Chances (20 page)

“Because you will put everything you have into the role, whether you are like her or not. Besides, I think you’re more like her than you realize.”

“I’ll try, Miss Sarah,” she said, sitting. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You won’t.”

Kate digested the comment, her expression shifting from polite conversationalist to excited child. She leaned forward, hands grasped together in her lap. “Do you truly think I can learn to do it?”

Sarah chuckled. “I have a hunch you’ll learn a great deal more than just how to do it, Kate. Shall we get started?”

Kate nodded.

Around them, sporadic pounding and the grating of saws merged with the low hum of voices. A few yards away, Daniel continued his work. His glance skimmed over the rough planking on the sawhorse and darted to Kate before returning to the task at hand. Sarah sensed his thoughts were divided, his ears ready for snatches of Kate’s conversation. He paid the board only cursory attention, his fingers performing their tasks while his mind focused on his daughter.

Unsettled, Sarah took a deep breath. Lord, she was nervous, of all things. She pushed her strange lack of surety aside and plunged ahead. “All right then. First, let’s look at the ways in which you are like Jo. Do you see any of them?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Well.” Sarah itemized with her fingers. “You’re very bright, and you always pipe up in class with an answer, and I’ve never seen you hesitate to remind your sister when she steps out of line.”

Kate looked dubious. “I don’t think I do those things at all like Jo.”

“No, you don’t do them like Jo.” She touched Kate’s hand briefly, drawing her attention. “But you do them. You have self-confidence. The difference is that you control very carefully how you express that confidence while Jo just lets it all pour out, like Molly does. For Jo, you need to let go of your control and let things tumble out. Or perhaps, use that control to
make
things tumble out.”

“But Jo does lots of things I’d never do. She gets her hair cut off without permission, and she doesn’t care about wearing gloves, and she arranges plays and writes books.” Kate’s voice took on a panicky edge, loud in a momentary ebb of noise.

From his nearby work area, Daniel stared, his eyebrows edging up in concern.

Sarah ignored him and nodded to Kate in what she hoped was calming reassurance. “Yes, she does. Do you have any thoughts on why she does those things?”

“Why?” The question seemed to puzzle her.

Sarah paused, then clarified. “Does she do them just because she gets a bee in her bonnet?”

Kate laughed, her panic gone as fast as it had appeared. “Of course not. She does them because she cares about people. And because she doesn’t care that doing those things might not be proper.”

“I think you’re on the right track. Jo doesn’t do outlandish things in
order
to misbehave. She takes action to meet the needs of people she cares about. But she doesn’t care about following rules. You will need to think about how her enthusiasm needs to show and forget about all the rules you’ve been taught are important.”

“But Jo doesn’t write because of other people, or strike out on her own.”

Surprised at Kate’s perception, Sarah tried to explain. “No, she does those things for herself. She makes a decision that she cannot have the life she wants if she marries Laurie. Writing is her dream, and she follows it to New York and makes friends with Professor Bhaer. At that part of the story, she learns to be true to herself, even if it means breaking the rules to do it.”

“That’s a lot of rule-breaking. Papa wouldn’t like it.”

Sarah glanced at Daniel. His mouth was stretched into a thin line. She smiled at him, wondering what she’d done to garner his disapproval this time.

“No, I suspect he wouldn’t.” She turned back to Kate and threw up her hands in an open gesture. “But this is Jo. And Jo realizes she needs to be true to herself. She discovers that most when she quits writing the stories she thinks other people want and writes the stories that are a part of her. It’s somewhat of a symbol. When you start living for yourself instead of for other people, you discover your own happiness.”

“This story means all that?”

“It does, sweetie.” She placed her hands on her lap and leaned forward. “Maybe it’s even one way for you to figure out what road
you
want to take. Maybe you need to look at life’s rules for yourself.”

“Papa still wouldn’t like it.”

“Maybe your Papa needs to break a few rules, too.”

Kate smiled and shook her head. “So how do I turn all that into being Jo?”

