Jo bustled into the General Store, list in hand and a million other things flooding her mind. With the cooling mid-October weather, the children had been drawn outdoors; the treehouse project progressing well until the realization that one of the support branches wasn't going to hold. Despite Dan's drive to get it done and Tommy's solution of a front gate hinge, the treehouse would have to wait until they could find more muscle and knowhow. In the end, the gate was an issue again and something that Jo had to add to her list. Maybe Dan will know which hinges we need, she thought as she made her way to the back of the store, in the direction of all the hardware. Her heart ached a bit more, yearning for Nick's presence, anxious for his return.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bhaer." Mr. Gerson's voice broke Jo from her reverie. "Do you need help with anything?"
Jo smiled sheepishly at the storekeeper, looking towards the boxes of hinges along the counter. "Our front gate is broken again," she said, surveying the items. "And I'm not sure what we need to fix it."
Mr. Gerson gave her a gentle smile and seemed to understand her situation. "Well, I think Mr. Riley ordered in some parts a few months back - just in case." He headed behind the counter and grabbed a small box, the metal clanking together as he handed it to her.
Jo sighed gratefully. "Nick is always prepared," she said, a twinge of sadness in her voice. Even several hundred miles away, she could still count on him.
"Ah - that reminds me," Mr. Gerson started, making his way to the front of the store. "There is some mail here for Plumfield." He began sorting through the letters behind the desk as Jo followed. "And I believe there is one from that shipping company…" He finally pulled out a small envelope.
Jo felt the elation in her stomach, thrilled expectation building as she took the letter from him. "Another one already?" she asked, looking at the odd postage - the postmark from New York. "Nick just wrote to us when he arrived in Jamaica."
"He'll be coming home soon, won't he?" Mr. Gerson said, smiling at her excitement.
"Yes, only a few more weeks," Jo said, distracted with opening the envelope. "We are hoping some time around the beginning of November."
"Well, that'll be here before you know it," the storekeeper said as someone else came through the front door. Mr. Gerson made his way towards the new customer, giving Jo some privacy with the anticipated note. As she unfolded the single sheet of paper, the typed letterset was confusing; she was expecting either Nick's rough handwriting or that of the telegraph, the lack of any irregular scroll caused her stomach to drop.
"Dear Ms. Josephine Bhaer…" She began to read, a voice in the back of her mind already telling her what this was. The formality of the greeting and the official looking letterhead reminded her of the letters during the war - the ones she saw so many families receive. "We regret to inform you…" Jo could feel the color drain from her face; she was finding it difficult to catch her breath. The words became jumbled together and she could only grasp bits of the remaining text. "Athena… reported fatal storm… believed that all souls aboard have perished…"
Jo stepped back against the counter, trying to keep the weakness in her knees from pulling her to the floor. She looked at the letter again, the tremble of her hands making it difficult to focus. It had to be a mistake or perhaps she had read the details wrong. Perished… The word stuck out, hitting her hard and tears began to cloud her vision.
"Mrs. Bhaer?" Jo could hear Mr. Gerson's voice through the pounding that filled her ears. "Mrs. Bhaer, are you all right?" She looked up to see him coming towards her but all she wanted to do was escape.
"I… I just need some air…" she stammered and stumbled to the door. Her mind raced, the space around her began to close in - she had to get out of there. Leaving behind the bewildered storekeeper, she managed to get her feet to move through the exit and out onto the sidewalk. People strolled along the busy street, their presence just a blur as Jo frantically looked for her buggy. She had to get home, she needed to be home. Nick was coming home… the letter was wrong.
As she headed down the walk, she looked up, her older sister's face somewhat recognizable in the crowd. Meg smiled as she approached but her face dropped once she noticed her younger sister's appearance. "Jo?" Meg called out, hurrying towards the buggy. "What's wrong?"
Jo leaned against the carriage, her lungs burning, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. Meg caught up to her and grasped her arm. "What is it?"
Completely overcome, she handed Meg the letter, her eyes closing as her older sister began to read. Meg gasped, coming across the same words that Jo had just moments before. "Oh Jo…"
The initial shock had begun to dissipate and the pit in her stomach dropped as realization set in. "He's gone…" Jo whispered, looking up at Meg, pleading for some sort of consolation. Meg gathered her up into her arms; Jo's legs suddenly gave way and she fell into her sister, sobbing. She could feel passersby looking, watching but they were ignored. Her world was falling apart and as her mind took hold of the reality, she began to shake.
