Dishonoring Jack

Chapter Fourteen

 Jack burned--every inch of her, every blood vessel and capillary, from her head to her toes--as she entered the church with her arm in Donovan's. The people of Irvington flocked to the doors of the church, the windows lit by candles. Everyone wore their Sunday best--fine lace dresses, silk jackets, feathered hats, strings of pearls. Jack in her mended blue satin felt entirely lackluster next to the finery, but despite her less than attractive attire, she and Donovan still attracted the attention of the entire crowd.

She lifted her chin under the judgmental gazes; she would not give them any satisfaction. Jack was proud to be seen with Donovan, and their night would not be ruined by malicious spectators. Donovan must have noticed the change in her countenance as they exited his car and walked towards the door of the church because he smiled down at her, his eyes sharp in the candle light. His smooth black hair was tied into a tail down his back, swept away from the high cheekbones and long jaw.

"Thanks for inviting me, Jack," he said, his voice sonorous amidst the chatter.

Jack wanted to tell him it was casual, that he was really the only fellow she knew to invite, but her tongue felt tied in knots because that wasn't the truth. She had wanted him as her companion, and being on his arm thrilled her.

"I'm glad you came," she said with a smile. "If only to keep me from falling on my face and ruining my spotless reputation."

Donovan laughed and pulled her closer to him, and Jack remembered the way he had danced, fluid and graceful and athletic while she had tripped over her own two feet, wrecking the dance exhibition more than once. She had resigned herself to practicing the steps while she fed the chickens just to ensure she would not ruin the sample dance in front of the whole town.

"You and the other girls have done a fine thing here," Donovan said as they joined the queue to enter the church. "The coffers will overflow with support for the troops."

"Just doing my patriotic duty," Jack said, contemplating whether she should have brought the shawl she knitted in red, white, and blue.

Donovan's statement was true, however--the Ragtime dance had attracted nearly everyone in Irvington and Jack watched Corrie's and Hannah's beaming faces at the door as they accepted donations of food and war bond purchases. Yes, the Ragtime dance was a success.

By the time Donovan and Jack reached the door, the church was bustling with activity and the Ragtime quartet's syncopated rhythm drifted through the door. The room was muggy with the heat of so many bodies crammed into such a small space and Reverend Smalley was opening the tall windows with their black shutters.

"Aunt Jack, welcome!" Corrie said when she caught sight of her aunt and the two women embraced. "You look beautiful!"

Jack flushed and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Hello, Corrie. How can I help? You know I can't stand to sit around and gab like some old hen."

"Will you check that the quartet knows the very first song? We'll begin the exhibition dance once everyone has come inside. And please make sure Christina hasn't become too fatigued."

Jack scanned the room for her younger niece and found the dark-haired beauty sitting by the quartet, greeting the attendees. The soldiers from the hospital who were well enough to travel gathered around her, lounging on cots brought over from the doctor's practice.

"I'll scare off those lovesick soldier boys, don't you worry."

"Hello, Donovan," Corrie said, and Jack recognized the concerned creases around Corrie's eyes as she offered a shallow curtsy. Though Donovan had proven himself to be in every respect a gentleman, Corrie was still hesitant to accept him and Jack hoped it was only out of maternal protectiveness for her aunt.