Chapter Text
Only the high-pitched sound of the tea kettle could pull Beth away from her thoughts. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting in front of the piano, looking at the world from the living room window with absent eyes, for how absorbing her mind was. She snapped back into reality: no one was home, only her breathing and the whistling kettle to break the silence of the house, that had never been so heavy since her three sisters had left their nest.
She hurried into the kitchen and took the kettle off the stove. She couldn’t recall preparing tea for anyone, let alone herself. When was the last time she thought she’d get something she wanted?
A few seconds later, Hannah rushed in: “Oh tea’s ready! Thank you, my darling, I was just out in the garden as I waited. Do you fancy a cup? Your mother will be home soon so let’s leave some for her to have later.”
Beth did not, in fact, set the tea up for herself. But Hannah was so kind, and she could've enjoyed some company. She was all Beth had, with Marmee and Father as well, but the two of them were always some places working and mingling, like there wasn’t enough time in the world to do everything they could possibly think of.
And what did Beth think of? After the scarlet fever made her believe that she had reached her end, it was like her life had been put on pause: if for a few weeks she was supposed to die because she was sick, now that she had gotten better, what was she going to be?
Even if she had dreams before, sickness came and made them all impossible to happen for how bad she was feeling. The doctor and her family were praying that she’d make it through the night, and her purpose became fighting for her life. But now that she had gotten her life back, it was almost distressing to open her mind again to the many things she could become.
She knew deep down that she had potential for several things: she loved music, although it was never an aspiration to become a professional, she could’ve easily decided to learn new pieces; she loved for sure taking care of others as she did with the Hummels, maybe a training to become a nurse could be her thing.
But as she was sailing the vast sea of different versions of herself, for each one of them there was always something that was pulling her back from blooming.
After three sips of tea from the cup that was warming her hands, Marmee entered like a ray of sunshine in the dim of the house, bringing with her a letter from Jo.
Oh, Jo. It was always a delight to hear her name and whatever adventure she had decided to go through. The letter that was written in her dull room of her New York apartment started and carried on with the narration of a girl’s little life in a big city, and that’s what Beth loved most. She missed her childhood companions more than anything in the world, and being let into the new normality of their lives made her feel like things hadn’t changed after all, like she was still part of Jo’s writing in New York, of Amy’s painting in Paris, and of Meg’s life with John.
Jo wasn’t planning on coming back home for another month at least, which was a shame. But apparently, she’d gotten in touch with a certain Mr. Dashwood who might publish her stories in the papers, if they could reach a deal. She also promised to include the column of the paper in the next letter.
Suddenly, the sadness and the longing for her dear sister left Beth’s mind, which was now occupied with all but contentment for Jo’s accomplishments. All she ever wished for her was to be a famous writer because it didn’t seem fair that she was the only one who got to hear her tales, although she did feel privileged to be the very first reader. On top of that, she knew her sister like the back of her hand, and Jo wanted to be known and remarkable.
Giving the letter back to Marmee, Beth noticed that something had lit up inside of her: she was suddenly happy and euphoric, like her far away sister had been able to transfer all the excitement upon her.
Maybe this is what she was supposed to do: cheer up for her loved ones, being there for them and share their happiness, for she could not find much of her own, or so it seemed. She paused for a moment, although anyone from the outside may have not even noticed that her thoughts had absorbed her once again as she started to wrap her head around the fact that her life purpose could simply be loving others. She didn’t have to become anything great or popular, travel the lands and seas, or find her perfect match.
She would dedicate herself to others. She knew it wasn’t going to give her an employment right away way, or allow her to have her own life outside of Orchard House. But somehow, it was enough for the time being.
The sun was almost out, and Beth could hear the cutting and boiling noises coming from the kitchen as she was going up the stairs to go to her room. She used to be always present for house chores, but since the fever Marmee insisted that she shouldn't stress herself.
Once she got to her bedroom, she was going to pick up her clean clothes to put them in the drawers, but she noticed that she could hear herself breathing. It was louder than usual, and it was unexpectedly tiring. Was she tired from taking the stairs? That had never happened before. It was only a matter of minutes, the time to sit down and feel at ease again, until she knew why: scarlet fever at nineteen years old was no superficial thing. She was aware that it could've left a permanent scar on her. She was aware of the scar on her mind, which she was trying to heal constantly, but no one had told her that there could be a scar on her heart. The moment of realisation was not some dramatic epiphany, there was no rush through her body that told her that she could be sick forever until it wins over her. To her subconscious, it was no news.
Only her mother's voice from downstairs calling for dinner could pull Beth away from her thoughts.