Chapter Text
When she heard that Uncle Jack was coming to visit, Scout put her hand up to her throat because she was afraid Atticus would see the excited pump that she felt jump into it. She loved Uncle Jack, and apparently he was going to stay for a while to help her get on her feet again. Atticus had people who needed him in town, and his brother was one of the few people he could trust to keep his children and Calpurnia safe while he started going back to work more frequently.
A week had passed since Scout’s sleepwalking incident, but the memory of it stayed with her and curbed her enthusiasm to attempt walking again. Atticus thought this was unfortunate, since before that night the possibility of being able to walk on her own had been something she was really looking forward to. Dr. Reynolds said that she should be ready to try it and get her strength back, but she would need assistance. Between his medical expertise and his ability to cheer Scout up, John Hale Finch was the perfect man for the job.
Atticus was glad that his younger brother of ten years saw Scout before Scout noticed him, so that he had time to take in her appearance and collect himself. In a second, Jack's creased brow was replaced with an abundance of warm, familial cheer, and he announced his presence.
Scout was seated on the sofa, and when she turned to see him enter the room her face lit up like Christmas had come early.
Jack really was a Santa Klaus-like figure, Atticus mused. Every Christmas Eve day they met Jack at Maycomb Junction, and he would spend a week with them, but aside from that the kids would usually only see him for Thanksgiving. That would have to change, Atticus decided. Life is too short to only see a loved one twice a year.
Jack took off his hat, brought it to his chest, and went down on one knee in front of Scout. They exchanged their greetings, and he said a quip that made her giggle. A real, genuine laugh. Atticus felt a twinge of jealousy which he quickly squashed. It didn’t matter that cheering up Scout came so much easier to his brother. She’s laughing, he thought, Thats all that matters.
“Now where’s that brother of yours?”
“He’s at school,” Scout replied. “You just missed him for supper. ‘Should be back in ‘bout an hour and a half, though.”
Scout now always kept track of where her family was and when they should be coming home. When anyone was running late, she tried to be casual when asking after them, but her anxiety showed through. Atticus didn’t think that Scout knew he noticed, but he did. So whenever he called Calpurnia to check in or urged Jem to not dawdle too long before coming home it was to ease her worry as well as his own.
“Perfect.” Jack ruffled Scout’s hair, and to Atticus’s delight she squirmed away in a playful way, rather than a defensive one. She laughed and shook her head, bringing up her bottom lip to blow her hair out of her face.
“You need a haircut,” Jack jibed.
“Nawww,” Scout replied, itching the side of her nose with her knuckles.
Jack chuckled and asked Scout if he could join her on the sofa, and she said of course he could. Atticus took the chair facing the adjacent side of the coffee table where Jack set down his hat.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Jack asked as he sat down, and Scout shrugged.
“Alright, I guess. Better, but I reckon things hurt more since I can’t take as many painkillers now. Atticus and Dr. Reynolds don’t want me to get stuck on ‘em.”
“Ah, those two are right about that one. Those pills are tricky things, it's best to be careful with them. I know it's hard now but it’ll get better, I promise.” Scout nodded and gave a smile with one half of her mouth.
“Let me take a look at you,” Jack said and Scout turned towards him. He went to lift his hand towards Scout’s face and asked, “May I?” Scout nodded and Jack brushed her hair out of her face and turned her head gently, examining the fading bruises on her eye and cheek. He tilted her chin upwards to get a better look at the darker bruises that ran around her neck, and the scratches and fingernail indentations there. If the bruises were still this dark after weeks of healing he could only imagine how dark they must have been in the first place.
Jack was glad that his niece was looking at the ceiling as his face clouded with fury towards the man who did this. He looked over to Atticus, who met his eyes, looking fatigued. Jack calmed his expression before he lowered Scout’s chin back down and looked in her eyes.
“Does it still hurt to swallow?”
Scout was a bit confused since she hadn’t told anyone about that hurting in the first place, but she nodded.
“Hot water might help. Do you like tea?”
Scout shrugged, indifferent. Jack ended his casual examination and turned back to Atticus.
“Atticus, do you think Calpurnia could make us some tea? With extra honey and sugar for Scout?”
