Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to Harper Lee (although I did exercise some creative liberty with them).
A/N: This is a little rough, primarily because Atticus is so hard to write properly. I can only hope I did him justice! After Unrequited, I found myself curious about how Atticus found out about his brother's secret.
Even before he was married, Atticus Finch was well aware of how gossipy the opposite sex could be. Not only had he declared his younger sister the queen of the gossips in his youth, but once he was old enough to live on his own he found himself in a neighborhood full of women who were just like her. For nearly ten years, Atticus peacefully lived in his house alone while most of his neighbors made up stories and fantasies about why he was living on his own. Once he married Jean and brought her home with him, he thought these rumors would subside. Instead, the women in his neighborhood harped on the fact that she was fifteen years his junior and used their "creative" minds to craft stories and theories about their marriage.
He learned to never mind these stories. Honestly, he did not have nearly enough time to pay any attention to them. He was happily married, a successful lawyer and member of the state legislature, and was now a father. He knew his truth, and couldn't help but to laugh at his neighbor's bursts of imagination.
That was until Heck Tate approached him one November afternoon. Atticus had forgotten the lunch Jean had prepared for him and had decided to take some time away from the office to eat in town. Settled on a bench with his paper and his lunch, he thought he was going to have a peaceful afternoon.
"Afternoon, Atticus." Heck said as he sat down on the bench next to him. Slightly taken aback by the unexpected company, Atticus folded his paper and put it down between them.
"Afternoon." He replied with a small smile.
"Nice out, ain't it?"
"Suppose it isn't too bad, though it's getting colder much sooner than expected." Atticus said. Heck looked like he wanted to say something, but was at a loss for words. Sometimes, Atticus forgot just how young Heck was. It was his moments of nervousness that reminded him.
"Well, um, sir, Karen's been tellin' me some things that Miss Crawford has been tellin' her that I thought you should know." Heck finally said, looking down at his hands. "She told me not to, but I figured it wasn't right for you to not know."
Karen was Heck's new wife, who originally came from a neighboring county. When Heck expressed his worries, Atticus assumed that Karen was just not accustomed to the ways of Maycomb. "Now, Heck," Atticus chuckled. "I have no intentions of being rude, but you do know how Stephanie likes to fabricate the facts."
"Well, yes sir. But even if it isn't true, what she's sayin' isn't right. It's, erm, about your wife and brother."
Atticus was so quick to laugh he couldn't even think about suppressing it. "In the three years that she's lived here, there have been many things said about my wife." He explained. "I didn't realize my brother was now involved."
Heck cleared his throat nervously. "Well it's mainly about your brother, actually."
"Well, that's new." Atticus responded, still smiling. "I am actually quite excited to hear what's being said about him."
Heck swallowed. "Well, the ladies are sayin' he's madly in love with your wife."
This time, Atticus didn't laugh. Usually, whenever Jean would hear any of the rumors about her (or anyone else in town) she would go to Atticus and recount for him the nonsense she heard. In their closed quarters, he gave her the platform to safely make fun of the rubbish that was circulating around the town. He couldn't recall her saying anything about that.
It was false, he knew it was. It had to be false. Why, Jack had been interacting with Jean for nearly five years, and nothing ever seemed off. He had talked to his brother about Jean and how he loved her, and Jack was the first to know that he was going to ask Jean to marry him. Certainly, he would've said something if that was how he felt.
Or would he?
Atticus shook his head. Stephanie Crawford planted this rumor in the ladies of the town as her way of teasing him. She always enjoyed trying to push his buttons, and he knew she was disappointed when it never worked. Well, it wouldn't work now.
"Thanks for telling me, Heck." Atticus said as he began cleaning up the remainder of his lunch. "I can affirm that this is simply a rumor, but at least now I can put it to rest."
"You alright, sir?" Heck asked cautiously as Atticus rose from the bench.
Atticus flashed the young man a smile as he walked away. "Of course."
Back at his office, Atticus looked at the remainder of the work he had for the day. He only had one meeting with a client he was defending, and then he was free to go home. He attempted to organize files from previous cases (they were becoming so numerous that he really needed a better arrangement for them), but he found himself unable to concentrate. Silently, he chastised himself for allowing some run of the mill gossip distract him from his daily routine.
His meeting had gone quickly. The case he had ahead of him wasn't as big as ones he had in the past and he found it easy to advise his client on what the process would be like. Honestly, he was relieved that this seemed like it would be a short trial, the last one he was in had drawn on for far too long and had drained him of much of his energy.
