Chapter Three
Of Knights and Fair Maidens
Several glass eyes stare back at me as I survey the dolls lined up on my bed. Some of them look curious, as if they know that this is no ordinary visit. They're a strange collaboration: Meg's carefully combed, Jo's tattered and tangled despite my best efforts to nurse them back to health. I have even rescued some of Amy's, when she declared that she was too old for such things and threw them into the ragbag.
There are seven girls in the Hummel family - plus the baby, but she is too young for a doll just yet. Besides, I only have eight, and I don't know if I can manage to part with all of them. I pick out Meg's dolls first, since they are in the best condition.
"Bree," I whisper, carefully setting aside the doll in the laciest dress. "Sarah." Sarah was a gift from Father. I hold her for a moment and set her onto the bed. Mary is next - Amy's china doll from Aunt March, back in the days when she still believed Father could make something of himself. Soon they are all laid out, except for Susan who stays on my bed. She is a little rag doll who belonged to Marmee when she was a girl, and she is special to me. I bite my lip and look between her and Sarah. One of them will have to go. I switched Sarah with Susan, but the rag doll looks so sad among the others, that I exchange them again.
"Beth!" Jo called up the stairs, "Hurry down! It's almost time."
I smile. Jo is so excited about her play. "I'll be back." I whisper to the dolls.
There is a great deal of bustle getting ready for the play. Costumes are donned, props are gathered, placed, broken, re-gathered and replaced. The curtain is hung in the attic, where the play is to take place. It is not going to be very big - only Marmee and Hannah.
Perhaps that is why I am so surprised when I hear a boy's voice. I peek from behind the curtain, and I'm quite sure my heart misses a beat. Marmee is talking to the Laurence boy. He sits down on the folded up bed next to Marmee, looking all arms and legs, and I scurry in the other room.
"The Laurence boy is here!" I whisper fiercely to Jo.
"What!" Meg's eyes widen.
Jo's eyes sparkle and she fondly calls Marmee a "brick" for inviting him. Amy and Meg nearly mutiny, saying it is "childish" and "improper," and I can't say anything at all, because my stomach is churning.
In the end, it is hastily decided by Jo and forced onto the rest of us that "the show must go on.
And it does. Amy is the fair princess and Meg plays her strict father. Jo flies about, changing hats to play both the villain and the hero. I portray Amy's servant, and then a kind monk with one line, and finally the angel that comes to take the poor princess away after the villain kills her and her hero laments her loss. Jo has written me a splendid monologue about virtue and grace, and I know it by heart. But I catch sight of the Laurence boy who's grinning like he's enjoying a great joke, and suddenly I can't remember any of it, except for the last line. "Come away with me to the heavens where bliss awaits." I choke it out and nearly drag Amy toward the door. The Laurence boy laughed outright, and Marmee tries not to, and Amy becomes upset at being treated like a ragdoll and stands up, catching her costume on the castle tower. It crashes down on top of us.
Amy lands on my chest and knocks my breath out, her hair falling into my mouth, but still managed to time it to where her face looks out the back of the castle window up at the ceiling. Jo and the Laurence boy lift it off of us, and if that isn't enough excitement, the trundle bed chooses that moment to snap shut, swallowing Hannah alive. Jo and Marmee fly to her rescue, and I feel a strong hand grab mine and pull me to my feet.
"That's quite a heaven, little angel," the black-haired boy teases.
"That," cries Jo, wiping away tears of laughter, "is the absolute worse play I have ever put on." Her words choked off into laughter and soon the rest of them are laughing as well.
"And that," says the Laurence boy, "is the best play that I have ever seen."
Another time I might be laughing too, but the boy still has my hand, and my face is heating.
Jo rescued me. "Well, Mr. Laurence."
"Laurie," the boy corrects.
An amused smile lights up Jo's face, and I wish that I could be as comfortable with people as she is. "Laurie Laurence? That is quite a name."
Laurie only grins more, "Well, it's actually Theodore, but I hate it. The boys at school called me "Dora," so I made them call me Laurie instead."
