"Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry," Corrie murmured, touching Jack's arm and pausing in their promenade. "I know what Roy used to mean to you."
Jack forced herself out of her reverie--this wasn't like her, to be so lost in the clouds, and she rather hated it. "That's not what bothers me, Corrie. I mean, of course I'm saddened. He was not always so reprobate as in recent years, and I don't wish to see anyone die in the Great War."
"Of course not."
"At least it wasn't David."
Corrie sighed, thinking certainly, of her recently infirm sister with the beau fighting in France. "At least it wasn't David."
If David were to be killed in the conflict, Both Jack and Corrie feared that the demise of Christina's beloved would bring an irreversible recurrence of the dreaded pneumonia that had previously threatened her life.
"But what is it that weighs so heavily on your mind, Jack?" Corrie inquired.
"Oh, it's just the musings of a half-crazed spinster, I suppose," Jack said with a sigh. "When I ended the engagement, I suppose I thought I would lead a life of wild adventure and meaning and purpose, but I can hardly see that life when I look back now. I ended the engagement for this very purpose, but what have I done? What have I seen of the world?"
"Jack, you've traveled all over the East Coast!" said Corrie. "And you know more about animals and birds and plants than most scientists, I would imagine. You've done far more in your life than many."
"But that's not--it's not enough!" Jack cried in frustration, balling her small hands into fists. "Perhaps it would be enough for a lesser woman with smaller ambitions and a meaner imagination, but not for me."
"What is there to be done?" Corrie asked, her realism expressed in the frown of her small, delicate features. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I can't imagine a solution."
"There's nothing to be done now," Jack confessed. "I haven't the means or the opportunity to travel with the War, and I can't abandon my post at the factory. But someday--perhaps when this blasted war ends--maybe I'll go somewhere, do something, have some great adventure."
Corrie smiled at the fantastical ravings of her aunt. "Why, that would be grand, Jack. And I'm relieved to know you are not too grieved by Roy's death."
Jack sighed and looked down at her boots as she walked--of course she grieved for him, but her thoughts did not long dwell on the past when the present was so sunny and strong. "Yes, well, there's nothing to be done for him now though his sister blames me for his illegalities."
"Margaret?" Corrie asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Indeed. She nearly shot my hat off when I went to deliver the letter!"
"Oh, Jack, you should have left the task for Mr. Blackaby. You know those Hunts hate you. They all say that you thought you were to good for the likes of them when you ended the engagement."
Jack laughed--her reputation for having unsavory friends must have soon demolished that argument. Everyone in Irvington knew that Jack would befriend whomever she so desired, regardless of race, reputation, or social standing.
"Perhaps it wasn't my wisest decision to venture to the Hunt homestead alone, but I couldn't break protocol. The letter needed to be delivered, and I was the one to do it, so I did."
"And you could have died," Corrie said, one hand on her hip. Though the young woman was only in her early twenties, she had the wisdom, pragmatism, and forbearance of a woman much her elder.
"I also could have died when that half-crazed lunatic nearly ran me over in the street," Jack exclaimed, flinging her arm towards the main road.
Corrie laughed and elbowed Jack as they proceeded down the sidewalk. "You were riding in the middle of the street with no care for anyone else. You nearly collided with Amos Sutherland's horse just a few paces before that."
Jack couldn't quite find enough generosity to forgive the terrible driver--he had the larger vehicle, so he should have been more careful, or at least driven more slowly through such a small town. Did the man not know there were small children who roamed these streets?
"What is this I hear about dying and bullets?" a voice interrupted, and Jack and Corrie turned behind them to see Titus Fletcher, Irvington's one-legged sheriff and Corrie's sister-in-law's beau.
"Good day, Titus!" Jack cried, shaking the man's hand heartily.
There were few men in Irvington Jack admired as much as quiet, level-headed Titus. The young man smiled at Jack and returned the handshake, his gray eyes flinty. He straightened the dark vest he wore over his lanky frame, and the tarnished gold sheriff's star he wore on his chest gleamed in the sun.
"Hello, Jack, Corrie."
"Are you on your way to visit the doctor's pretty little sister?" Jack asked with a brazen wink.
Titus and Hannah, the doctor's sister, had been seeing each other for some months and everyone expected a proposal in the near future. Titus colored appropriately but ignored Jack's scandalous insinuations; he had endured the spinster's good natured ribbing for long enough to ignore it.
"I'm actually joining the Benjamins for dinner. Are you as well?"
"She ignored my offer of watery coffee, so I doubt she'll stay for Meatless Monday," Corrie said with a grin.
With the food shortages, the Food Administration begged good American citizens to forgo meat on Mondays and wheat on Wednesdays to conserve supplies for the troops. Though Jack didn't care much for the trend, no one could call her an unfaithful citizen and she did her duty with little grousing.
"I'm afraid not." Jack sighed, feeling the labor of the day seeping into her body. Between hours spent at the munitions factory and the rather close calls she'd had with Margaret's bullet and the automobile, Jack's aging bones were ready for a cup of hot tea and a book by the fireplace though she was loathe to admit it to her niece and the sheriff. " You'll have to say hello to Hannah and Dr. B for me."
"Gladly."
"Say," Jack said, touching her chin. "As sheriff, it's your job to prosecute violators of the law, is that right?"
