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The sky was cloudy and the world seemed dull and lifeless, as if some greater power had snuffed out the candle that lit the universe. The imagery made Laurie feel on edge, like some haunted foreshadowing that had yet to come to fruition as he made his way towards the mansion that held Amy March and her aunt.
He strode past the guards, nodding silent greetings as they let him pass, already sure of his destination within the manor. Aunt March was away traveling in London whilst Amy stayed here in Paris and continued her painting lessons, leaving only the two of them together whenever he visited.
Also, much to his pleasure, Amy had informed him that even her suitor was away and would be for the next couple of weeks, leaving them to their time alone where he could pester her to no end. That was the way he liked it after all. She could bear it.
The sound of his shoes clacking against the wooden floor echoed throughout the halls as he made his way to the studio, where Amy painted all of her still life. It was filled with natural light and had plenty of room for her various setups and canvases.
Ever since he had first entered the room, he found that he very much enjoyed just watching her paint. The way her emerald eyes focused on every detail of the painting and the way her hands delicately maneuvered the brush across the canvas.
He found himself enraptured by her and it scared him a little. He couldn’t afford to fall so hard again like he had for Jo. His heart wouldn’t, couldn’t, bear it. So for now, he was content to just watch and listen to her, to let her beautiful voice and features grace his senses.
He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice the glass door to the studio that stood shut in front of him and ran straight into it. He groaned in pain, holding his bashed nose in his hand, but was suddenly distracted from his misfortune the moment he heard a laugh from within.
He stepped back and opened the door, his eyes greeted with the scene of Amy laughing, her blonde hair speckled with paint and the strong scent of her perfume wafting through the air. So focused on her and the lovely sound her laugh really was, he didn’t even care that she was laughing at his expense.
He was trapped back into his thoughts again, oblivious to the outside world, at least until he was suddenly yanked out of them when that laugh he had been relishing suddenly turned into a hacking cough and he opened his eyes to find her doubled over, the corners of her eyes pricked with tears.
“Amy!” He cried out, immediately rushing over to her side as she fought to catch her breath. She pushed him away though, covering her mouth with her hand, leaving him to stand helplessly by as she composed herself.
“Amy, what was that? What happened? Are you alright?” Questions rushed from his lips, panic already lit within him. What had happened just then?
“I’m fine.” She reassured, panting slightly as she took in air. “I just got some dust in my throat, that’s all.”
“At least sit down.” He pleaded, pushing her lightly into a seat. She waved him off but remained sitting.
“What brings you here?” She said, turning her head to face him. Deflecting.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured I’d come by and bother you. I don’t have much else to do, you know. Besides, you can take it.” He said, his lips quirking up into a smirk.
“I suppose I can.” She responded, matching his smile. She then turned away from his gaze to face her painting. “But, as you can see, I’m quite busy.”
“Oh, come now. I won’t be a bother. I’ll just watch silently. See, I can be silent.” He demonstrated, moving over to sit on a couch across the room without uttering word. He slumped down into it and sat lazily amongst the cushions.
She scoffed at his cheekiness but didn’t say another word, channeling her focus into her art. He watched her quietly, as he had promised, but his observant eyes noticed minute differences compared to the many times before.
The way her hands quivered slightly as she gripped the brush, the way she shook her head as if dizzy, and the way her normally bright eyes seemed dull like the sky had been that day. He noticed her pale complexion, her flushed cheeks, the grimace that occasionally displayed on her features.
He couldn’t help his worry, the way his anxiety was slowly but surely continuing to rise as minutes turned to hours and he watched as small signs continued to grow into larger ones. Finally, he could stay silent no more.
“Amy, I don’t think you’re well.” He confronted her.
She startled and her head whipped up to face him, confusion briefly flashing in her eyes, as if she had forgotten he was here.
She scoffed, not meeting his gaze, her eyes locked onto the canvas. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She quipped, but her voice faltered slightly.
He stood and started walking towards her. “I don’t think I am. You’re clearly ill, I’m just confused as to why you won’t admit it.” He was directly in front of her now, but she continued to hide behind her painting.
“There’s nothing to admit.”
He sighed. “Why must you be so stubborn?”
“I’m not being stubborn, it’s you who’s interrogating me.” She finally met his gaze, her voice carrying a hint of anger.
He frowned at the glare she was giving him.
