"No." Amy was firm with her decision and no amount of wheedling would change her mind.
"Amy, please, love, its children." He'd given her a little over two years and she wouldn't allow herself to wonder if he counted.
"I know, but the answer is no. I never want to experience that again." Amy let the swing of her arm suggest the ferocity of her anger, having let only a minute part enter her voice. She would be calm and decisive. Extremely decisive for it was Laurie and she could never deny him. "I want you to let me say 'no' to this one thing Laurie. This one thing."
He'd dealt with her quiet anger before, but this time it was different, it was never because she took a stance. Ultimately it was her choice and if she didn't want children there was no way for him to.
"Very well." It was curt and clipped. He could hurt too.
…
Jo was swinging beside him and if he closed his eyes tightly enough he could pretend they never became the people they'd become. Jo wouldn't be married to that old fool and Amy would be content with five children, none of his own. The hand that clutched his would be the one that reared and loved for him.
But then Laurie would look down at the dizzy slow and speed of the ground beneath his swinging legs and Jo's brown dress and reality would hit with the nausea.
He felt Jo's head fall on his shoulder and he knew she didn't know what to say. It was well enough for he didn't want to hear it and Jo was always clumsy with words in serious situations. So he just squeezed the hand tighter and waited for her inevitable return of pressure, feeling his heart loosen in the comforting gesture.
"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.
He could feel her sad smile against the material of his shirt.
…
"Oh!" Jo tried to smile, failing miserably as her frown merely deepened.
"So he has told you," thought Amy when she saw the action that made her eldest sister mimic. "Yes, I decided to focus on my art and children are a terrible distraction from that sought of thing."
"Or a wonderful diversion," followed the bored voice of her husband. Amy knew better than to think he'd shut himself off from the world, for Jo would cast a tragic look his way and he would always, always catch it.
Her sister was fidgeting hopelessly, not a meter away from Laurie's chair and Meg was on her other side, balancing one twin and watching with a mother's concerned look as her husband spun about with the other not far off.
"Well, dear, as long as your happy and healthy I really don't think it matters too much. Although I am desperate to have my own nephews and nieces to fawn over, you and Jo have it so easy." Jo had initially nodded along with Meg's speech until the end where she just patted her sister's preoccupied arm.
"Oh yes, for those boys of mine just wake, eat, learn and then sleep. Honestly, Meg!" Jo laughed and rose. Laurie quickly followed, mumbling a quick excuse for air (although Amy thought he should have had plenty for they were sitting outdoors) and jogged off behind his searching sister-in-law.
"I just hope you remember she's your sister now," said Amy quietly while Meg bent to fish out something from her bag.
…
"So, Jo, where to now?"
"Hmm?" Jo turned around with a distracted look on her face. Laurie waited patiently for his answer until he realized she hadn't heard him at all.
"Oh this is fine!" he exclaimed, raising his arms in defeat. Jo's look turned harsh at his moodiness and Laurie wondered if he'd overstepped some invisible boundary, secretly hoping it would be worth his time.
"There's no need get all huffy, Laurie. I only misheard is all; repeat it and we shall be friends." Jo felt as though she was talking to one of the littlest in her pack of boys and from his expression, Laurie seemed stumped as how to react.
"Sorry." He scuffed the grass with his foot.
Jo sighed heavily, moving over to him. "No, Teddy, I'm sorry. It's just what Meg said… and now I can't find my boys."
"What about Meg?" Laurie asked, taking Jo's hands in his. It had become a fast habit and while it troubled Jo when he first begun it, she found his hand-holding one of the most comforting gestures she'd received.
"It's… well, never mind." Jo shook her head and meant to move away but Laurie held fast.
"Please, Jo. Don't we tell each other everything?"
Jo stared up at his handsome face, missing her Beth instantly, for the gentle sister always had time for wise, calming words to give to Jo in her times of need. And as Jo felt her face heat under her brother-in-law's own gaze she was sure Beth would decipher how Jo should act.
But Beth was gone and Jo had to learn how to get by with sneaking feelings and traitorous thoughts sparked by her dearest friend all by herself.
"It's about myself and Fritz," Jo began missing Laurie's look of disgust as she sat on the ground.
"Oh?" he joined her on the manicured grass. He was definitely going to have to sit down to listen to Jo talk about that man.
"We…" Jo cleared her throat, playing with her pinafore whilst she waited for the courage to say it aloud. "Fritz and I may not be able to have children ourselves."
Laurie watched Jo, hoping he misheard when she spoke so quickly. But she stared so resolutely ahead and he knew she was trying not to fall apart in front of him. "Oh, Jo…" he put his hand on her shoulder, noting that for the first time in years she didn't shrug it off. "I can't imagine your pain" he wanted to say, but Laurie did know and that made the moment all the more twisted for he brought his own previous confession alongside hers as his hand drifted down to her back.
He stopped it in the middle and Laurie saw Jo take a shaky breath. "Thank you." She said and Laurie gave a small, encouraging smile. Maybe in different circumstances they'd never have to cry together over spouses and lost successors. And yet as Jo's head bumped his shoulder again, Laurie hoped that maybe those circumstances weren't completely unreachable.