Scout now looked much more excited about the prospect of tea, and she turned to Atticus as well with hopeful raised eyebrows.
“I’ll go ask her now,” Atticus smiled, and left for the kitchen. Jack thanked him, then turned back to Scout.
“I’ve talked with Atticus on the phone and it sounds like Dr. Reynolds has been doing a fine job with your care- you’ll be all set to go in no time.”
“I reckon he has, but I think you’re a better doctor. Dr. Reynolds doesn’t tell stories like you do.”
"Hmmm... If telling good stories makes a superior physician then I suppose I should let F. Scott Fitzgerald take over my practice."
"Oh I think you're better than him too. Your stories are more fun."
Jack smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"I have plenty more to tell. I also have a surprise for you."
"What is it?" Scout perked up in her seat and her eyes darted over Jack's person, trying to identify a concealed package of some sort. Before she could strain herself by leaning over to try to see if he was holding it behind his back, Jack revealed both hands and raised them in surrender.
"I apologize ma'am, it's not that kind of surprise. Though do let me know if there is anything you want, I still owe my favorite niece a Christmas present."
Before she could be too flattered, Scout did some calculating in her head and realized,
"Heeey, I'm your only niece."
"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Jack laughed good-naturedly, trying to ignore that an exchange like this in the past would have been complemented by a playful punch to his arm. He glimpsed down to see Scout's tiny hands clasped firmly in her lap, as they had been since he arrived. Her powder blue nightgown sleeves didn't quite cover the lingering bruises around her wrists. Jack looked back up and held on to his smile like a cowhand wrangling a bull.
"Anyways, this is the surprise- there's one more guest who is going to stay here for a while."
"Oh? Who-"
"She's still in the car. I'll be back in a minute."
Before Scout could inquire further, Jack got up off the sofa, picked up his hat to leave on the hat rack in the hall, and left Scout to ponder who he was fetching.
For a second Scout hoped it was Miss Maudie, but she knew that didn't make much sense. Miss Maudie lived right across the street after all, and whoever it was was still waiting in Atticus's car, so he must have picked them up from Maycomb Junction with Jack. Did Scout know anyone else from Nashville? No one came to mind. Scout didn't like the idea of having to live with someone she didn't know, but she also didn't think that Uncle Jack would bring a stranger into their home after all that had happened. Although Uncle Jack did say that the guest was a "She", so that made her feel a bit better. Also, the Finch household only had one room to spare, so would Jack be sharing the room? Oh my, did the stubborn bachelor finally find himself a wife while Scout was gone? That didn't feel right either, somebody would have told her sooner if that was the case. And if he was rooming with an unwed female companion, the scandal would make Aunt Alexandra weep.
Oh no. Then came the worst thought of them all.
Was Aunt Alexandra staying coming to stay with them again?
Scout eyed the door with apprehension.
She was elated when Uncle Jack returned, not escorting a woman, but instead holding a traveler case from which emitted the unhappy yowls of Rose Alymer, his cat.
Jack had once said that Rose Alymer was one of the few women he could stand permanently, but even she now seemed to be testing his patience.
"Oh hush," he admonished. "She's been singing all the way from Nashville. Bless those poor souls in my train car."
Jack returned to the sofa besides Scout and placed down the traveler case, which looked like a glorified large metal lunchbox with several inch-wide holes in it for air. A paw repeatedly batted at one of the holes, and the squalling continued, quite different from the quintessential meowing that one would expect.
Scout felt a compassion for Rose Alymer that she had never felt for any animal before.
"Oh you poor thing," said Scout. "Shoot, Uncle Jack, she must be so frightened. Please let her out, sir. Why're you keepin' her in that thing where she can't see?"
"I've never travelled with her before, I'm never gone long enough to warrant it. Didn't know she'd dislike it so much."
Jack unlatched the lid, opened it, and the heavy cat immediately jumped out of it and into his arms. Scout gasped in delight.
"She's even bigger now!"
