Chapter Text
Amy knows the places where she does not belong – rather, these little crevices built between herself and her home where, as much as she tried, it would not make her fit.
Her nails scratch the wood on the staircase, prodding at the little places where it’s giving in, undoubtedly creating a hollow crater where she can continue to nudge her fingers until it starts to feel painful. She is nervous, weirdly so. The last few months had been unusually happy – happiness is not a word she throws around much, not since Beth, but Laurie has painted her sombrous days into a soft golden shade that has become increasingly brighter with the passage of time.
His sweet devotion also helps. This place they built – more a feeling than an actual place – back in Europe, has followed them across the Atlantic in hesitant steps. Maybe her ones were hesitant. Laurie seemed even bolder, his hand unyielding on the crevice of her arm, his lips familiar in the curve of her forehead and his voice always an ever-bearing presence around her.
Her engagement has been more than she could ever expect – heavens, they could barely keep their hands out of each other – but the decision she made of marrying at home was one she does not regret. She could not lose any more moments away from her family and Laurie seemed equally eager to get back to America. He wanted to get married.
Amy does not doubt that. She knows, however, the places where she does not belong and that is between Laurie and Jo.
“Jo,” she says, as soon as her eyes land on her sister – her beautiful, mesmerizing sister – coming down the stairs. Amy did not blame Laurie, or anyone who ever chose Jo over her in life. She would, too, always choose Jo. How dearly she missed her sister.
Jo seemed not surprised at her fidgeting, her eyes only gleaming more when noticing who was there. “Amy,” she whispers, relief so clear. “You are home.”
Amy laughs, “I am,” she circles the stairs to embrace her sister. “We got here just a couple hours ago but you were sleeping and I did not wanted to wake you.”
Jo squeezes her shoulder, “You should have. How’s Teddy? Did he bother you all the way from Europe with his restlessness?”
Amy smiles. “Yes, but I like that.”
She steps back a little, looking around and noticing the empty house. “Where is he now? Did he not come home?”
Amy takes a stuttering breath. Her fingers itches for wood but there is no space to turn away from her sister’s eyes. “We stopped at Meg’s on the way. John has him walking around so he can see all the places he dearly missed. There was no getting my fiancé out of his clutches.”
She can see the moment Jo realizes the wording. For a second, she stops breathing, “Your what?”
Amy slides her hands off of Jo’s arms, giving her the chance to step away. There is no shame in her voice, only desperation for some sort of understanding. “I wanted to write, Jo. I wanted to write and I wanted to explain, but everything was happening so fast and, really, I was worried you would be angry at me.”
The light in her sister’s eyes changes in a split second as if a decision is forming and establishing in her brain. “No, no,” she whispers but her voice is drifting in tone. Amy can’t read her, never could, but right now Jo seems impossibly far.
“No, you are not angry at me?” Amy asks, trying to be certain, afraid of prompting some sort of reaction, her voice carrying such hope it's painful to say.
Jo holds her hand. It has been slipping away but she seizes her fingers on her own. She seems to reach a decision when saying “Life is too short to be angry at one’s sister.”
Amy almost laughs, relieved and so, so heartbroken. She knows Jo understands the moment she says “I really miss her.”
“I know,” she breathes back. “I know.”