorry she let it go so far. He was cracking her carefully constructed shell and she wouldn't survive much longer. Another sob escaped at that and she clamped her jaw tighter to stop any more, shame turning her limbs to shaky jelly. She fisted the hand on his back in a great deal of his linen shirt and before she knew it Jo was crying in Laurie's crushing hold.
"I'm," she hiccupped, burying her head in the nook between his arm and chest as she felt uncontrollable drops of the day's toll slip hotly from her eyes, even as they were scrunched tightly into his shirt-front. "Sorry."
"Oh Jo," he said in a voice infinitely understanding as he rocked them gently on the spot, feeling the signs of his own blasted tears threatening to appear in their sting. Jo lost her last mite of defence as she openly cried against him, into him thinking not of her control and ridiculous need to be the strong one but of her sister, her dear, precious, cherished Meg who lay sleeping above the river. She cried for having lost two sisters in two years and a mother's grey eyes and father's straightened beard, for a brother's only love gone and a distance unreachable between her last sister and home. She cried because she hadn't and she cried because she felt as though she might never stop.
Jo soon felt her soul clear under the murky glass that had covered it for so long. Every hot tear washed away the film and she soon saw the light behind her eyes as dull warmth instead of the heavy burden she had carried all day. Jo pulled her face from Laurie's shoulder, a few last shudders syncopating her breath as she drew back to look at her friend who continued to be the brightest, best thing in her young life.
"Thank you," she said, her hands gripping his shoulders as her ears turned red. Laurie watched her carefully, shifting his arms around her as she stood a little straighter, a little lighter than before. She couldn't say why they felt like they'd always belonged there. Jo ran her thumbs back and forth across the coarseness of his shirt, suddenly self-conscious as he watched her. A second later he kissed her cheek and she felt like she'd never have a better chum in her life and she kissed him back.
A second later she missed his cheek and hit the corner of his mouth.
A second after that he missed hers too and caught the top of her chin.
Another second and Jo's lips were pressed firmly against his and shouldn't think except to catagorise every sensation that bombarded her raw senses. His bottom lip slipped between hers and her tongue tasted its swell under the dried callous of its surface. She felt his breath across hers and her eyes fluttered shut at his lead, his tongue snaking over hers as she opened her mouth to his. This heat, she thought wildly one hand creeping its way into his thick, curly hair, is almost unbearable.
Laurie must have thought similar for his hand was soon pulling his collar free of its tie and she found herself obliging him though he backed her against the sink bench, standing snugly between her legs. Jo finally wrestled the troublesome strip of material free and flung it somewhere to the side, capturing Laurie's face with her now-free hands as she kissed him over and over until her lips burnt against his and she never felt more alive.
Meg had died two years ago to the day and yet Laurie's hands were on her hops, his lips were on her neck and she couldn't think straight for all the bursting feeling in her chest. Her heart was beating, she vaguely realised, Laurie lifting her to sit precariously on the sink's edge as he pressed himself flush against her and her entire being fizzed to life under his flushed face and black eyes. He was looking at her, right at her and Jo could see herself. All she could see in those fathomless depths that had teased and begged and cared and cried was herself and she knew that while Meg and Beth had gone, though their time had ended, hers had not and never would whilst those black eyes blinked. While her heart beat.
Jo had not ended and she was so alive.
She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard, thanking him with every press of her lips, with every caress of her roaming hands with every breath they shared she thanked Laurie and meant it right down to her soul.
Laurie's hands clutched at her waist as he bent over her, giving as she gave, baring himself now that she finally understood everything. She was made for this she decided, her fingers caught in his hair as they kissed, her legs around his. Death was not forgotten but she would celebrate it for showing her life - that being alive only made sense in absurdist comparisons. Jo had found her father's long searched-for humanity and it was in Laurie, the way he pushed her to be more than what she settled for, in his embrace when she felt she was losing everything, it was in his very breath as it covered her skin. He'd shown her the quality of being human was in her heart that felt, not her ego and mind that demanded control. Mediocrity, solemnity and heartbreak, all she feared faded away in the resilience of the human soul and she was only sorry she hadn't seen it sooner.
She was sorry she hadn't seen how much she loved the dear man that held her that very moment.