Scout had only a vague memory of meeting Rose Alymer in person when she was a kitten, but she'd seen her grow bigger and fatter in snapshots that Uncle Jack brought over the years. He lifted the cat up to bring her face to his eye level and asked earnestly,
"Could you forgive me for your harrowing travels, Madame Rose Alymer?"
Rose Alymer stared back blankly. Her ear twitched.
"I believe I am forgiven."
He set her down on his lap, and she immediately hopped to the floor, tail flicking indignantly. Scout snickered. The tea kettle whistled in the kitchen.
"Is Cal going to kick her out?"
"No no, she knows I was bringing her here, as did Atticus. In fact, it was Atticus's idea for me to bring her along in the first place. Everything's been arranged with them. And Calpurnia knows that she has every right to shoo Rose Alymer away by whatever means necessary if she makes herself a nuisance underfoot or in the kitchen. She should know better than that, and she tends to mind her own business. Also, don't worry about keeping doors open for her. She comes and goes as she pleases, so if she gets stuck outside for a while thats her choice."
"How do you know she isn't going to run away?"
Scout leaned forward to gently offer a hand to Rose Alymer. The cat drew back and away and Scout's hand retracted back to a loose fist, staying very still. The cat hesitantly moved back forward, sniffing Scout's hand with her surprisingly cold nose. Jack smiled.
"She knows where home is. She'll wander, but she always comes back. Don't ya, girl?"
Rose Alymer once again gave no answer. She turned away from Scout and Jack to explore, lifting her tail high to give them a clear view of her rear end. Scout wanted to pet her soft-looking yellow fur but she was too far out of reach. Her paws made no noise as she padded across the faded floral carpet.
"Don't be too disappointed if she keeps to herself, it's nothing personal. The younger folks in my neighborhood are very grabby so she doesn't trust children much, tends to steer clear of you all."
Scout nodded in understanding, silently vowing to leave the cat alone and to simply admire her from afar. Then she had an idea.
"For my Christmas present I want you to get her a case that she can see out of, one with a window." She glared down at the metal traveling case coldly. "That thing is horrible. I have half a mind to take a hammer to it if I ever get strong again."
"I might've let you if was mine, but it isn't, so don't you touch it. The neighbor who usually watches Rose Alymer for me when I travel has a few cats of her own, and she was kind enough to lend it to me," Uncle jack warned, then changed his tone.
"You will get strong again, I promise. I'm here to help you with that. But even so, I don't think a hammer would do much damage to this," Jack knocked on the side of the case twice and it sounded off two stubborn, dull metallic thuds, rather than the tinny clangs Scout was expecting. "A cat in this case could survive Armageddon. You'd be better off hiding it from me, perhaps burying it somewhere or dropping it into the watering hole..."
Scout smiled. Her father and uncle were so alike, and so puzzling. They were the only adults she knew who, while discouraging her and Jem from bad behavior, would often suggest more efficient ways to go about it.
"But that won't be necessary. I'll find her a new travel case in before we head back to Nashville. And that won't count as your present, though its very thoughtful of you to suggest that. So keep thinking about what else you want."
Scout beamed. Calpurnia entered the room carrying the tea tray and Atticus entered behind her with Rose Alymer on his heels.
"Oh Uncle Jack, thank you so much!"
"Of course. I sure missed you, kid."
"I missed you too!"
“Can I give you a hug?”
Scout nodded enthusiastically, lifted her arms widely for him, and embraced the hug.
That was when everything went wrong, though neither Jack nor Atticus nor Calpurnia noticed at the moment.
God. What was wrong with me? It was Uncle Jack. And chess. He was not going to hurt me.
I knew that. And I knew that I knew that.
But my brain was apparently completely screwed up because every time the investigators or Mr. Tate or God, even Jem, spoke, their lower registers made my hair raise and my mind go run run run because if I didn’t I wouldn’t get a chance.
And even though Uncle Jack was loving and funny and perfect, and he was a whole head shorter than Atticus, he was still so big and if he wanted to (and he didn’t, he wouldn’t, but God he could) he could grab me and hold me down and—
Something was wrong with me.
It had been almost six weeks, over a whole month since I got out. I should have been better by now.
And telling myself that only made me feel worse.
