Great or Nothing, page 25
“Phew,” Molly sighed, leaning against Jo’s vanity turned makeshift desk. “That was close.”
“Molly, what are you up to?” Jo hated how much she sounded like Ruth or Evelyn, but she couldn’t be like Anna, turning her back on Molly’s strange behavior. Not anymore, when she was hiding her in her room from Mrs. Wilson! She didn’t want to admit what a welcome distraction it was from the fact that Charlie hadn’t answered any of her letters as of late. But it was that, too.
“I’m not up to anything,” Molly said, like she always did.
“Is it a fella?” Jo pressed, trying to sound understanding. “One of the airmen?”
Molly rolled her eyes. “I may like to dance and flirt, but I have grander plans, thank you very much.”
Jo gestured for her to take a seat at the vanity, taking the edge of her bed in turn. “Do those grand plans have to do with all these late nights? All the girls have noticed. I think all of us have covered for you at some point.”
“And I appreciate it,” Molly said. “I’m happy to do it in return. Though you never seem to get farther than the garden in your late-night excursions.”
Jo flushed. “I just like to look at the sky, is all. I have a feeling you’re doing more than that.”
Molly stared at her hands. The silence that followed wasn’t unpleasant, but there was a heaviness that made Jo wonder what was to come.
“Do you ever think about it, Jo?” Molly asked. “What you’re going to do after all this?”
“Sometimes.”
“My father, he talks about me coming home after the war is over like it’s a given,” Molly said.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Jo knew those were brave words from a girl who felt anything but. Was she a hypocrite for offering them?
“No, it doesn’t,” Molly said, her mouth flattening with determination. “My mother taught piano lessons after she married my father. But she went to a conservatory. She was a wonderful musician. One of her old teachers retired in Hartford. I looked him up when I moved here. He offered to give me lessons. So that’s where I go on Thursdays.”
“So late?” Jo asked skeptically.
“Sometimes I stay for dinner with him and his wife,” Molly explained. “I usually miss the first bus and have to walk a ways to the next stop. Goodness, Jo, what did you think—that I was doing something salacious? What an imagination you have.”
Jo shrugged. “I don’t know! You have been sneaking in awfully late for months now. Ruth and Evelyn both have been worried.”
“Monsieur Dubois may be a musical genius, but he is nearly seventy!” Molly giggled.
“So is your plan to become a musician someday?” Jo asked.
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “I just…My mother said she never regretted giving it up. Because she got me. And that’s sweet, isn’t it?”
“It’s lovely,” Jo said.
“But I don’t know if I’d feel the same way. I think I would regret it. Not trying. I want to see if I’m made of the right stuff. Otherwise I’ll wonder forever.”
Jo understood Molly perfectly. She’d thought she’d lost her spark for writing. It was reignited when Charlie came into her life, but she feared it wasn’t enough to become the full flame it had been.
“Some eternal wonders are good ones, while others haunt,” Jo said.
“That’s exactly it,” Molly said. “My father doesn’t understand. He wanted me to give up music after my mother died. But it’s in me, just as it was in her. I think he was relieved when I fibbed about wanting to work in the parachute factory. At least it wasn’t music.”
“You shouldn’t give it up,” Jo said. “Not if it’s what you want.”
Molly smiled. “You’re a good friend, Jo.”
“I won’t tell anyone about where you go,” Jo promised. “Though I’m sure the other girls would understand, too.”
Molly got up from the vanity stool. “I should sneak into my room before I get caught during Mrs. Wilson’s final pass of the house.”
She hesitated at the door. “But, Jo, why were you up so late?”
Jo pasted on a smile, that horrible twinge in her stomach back. “I was just writing letters,” she said. “Nothing important.”
The lie felt like chalk in her mouth.
Thread
Sometimes
I wish
I’d left something behind
besides grief.
Something important.
Words on a page,
paint on a canvas,
students molded by my faith in them.
But instead I danced
fingers upon ivory,
music a thread entwining us,
but the notes only hung in the air
for a moment before fading away.
The thread broke.
The Marches scattered.
CHAPTER 25
AMY
Amy trudged back to the hotel in a daze, hardly noticing the wind that chapped at her cheeks. It all made sense to her now, the giant chasm that had split Jo and Laurie apart. He had proposed.
And she had turned him down.
Amy started to piece it together in her head. No wonder Laurie hadn’t written to her after he joined the military. He’d probably wanted to put everything in Concord out of his mind, the Marches in particular. He really must’ve loved Jo.
Did he love her still? Those kinds of emotions didn’t simply go away. Would he marry Jo now if she changed her mind?
Amy pulled her coat tight around her, wanting to vanish into it. Would she always be second best to Jo in absolutely everything?
She returned to the Hotel Royale, feeling the loneliest kind of blue. Inside the building, the air smelled of cinnamon and spice and the wood-burning fire. A dozen girls had gathered in the common room to exchange little trinkets and open up packages that they’d gotten from home, while Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” played over the record player. It reminded Amy of her sisters all heaped on top of each other during the holidays, but those memories felt so far away. So distant.
