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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LITTLE WOMEN

EMMA

I stand at the end of the hall until I hear the faint click of Jax’s bedroom door before walking back to the kitchen where I finish cleaning up, and find containers to store the leftover soup. Once everything is cleaned out, I walk out to my car and grab my overnight bag from the trunk. The snow has picked up in intensity, covering the ground and sticking to the roads now. If the storm is as bad as they say it’s going to be, there’s a chance schools could close tomorrow, and while I know Alice and Mackenzie are with their grandparents, part of me wants to check on them and make sure they’re okay for the night.

Once I’m back in the house, I lock the door behind me and find my phone. I sent Jax to bed early enough that the girls might still be awake, so I call over to the Hutchinsons to check in on them.

“Hello?” Claire answers the phone and I start to worry that I’m doing the wrong thing, but that anxiety fades when I hear the girls laughing in the background.

“Hi Claire, it’s Emma. I’m here with Jax and just wanted to check and see how the girls are. I know they’re with you and it isn’t really my business, but I just…”

“Emma,” Claire’s voice is reassuring, “you don’t have to explain yourself. I’m glad you called. And I’m really glad you’re there with Jax. You know they say that doctors make terrible patients, and Jax doesn’t ever stop and let himself be taken care of. I hope he’s not causing you too much trouble.”

“He’s sleeping now, but you’re right, he was hesitant to let me step in at first. I thought I’d stick around and make sure that he takes it easy tomorrow as well, which is part of why I called. If you’d like to bring the girls back home, I’m more than willing to stay with them.”

“Are you sure?” Claire asks, surprise coloring her voice. “We could have a snow day tomorrow, you’d be stuck with them the whole day.”

“To be honest, that’s kind of what I’m hoping for.”

I’m met with silence on the other end of the call and for a moment I worry that the call has been dropped. Then I hear a sniffle and when Claire’s voice reaches me once more it’s thick with emotion.

“I’ll have Ben drop them off.” Silence stretches out between us again, and finally, “thank you for loving them. All three of them.”

“It’s an honor to love and be loved by them, believe me.”

After ending the call I take a few minutes to step into the bathroom and change into the pajamas that I packed for the weekend, thankful for the soft, warm flannel of the pants and my well-worn Roosevelt Elementary sweatshirt. In the living room, my attention is drawn to the Christmas tree in the corner near the windows, its white lights casting a warm glow in the darkness of the rest of the house. The ornaments are a mixture of princesses and cartoon characters, homemade creations, and enough baseball players to make up at least two full teams. This tree is a reflection of the home it stands in, of the family that decorated it.

Before long I hear the crunch of tires in the snow on the driveway, and I meet the girls, and their grandparents, at the front door. Alice and Mackenzie offer hugs on their way inside before dropping their bags off in their rooms, and Claire steps over the threshold, wrapping her arms around me in a crushing hug, taking me by surprise.

“Thank you,” she chokes out the words, “thank you for choosing them.”

You can’t take something she never wanted. Jax’s words from that night on the balcony come back to me in a rush that threatens to steal my breath and knock me off my feet.

She never chose them.

Not the girls, not him.

I never considered the impact that had on his family, watching as she walked away. Watching as Jax stepped into the role she left behind, grieving the end of his marriage and navigating the unknown expanse in front of him. No one outside of their family has chosen them. Prioritized them. Taken care of him. Them. Not like this.

My arms, no longer limp at my sides, wrap around Claire, returning her embrace. She hugs like my mom, there’s comfort and warmth and acceptance in her arms. “I’ll take good care of them.”

“I know you will,” emotion unmistakable in her voice. “Thank you, again.”

Shutting and locking the door behind Claire and Ben, I turn to find the girls in the living room, already changed into their pajamas.

“How’s Dad?” Mackenzie asks, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Better.” I kiss the top of her head before pulling her into my arms for a hug. “No need to worry, okay?”

“Okay.” Mackenzie lets me go and joins her sister in the kitchen where they fix themselves a snack of apple slices and peanut butter. They catch me up on the day spent with their grandparents, uncles and aunts, and then they want to know how the scrimmage went today. I tell them about the match, and about being with my teammates again, leaving out the part about the throbbing pain in my knee at present. I know I need to elevate and ice, but I’ll wait until I get them in bed to take care of that.

