Dishonoring Jack

Chapter Twenty Six

 Jack had never in her entire life been less excited to attend a dance.

Of course, she was obligated to attend. She was, after all, a Ragtime Girl. and she had to support their work to raise money and support for the war effort. But Jack loathed the thought of trying to masquerade as happy to the town of Irvington with the vast number of rumors swirling about. Still, she had to attend, so she rustled through her old dresser for a pair of blue silk pants she'd purchased for herself for Christmas and pulled them on with a faded cream blouse and her boots. She had no desire to portray herself as ladylike this evening--she would rather prefer to show up with her shotgun in hand just in case the Slate brothers decided to show their miserable faces at the Ragtime party.

It had been two weeks since Jack had seen or spoken to Donovan. She knew he hadn't left yet because of the automobile still parked in front of the Bookers' home and occasionally she saw his back from afar as he left for the school in the morning. But they hadn't spoken since that fateful argument the night Jack had confronted the Slates. Minnie told her that they should just apologize to each other and get it over with, but Jack maintained that she had nothing to apologize for and they were both too stubborn to admit the other spoke some grain of truth.

Jack couldn't entirely explain her anger and she preferred not to dwell on it. All she knew was that she wanted Donovan to do something to stop the Slate brothers and he wouldn't. That was all there was to it.

She didn't notice his car approaching her house until the engine roared outside her front door; when she saw him in his fine black suit jacket, his hair tied back and his eyes gleaming in the setting sun, a wave of emotion washed through her, and that emotion wasn't anger. It was regret and loss and fear all tied up into an ugly package.

She watched through the window as he walked up her crooked steps and knocked on the door, but she kept herself hidden so he wouldn't see her. Perhaps he would leave her alone so she could attend the dance alone. That was what she wanted, anyways. Wasn't it?

"Jack, I know you're in there," Donovan called and Jack realized how ridiculous she was acting, like some scorned schoolgirl.

With a huff, she swung the door open. "Yes, I'm here. What do you want?"

Donovan didn't say anything for a moment, taking her in with hungry, desperate eyes that made Jack want to kiss him until they forgot their differences.

"Jack, I don't want to fight," he murmured, his voice cracking.

Lifting her chin, Jack pushed past him and climbed into his car. "Yes, well, it's too late for that," she said, refusing to meet his eyes as he climbed in next to her.

What was she saying? It wasn't too late for them, but she refused to apologize for wanting him to do the right thing. Jack bit her lip and studied the vacant scenery for some source of distraction.

"I'm only trying to protect you."

At his voice, Jack spun to face him. "I don't need to be protected, Donovan! I've told you that a thousand times."

He sighed and started the car. His hands squeezed the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "I know you don't, Jack, but I still want to keep you safe."

Jack turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. They were at a stalemate. He failed to acknowledge her own ability to protect herself from the Slate brothers and she refused to acknowledge that she needed any protection. Jack's heart pounded in her chest a question lingered in the back of her mind. What if? What if this was the final straw that would send Donovan away from Irvington? What if he thought he had no choice but to leave her behind for good? What if she was losing him thanks to her own stubbornness?