AN: Ok, so, I originally uploaded this when I was 18 (I'm 22 now YIKES), and anytime I looked at it I cringed at 18 year old me's writing. This has been given a big spruce up (with potentially more chapters than last time idk yet), so yeah here's another oldie.
Jean Finch rested her weight against the kitchen counter top, her hands frozen on top of her chopping board as she watched her children playing in the back yard. She laughed quietly watching Jem imitate what she took to be an ape and then instruct Scout to do the same. Ever the boss over his little sister, she watched Jem instruct Scout to stay where she was while he climbed on top of the tire swing.
"Looks like it's Tarzan and the apes again, Cal." Jean said, never turning from watching Jem and Scout. Behind her, she heard Cal laugh.
"Those two have the wildest imaginations I've ever seen, Miss Jean!" Cal replied, joining Jean at the kitchen window.
"That they do, Cal."
Jean was proud of the people her children were turning out to be. While Jem took after her in looks, he was his daddy through and through. He had his mother's light brown hair and eyes, but his father's calm and collected temperament. At only ten years old, Jem was a little gentleman who wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and was a protective older brother to his baby sister, Jean Louise, and Jean couldn't have been prouder of him.
Jean Louise, or Scout as she had been affectionately nicknamed, was another thing altogether. Jean's daughter was a little fire cracker who took nothing from nobody, and while Jean had to constantly remind her not to say things which were entirely inappropriate, she was inwardly proud that her daughter seemed to be able to hold her own in the world even at the tender age of six. She hoped Scout never lost that fire. It was a cruel world she would grow up to enter and she'd need fire in her belly to take it by the horns.
Being six also meant something else. Being six meant that her little baby would be starting school in a short number of weeks. Jean could scarcely believe that six years had passed since Jean Louise had been born. In her mind it was only yesterday that she was reading to her and rocking her to sleep, it was only yesterday that she had sat with her husband waiting for Jean Louise to say her first words, and it was most definitely only yesterday that she had been cradling her newborn daughter in her arms. How had she grown up so quickly?
How had both her babies grown up so quickly? She still remembered Jem as the always smiling and laughing little baby in her arms; now he was ten years old and asking his father for a gun. Jean had hardly been able to believe her ears when Jem had asked Atticus one evening over supper if he could be allowed to have a gun. He put forward the argument that he was now ten and so had the maturity to handle such a thing without causing any damage. She had just opened her mouth to argue when Atticus saved her the trouble and said quite firmly that there would be no guns in the house while he was still above ground. When Atticus had put his foot down on the matter, Jean was sure that Jem would let the idea drop, but she should have known that it would only be a matter of time before Jem brought it up again.
Outside, she watched as their was a pause in Tarzan and the apes. Jem was looking towards town before pulling Scout to her feet and racing in through the screen door.
"Mama, it's five o'clock! We're gonna go meet Atticus!" Jem came barrelling through, not stopping for Jean's response as he raced down the hall and back outside through the front door.
"Hi, Mama. Bye, Mama!" Scout quickly followed, running to catch up with her brother. Jean shook her head fondly at watching them go. Though they may not agree with him half the time, both her children idolised their father.
Coming through the swinging door to the dining room, Cal laughed heartily at the sounds of their feet pounding down the hall. "Nothing's changed with 'em, Miss Jean. Meeting their daddy is still the highlight of their day." She said while picking up a stack of plates.
"Atticus just loves it. He says nothin' makes him happier than coming form the office and seeing his two rascals racing towards him, even if he does end up covered in dirt or whatever else they've been rolling in. I swear, one time he came through that door covered in slime." She laughed and followed Cal through to the dining room, listening as the screen door clattered shut and the sounds of Jem and Scout trying to talk over each other filled the house.
"...and then we had to stop cause Scout wouldn't play one of the apes and…"
"I always play an ape. Why can't I be Tarzan…"
"Cause you're a girl, Scout. How can you be Tarzan when you're a girl."
"I can be just a good a Tarzan as you, Jem Finch!"
"Will you both give your daddy some room to breathe?" Jean emerged from the dining room and chastised them both gently. "Lord almighty, he's not even through the door and you've both nearly got him smothered," she laughed and crossed the hall to allow Atticus to kiss her hello, not missing the sound of Scout giggling.
"Atticus, why do you kiss Mama all the time?" Scout asked, still snickering quietly.
"Because I love her," Atticus answered simply, allowing Jem to take his briefcase and his hat as he wrapped his arm around Jean's waist.
"Atticus loves Mama," she began to chant as she turned and skipped back through to the dining room.
