Jo turned the ring over and over between her fingers, firelight glinting off the silver as it spun around. She was supposed to be making a list for Asia; Thanksgiving dinner was just two weeks away and there was still so much to prepare. But as she sat at the parlor desk, the darkness in the room enveloped her and she couldn't focus on anything other than the delicate promise that lay in her hands.

Jo was finding these quiet moments the most difficult to deal with; she still expected to hear his footsteps behind her, feel his strong hands rest upon her shoulders. But a tedious piece that reminded her of the truth kept the wound open, forcing the acceptance of reality. She looked at the ring, the ache becoming unbearable and tears poured down her cheeks. At least in these quiet moments, she could allow herself to grieve - it was her time to express the loss without needing to be strong for anyone else.

After a few moments and several tears, she took a deep breath, placing the ring back around her neck and tried to concentrate on the page before her. Thanksgiving was going to be difficult - the holiday always had special meaning to her and had become the day that Nick had truly entered her life - the day he had decided to stay. The family needed the traditions to continue but she wasn't sure how they were going to carry on with that one seat empty.

Jo began to go through the supplies they would need for supper when a sharp knock on the front door startled her thoughts. Looking over at the clock, she noticed the hands had just turned over for the 11th hour. It was late and she couldn't fathom who would be calling at this time of night. Warily rising from her chair, the knocking continued and a nervousness overwhelmed her as she approached the door. After slowly turning the handle, Jo's breath caught in her throat.

As if in a dream, the door revealed the image her heart had been waiting for - Nick stood there, a somberness on his face but looking just as he had the night he left. Jo closed her eyes as her heart raced, wanting to believe it was real… he had returned. But the moment ended as quickly as it had come and as she opened her eyes again, the image of Nick faded.

She looked carefully at the new visitor and sighed as recognition poured over her. "Ben."

The younger Riley looked at her sheepishly, his face expressing the same grief she felt in her core. He was avoiding her eyes, but she could tell they were as teary as her own. "I was thinkin' it would be nice to spend Thanksgivin' with family this year," he whispered, his hands playing with the hat he held.

Jo smiled gently, opening the door wide to let him in. "Of course," she said as he stepped in, his pack thrown over his shoulder. "You know you are welcome any time."

He awkwardly stood in the foyer as Jo closed the door; it was obvious he wasn't sure what to say and Jo felt that he didn't need to. Their loss was the same and no words could fully express the pain. She simply squeezed his arm, letting him know that she understood. "My ship's docked in Boston," he said, running a hand through his hair; his mannerisms were so much like his older brother's. "There was a letter waitin' for me."

Jo nodded slowly, leaving the explanation there. "Would you like a cup of coffee? Asia put a fresh pot on the stove about 20 minutes ago."

Ben's face broke out into a grateful grin. "I love Asia's coffee." He dropped his pack and followed Jo towards the kitchen.

They made small talk, mostly about the weather and the school as Jo poured them each a cup. She grabbed the cookie jar, joining Ben at the table and smiled, watching him dig through Asia's cinnamon sugar cookies, greedily savoring the taste. Mid-bite, he stopped, a sadness coming to his eyes. "These are Nick's favorite."

Jo nodded, a lump forming in the back of her throat. "Asia makes them special for him - with extra cinnamon." She took a quick sip of her coffee to keep a choking sob from escaping.

"Our Ma used to make 'em – whenever we had the sugar," Ben sighed at the memory. "She'd always let Nick have the first one… she said it was cuz he was makin' sure they were cooled…" Ben chuckled. "But I knew it was that look he'd give her… she couldn't resist 'im."

Jo gave him a small smile and a silence fell over them as Ben finished his cookie. Jo noticed his hands shaking slightly and eventually reached out to grab one, trying to calm him. Ben smiled with appreciation. "I can't believe he's actually gone…" he said finally, giving Jo's fingers a squeeze and then reaching for his coffee. "I was shocked when he wrote and told me he was goin' to sea… I didn't think he'd ever go back."