A creak on the stairs was heard and Jo pulled away with a start.
"Don't worry," Laurie soothed, kissing her cheek as her head was turned to the next room. "The babies are put to bed and your father and mother have made peace with the night. Old Brooke is to Dovecote – we are alone." Jo turned back and Laurie stepped between her again. "And I love you," he gushed, the silliest of grins spreading across his twenty-something face. Promises were blooming in that wide smile and long-held wishes finally realised were laid openly for Jo to see. She held his face and kissed him very seriously.
If she should live and die and love and fight only within these walls then Jo would declare it a life well lived.
Jo leant into Laurie as she felt his right hand disappear only to find it crawling up her left leg, pulling with it her skirt. Suddenly a nervousness she'd felt when he watched her wordlessly after crying settled over her and she twitched under his hands, thoughts of propriety popping into her head. What were they doing!? Jo's hands flew to cover her mouth as Laurie continued shamelessly with his hand now warm against her thigh. Jo watched him wide-eyed as he cocked an eyebrow at her and hooked her skirt to her waist, pushing the material backwards into the sink. His hands were on her petticoats and Jo's face was afire with mortification when he winked at her and leaned in to nuzzle her neck.
Certainly it felt nice but were they really doing this now? Here? In her family's kitchen? Where they ate for heaven's sake! Jo moved her hands from cupping her mouth to sit on Laurie's tall shoulders as she pushed him up. Laurie's eyes met hers and he straightened instantly an old look of disappointment crossing his stance. His arms hung uselessly at his side, his left index pawing at the counter beside her thigh.
"I thought…" he began tapping the wooden bench before letting his fist fall by his side and he removed his right hand from Jo's top petticoat.
"Not here," she begged for him to understand, her hands coming to rest on his collar.
Laurie nodded but she could see she'd hurt him.
"Teddy…"
"I understand," he said a little quickly, kissing her forehead. Laurie pulled the length of her skirt out of the deep sink, back over her knees before he walked about the room blowing the candles out pausing only to pick up his tie.
Jo sat on the edge a moment longer. Now I've done it, she thought crossly jumping down to help her poor boy, stopping him in the door when they'd finished.
She stood on her toes but only reached his collar and Laurie had to bend down in the dark to receive her kiss. "For your trouble," she said when she pulled away, the softness of his mouth seared into her memory like the heat of his long fingers.
"Jo," he groaned lowly, her name a warning. "If you do not want me I have to leave now" his head turned under her hands and he pressed a small kiss into her palm. "If I don't I'm afraid I'll never go and we shall do something you'll regret."
"Please understand," she implored, making him think of lunch when she'd made him take the twins from Brooke. "Meg is gone –" His jaw tightened but she ploughed on. "This is her day Laurie and we should preserve it by remembering her not –" she coloured hotly in the shadowy doorway.
"You remember her every day."
Jo pulled her hands away and looked to her left, her gaze falling on the chair by the wash bay. She'd burnt Meg's hair in that chair. Something scurried its way from her chest to her throat. Why did her eyes sting?
"Jo," Laurie's hands were on her stomach before he stepped closer. "You won't forget her." She blinked her eyes rapidly but the sting only worsened and Jo wished it was darker.
"I just want this one day for her, Teddy."
"So you'll forget happiness? You know Meg would rather you spend your life living it Jo, she wouldn't want you to suspend every other thing you feel, anything else you think of - even for a day! She was never that selfish Jo. I can't believe you would ever think that."
Jo's head whipped back to Laurie and she stepped out of his reach into the darker part of the kitchen. She'd been wrong ever thinking Laurie would ever understand her.
"Goodnight, Laurie."
She saw him frown at her frosty tone in the hall's dull light as it spilled across his form. He seemed to battle with himself a moment and she watched him struggle to find the right words.
"What?" she said at last.
"It's just," Laurie shook his head thinking better of it and he turned to the hallway only to stop two steps later. "Don't you think Meg would want you to be happy today of all days?" he threw over his shoulder, tapping the doorway twice in consideration before he left the room. Jo listened for the front door and when she finally heard it swing shut she looked about the kitchen feeling worse than before and terribly alone.