When their snack is gone, Mackenzie washes and dries the plate, before carefully putting it away before both girls head down the hall to brush their teeth and get ready for bed. I don’t fully know my role right now, I don’t know if I can – or should – step in and be a part of their bedtime routine, or if I should strictly remain an outside observer.

“Dad usually reads to us at night,” Mackenzie says as she exits the bathroom, a question in her eyes. “You don’t have to, but…”

“I’d love to,” I interrupt her train of thought, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence. I’ve been in her shoes. I know what it’s like to be the oldest sibling, to know what the routine is and not wanting a disruption of that. She could read aloud for Alice and still enjoy the chapter of their book, but it’s not the same as having one of the grown-ups in your life read to you as you fall asleep.

“I can do it,” she says, taking on the air of Responsible Eldest Daughter, “but if you want to, that’s okay too.”

I follow the girls into Alice’s room, where they both climb into her bed and snuggle close, leaving a spot for me to join them, and once I do, Mackenzie passes me the book they’ve been reading as a family. I open the, clearly well loved, copy of Little Women , and pick up where Jax left off the last time they read together; it’s still early in the book, as Jo and Laurie are only just now meeting, as Jo scorches her dress by standing too close to the fire.

“But Laurie didn’t laugh…” I read the words, remembering the day that I saw Jax at the hardware store, and every day that I’ve known him since, that he hasn’t judged me, or made fun of me, or told me that I was too much for him. That I was too much in general. I lose my train of thought, I hyperfocus and get lost in other things, I’m impulsive, and get excited about things I love, and sometimes I withdraw from the world – a lot like Jo standing in front of the fireplace – and yet Jax has never laughed. He sees me. Understands me. He loves me. And that’s where the similarities end, because I can’t see Jax running off to Paris and marrying my sister.

When we end the chapter, Mackenzie quickly hugs her sister and bids her goodnight before making her way to her own bedroom. I carefully climb off the bed, and tuck Alice in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Goodnight Alice,” I smooth her hair away from her eyes, and pass her the stuffed animal that falls out of her bed as she adjusts her blanket. “If you need anything during the night, I’ll be right out there on the couch, okay.”

“Okay,” she yawns, sinking deeper into her pillow. “Goodnight, Miss Emma.”

“G’night.”

I step down the hall and see that Mackenzie still has her bedroom light on, and she takes her time turning down her bed, removing decorative pillows and spreading out a quilt before carefully climbing into bed. When she sees me at the door, she smiles for a quick second before schooling her features once more. I remember those early days with Maureen, days that I wanted to be tucked in and kissed goodnight, but didn’t want to ask – or rather, didn’t know how to ask.

Walking into her room, I wait until she’s in her bed before kneeling down beside her. “I’m new to this,” I tell her. “Thanks for letting me help with bedtime tonight.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers, arms wrapping around my neck and holding on tight. “We’ve never had a mom before, and I know you’re not her, but you take care of us like she should have.”

“I didn’t have a mom when I was your age either,” I tell her and her eyes go wide. She slides over in bed and gives me a place to sit. Climbing up beside her and stretching out my legs, she snuggles close. “She left when I was really young. And like you, it was just me and my sister and our dad. He took really good care of us. But sometimes it felt like something was missing.”

“Miss Emma?”

“Yeah kiddo?”

“Is it okay to be mad at her?”

“I think so,” I answer honestly, fully prepared to apologize to Jax if I overstep. “As long as you don’t let yourself be mad all the time.”

“I’m not. Only sometimes. Like when we make Mother’s Day cards at school. Or when my teachers ask if my mom will volunteer in class. Grandma makes sure they know that Alice and I don’t have a mom, but sometimes they still ask. It’s hard.”

“Oh sweetheart, I know. I think you should tell them that your uncles will volunteer and see what they say.” This elicits a laugh, followed by a yawn. “When I was a little older, my dad met a very nice woman named Maureen. She loved my sister and me the way that a mom should love her kids, and it didn’t make things easier. It didn’t take my anger away, at least not right away, but I knew that I had someone that loved me like I was her own.”

“Like you love me and Alice…” it’s not a question but a statement. A statement that fills my chest with warmth and my eyes with tears that threaten to spill over.

“Exactly like I love you and Alice.”

Mackenzie lets me go and lays her head on her pillow, pulling the covers up under her chin. I press a gentle kiss to her forehead and tell her the same thing I told Alice; if they need anything in the night, I’ll be right out on the couch where they can find me.