Guilt washed over Jo. At her insistence, she had not only lost the man who had become her all, but Ben had lost his brother as well… the only real family he had. "Ben…" she started, the choking sob returning. She breathed in deeply and looked around the room - admission was so difficult.

"He's so happy here…"

"Ben…" Jo said firmly, stopping him. She looked him in the eye. "When he received a letter from the shipping company… the offer was… wonderful… it was giving him a chance to do something he loved. I just didn't want him to pass it up." She tried to explain but it just felt like a bunch of excuses. She shook her head, sighing. "He went back because I told him to… he went back because I didn't think we could move forward until he made sure…" The anguish began to stifle her voice. "... until I made sure he truly wanted to stay here."

Through her tears, she watched Ben mull over the details, preparing herself for the backlash. She deserved every ounce of his anger and resentment - she was the reason Nick was on the Athena. She owned that blame and he needed to know the truth.

Ben glanced around the room, avoiding Jo's gaze, his eyes glassy with emotion. "Nobody tells my brother what to do," he urged finally.

"Ben…" Jo grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her. "I was the one who persisted… I was the one who wouldn't let him say no…" she sobbed, her voice rising, "I was the one who made him go… I am the reason he's gone…"

The sudden smile that appeared on Ben's face was startling and Jo sat back in confusion as he chuckled. "You're givin' yourself too much credit," He swallowed hard and gave her hand a squeeze. "That man's pride is the reason he was on that ship… not you, Jo."

She wiped away a few of the tears that streamed down her face and shook her head. "I insisted… he really didn't want to go…"

Ben sighed and standing from his chair, Jo watched him pace, puzzled by his nervousness. "He'll kill me if he finds out I told you…" He finally stopped by the fireplace and turned. "Nick loves you, Jo… gawd… I ain't never seen him so over the moon for a girl. I swear, he'd move Heaven and Earth for ya..." Jo blushed at the comment, but the words just made the ache so much worse. "When he wrote me, tellin' me that he was going back to sea… he said he was gonna ask you to marry him."

This wasn't news… at least not to Jo. Her hand instinctively went to the chain around her neck, revealing the ring beneath. "He did…"

Ben smiled as he recognized the family heirloom. "But he told me he couldn't marry you until…" He sighed deeply and sat down beside Jo again. "Ya see… there's a shop… he said it was a little place down from Gerson's store…" Ben ran his hand through his hair, struggling with his words. "Nick wants to start a business… something of his own… somewhere he can fix things for folks in town. But he doesn't have the money for a down payment and the bank ain't gonna give him a loan until he has enough." Ben looked her in the eyes. "That's the reason he went back, Jo… he wants the money for the shop."

Jo shook her head in confusion. "But… he never mentioned anything. I - I could have helped him… we could have figured out a way to get the loan…" She didn't understand why he would put his life in danger for something that she could have helped him with – something they could have done together.

"He wants to provide for you, Jo… be able to make his own money and help support you and the school… a family." Ben chuckled and reached over, taking Jo's hand. "It's a proud man's dream but one that Nick would go back to sea for… one he'd risk his life for."

Jo stared at Ben, the guilt lightening but a new anguish filling its place. Nick was planning a life, a future for himself and Jo knew she was to be a part of that. All of his ambitions would now stay dreams, swept away by the winds of a storm, never to be fulfilled. She looked at Ben, the pain becoming too intense. "I miss him so much," she wept, burying her face in her hands.

Even as she cried, she knew the tears would never be enough. It never seemed to fill the hole that was permanently inside. She had figured that out quickly after Fritz, that his death had taken a part of her. But she was able to soothe the void with the school, the children - at least partially. This time around, it felt like an even bigger piece of herself had been stolen away and it was something she'd never be able to fill.