It was fine at first- perfect, in fact. In those first few minutes, he was just Uncle Jack, with his easy jokes and gentle doctor’s hands. And when he ruffled my hair it was so fine, and with the hug I didn’t even flinch. I didn’t even think about flinching, I was so ready to just welcome it and accept it as it was- a warm gesture from somebody who I loved, somebody who would help me and protect me no matter what.
But then I took a deep breath when my chin was tilted up on his collar and I smelled it. Just as I remembered, Uncle Jack always smelled like something pleasantly sweet, but he also reminded me of a bottle of alcohol. Just the tiniest bit. Much less than I remembered, I could tell it had been a couple days, even a week since he last had it. But it was still there.
And in that moment, the ease was gone. Laughing with him was no longer effortless, my smile felt strained. I had to work to be happy with him and my God, it was exhausting.
I kept on remembering Christmas when I went after Francis for insulting Atticus. I got in trouble and Uncle Jack knocked me to the floor when I tried to run. He was so sorry when he heard my side of the story, and he was glad to wrap up the knuckle that had split on Francis’s tooth, but it didn’t make me forget the fact that he had lit right into me without hesitation, and he could do it again if he wanted to. I was on eggshells trying to not give him a reason to.
Something was definitely wrong with me. I hoped it would be like how they said it would be, like how my body would heal and get better.
The first time I let it slip was later that afternoon when we were hunched over the chess board. My mind had wandered and when Uncle Jack moved his knight, the jerky movement of his hand caught me off guard and I reflexively pulled back my own hand which had been resting on the table.
I hastily went to make my next move, pushing some insignificant pawn while avoiding Uncle Jack’s questioning eyes.
After a couple games passed Miss Maudie stopped by to visit. I felt a weight lift off my chest, as if I were being rescued, and I stopped to wonder why. I didn’t need rescuing from Uncle Jack.
They exchanged greetings which quickly turned to jibes, with Uncle Jack trying to get Maudie’s goat, but the woman remained as unflappable as always. She teased him, and he teased her, and they ultimately appeared to enjoy each others company. I watched them, puzzled.
I thought of the way things were before. Back then, I was more at home in my father's world. I used to prefer being in the presence of men rather than ladies. There was something about them, no matter how much they cussed and drank and gambled and chewed; no matter how uninviting they were, there was something about them that I instinctively liked... they weren't hypocrites, unlike ladies. Ladies that weren’t Miss Maudie or Calpurnia, I mean.
But even before, I noticed how most ladies seemed to live in faint horror of men, or seemed unwilling to approve wholeheartedly of them. I think now I understood why… did all women live in fear that men will do to them what Mr. Ewell did to me? Not just the kidnapping and beating, but the kisses too? And the touching that made me feel gross? And the… the rape? Could only men do those things?
Men weren’t tricky, weren’t flighty, they didn't trap you with innocent questions to make fun of you like women did, and that's why I used to prefer them. But I couldn’t imagine a woman being capable of Mr.Ewell’s brand of cruelty; literally trapping someone and making their life a living hell.
But then again, in my right mind I couldn’t imagine Uncle Jack doing that either.
I tried not to be frustrated with myself. I tried to focus on what Atticus had told me, that my mind was just having trouble adjusting to the fact that I was safe now. That I was now used to being on the edge, to expecting pain when people got close. Used to seeing people as threats. He explained it like it was a malady that would soon go away, perhaps once I was safe for long enough.
But if most ladies felt this way, maybe it wouldn't go away... not that I considered myself much of a lady. I just now knew about some things that you're only supposed to know when you are one.
I wanted to go back to the way things were, when I trusted everyone. But knowing what I knew now, I knew I would be a fool to do so. I knew what men were capable of, what they wanted from women. What some of them wanted from girls, even. I had no grasp of how common that preference was, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I didn't need to be given a proper reason to think I would be struck, because I had already endured such treatment repeatedly without any reason at all. My trust in people not hurting me simply because they aren't supposed to was shattered, because Mr. Ewell wasn't supposed to either. But he still did. And with enough anger or alcohol in their system anyone- even good people, maybe even women- could too. And I didn’t want to be hurt again.
So I stayed on guard.