“G’night, sweet girl,” I click off her bedroom light and hear a soft response as I close the door behind me. Once the girls are tucked in, I find a spare pillow in the linen closet and toss it on the couch before grabbing a blanket from the basket and closing the curtains on the living room windows. Snow continues to fall softly outside, and seems to be piling up on the deck railings. Before laying down on the couch, I dig my charger out of my bag and plug in my phone nearby, check the door locks one more time, and finally stretch out on the couch.

I find reruns of an old sitcom playing on television, and set the sleep timer for a half hour, hoping that the comforting sounds of my favorite sitcom family will lull me to sleep. I drift in and out, eyelids heavy as I finally relax into the couch, covered with the weight of the blanket. My eyes snap open to near complete darkness and a rustling sound from nearby. Disoriented, I sit up, blinking as my eyes adjust to the dim light and when I turn toward the kitchen, a man’s frame is silhouetted against the light of the open refrigerator.

“Jax?” I ask, my voice shaky as my pulse still races from the scare of being startled awake. He jumps, startled by my voice, and drops a bottle of sports drink. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he presses a hand to his chest, taking a few deep breaths before bending down and picking up the bottle of orange sports drink. “I didn’t know you stayed.”

“Of course I stayed.” Yawning, I sit up more fully on the couch as he walks over and sits down on the other end with his sports drink and a handful of crackers. “I wanted to be here in case you or the girls needed anything.”

His head snaps toward mine, eyebrows furrowed. “The girls are here?”

“Yeah. I called to check on them after you went to bed, and suggested that if they wanted to come home they could. I’d be here.”

“Why?” His voice is gentle, he’s not arguing, but seeking clarification.

“I remember once, after Elizabeth left and before Mom came into our lives, Dad got sick. He was always the one that took care of Molly and me when we were sick, and that day he put us on the bus, assured me that he was okay and there was nothing to worry about, and all I did all day at school was worry about him. There was no one to take care of the man who spent all of his time taking care of me and Molly.”

I couldn’t pay attention in class, which was already a problem for me, my thoughts racing about Dad being home alone and sick; he didn’t have anyone there to make soup for him, or to check his temperature. No one to make sure he was hydrated and took medicine. When I got off the bus that day I remember getting home and offering to make dinner that night so he could rest, I got Molly off of her bus and handled the bedtime routine for both of us that night.

“All that to say, I know what it’s like to worry about the only person that takes care of you, and I wanted the girls to be able to be home with you if that’s what they wanted, so they came home. We had a snack before bed, I read to them both and tucked them in. I debated checking in on you before I went to sleep, but you needed your rest.”

“Thanks for taking care of the girls,” he swipes away tears from under his eyes. “There are a lot of things they’ve missed out on, but I’m so thankful that they had you here for them tonight. I’m pretty thankful to have had you here for me tonight.”

“Mackenzie said something about me not being their mom but being thankful that I could take care of them the way a mom should.” Jax sucks in a breath at my words, and my own heart stutters in my chest. This weekend was wonderful and exhausting. I loved being on the field with Lara again, but as I sit here now – my knee throbbing, my muscles aching (and not in the good, post-workout kind of way) – I think of tucking the girls in tonight, of reading aloud to them in bed. I think of the sheer joy that I felt when they came home tonight. I want that.

I want that all the time, and with them.

I want that with the man who scoots closer to me on the couch and shares the blanket with me. The man whose chest is a solid wall of warmth and muscle at my back. His arms are strong and secure around me, holding me close.

But how do I tell him that my brain is a storm of emotions and thoughts that I can’t quite corral just yet? Jax – and the girls – deserve stability and finality. They deserve to know what’s happening five steps ahead, and I can barely find my footing for the step right in front of me. “I love you, Jax. And the girls.”

That's all I can muster for now.

“I love you, too.” Jax presses a kiss to the top of my head as he sinks deeper into the couch, bringing me with him. I adjust the blanket over us as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the television, my show from earlier is still playing. “One episode, and then I’ll go back to bed. What do you say?”

“I say you still need your rest.”

“This is rest.” He kisses the top of my head, and his warmth brings so much comfort that I can’t help but close my eyes, listening to the sounds of the television show and being lulled to sleep by the steady, even rise and fall of his chest.

“Goodnight, Em.”

“Goodnight, Jax.”