One of the other Clubmobilers beckoned for Amy to join in and patted the seat beside her, but Amy declined and said she wasn’t feeling well. She just wanted to wipe the lipstick off her mouth and curl up in bed.
What a merry Christmas it would be.
She slogged upstairs, shedding her outer winter layer as she climbed, unwinding her scarf and pushing her hat off her head. Hopefully, Edie and Marion had other plans for the next few hours, because Amy wanted to cry in private. But as she drew closer to their room, she heard their voices.
Heated voices.
Amy opened the door to find the two of them facing off for battle. Edie was holding a white envelope in her hand, keeping it just out of Marion’s reach.
“You give that back! You had no right!” Marion cried, reaching for the letter again. Her eyes flew to meet Amy’s. “Edie has gone mad. She stole my mail and read it!”
Amy dropped her scarf to the floor. Oh no. Didn’t she tell Edie to put off their prank until they had talked things over?
Edie fended off Marion and hurried toward Amy. “Do you know why Marion has been so cagey about her boyfriend?”
“Edie, stop!” Marion said, finally snatching the letter out of Edie’s fingertips. Her eyes looked wild, but there was something else in her gaze, too. Not only anger, but fear. “Don’t do this.”
But Edie barreled on. “Because he’s Japanese! The letter was signed ‘James Kinoshita,’ and it gets worse from there. He’s incarcerated.”
Marion was on the verge of tears by then. “You should bother reading the paper sometime! Our own government has been rounding up people like James and tossing them behind barbed-wire fences.”
“What would you expect after Pearl Harbor?” Edie countered. “Sailors like Bobby never came home because of people like your little beau.”
“Stop it!” Amy tried to wedge herself between the two of them, like Meg used to do when she and Jo had one of their spats, but it was useless. Edie and Marion just talked around her.
“James had nothing to do with Pearl Harbor!” Marion shouted. “He’s an American through and through, like you and me. Like Bobby.”
Edie shouted right back. “Bobby was a hero! Don’t you dare make comparisons. No wonder you’ve been keeping James a secret this whole time. Didn’t want us knowing you were dating a traitor, huh?”
Marion flinched, like she had been slapped, but a scant second later, she rounded her shoulders and said, “I’ve been in love with that ‘traitor’ since we were seventeen years old.” Her gaze roamed to Amy, iron in her eyes. “You’ve got anything to add?”
“Rosie agrees with me,” Edie insisted. She turned toward Amy, awaiting her assent.
But Amy faltered, her thoughts all jumbled. She wanted to say that Marion’s boyfriend wasn’t a traitor. She wanted to say that Edie was in the wrong. The words sat on the tip of her tongue—all she had to do was release them—and yet she couldn’t seem to muster the courage.
“I think we should all take a breather,” Amy said weakly, echoing what Meg had said to her and Jo during their big fight.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Marion muttered. She made a beeline for the door and was sure to slam it behind her.
“Good riddance!” Edie said, still fuming. “Can you believe that we’ve been sharing a room with someone like that?”
Amy whirled around to look Edie in the eye. “What were you thinking by opening her mail?”
“I was trading out the real letter for a fake one! It was supposed to give Marion a scare that her beloved James was breaking things off with her.” Edie’s eyes went narrow. “Might I remind you that you were in on the prank.”
“I didn’t know what you had planned! In any case, I thought we were going to talk this through first.”
“You were busy,” Edie said defensively. “And Marion needed to eat some humble pie—you said that yourself.”
“I didn’t mean for all this to happen!”
Heat crept up Edie’s face. “Are you taking her side? I thought we were friends!”
“We are friends,” Amy said automatically. Weren’t they? She wasn’t so sure anymore.
“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” Edie’s face flushed pink and she yanked on her coat. “I’m leaving.”
Amy slumped against the dresser, feeling numb and hollowed out, but that didn’t last long. Her eyes soon landed on the drawing that she had made for Laurie, which was still rolled up with a pretty ribbon, and suddenly she snapped. Before she knew it, she had lurched onto her feet, grabbed ahold of the thing, and torn it down the middle. Then she did it again. And again.
By the time she was finished, her breaths had grown labored and her drawing lay in front of her in pieces, but she didn’t feel much better at all.
Amy slung the coat over her shoulders anyway and bolted down the stairs and onto the street. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be out or how far she’d go. She knew only that she had to head away from the Thames, because it would remind her too much of her walk with Laurie. So north she went, cutting through Marylebone, until she reached Regent’s Park. She wandered around the grounds for a long while, a lone figure against the leafless trees and the brown grass. The war had left its mark here as well. German bombs had pockmarked the ground, flattening the rolling lawns that the Victorians had favored and making the park smell like dirt and dead leaves.
Amy kept hoping that the cold wind would clear her head, but her thoughts refused to leave her be. She had started the day feeling so brave, but all that bravery had left her when she needed it most—fleeing from Laurie’s room when she saw Jo’s letter and biting her tongue when Edie had said those terrible things.
Her courage had failed her.
No, Amy thought miserably. I failed myself.