Sarah pondered the question. Being spontaneous would be an effort for Kate, she knew. But she also suspected Kate was capable of anything she put her mind to. “You will need to use that self-confidence you have and let it show through in everything Jo does. But you will need to do it in a new way, without hesitating to think about the rules. It will be like answering the teacher’s question without raising your hand first. It will be like going out of the house to do something good but not asking permission first. It will be like admitting that you want to do something, something that is not a bad or dangerous thing, and then doing it even though it might not be exactly proper.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Kate looked horrified again, a proper, dignified expression except for the hint of melodrama that leapt across her face so fast that Sarah wondered if she had seen it at all.

Heavens, Sarah thought, what made a child feel she needed to choke off the rare whimsical moments of life? Perhaps Kate needed this role more than the role needed Kate.

Sarah again chose her words with care. “Do you remember, on the day we met, how you cried and let out everything you were feeling for just a moment before you thought about it and kept the rest bottled up inside because somebody said it was a rule that you weren’t supposed to cry in front of people?”

Kate nodded, her eyes misting briefly.

“Didn’t it feel good to cry when you felt so horrible?”

Kate nodded again.

“Then there shouldn’t have been any reason for you not to cry. Jo would have cried, and maybe even screamed and hollered and stamped her foot a bit. It wouldn’t matter to Jo what other people thought or what the rules were.” She offered Kate a smile and grasped her hands while she let the words sink in, then continued. “To convey Jo, you must be able to say Jo’s words without worry over speaking out of turn, to take action without hesitating. If you stop to think about rules, it will show, and the audience will see Kate Petterman and not Jo March.”

“Do you truly think I can do all that?”

“I think so. You already have the confidence.” Sarah stood and tentatively rubbed Kate’s back. “Just start thinking about how Jo would do things each time you do something and it will be easier to act like her when the time comes.”

“Jo March is just like you,” Kate noted, standing. “You don’t like rules much, either. Otherwise you wouldn’t be a suffragist. Or a telegrapher.”

Sarah laughed. “I’ve never thought much about it, but I suspect you’re right.” She leaned closer. “But I think, sometimes, I just like to break rules.”

“I think it’s because you think independently.”

“Perhaps it’s because I don’t think at all.” She glanced at the back of the room and caught Daniel staring at them, his mouth still tight and his fingers clenched around the handle of his hammer.

* * * * *

Daniel placed the last of his tools into his worn pine toolbox and shifted his weight while Sarah stood at the door of the Odd Fellows Hall, her soft laughter echoing through the nearly empty room.

The woman was as much a mystery as anything he’d ever come across. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she did something unexpected—unexpected and unpalatable. He slammed the toolbox onto the floor and tugged at his tool belt.

Damned if she didn’t have Kate and Molly so caught up in her spell that they swallowed anything she tossed at them. Involving Kate in a play, up there on stage in front of everyone, was one thing. Filling her head with all sorts of ideas about breaking rules was altogether different. He scowled and threw his tool belt against the wooden box at his feet.

The click of the door brought abrupt silence, and he realized the last of the students and parents had left. He glanced up at the sudden quiet.

Sarah stood at the doorway, brushing her ever-busy hands across her brown work skirt. “Are you upset about something?” she finally asked.

“Should I be?”

“I don’t think so, but a carpenter doesn’t bang his tools around like that unless something’s bothering him, does he?”

Daniel swallowed against his anger and told himself that it didn’t matter that she was once again right, or that she’d caught him in another public display of temper. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

“What is it I’ve done this time?” Her voice dropped in resignation. “You’ve been stewing practically all afternoon, tossing wood scraps and glaring at me. It must be pretty awful for you to have sent the girls on home alone.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. Sarah’s expression shifted, her mouth dropping open with a soft sound of exasperation, and her violet eyes widened. She raised her hands in a puzzled gesture.

Daniel crossed his arms and pinned his gaze on her face. How could such a lovely woman be the cause of so much trouble? He inhaled, refusing to be distracted, and summoned the words. “I thought you knew my views on suffrage, Sarah. I thought you understood how I felt about Kate and Molly being exposed to it.”