Usually, afternoons were spent reviewing what had been done that day and figuring out what needed to be done next. Instead, he made the rash decision to go home early. Maybe Jean would greet him, laughing about the ridiculous rumor about Jack she heard just that afternoon.
As though he was in a hurry, Atticus quickly cleaned up his office for the evening and left. On the walk home, he greeted and waved to neighbors as usual. As he got closer to Stephanie's house, he once again began to think about the nonsense she was spreading around. Shaking his head, he continued his walk.
"Now, what are you shakin' your head at, Atticus?" Maudie asked from her garden, laughing.
"Oh, nothing," He smiled at his neighbor as he waved. "I was just thinking."
"Someone must've done something very foolish, then." She smirked, turning back to her azaleas.
"That can't be my husband I hear, can it?" Jean asked as the front door opened. She smiled at him from the doorway. "What a nice surprise, you must be an hour early!"
"What can I say, sweet? I still have an air of mystery to me." He smiled as he kissed her hello.
"I should be waking Jeremy up from his nap in a few minutes," She said as she closed the door behind them. "Could you keep him occupied when I make supper? He always gets so fussy when he wakes up."
"Of course," he said as she went down the hall into their son's nursery. From the living room, he could hear her soothing voice coax their son out of his sleep. As she predicted, the two-month old was not especially happy about being awoken. As he sat down in his arm chair, he thought of casually bringing up what he heard today.
"Oh, shh," Jean hummed as she bounced into the living room with Jeremy in her arms. Chuckling, Atticus held his arms out for him. Jeremy's cries turned into a series of gurgles, but soon he was quiet.
"Of course he calms down once he's in your arms." Jean teased from the kitchen. "Don't let him fall asleep again! He'll be up all night."
"I won't, dear." He called back.
For a moment, the two of them were quiet. Atticus remained in the living room, playing with the baby so he wouldn't fall asleep. In the kitchen he heard the normal clamor of pots and pans as Jean prepared dinner. "Jean?" He asked, startling the baby.
"Is everything alright out there?"
"Yes, I just have a question for you." He replied, suddenly feeling awkward.
"Hmm?" She called back.
"Have the ladies been saying anything recently?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean?"
"Have they been gossiping recently?"
"They're always gossiping, sweet. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," he said suddenly, changing his mind. Something told him that this is what Stephanie wanted, she wanted to make him paranoid.
"Alright…dinner should be ready soon, dear!"
Once Atticus had decided to disengage from the gossip, the rest of the evening had gone normally. As usual, Jean insisted that he ate while she fed the baby. He couldn't help but to feel guilty because feeding Jeremy was always a time consuming task, and by the time she was able to sit down to eat, her food had gone cold. Whenever he offered to do it for her (which was every night), she would smile and say: "Oh honey, you work so hard every day, you just sit down and enjoy your meal."
When Jeremy was done eating, Jean placed him in the bassinette they kept in the dining room for him. The baby gurgled happily as his parents discussed the events of their days. Sometimes, Atticus couldn't help but to think about how different his life was now compared to five years ago. He had a life completely different from what he had imagined from himself, but he couldn't say he wasn't pleased with the way things had turned out.
Each night after dinner, Atticus and Jean had a tradition of sitting in the living room listening to the radio. Most of the time, the two of them would casually read and continue the conversation they were having at dinner. When Jeremy began to fall asleep for the night, Jean would take him and rock him to sleep in the nursery. Once Jean finished the process of putting Jeremy to bed, the pair would retreat into their room where they would read until they fell asleep.
"I think Jeremy's getting sick or something," Jean observed as she crawled into their bed. "He's just been so fussy lately, it's so unlike him."
"Well, we'll just keep checking on him and if something's wrong we'll get him check out." He replied as he picked up the book from his end stand table.
"I hope he isn't sick," She thought aloud. "He's just so small."
"He'll be fine, sweet."
Silently, the two of them read. Occasionally Jean would yawn and when Atticus looked over at her he noticed that she would stare at her book, fighting off sleep.
"Would you like the lights off?" He asked.
"Dear? Why did you ask me about the ladies gossiping?" She asked tiredly.
"I was just curious."
"You've never asked about it before, though. I'm usually the one to bring it up."
"I've heard something peculiar today," He replied, looking away from his book and at her. Her eyes still remained on the book in front of her.
With a smile she turned to look at him. "And what was that, sweet?" She asked. He swallowed, it was too late to turn back now.