“Fine then.” He said, hands raised in surrender as he walked backwards and away from her. “I’m going to leave, because it’s clear that you aren’t in the mood to talk or be helped.”
“I don’t need to be saved, much less by you. I’m not some damsel in distress.”
“Oh, I can see that, Miss March. God forbid my concern offend you.” He bowed mockingly and exited the room, frustration searing within him.
“Whatever,” He grumbled to himself as he walked away. “If she doesn’t want to see me, then she won’t have to.” He then stormed out of the manor and hitched a carriage back to his home, trying no to think about the blonde.
Inside the studio, Amy collapsed onto the chair behind her, clutching her aching head in her hands. She felt hot and exhausted and her chest and lungs burned with every breath. She truly felt miserable.
“God, why did I do that? He only meant well.” She felt guilty for a moment before remembering her initial reason as to why.
“I can’t make him worry. If that happens, he’ll write back to the family and then everyone will be even more stressed, especially with Beth’s poor health. And we’re tight on money already.” She shook her head at the thought.
“I’ll be fine, no, I am fine. Just do it for the family.” She repeated it a few times until she felt surer in her decision to push Laurie away. Even though she would never admit it, she missed him already.
Trying to distract herself from her illness, she stood up intending to finish her painting, but a wave of dizziness assaulted her and the world spun. She grabbed onto the chair and breathed in and out, her eyes shut tight, until the dizziness faded.
“Maybe I’ll just go and lie down for a bit. It couldn’t hurt.” She said to herself, making her way slowly to her bedroom before quickly changing into a nightgown and climbing into bed. She sighed at the slight reprieve in her pounding head and how nice the cool sheets felt against her burning skin.
“I’m just going to rest for a while and when I wake up, I’ll feel better.” She convinced herself.
---
Laurie sat in his home, sprawled out on a couch reading the same paragraph he had been staring at for the past hour.
“Ugh!” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He tossed his book onto the floor and began pacing back and forth, his chest tight with anxiety.
He hadn’t been able to get Amy March, that beautiful, stubborn, downright infuriating woman out of his head and he couldn’t understand why. They hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms and there was also his worry that plagued him given the woman’s condition upon his departure that made his heart clench.
It had been more than a few hours since he left her house and it was well past dinner and into the evening, the sky growing darker by the minute. He stared up at the black abyss, his reflection in the glass a mirror image of his guilt.
“I shouldn’t have been so rash and left!” He yelled, angry at himself. “I saw that she was pushing me away and what did I do? I let her! God, I’m so stupid!”
In his anger, he almost had half a mind to smash a vase across the room but restrained himself, instead letting himself sink to the floor where he sat in silent contemplation.
His eyes wandered over to the grandfather clock ticking away and noticed that it was nearly 10 at night by now. He scowled. Would now really be an acceptable time to go to someone’s house?
“Fuck it.” He said, standing up. It's not like he had ever been one to follow the rules. Besides, his worry wouldn’t let him sleep tonight anyways.
He made his way out of his manor and spoke with one of the guards who quickly fetched him a carriage. Climbing in, he directed the man to take him over to the March residence, his order being followed without complaint.
He reached the manor in decent time as he wasn’t too far away in the first place and got out, thanking the coachman who nodded in return.
With niceties out of the way, Laurie hurried his way into the manor and towards Amy’s bedroom. Moving swiftly, he made it there in less than a minute, but halted outside her door. Any man knows that it’s improper to enter a lady’s room without being invited, but Laurie’s not sure he would be invited even if he asked.
Tentatively, he knocked on the door, hesitant in his await for a response. When none came, he knocked again, albeit louder this time, and continued waiting. Again, no response. His worry quickly outclassed his manners and with a deep breath, he tentatively cracked open the door.
Peeking in, he called out into the unlit room.
“Amy?” He questioned, feeling almost sheepish at his intrusion. Maybe she was just sleeping. Why jump to conclusions?
A sound coming from the bed alerted him and if he hadn’t been listening hard, he wouldn’t have heard the voice accompanying it.
“Laurie?” Amy whispered from the blankets. “Is that you?”
Her voice sounded pained, causing concern to flood through Laurie. He hurried over to the side of the bed, a gasp escaping his lips at the sight of her.
She was pale, oh so pale, except for her brightly flushed cheeks and there was sweat stuck to her hair and forehead.