Her mouth dropped further open, then pinched shut. “What are you talking about?”

“How can you use this play as a platform to expound on suffrage? This is supposed to be a children’s play.”

“It is a children’s play.” Sarah’s hands bobbed in the air, punctuating her words. “Wherever are you getting the idea that it’s related to suffrage?”

Daniel’s heart pounded in his chest, and his jaw tightened. Had she no idea? “Disobey the rules. Disregard propriety. Cut your hair, take off your gloves, turn down marriage proposals, and strike out on your own, doing the sorts of things normal women don’t do. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Daniel. This story isn’t about women’s rights, or even about disobedience, for that matter.” She frowned. “It’s about the love of a family and one young person’s journey as she discovers who she is and finds the courage to think for herself. Or aren’t your daughters supposed to think?”

“I’ll decide what’s best for Kate and Molly. They’re good girls and you know it. How dare you question how I raise them?”

“I never said that.” She paused, her voice even but firm. “You did. Maybe that says something in and of itself.”

“You’re out of line.” The words felt hot in their vehemence.

Sarah touched his arm. “Am I, Daniel?”

A tinge of guilt shifted through his anger, begging for his attention. A chill crept over his skin, borne of sweat and the cold December air. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Look,” she said with uncharacteristic patience. “I know they’re good girls. They’re wonderful girls, very well behaved. Like you. As for whether or not that’s the right way to raise them, I don’t know. What I do know is that you aren’t even giving them the chance to be themselves. Is a parent who dictates every moment of his child’s life doing what’s best? You tell me.”

Daniel shifted and took his hands out of his pockets. His heart still pounded, but the hot anger had dissipated into an uncomfortable void. He stared back at her, shoved his hands back where they’d been, and ignored the gnawing discomfort.

“How can you begin to question what I do?” he asked instead. “When have you taken the time to get involved in someone else’s life, to share their laughter or their pain? You’re so caught up in making the world into your vision of right that you’ve never tended a sick child or sat up half the night calming nightmares. This is just another avenue for making one of your points, an agenda for women’s rights.”

She colored, silent. Then she swallowed and marched forward, stirring up sawdust with each clipped step. A foot short of Daniel’s chest, she stopped.

Daniel stared down at her. This wasn’t going at all as he had intended. Those big eyes held him fast, stilling his words, forcing him to consider her side of things.

“This isn’t an effort to promote anything,” she said. “Have you even read the script? Or the book? You can’t just take isolated scenes and draw a conclusion. How much of my conversation with Kate did you actually hear? Scattered bits and pieces? You should have listened to the whole thing, Daniel. Maybe you need to go talk to your daughter about what she thinks we discussed and read the book. Then, if you still feel this is about suffrage, I’ll step down.”

He nodded, accepting the truth of her words. “I guess that’s fair enough. You’re right. I didn’t hear the whole conversation.” He settled onto the edge of the stage, his elbows on his knees. “But what I did hear concerned me.”

She smiled and sat down next to him, legs dangling. “I imagine it bothered you quite a bit.”

“You knew?”

“I suspected. I think perhaps there’s quite a bit of what I said to Kate that applies to you as well. Maybe more. Sometimes, I think you’re so tied up trying to meet your father’s expectations that you’ve never discovered yourself.”

“Sarah—”

“What? Don’t say it? Don’t say it because it might be true?” She paused, watching his face, and touched his arm. “When’s the last time you thought for yourself, Daniel? When’s the last time you tried something new? When’s the last time you did something on the spur of the moment, without analyzing it to see if it was considered proper?”

He shrugged. “I’m just not a spur-of-the-moment type person.”

“How do you know that? You told me yourself that you hadn’t done anything spontaneous since you ate that candy stick when you were a kid.”

His mind drifted to the conversation, the one at the City Ditch, and the events before it. His heart stirred and a rush of heat flowed through him. He caught her gaze. “Until I kissed you.”