Ben's hand found hers and he gently pulled her into a hug. "Nick loves you very much, Jo," he whispered into her ear, her cries starting to subside. "Just hold onto that… have faith in it..." He looked at her. "Cuz I know he does…"

XXXXX

Dan pitched a pile of hay down from the loft, making note that they would need more before winter arrived. There would a lot to do this year, added responsibility on his shoulders as the boy tried to navigate the cold snap without a proper caretaker. Maybe Mrs. Jo will finally get around to posting for help, Dan thought, tossing another load out the door. He had missed a lot of school lately, trying to keep up with all of the chores around Plumfield, in reality trying to avoid Mrs. Jo's speeches about how they had to move on and while anger is normal, no one was really to blame when a tragedy like this happens. She was relentless, her constant words somewhat of a comfort for the other students but Dan wasn't in the mood to hear it. Speeches never got things done.

"Ya want any help?" Ben's voice cut through Dan's thoughts, the younger Riley standing below the loft door.

Dan shook his head adamantly, his eyes focused on the hay. "Nope, I'm good." Since Ben's arrival almost two weeks earlier, he had been following Dan around, taking over some of the heavier duties. While he should have been grateful, Dan felt like help coming from Ben was an annoyance, just more of Mrs. Jo's persistence. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone?

Ben ignored the response and picked up a pitchfork that lay against the barn, tossing the hay that was sat the ground, into a large heap. The two worked in silence for a few moments before Ben finally spoke.

"I get why yer mad," he said with another bunch of hay hurled onto the mound.

"I ain't mad," Dan argued through gritted teeth.

Ben turned towards him, resting his arm against the handle of the pitchfork. "Sure ya are…"

Dan groaned with exasperation. "Why does everybody keep sayin' that?" He stopped his work and scowled at Ben. "I ain't mad at Nick so would ya just leave it alone?"

"I know yer not mad at him," Ben replied, his stare solid. "You are mad at yourself."

Dan glared at him for a few moments, his anger alighting with thought. The idea was ridiculous. He wasn't mad at himself. He was mad at the fact that he had so many responsibilities, so many things that he to had to get done. He was mad that he had been left to shoulder it all when all he wanted to do was yell and scream and make people understand that none of it was fair. It wasn't fair that Nick had left; it wasn't fair that he was never coming back. Staring down at the hay, Dan returned to the work. Nobody knew how he felt – especially Ben – how could they?

Shaking his head, Ben smiled and pitched another fork-full into the air. "Ya know, our Pa had to travel a bit when we were kids," he began, head back down. "We lived 'bout 4 hours from the nearest town and he'd take Nick or I with 'im to pick up supplies and sell stuff from the farm. It was lot of fun - a break from the regular chores and he'd tell us stories along the way. Sometimes we'd even get a treat at the store."

Dan could see a sudden slump in Ben's shoulders, his mood changing with the words. "Then this one time, I was about 10, Nick musta been 12 or so… it was supposed to be my turn to go. I was so excited. I was gonna get licorice…" Ben said, a sad smile on his face. "But my Pa left without me. He was gone before I even woke up."

"I was so mad at him – fumed all day, gettin' more and more angry until he came home." Ben stopped, staring off into the memory. "I laid into him so bad – arguin' until I almost got a whippin'. Got sent to bed without supper - that made me even madder. I refused to talk to 'im." Ben looked up into the loft; Dan could see the tears even from far away. "He was the first to get sick a couple days after… then my sister and my Ma. He knew about the epidemic in town. He was afraid I'd catch it." Ben sighed, returning to the task at hand. "They all passed away 'bout a week later. That's when the Sheriff from town sent Nick and I to Baltimore… didn't even get the chance to say good-bye."

Dan stood silently for several moments, the scrape of Ben's pitchfork resonating in his ears. His eyes began to sting, his breath starting to quicken. He tried swallowing down the guilt and justify himself. "But if your Pa knew about everythin' in town, he shouldn't have gone."