Meg's voice was muffled through the cries, trying to offer comfort and Jo could feel them both sink to the ground. She buried her face in Meg's coat, trying desperately to find some sort of relief to the intensifying pain. He's gone… he's gone… The words repeated themselves over and over in her mind and she could feel any type of strength she had fading from her. Jo's cries slowly subsided, the energy to continue sobbing quickly disappearing; a small, concerned crowd now gathered around them. Still enveloped by her sister's embrace, she felt a familiar presence behind her, recognizing Laurie's voice as he helped to pick her up. "Let's get you home," he said, guiding her to her feet and into the buggy.
Meg got in along side and Jo clung to her as Laurie hopped in and gathered up the reins. Her eyes closed, she felt them moving through the streets, the motion somewhat calming. Her thoughts began to clear and along with them the implications of the news. "The children…" she whispered to Meg, the buggy turning out onto the road towards Plumfield. "What am I going to tell them?"
Jo raised her head, noticing the tears in her sister's eyes. "We can tell them for you," she replied, giving her a weak smile.
"No," Jo shook her head, "It should come from me." She sighed deeply. "They will be heartbroken."
Laurie patted her hand. "I think we all are."
Jo took a shaky breath, the tears starting to return. "I told him to go… insisted that he take the job." She looked at Meg. "I didn't think…"
"Oh Jo," Meg cried. "This isn't your fault. He wanted to go - you know that."
"But I convinced him it was for the best," Jo's voice wavered. "I didn't want to stand in his way… I didn't want him to have any regrets."
"Don't do this to yourself, Jo," Laurie interrupted. "No one is to blame."
"Then why?" Jo's sobs returned, "Why is he gone?" She buried her face once again in Meg's shoulder and let the tears fall. The rest of the ride home was a complete blur, Jo could hear quiet words spoken between Meg and Laurie, but her mind was too gripped by grief to pay attention.
As they reached the Plumfield gates, Jo suddenly remembered the hinges she had left sitting at the General Store. Dan will have to go and get them, she thought, dread overwhelming at the idea of telling him about the death of the man who was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. How could she break his heart?
The buggy approached the house and thankfully the only person out to meet them was Asia. The housekeeper's face fell as she took in Jo's appearance and she rushed over as Laurie stopped the carriage. "What happened?"
Jo stood on shaky legs and grabbing the letter from Meg's hand, she passed it to Asia. "We received a letter… Nick's ship…" Stepping from the buggy, she spoke through more tears, "His ship...went down…" Jo shook her head as she watched the emotion in Asia's face. "No one survived."
Asia pulled her into an embrace, sharing in Jo's grief and trying to show some comfort. After a few moments, Jo pulled back, grateful for the support but only to be met with Dan's stare as the boy stood a few feet away. "He's gone?" Dan asked breathlessly.
Jo let go of Asia and advanced towards him. "Oh Dan…" she mourned, as he backed away from her. "I'm so sorry."
"He's gone?" he asked again. Jo watched as a variety of emotion flashed across his face; from sadness to rage, Dan began to shake his head, unable to control himself.
"Yes," Jo said gently, "He's gone."
Dan suddenly spun around on his heels and took off towards the woods. Jo wanted so badly to follow, not only to comfort the boy but also to run away from the grief that was consuming her. But she couldn't. Much like Fritz's death, she knew she had to be strong… for the school… for her children. The moments in town and the ride home - that was her time to grieve, to outwardly express her pain. But now it was time to pick herself up and be there for the children. And Nick would expect nothing less from her.
XXXXX
Dan could hear the old grandfather clock chime midnight as he made his way up the backstairs, the night's darkness had long settled in. He was exhausted, physically from having to try and repair the front gate after Tommy's brilliant idea. But there was an emotional toll that was so wearying.
The days since the letter had been tiresome and draining; Nick's death had affected everyone. Many of the children had taken to their rooms, their chores and the treehouse left undone. Dan's grief drove him to work in the hopes that would somehow ease the pain. Mrs. Jo did her best to try and keep a semblance of normal around Plumfield but nothing was normal anymore - the empty barn room screamed that reminder to everyone.
As he reached the second floor, Dan noticed the ladder door to the Widow's Walk was open, soft light poured down through the narrow passage. He knew who was up there - as of late, Mrs. Jo had spent most nights up on the roof, after all the lamps had been turned down and everyone put to bed. Dan could hear her soft cries, all the way from the boys' room. That night was no different as whimpering funnelled into the house. He had contemplated many times whether he should follow the sound and every time he remained in his bed, listening to the grief that could only be expressed on one's own. But at that moment, it was more difficult to pass by. Somehow Dan mustered up the strength to climb the ladder. He wasn't sure what type of comfort he could offer to the woman who he had always known as strong and resilient. Maybe, if nothing else, he could share in the pain, hopefully finding solace in that bond.