Jean turned her head up to her husband and rolled her eyes as she stretched up to kiss his cheek. "As you heard we had a very eventful afternoon involving a very stubborn daughter of ours who refused to play an ape. It was all very dramatic I must say. I thought for a minute we might have to call John Taylor in to make a verdict. She must take her stubbornness after you," she teased her husband as they made their way to the dining room with his arm still wrapped around her waist.
"Mrs Finch, if I'm stubborn it's only because you've rubbed off on me after all these years. You can be a stubborn little madam too when you want to be." He gave her a squeeze before letting go and pulling out her chair at the table.
Even after eleven years of marriage, he was still the ever attentive husband. Jean had thought that, with the arrival of their children, his affectionate side towards her would diminish, but she found she was pleasantly wrong. If anything Atticus seemed to get more affectionate towards her as the years went by. He still didn't mind when she rested her head on his shoulder as they read in the evenings, he still kissed her as he always had done, even in the presence of their children, and he still surprised her with little trinkets whenever he felt like it. The ladies of the neighbourhood often commented on how lucky she was that her husband was still so attentive towards her, and Jean couldn't help but agree with them.
Supper that evening went as usual with Atticus asking his wife and children how their day had been and he in turn talked about his. Everything was going as normal until, halfway through the meal, Jean happened to glance at her son and found he was sitting pushing his food dismally around his plate.
"Jem? Is everything alright? Are you feeling ill?" Jean asked him softly, watching as his eyes came up from his plate and he regarded his father. Jean immediately regretted having said anything.
"Atticus, why won't you let me have a gun? It ain't fair! All the other boys in school have had guns since they started walkin'. It ain't like I'm gonna go shoot Miss Maudie or anything!" Jem brought up the same age old argument.
"That's only cause then you wouldn't get any of her cakes," Scout piped up from beside him, smirking at him over the top of her glass.
Jem glowered at her before turning back to Atticus. "Atticus, please! You know I'd be real careful not to hit anyone! I'm ten now I'm old enough! You can trust me with it!" He continued to plead.
Jean saw Atticus sigh wearily and place his knife and fork by his plate. "Son, I have no doubt that you wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone if I were to give you a gun, but accidents happen. It's not a matter of not trusting you, but all it takes is one wrong move and you've done somethin' you'll regret for the rest of your life. When you're older and little bit more mature, then you can get a gun," Atticus spoke firmly, picking his knife and fork back up to signal the end of the discussion.
"Mama," Jem turned helplessly back to Jean, his eyes begging her to say something.
"I'm sorry, baby, but I agree with your daddy. Like he said, it's not about not trusting you but not wantin' you to get hurt or hurt anyone else," Jean said and watched Jem sink back into his chair and play around with his food once more. She didn't enjoy having her son angry with her, but it was better than having him lying dead somewhere as a result of a backfiring gun.
For the rest of the evening Jem stayed quiet in his room rather than spending the last few hours before bed out playing in the neighbourhood. He and Scout had recently befriended a little boy named Dill who was staying with Rachel Haverford next door, but not even his appearance shortly after supper could convince Jem to leave his room.
He stayed moody for the remainder of the evening, not coming to join the rest of his family in the living room as they each sat at their own activities with the radio playing softly in the background. Not even Atticus' peace offering of new football magazines would coax him to come out. When the clock rolled half past eight, and Atticus was keeping to his nightly ritual of reading with Scout before she went to sleep, Jean slipped into her son's room and found him sitting in bed staring angrily at the wall in front of him. He didn't make any indication that he was aware of her presence until she sat by his side and started stroking his hair. Since he was little, it was always the thing that seemed to have a calming effect on him.
"Baby, don't be angry at your daddy, or at me for that matter. We're only being like this because we love you." She spoke soothingly to him and continued stroking his hair.
"Mama, I'm ten years old. Atticus can teach me how to work a gun properly to make sure I don't hurt myself or anyone else. You don't know what it's like when all the other boys have guns and I don't because my daddy won't let me," he continued to huff with her.
Jean sighed and moved herself onto his bed in order to wrap her arm around his small shoulders and pull him into her. He might be ten years old, but he wasn't too old that he didn't enjoy getting cuddles from his mama. "Baby, your daddy is just scared for you. We both are. We'd never forgive ourselves if anything were to happen to you." Jean murmured and kissed the top of his head.
"Why are you scared, Mama? It ain't like I'm goin' to turn into a lunatic that goes around shootin' everyone. I ain't gonna end up in the asylum," Jem turned slightly to look at her disbelievingly.
