My Dear Boy

When You Wake

It was nearing dusk when Laurie next awoke.  That was the first thing he noticed.  The second was that there was a weight on his right arm.  That's when he saw her.  Jo had fallen asleep, his hand still clutched in her own, her head resting on his arm.  With his left hand, ever so slowly, he reached out to stroke her hair, smiling as her thick, near waist-length, chestnut curls slid through his fingers.  She awoke with a start.

"Jumpin' Jehosephat!" she gasped, then looked down at Laurie, a bemused grin on his parched lips.  "Oh, Laurie," she smiled back at him.  "You're awake! How do you feel?"

"Thirsty. Would you mind..."

"Oh no, of course not," she obliged, pouring him a glass of water and helping him sit up to drink.

"Thank you," he sighed, lying back against the pillows once again.  "It wasn't a dream then.  You are here."

"Silly boy, where else would I be?"

"New York," Laurie coughed, "with that horrid old professor you're always writing Beth about."

Jo's temper flashed and her cheeks burned.  "Friedrich is neither horrid nor old!  He is a dear friend who happens to be staying at the same boarding house, and I'll have you know..."

Laurie's sudden coughing fit interrupted her and cooled her fire.  "Oh, Laurie, I'm sorry," she apologized, immediately returning to his side.

Somewhere during the fit, his hand found hers and she held it tight.  "I've missed you, Jo," he whispered when he could breathe again.

"Me?" she laughed, though there was none of the carefree joy in it that Laurie had once so loved.  "Why should you miss me?  I say all the wrong things, I'm terribly awkward, and I can't keep my temper."

He swallowed thickly, his voice once again hardly above a whisper.  "All those things.  That's why I missed you."

"Shall I read to you?" Jo asked, hopping up from her chair and going quickly to the bookcase so he would not see the tears in her eyes.

"I'd rather hear one of your stories than any of that trash, Jo."

"Trash!" she cried, stashing away the last of her tears.  She could not cry now.  Not in front of Teddy.  She must be strong for him.  "Theodore Laurence, these are the classics!" 

She turned back to him, ready to scold, but her breath caught in her throat.  The way he was looking at her made her heart skip a beat.  She could not refuse him such a simple request.  "Alright," she softened with a smile, "a Josephine March original story."

Glancing quickly about the room, she picked up his top hat and placed it upon her head before resuming her place beside him.  She knew exactly which story to tell him.  "Once there was a boy, a very lonely boy, who was held captive by his no-nonsense grandfather and his dull-as-tombs professor," she began, using a grand voice, and Laurie could not help but chuckle.  "He lived next door to four little women, who, though poor, were rich in love and spirit.  He quickly became friends with the second eldest sister, a too-tall, awkward, and out-spoken girl, who stumbled upon his hiding place one night at a dance.  They were kindred spirits, indeed.  Soon he was admitted by her sisters into their secret society, and took his place as Roderigo.  Sir Roderigo..."

A small cry escaped Laurie's lips as he was taken by a fierce chill quite suddenly, his body shivering violently as ice raced down his back.  His breath came in quick pants as he fought to control the shaking.  Jo moved swiftly to place another quilt on top of him, tucking it up around his chin.  "Hush Laurie," she said, stroking his hair, "it's alright.  Everything's alright."