As he neared the top, the cries suddenly stopped, Mrs. Jo realizing that she was no longer alone. Dan stepped out onto the roof and found her sitting against the railing, staring up at the sky. "Is everything okay, Dan?" she asked quietly, her eyes still fixed on the stars.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Jo," he replied, slowly making his way towards her. "Everybody's fine."
She sighed and as he took a seat next to her, he noticed her hands trembling, the silver from a ring clasped between her fingers, shining in the moonlight. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
"Nah…" Dan turned his eyes skyward, mesmerized by the light show that glimmered overhead. "I was awake already." He took a sideways glance at her, her attention above never wavering. "You okay?"
Mrs. Jo chuckled softly, her head shaking slightly at the obvious. She took an uneven breath. "Nick always said that the deck of a ship was the best place to view the night's sky. It's hard to imagine the stars being anymore magnificent than they are here."
Dan nodded slowly. "I think he was wrong…" His voice held a bitter tone. "I prefer them on solid ground."
Mrs. Jo contemplated his words and eventually shrugged. "I think it would be nice to see them over the ocean… at least once in your life." Her voice began to crack. Dan's sight had finally adjusted to the darkness and he looked over, Mrs. Jo's eyes swollen, her cheeks still glistened with heartbroken tears.
"I guess," he replied, his anger growing. He hated seeing Mrs. Jo so upset. And what was worse was the fact that Dan could do nothing. The fates were cruel; she had already lost her husband and Dan had to watch her deal with the pain of his death. Now they were all reliving that pain – this time, to a deeper level. Nick didn't have to leave; he didn't need that job aboard the Athena. And now those living had to deal with what could have been.
A silence fell over the roof, one that seemed heavy; so many unspoken things hung in the air. Dan couldn't bare to talk about them. For Mrs. Jo's sake, he told himself, but he knew deep down, he wasn't ready to deal with the burden. He had said some things, some awful things, that he knew had hurt Nick.
On a daily basis, his mind ran over that conversation - or fight as Bess would correct him. Dan had been right - he knew Nick should have never left. He knew that it was too dangerous to go back to sea. Dan would have never taken that kind of risk - not when he had family at home, waiting for him. There were so many people who depended on Nick… the school… Mrs. Jo… Dan. And now the wait would never end; they would have to find someone else to depend on.
"I tried to send a telegram to Ben…" Mrs. Jo said finally, her eyes closed, her face creased with concern. "The shipping company said he was on his way to England so I'm not sure when he'll receive it."
"I'm sure they'll let him know, at some point." Dan tried to reassure her - she didn't need something else to worry about. "They've gotta be used to givin' people that kind of news." Dan shook his head, his frustration building. So many people left behind. "Just someone else he let down…" He knew his words were sharp and resentful, a small release of the pain.
Mrs. Jo suddenly turned to him, grabbing his hands, squeezing them with gentle concern. "Dan," her voice was filled with emotion, almost a desperate plea. "I know you're angry with Nick, but his decision to leave wasn't made entirely on his own. You can't keep blaming him."
Dan stared hard at the broken woman before him. He couldn't take it anymore. "I know ya think this is your fault, Mrs. Jo," he started, his own voice strained, trying to hold back the angry tears he had been keeping in for days. "But Nick made his own decision. He could have stayed with us - if he really wanted to."
Dan could see tears starting to fall down Mrs. Jo's cheeks, her grip on his hand tightening. He could tell she was holding onto the guilt, trying to make sense of it. "If he hadn't gone, he would have regretted it. And what kind of future would he have had with that kind of burden?"
Dan couldn't handle all of the emotions, his anger overwhelming, his own regrets fueling the fire. He could no longer stand to watch Mrs. Jo beat herself up over someone else's unforgivable actions. He couldn't share in her pain when it was seemingly misdirected. Guilt and anger were confusing – Dan felt both, but it was difficult to understand why. Exhausted and exasperated, he stood, moving to leave Mrs. Jo where he had found her moments earlier; trying to escape to the solace of bed. When she didn't protest, he turned with one last attempt at reason. "Thanks to Nick, I guess we'll never know what future we all might have had…"