"Heck Tate's wife informed him of a rumor she's been hearing," he said slowly, giving himself time to make something up in case he changed his mind.
She raised her eyebrows and chuckled at him. His heart rose to his throat. Why was he so nervous? Suddenly, she looked alarmed. "This must be a doozy if you're in such a state. What is Karen telling her husband?"
Looking back at his book, he took a deep breath before he announced: "That my brother's in love with you."
She looked as if the breath had gotten caught in her throat. Hastily, she folded the corner of the page she was on and got out of the bed. "I need to check on the baby," she declared as she crossed the room to leave.
"Love, he hasn't made a noise since you put him down." He said, and he instantly regretted what he said.
"I know, but I just want to make sure he's not running a fever or anything." She responded as she left the room.
His eyes returned to the book he was reading, but he found that he couldn't focus on it anymore. Giving up, Atticus put it back on his end table. After what seemed to be an eternity Jean returned to the room, her face flushed. "He's not running a fever," She said as she laid back down in the bed. "I nearly woke him up when I was checking his temperature."
He didn't respond, instead he just watched his wife who began to preoccupy herself by pulling on a loose thread on their duvet. "Sweet," he said, clearing his throat.
"It isn't a rumor," she muttered, still playing with the string.
Atticus furrowed his brow as he watched her. He had expected her to laugh off what he had said, dismissing it as some silly rumor. He didn't think that it was even possible that this could be true.
"What?" He asked. Taking a deep breath, she focused her eyes on him.
"Stephanie's been going on and on about it ever since I moved here," she began. "She's always makin' up such wild stories I always just dismissed it. But last Christmas, when he came to visit, he told me it was true."
"You were hardly with him alone, I don't understand—"
"It was the night you told everyone we were having the baby," she said. "He went off into the study by himself and I went to go check on him. He had been drinking and it just sort of came out."
"Did he do anything?" Atticus asked, surprised. How had he been so naïve?
Jean shot upright and shook her head. "Heavens, no," she responded. "He would never—"
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him to stop," she said bashfully, looking back at the string she had abandoned.
"How effectual was that?" Atticus asked, part of him wanting to laugh at his wife. Maybe she had been just as naïve as he was. The thought of that made him feel better.
"Well, what would you have done?"
"I would've…" he paused, Jean still wasn't looking at him. "I would've told him to stop, too, I reckon." She chuckled at this.
"A year," he swallowed. "An entire year went by, why didn't you tell me?"
He noticed she started wiping at her eyes. Had she been crying? "I felt dumb," she admitted, sniffing. Noticing her upset, Atticus wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Here I am laughing at Stephanie every time she mentioned it and it ended up being true. And I had to stand there and tell him that basically all of his feelings were wasted. There isn't really a nice way to say that to someone."
"I'm going to talk to him." He said. "I'm going to tell him to lay it to rest."
"You can't!" She said, setting her gaze back to him. He noticed she looked worried. "I think it may kill him if he knew you knew. I already told him he needed to stop, I don't think he needs anyone else talking to him about it."
"How do you suppose I feel? Now when I see him I'm going to know he's looking at you in a way he shouldn't…"
"Honey, he's your brother." She interrupted.
"That makes this worse."
"You can't bring it up," she pleaded. "Maybe he will tell you."
"Or he won't, I just want him to know that I know and that I certainly can't allow it to go on any longer." He responded, his face feeling hot.
"It'll make matters worse, sweet. He just seemed so ashamed, he would feel crucified if you approached him. We had a mutual agreement to lay it to rest. To pretend it didn't happen, to pretend it was just some stupid rumor." She said, wiping more tears from her eyes. "I just feel awful about it." She added, sighing.
"You didn't think of telling me?" He asked. He couldn't help but to feel stung at the fact that his wife, who told him everything else, hid this from him.
"I was just hoping you wouldn't find out, honestly." She said, looking embarrassed. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want anything driving a wedge in your relationship with your brother, it would destroy you both. It's a terrible predicament. I wanted you to know, I really did—"
He inhaled deeply. "But you didn't want me believing in some terrible rumor." He finished, leaving her looking perplexed.
"Exactly."
Atticus kept his arm around Jean as he turned the lamp next to his bed off. As they settled into bed, she rested her head against his chest.
"Sweet?" He asked quietly.
"Hmm?"
"I love you more than Jack does."
She laughed into his chest, making him smile. "I love you even more."