She kept going, taking step after step, telling herself that the pain in her heart would surely ebb at some point; it had to lessen, even if only a smidge.
But it didn’t. Indeed, now her feet were aching and her fingers had grown numb, and only then did she release a little whimper and turn back.
What she would give to trade this Christmas for one from her past. More than anything, she wanted to be home in Concord, with the house smelling of cookies and plum pudding. Marmee would be salting the potatoes in the kitchen while Father would try to pour himself another eggnog without anyone noticing. Beth, as always, would be sitting at the piano, playing a jazzed-up version of “Joy to the World” while Jo would make up some bawdy lyrics to replace the original ones. Meanwhile, Meg and Amy would whirl around to the music, spinning and spinning until they got too dizzy and fell onto the living room rug, laughing the whole time.
As a kid, she’d always thought that their Christmases were humdrum. Far too dull and a little too ordinary. She’d daydream about growing up and spending her holidays in some far-off place. Hollywood or New York. Maybe even Rome or London.
What a fool she’d been.
Forcing herself back to the hotel, Amy tried to ignore the blisters on her heels, but her dread only multiplied when she turned down the last block and spotted Laurie immediately. He was standing in front of the building, huddled in his flight jacket, his crutch under one arm and a wrapped box under the other.
Warring emotions tore through Amy’s chest. A part of her wanted to throw her arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder while the other part told her to spin around and sprint in the opposite direction.
It was too late for that, though. He had already seen her.
“Everything all right? When you didn’t show up at the hospital, I figured something must’ve happened,” he said, making his way toward her and holding out his gift. “This is for you.”
She murmured a thanks, her heartbeat a flutter. Here was her chance to be brave. She ought to seize the opportunity and ask him about Jo. But Amy felt her resolve slipping away again—she didn’t want to admit to him how she had found out about the proposal in the first place. “I’m sorry. I guess I woke up this morning and decided I’d rather be alone.”
“On Christmas?” Hurt flashed over his face, and for a moment he looked ready to leave, but something held him back. His eyes had zeroed in on her hands, so very cold and red, and he took them into his. “How long have you been outside? You’re freezing.”
“I needed the fresh air,” Amy said through chattering teeth. She told herself to pull away and flee inside already, but her feet remained planted on the pavement. It felt wonderful to be this close to him, and it took everything she had not to bury her face against his collarbone and ask him to hold her tight.
“Does this have to do with Beth?” he said as he massaged the warmth back into her fingers. “Christmas can’t be easy without her. I should’ve realized that before.”
Amy almost laughed. For once, this wasn’t about Beth—it was about him.
Because Laurie was so perfect in every way. He even smelled like peppermint.
It was too much for her to take.
“I should get going,” she said, wrenching away.
“Wait!” He caught her by the elbow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Everything is wrong, you foolish, wonderful boy, she thought as she fought off tears. She wouldn’t let them spill.
“Please,” she whispered. “Let me go, Laurie.”
He released her, but had one more thing to say. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She raced away and burst into the hotel, taking the steps two at a time until she reached her room. Thankfully, it was empty—Marion and Edie were nowhere in sight—so Amy threw herself onto the bed and let everything out. Her shoulders shook, and her eyes pooled with tears, and she didn’t know how to stop them.
She yearned for her sisters.
How she needed Jo’s strength.
And Meg’s comfort.
And Beth…
She just wanted Beth returned to them, alive and whole, because everything had fallen apart without her.
* * *
Amy wanted to lie low for the rest of the week. As soon as she got off a shift, she dove under her covers and emerged only to use the washroom or steal a knob of cheese from the kitchen. Edie did ask her once if she was coming down with the flu, but aside from that they barely spoke. Marion, on the other hand, had said nothing at all to either of them. After their bitter fight on Christmas Day, she had moved up to the fifth floor, and apparently she had put in a transfer to a Clubmobile in Leicester.
New Year’s Eve soon arrived, but Amy was in no mood to count down the seconds to ’43. A few of the other girls had made a bet to see how many dance halls they could visit in one night, and they’d invited Amy to tag along, but she said that she had letters to write.
“What ever happened to that nice pilot who kept calling on you?” one of them asked with a wide grin. “Does he have anyone to smooch at midnight?”
Amy gave a shrug. She hadn’t seen or heard from Laurie since Christmas, and she told herself that it was for the best. It would be too painful otherwise. Laurie was welcome to kiss whomever he wanted to tonight—but it wouldn’t be her. She refused to be second best to Jo.
And Amy had her own plans for the evening, didn’t she? There were plenty of books to choose from in the common room and she could curl up with a great big mug of tea. It would be downright cozy.
“Who am I kidding?” Amy whispered to herself. Her night would be absolute dullsville if she stayed in. She’d been sulking for days already, and she was tired of crying and moping. For all she knew, Laurie could’ve had three dates lined up that night, all of them with pretty nurses he’d met at the hospital, so why should she sit at home with her nose in a book? There was still time for her to get dolled up and head out with the others. She might’ve been lonely, but she didn’t have to be alone.