"I wish I could make Aunt March call me Jo instead of Josephine. How did you do it?"
"I thrashed them." Laurie says so calmly that Meg's eyes widen in surprise.
Jo laughs outright, and Hannah steps into the room, "If the young ladies will be pleased to come down, we have a treat for them downstairs," She turns away, mumbling under her breath, "Or several."
"What is it?" Amy jumps over the fallen tower and rushes down the stairs, forgetting that she is "grown up."
"Laurie?" Jo's eyes sparkle. "You wouldn't hit a girl, will you?"
"Of course not!"
"Good!" Jo takes his arm, "Then I'm going to call you Teddy."
"Oh Jo! Beth!" Amy's ecstatic voice distracts me from Laurie's surprised face, "Come see! There's ice cream and cake and bonbons and . . . and. . . ." She fades off, apparently overwhelmed by happiness of whatever else there is.
Jo sends a surprised look toward Laurie, who tries to look innocent, and the two rush down the stairs together. I stand alone in the attic, surrounded by the remains of Jo's fairytale, wondering what is happening, but afraid to go. I have met twelve new people today, and it is far too much to handle.
I sit on the bed, wondering if it will close on me too, and wait for my hands to stop trembling. Happy chatter and cries of delight floats up, and I smile, feeling special to have this family and to live in this house and for everything else. I have so much. I know better now than ever, after visiting the Hummels, and I quietly vow never to complain again.
"Where's Beth?" I heard Jo's voice as she finally realizes I am not down there.
I stand up and take a breath. It is time to grow up. It is time to be brave. After all, it is only one boy. That thought makes my heart stop, but I try to ignore it as I pick up my skirt and step onto the top step. "I'm here!"
On a normal night, Jo might be depressed at the failure of her play, but she is more interested in Laurie - or Teddy, as she laughingly calls him all night. Amy's attention is focused on the ice cream at the beginning, but soon she grows bold and full enough, to sit in the chair near the sofa where Laurie tells Jo about Italy and what it is like to live there. Meg disappears upstairs to take out her hair ribbons and erase all traces of the play, while Jo seems to forget that she has drawn a mustache above her lips, and Laurie remains too polite to mention it.
I stay busy with Hannah until Laurie speaks about the opera in Italy. I want so badly to hear what it is like that I crawl into my corner by the fire and keep myself busy knitting socks for Father so that I won't have to look at him.
I feel like Christian from Pilgrim's Progress after he struggles so hard and arrives at the house Beautiful.
The next day, however, I decide that it must have really been Vanity Fair, for Jo is too busy plotting ways to see Laurie again to clean up the mess from her play, Meg has decided she is becoming too old to act anymore, and Amy has eaten so many sweets the night before that she moans over a horrible stomach ache and snaps at everyone.
Jo has often said that she envies my temper, and that I have the patience of a saint, but I don't really. When Meg announces her retirement to Jo, and Jo panics asking who will act the lady's part, Amy suggests that Laurie could do the men and Jo could do the lady's part. I try to calm them before it turns into an argument, but Amy snaps at me, and Jo turns onto her. After Marmee rather forcefully calms the storm, I take my basket of dolls and slip out the door. No one think anything of it, since I often take the dolls for a walk.
My boots crunch through the snow, and I count steps to avoid thinking about where I am going. My feet soon grew cold and wet, and I look back over my dolls, all staring up curiously at me. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders as I glance back at the house, before rounding the corner. Jo is throwing snowballs at Laurie's window. I am glad that she had a new friend, although thinking about him makes a strange, burning feeling in my chest.
The Hummel's miserable house comes into view before I am ready for it to, and I stop. The silver platter is still over the window, and I can hear the baby crying. I had intended to leave the dolls on the steps and run away before they saw me but the boy, Ahren, is out with Mary, who wanted the doll. They are building a snowman. Mary wears Marmee's shawl over her shoulders, but Ahren has nothing, except the same clothing he had yesterday.
