Jo ushered the professor inside, berefting him of his hat. For the first time in weeks, her heavy heart fluttered. She was slightly aware she was babbling, but she couldn't stop herself.
"Ah, you haf a party," Professor Bhaer looked down at her with a worried expression. Her heart leapt into her throat.
"Oh, no, it's just the family. Laurie and Amy are back from Europe. A little late. But still..."
"I see."
"I'd love to introduce you, if you would like that?" Jo's hand was on his arm now, and even if he had intended to say no (which he didn't) he simply couldn't now.
"I would like that, Mees Marsch."
"Jo, who is it at the door?" Marmee looked puzzled when she entered the hall to see the professor in his patchy jacket.
"Marmee, this is Professor Friedrich Bhaer, the one I told you about in the letters," Jo said, her face slightly flushed and full of pride.
Mrs. March smiled. "Oh, this is Mr. Bhaer. I've read all about you, welcome," she extended a hand which he shook gratefully.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mees Marsch," he said. "Your daughter is such a good friend of mine. Ah, and before I forget," Mr. Bhaer rummaged in his pockets for a minute before withdrawing an only slightly crushed bouquet of flowers. "For your home."
"Thank you very much, professor," Marmee accepted them with a meaningful look at Jo that made the poor girl blush. "That's very kind of you."
"And for the sister," Mr. Bhaer withdrew a purple hair ribbon from another pocket. "You mentioned your Beth likes purple. I thought she might like this."
Jo stared at it, and made no move to take it. The professor's face fell. "Is there something wrong? You don't think she will like it?"
"I..." Jo drew in a shaky breath. "That's very sweet of you, sir, she would have loved it."
The past tense made his heart drop into his shoes. "Oh..." To his alarm, Jo's eyes were growing misty.
"Marmee!" A shout from the parlor could be heard. Jo's mother glanced from her to the door.
"It's fine Marmee, you should go see... you know how Amy gets." Jo's hands were beginning to shake as well as her voice.
"Jo..." Marmee let her hand rest on Jo's shoulder for a moment. "Just call if you need one of us." She nodded.
"I apologize," the professor pocketed the ribbon when Mrs. March had gone. "I... did not know. If I have come at a bad time- if you would like me to go-"
Jo shook her head. "I'll be fine," she said, voice thick with emotion and unsteady. "I'm being silly. My last letter didn't reach you?"
"I suppose not," Mr. Bhaer said.
"It really is pretty, I sort of wish- that we could have buried her in it," a tear rolled down her nose. "I meant to get her new ones for Christmas, but we had to braid her hair up with the old ones after she- and I thought she deserved better than the frayed ribbons, I could have done more for her-"
"Josephine," the professor's hands clasped her elbows gently to steady her, "you did so, so much for her. I am sorry this has happened."
Jo bit the inside of her cheek, trying to meet her friend's eyes. "What am I going to do without her?"
Her voice broke on the last word, and Professor Bhaer pulled her close, knowing instinctually what she needed. She pressed her face into his patched up jacket, the softness of it against her cheek and the grounding pressure of his arms around her keeping her from drifting off into the expanse of unanswered questions. He held her and let her cry into his jacket, feeling her hands clutch at handfuls of the fabric.
"Laurie and Amy missed the funeral," Jo choked out, uncontrollable tears dampening the shoulder of his jacket, "and now they're back and everyone is pretending that everything is fine. They don't want to ruin or overshadow Amy's engagement. They got engaged before they knew- Everything always turns out fine for Amy."
"In time, it will turn out for thee as well," the professor said softly. "Until then, let yourself cry. A good cry is necessary."
"But I probably shouldn't be crying onto your jacket," Jo said, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry."
"Do not be, you may cry onto this jacket anytime you need."
"Well, tonight I'm supposed to be happy," Jo pulled away, putting enough space between them so that she could straighten out the professor's collar. She sighed, and gave him a smile. "Does it look like I've been crying?"
He reached out and wiped a stray tear away from her jaw with his thumb. If she had wiped it away herself she wouldn't bother to remember it but this made her heart leap again. "There, better," he muttered, then, on second thought, he tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "I know how it is to lose a sister. It is not easy."
Jo nodded, not trusting her voice.
"If you ever need me I will be here, yes? If there is anything I can help you with."
"Thanks," Jo said, hoping she didn't sound too awkward. She looked into the kind eyes of the professor, feeling as though something was never going to be the same again. It was a feeling that scared her, even though she didn't know what had changed and couldn't describe it if she tried.
"Am I interrupting something?"
The professor removed his hand from the side of Jo's face and stood straight as a rod. Jo's head turned, and she sighed. "Laurie."
"What? I'll go away," the young man shrugged.
"No. It's fine."
"What? You still look annoyed."
"Nothing, nothing," Jo wiped her eyes again, "I'm just being stupid. I should introduce you to the rest." She took the professor's arm and pulled him into the parlor, announcing to the entire room: "Everyone, this is my friend Friedrich Bhaer." The pride in her voice was enough to make the man blush.
...
Two week later, he wiped the tears from her face again, this time they mingled with raindrops.
"Heart's dearest, why do you cry?"
Was it about her sister? Was she hurt? Had something happened?
"Because you're going away."