"But ya see, he had to…" Ben replied with another toss of hay. "It took a lotta years and a lot more anger to understand that. We needed the supplies and there was business to do in town… he was taking care of his family."

Dan choked back a small sob, the truth finally plain to him. Nick had tried to explain his purpose, tried to make the boy see why he had to go. He was trying to take care of his own family. But Dan refused to listen, refused to see reason. Those harsh words spoken as last ones would be a burden for the rest of his life.

The guilt withdrew all of Dan's energy and dropping the pitchfork, he slumped to the loft floor, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. He took deep breaths trying to regain some composure as Ben continued to move the hay below.

"How do you stop bein' angry at yourself?" he said finally, the words barely audible.

Ben paused and glanced up; his face softened. "You gotta realize that they wouldn't want you to carry that with ya… that they aren't angry so why should you be? It's hard but you gotta remember that they are proud of ya – no matter what happens or where they are."

XXXXX

Jo inhaled the chilly night air, a blanket tucked tightly around her shoulders as she gazed towards the heavens. The stars were out in full show, their light giving her comfort. In some strange way, she could feel his presence, as if the twinkling above was sending back a small message for her. The hours he had spent teaching her about each star, the constellations and how the light seemed to travel through the infinite vastness above – the awe of it all seemed to make itself understood that night on the roof.

The day had been rough, Jo knowing the one to follow would be much worse. She tried to keep herself busy with plans for Thanksgiving Day, helping Asia to cook and giving the children tasks to occupy them. But she had been on edge during that time, each part of the meal prepared, each dish laid out drawing her closer to tears. When Tommy appeared, mentioning a few loose boards on the chicken coop, she barely had time to excuse herself from the kitchen before racing upstairs and crumbling against her bed quilt.

She had been at the breaking point before – the time after Fritz's death, trying to get on with the day to day, trying to keep it all in and stay strong. She knew where that had got her – locked up in her room, not knowing where to turn. She felt the same inability to focus, the difficulty in taking each breath. She felt the unsteady climb, like every time she tried to move forward, she went nowhere but back. Eventually, the pain of losing her husband had lessened with time and Jo was able to find joy within the grief. There were moments to fill the void – another love to help mend her heart. How unfair it was to find herself at the bottom once more.

You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea… Beth had spoken those words to her before she had passed. Jo found it difficult to be the gull in the moment. It was difficult to be strong in the face of all that she had lost… her sweet Beth, dear Fritz… Nick. She did feel like she was flying far out to sea – but uncontrollably, the winds flipping her over and over in the unending turmoil of a storm. It had become such a tiresome cycle, picking herself up and carrying on for those necessary moments until it all came undone again.

Ben's arrival had been a blessing. He stepped in to work along side Dan – after only a few days, the boy's own heart seemed lighter. It was a comfort to have Ben around; Jo could see it in all of the children – the same kind spirit seemed to live in the Riley's. And after several hours in her room, Jo emerged to find her students in the large oak by the barn, along with Ben, making good progress on the treehouse. "Nick would be so proud," she had told them, the approval seemed to fuel them on and move them forward.

Finding herself drawn to the Widow's Walk again that night, the chaos in her head began to clear as the stars above signaled their importance. The sky is ours… he had told her – the light always there regardless of cloud or storm. Even if Jo could only see darkness, the stars shone in some part of their endless existence. And maybe somewhere Nick was even seeing that light. Jo smiled at the thought, tucking herself deeper into the blankets on top of the roof. "The sky is ours," she whispered into the night air. "Always…"

** Author's Note: The quote from Beth is from Alcott's Good Wives, the chapter titled "Beth's Secret".

The last piece of this chapter was inspired by the music of Sleeping At Last – specifically the tracks "Sorrow" and "Saturn". I truly believe that music can enhance literature, especially when writing.

Sleeping At Last has some amazing music and it pairs well while reading these pieces. **