“My god…Amy!” He was stunned for a second before he cried out, his hand flying to her forehead and feeling her scorching skin.
“Laurie? Why are you here?” She seemed disoriented and confused, which served to be all the more worrying to Laurie.
“I’m here to see you. Now shh, lie back down. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her hand as if she’d be gone if he even left for a second before bolting towards the bathroom.
He sighed in relief at the bucket of water there and quickly grabbed a cloth and soaked it before wringing it out and returning to Amy.
The normally poised woman lay limply amongst the covers, her breath coming out staggered, already having slipped back into unconsciousness.
“Here.” He said, placing the cloth on her forehead, in an attempt to lower her fever. “Just relax.” He murmured, grasping her hands in his, afraid that in letting go she might slip away.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He kissed her knuckles, tears slipping down his cheeks and onto the blankets. Oh how he was a wreck, not more than 10 minutes and he was already a crying mess.
He was scared, absolutely terrified even. He knew how easily fever’s like this took people away. Had watched it happen with both his father and mother. How it took away his grandfather’s daughter. How it nearly killed Beth.
He couldn’t watch it happen to Amy. He would surely die, because there was no denying it anymore as he sat here in the dark room, gripping her hand as if it was a lifeline.
He was in love with Amy March.
He’d known it for a while, too stubborn though, or maybe it was that he couldn’t handle being vulnerable again, to do anything about it. Much less actually tell her.
A mistake that he would forever regret as he sat here praying to whatever being could save her.
“Please, please. Don’t take her away from me too. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll treat her right and- and I won’t be a spoiled brat anymore. Please.” He pressed his forehead to Amy’s clammy hand, his voice breaking. “I beg of you. Please don’t take her.”
He hoped someone had heard him as he listened to her raspy breathing and watched her chest rise and fall shakily.
“Come on Amy. I love you. You hear me, I love you. So, please, don’t go silently. Fight. You have to fight. Don’t go silently, you can’t.” He shed more tears for her, one hand brushing the hair from her face while the other held her hand tight.
He stayed by her side the rest of the night, changing her compress, holding her hand, praying. He kneeled by her side until the sun began to rise and shine in through the window, the looming clouds having parted.
He was fighting sleep when a soft groan alerted him to movement.
“Amy!” He fought fresh tears as she opened her beautiful green eyes to find the previous fog clouding them from the other day had cleared.
“Laurie?” She questioned, still waking up, until she startled. “Laurie! What are you doing in my room!?” She exclaimed.
The loud exclamation sent her into a coughing fit though, and Laurie rubbed her back through it until she regained control of her breathing again.
Staring at him, she finally registered his tired expression and it dawned on her what had been doing here.
“No, no. I didn’t want you to worry. Why did you come, Laurie? I’m not- I’m not worth your time. I’m not worth it.” She shook her head, adamant in her decision to push him away. It would hurt less that way when he confirmed that she was indeed second best.
He let go of her hand and for a moment she thought that her fears had come to fruition until two warm hands were placed on her face and her head was forcibly turned in his direction.
“Don’t say that! It’s not true! And how could you possibly think that I wouldn’t worry? God, Amy, you scared me last night. You terrified me because- because...”
“Because what?” Her mouth went dry and she tried to push down the hope that she was feeling.
“You terrified me because, because I love you!” He exclaimed, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“You...what?” She whispered, as if she thought she had heard him wrong.
“I love you.” He said again, his voice not wavering once.
“But- I’m not Jo, I can’t- I-” She couldn’t even speak, everything she had ever dreamed of was happening yet she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
“Please believe me!” He begged. “I love you, Amy March.”
As she stared into his chocolate eyes, she saw no betrayal or indication that his words were anything less than the truth.
“I-” She bit her lip. She couldn’t believe the words that were exiting her mouth. “I love you too.”
Laurie’s eyes shined with happiness, happiness at her surviving, and happiness at her words.
Enveloped in the moment, in a flash of passion he pulled her face close and kissed her lovingly. She kissed him back though they broke contact moments later due to Amy’s still weakened condition.
“Lie with me... please.” She asked softly.
“Always.” He promised, climbing in bed and holding her close against his chest, sighing in relief at her decrease in temperature compared to the night before.
Comforted in each other's presence, the couple quickly fell asleep, lulled to the sound of each other's breathing, fated to be happy forever.