"I suppose so. Has this anything to do with you nearly being shot earlier today?" Titus asked, with a thin smile. "I overheard you as I approached. What sort of mischief have you gotten yourself into today, Jack?"
"Hard as it may to believe, I am not the one to blame for any stray gunshots you may have heard on the edge of town," Jack said, gesturing to her disheveled outfit. "You can blame all of this on Margaret Hunt and a terrible automobile driver."
"Was the bullet aimed at you? If so, I'm rather surprised she missed her mark. She's known for her sharpshooting."
Jack rolled her eyes, one hand on her hip. "Not quite. The gunshot was accidental, but I still had to fall flat on my face to avoid a visit to Corrie's husband."
Corrie groaned aloud. "I'm grateful to not have you for a patient, Aunt Jack. I confess, I can't imagine trying to keep you abed any longer than you chose."
Jack guffawed, finding the prospect hilarious. "I'm not meant to be penned up by infirmity. I'm not sure how Christina bears it."
Though she had recovered from the bout of pneumonia, Jack's youngest niece Christina had also sustained a terrible injury to her leg and remained unable to walk without the assistance of crutches.
"She's a saint," Corrie declared.
"That's an understatement," Jack answered. "She has to deal with your horrendous father every day; I daresay some saints might not even survive such a tribulation."
"Jack, he's the mayor," Titus said, laughing as he spoke.
The fact that Oliver Walker, Jack's brother-in-law, was the mayor of Irvington was a blight on Jack's carefree existence. He seemed determined to thwart all of Jack's fun and spread shame and infamy about her wherever he went.
"Don't remind me. Corrie, are you certain you didn't marry our fine doctor just to get out of the mayor's house?" Jack teased, knowing full-well that Corrie and Dr. Benjamin's romance was the stuff of fairytales. In fact, Corrie had ended her engagement with a man of greater wealth and status just to marry the kindly doctor--at least, that's what the town gossips heralded.
"Quite certain," Corrie said, a blush warming her pale, freckled face. "Though I must admit I'm happy to be out of the house. Mother and Father can be a bit..."
"Abrasive? Cruel? Pompous?" Jack interjected.
Corrie laughed. "I suppose so. I was going to say difficult."
"You are altogether too forgiving, Corrie," Jack declared.
"Well, I'm afraid we've arrived at home," Corrie said, stopping in front of the medical practice of Dr. Alexander Benjamin.
The door was open to let in the warm summer air and release the putrid odor of infirmity and rotting flesh from the many injured soldiers who lived at the practice. Corrie and her husband, Dr. Benjamin, resided in the upper story of the hospital with Dr. Benjamin's sister, Hannah, which allowed them to care for the injured at all hours of the day.
"Jack, are you certain I can't tempt you to join us for dinner?" Corrie entreated her again, touching Jack's dirt-smeared arm. "I know Hannah and Alex would love to see you, and it's been a few days since you've stopped by for very long."
"I'm afraid I can't tonight, especially not in these clothes. I look as if I've been romping in a mud puddle like the Walter boys."
"When has looking like a ragamuffin ever stopped you, Aunt Jack?" Corrie asked, a twinkle in her green eyes.
"Fair enough, but I must return home. I do have a lot of vegetables from my garden that are ripe for the eating. Can you use them for your soldiers?" Jack asked.
Corrie sighed, sagging against the door of the medical practice. For a moment, she looked much older than her twenty-some years. "We'll take anything we can get. With the shortening in supplies, we haven't received as many donations of food as in the past, so there's scarcely enough to go around."
"I'm happy to give you what I have; perhaps I'll bring some food by later this week?"
"That would be grand, Jack. Thank you!"
"Until then, I suppose I must be getting home." Jack gesturing to her bicycle. "I'm happy I ran into you both."
"It's good to see you, Jack," Titus said, slipping into the medical practice.
Corrie hesitated by the door, studying Jack with her serious eyes. Jack quailed a little under the examination, memory of the day's tragedy returning to the forefront of her attention.
"You're sure you're alright, Jack? I know it's been a long time, but still. I imagine this must be difficult."
Jack sighed, not sure what to say. Of course, Roy's death weighed heavily on her, but not because of lingering feelings for the young man or any sense of guilt. She grieved him as someone she used to know, a harbinger of memories of a simpler time.
"I'm fine, Corrie. I promise you."
Corrie lingered a moment longer, but finally gave Jack a soft smile and waved her goodbye. Jack continued down the sidewalk, leisurely pushing her bicycle beside her. With her distracted state of mind, she did not want to endanger herself further by haphazardly riding down the street. She'd had enough close calls for one day.
As she walked, she whistled a simple tune and let the warmth of the setting summer sun soak through the darkness the day had brought. She let all thoughts of the Hunt family dissipate in the warmth of the sunset, and skipped down the street.
Her warm revery was interrupted by the sound of an automobile coming from behind her; Jack turned to the street and found the same fellow who had nearly run her over just a few moments ago again coming down the street. His Model T was black and flashy, glinting in the sunlight, and he drove faster than Jack deemed prudent. Her ire against the man for driving so quickly faded as she watched him drive by and imagined all the places she could go in such a vehicle.
Perhaps, someday, she would.
Our Jack seems eager for trouble, doesn't she? Have you ever dreamed about what you could do with your life or where could you go? Let me know in the comments!