Mary runs toward the edge of the woods. A change comes over Ahren's face where pain replaces his smile. He blows on stiff fists, but the moment Mary turns back toward him, the look is gone, and he seems as jolly as ever.
The girl calls out something in German, and the only word I understand is "Ahren." Waving a stick, Mary runs back to the snowman to jab it into the body of the snowball.
"Ahren!" Lotchen screams from the door. "Where's Mary?"
"She's here with me," Ahren calls back.
"Mother wants her to come in. She shouldn't be out in the cold."
"I want to be outside!" Mary protests.
"I don't care," Lotchen yells back. "You must come back in! You'll become ill!"
"Ahren!" Mary turns back to him and reverts back to German, pleading with him. He shakes his head, and she blows a breath, dragging her feet on the way back onto the porch.
Mrs. Hummel appears in the door, looking worn and ill. "Ahren!" Her German words make her sound angry, but I think she is only tired. Ahren sighs and pulls the stick from the snowman, leaving it armless and faceless, and hurries into the house. The door shuts.
It only takes a moment for me to set the basket down near the door and step back, but the door opens before I can run away. Ahren nearly stumbles over the basket, and I grab it as it falls from the step and dumps the dolls.
He stars at it and at me. I look away, thinking of dropping the basket and running.
Neither of us can say anything, and it isn't until his mother calls that he left the door opened, that he shuts it.
"I . . ." my mouth had gone dry, and I suddenly wondered why in the world I came. I thrust the basket toward him. "I … brought your sisters…"
He stares at me, as though I am offering a chest full of gold and he doesn't know what to do with it. Wordlessly, he opens the door and clumsily ushers me in.
Mary doesn't give me time to feel awkward. She stares at Sarah. "Is that . . . are those for us?"
I nod and extend the doll. The entire house is quiet, except for the baby, who squeals. Mary steps slowly up and takes the doll, brushing the white lace with her fingers. "She's..." Her word is lost in the breath that leaves her, and I smile, glad that I came. The next moment I am swarmed by eager hands all reaching up for a doll. I pass them out, unsure of who gets whom, but it doesn't really matter. The little girls squeal, Lotchen looks a bit uneasy, and Ahren smiles just a little. Mary sinks down, staring at the doll and stroking her face. Not all of the children are so gentle with theirs, and I turn away as one of the little ones clutches happily onto Anne, until I think she will tear the doll's head off.
"I – have to go," I stutter. Mary's face is worth all of the dolls together, but I have no desire to watch any of them be torn up by eagerness. "I must go home."
Ahren kicks the door back open for me, and I step toward onto the porch. Arms encircled my legs, and I glance down where the five-year-old smiles up at me. I stroked her hair. She hugs Anne and bites her lip, swaying her body eagerly back and forth.
Ahren steps outside and I follow. He seemed to take an extra long time shutting the door, for the children is gone, and the uneasiness has returned. I whisper 'goodbye' and hurry away.
A light snow has already filled my tracks, but I try to step in them on the way back. I am not very far from the Hummels, when I hear my name.
Ahren had followed me. His steps slow as he comes near, and he glances all around me and down at the faded ribbon in his hand.
He looks absolutely terrified for a moment, before he forced himself to make eye contact, his pupils flickering as if they're unaccustomed to the act. "This is for you." His accent comes out so heavily, for a moment, I think that he is speaking German. Faded and frayed, a blue ribbon dangles between us.
I reach for the gift. "Thank you."
My hand brushes his and my cheeks burn. He swallows and his mouth opens, but he says nothing. Nodding, he turns to hurry away, sticking his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.
I hold the ribbon, wondering where he had gotten it, and why he has given it to me. My mind spins. This is silly. I shouldn't feel so flustered. Jo always writes about heroines, whose heart pound and swoon at a prince's eyes. But they were in love. I am just shy. Still, I stroke the ribbon and slip it into my pocket, thinking that Ahren has very pretty blue eyes. Somewhere I hope that perhaps, perhaps I can see him again and we can be friends - like Jo is with Laurie.
