Friedrich was afraid that he had been coming off as rather stupid lately. He couldn't seem to keep anything on his mind but a certain March, and it drove him to distraction. He missed her greatly, lamenting at the traces of her disappearing from the house. No more quick feet on the stairs so early in the morning, no more 'Christopher Columbus's, no more books in odd places where she got distracted and set them down.

He had received a letter from her recently. Before she left, he requested that she write him to inform him of her safe arrival. It made him a tad nervous to see her step onto that train alone. Jo had carried out her promise, and sent what she called a 'scribble scrabble' letter, excitedly writing about the babies, her sisters, and her best friend.

Ah, yes. The best friend. He had let his hair grow and quit smoking, and was turning into a fine young man all 'round. According to Jo, who was so proud of him.

He should be glad she was happy. He is, he is glad. But he can't help that his chest tightens to see the word Teddy next to the word wonderful.

It was no use. The man was rich and young, and they had likely been expected to marry each other for ages, being that close. Friedrich suspected that Jo could soon be walking down the aisle to join her boy, and wouldn't be back here again. On the bright side, she would look like an angel in white. Maybe he would receive an invitation.

That seemed like something Jo would be oblivious enough to do, send a wedding invitation to a man who had fallen hard and fast for her. She was smart as a whip when it came to anyone else's feelings, except, of course, when they were directed towards her. He had been tempted to just tell her about his devotion to her, but maybe it was for the best that he hadn't. She was so close to a happy, comfortable life, and he wouldn't ruin it for her. She couldn't possibly be happier with him.

The professor took off his glasses and sighed. He should put these feelings out of his head for good, not dwell on them any longer.

His resolution was broken, as usual, with a soft kiss pressed to a photograph after extinguishing the lights, unable to satiate the ever-growing desire to be able to kiss the real woman, not just the image of her.

In Concord that day, Jo came the closest she had come yet to admitting what she had tried to ignore.

"You think so now, but there'll come a time when you will care for somebody, and you'll love him tremendously, and live and die for him. I know you will, it's your way, and I shall have to stand by and see it!"

"Yes, I will live and die for him, if he makes me love him in spite of myself, and you must do the best you can!"

Something off was happening. Laurie thought he must be sick. That determined fire that had burned in him, his conviction to convince Jo to love him, was gone. He tried to recall it, but he couldn't.

He thought he felt it again one day, but this feeling was different. It was gentler and more pleasant, a fluttering in his stomach. And it only happened when Amy March was around-

Oh no.

Dread rested heavy in the pit of Friedrich's stomach every time a letter arrived from Jo. He opened it was bated breath, expecting news of her engagement any day now.

But it never happened.

She accompanied her sister to the seaside. Her boy was off gallivanting in Europe. There was less and less mention of him in her letters as Beth got sicker and sicker.

Tell me something good, Friedrich, she would write, dropping the ever-proper professors from her letters. Tell me something about you and the boys, please.

The babies have stopped being a comfort to her, they make her head ache. And I am so afraid.

Only mentions of herself, her mother, and Meg when she could spare time away from her children, all trying their best. So she got busier and busier, the notes got shorter and shorter, and her- her Lebhaftigkeit seemed to drain out of her letters until they stopped coming.

I sometimes feel a shan't get on at all without my Beth. I hope you are getting on much better.

Then he didn't get any for weeks and weeks.

He finally heard the news from Mrs. Kirke: Beth was gone.

When Jo had talked about Beth, Friedrich couldn't help but imagine her looking somewhat like Minna, even though she probably didn't, and Jo described her sister as having as many freckles as stars in the sky, and those Minna did not have. It was impossible not to imagine them similarly, she talked about Beth the way Friedrich thought of Minna, the light of their childhoods.

Hints of a woman early old,

A woman in a lonely home,

Hearing, like a sad refrain—

'Be worthy, love, and love will come,'

In the falling summer rain.

Ach, those words made his own heart ache, even as he was still trying to puzzle out the meaning.

She always described her home as such a happy place, filled with love. Was it not? She had her parents, her older sister, and the babies she always spoke of fondly. Surely she felt they loved her?

And early old? She was but twenty-four. She had time, so much time. But perhaps she didn't feel so, her Beth had left her at the young age of twenty-two.

Love will come, in the falling summer rain...

"Sir, you won't forget to come and see us, if you ever travel our way, will you?"

Friedrich removed his reading glasses to think. Should he visit?

Or maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe this wasn't her poem. Slim chances, idiot. All the names match up. Laurence couldn't have proposed. If he had, she wouldn't be writing these sad words. He would have heard, surely, from Mrs. Kirke. Maybe there was still a chance?

"I'll never forgive you if you do forget, for I want them all to know my friend."

Well, he couldn't have that, could he? It was worth a visit. She was worth the visit.

"My wife and I were very glad to meet you. Remember, there is always welcome waiting for you across the way."

With that, Mr. Theodore Laurence draped a shawl around Mrs. Amy Laurence's shoulders, and he escorted her outside, dropping a flirtatious kiss on the back of her hand that made her smile. Friedrich could have laughed out loud out of sheer surprise.

He had proposed... to her sister!

Suddenly, Friedrich felt lighter. The constricting thorns of jealousy that had been foolishly wound around his heart seemed to fall away, and the look in Jo's eyes when her mother told him he could come back anytime was balm to any ache left over.