"No, baby, you've picked me up wrong. I don't think you're goin' to turn into a lunatic." She laughed lightly and ruffled his hair. Sighing deeply once more, she decided that Jem was old enough to hear about why she and Atticus were scared for him.
"Baby, we've never told you this, but I had some trouble havin' you. You were supposed to be born in March but instead you decided to make an appearance in January. Your daddy and me both didn't think you would make it, but you've always been a fighter and you pulled through." She kissed his head again. Despite the fact that ten years had passed, it still haunted her how she could so easily have lost her son. "Then, two years after you were born, your daddy and me wanted another baby and we very nearly had one but somethin' happened and I lost it. Your daddy was so upset, more upset than I've ever seen him, we almost didn't have Scout because he was scared of what might happen." She shook her head and paused for a second. "So, honey, do you see why he's so reluctant to let you have a gun? He wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to you after all the trouble we went through. We both love you so much and we just want to keep you safe." She gave her son a squeeze.
Jem remained silent beside her as he thought about what she had just said. "Ok, Mama," he said eventually. "I'm sorry." He apologised and put his arms around her neck to hug her.
"Oh, baby, you have nothin' to be sorry for. Nothin' at all." Jean replied, gladly tightening her own arms around him. "If you'll just have some patience, mister, you'll see your daddy will keep his promise." She playfully pinched his cheek and leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Now, get to bed before your daddy comes in and tans my hide for keepin' you up." She winked at him and stood to let him fix his duvet around him.
"Mama," he called just as she had reached the interconnecting door to Scouts room.
"Mmm?"
"I love you."
Jean felt her heart melt. "I love you too, baby," she whispered quietly and slipped silently into her daughter's room. The lamp beside her bed was off and a sure indication that her reading time with Atticus had ended long ago. Nevertheless, Jean crossed the room to her bed and placed a kiss on her cheek which was showing above her duvet.
After silently closing Scout's door and checking in on Jem once more, Jean made the usual journey to the front porch swing where she and her husband would go each night after the children were in bed to have some time for themselves. Popping her head out through the screen door she saw as expected, Atticus sitting on his usual side of the bench preoccupied with whatever was on his mind.
"Now, what could possibly have you thinkin' so intently at quarter to nine at night? It's a little early to be thinkin' about my Christmas present, isn't it?" She teased as she took her seat beside him and felt his arm drape over her shoulders.
"Were you in town today, honey?" He asked as his fingers traced over the skin of her arm.
"I wasn't. Why, did somethin' happen?" She replied, clearly confused.
"You could say that." Atticus rubbed his eyes under his glasses before continuing. "About midday Bob Ewell came runnin' into town looking for Heck and sayin' that someone had taken advantage of his daughter. He was very excited and couldn't get Heck out to his house soon enough."
Jean scoffed at him. "If anyone took advantage of one of his daughters' it was Bob Ewell himself. You know what that family's like, Atticus. They're an utter disgrace," she replied.
"I know, honey, I know. The trouble is, he wants to take it through the courts and, with who he's accusing, he'll win," Atticus explained to her wearily. Whatever was going on was clearly bothering him.
"Why, who is he accu…" She trailed off as the sound of heavy footsteps could then be heard on the porch. Turning to look, she saw old John Taylor making his way towards them.
"Evenin, Atticus. Mrs Finch." He greeted them warmly and pulled a chair closer to the bench.
"Evenin', Judge," they both answered in unison.
"I'll take myself back inside," Jean spoke quietly to her husband only to have him tighten his hold around her shoulders.
"Stay," he requested. It took a few moments for Jean to realise that he wanted her to hear whatever John had arrived to tell them.
John stayed quiet for what seemed like hours before he sighed and placed his hands on his hat which rested on his knee. "Atticus, you heard about Tom Robinson," he spoke, staring straight ahead into the distance.
Jean felt her heart jolt. Was Tom Robinson the man Bob Ewell was accusing of raping his daughter?
"Yes, sir," Atticus replied simply.
John nodded slowly. "Grand jury will get around to chargin' him tomorrow," he paused. "I…I was thinkin' of appointing you to take his case."
Jean saw her husband glance quickly at John before casting his eyes to his knees and furrowing his brow. Was John serious? There was no way on God's earth Atticus could win this. A black man up against an all white jury? Why, he didn't stand a chance. But yet, Jean knew what his answer would be.
"I'll take the case," he said. That was her Atticus. Never one to stand by and let an innocent man go to jail without giving him the best possible defence.
John only nodded again. "I'll send a boy round for you tomorrow when his hearing comes up." He informed him and stood from his chair to leave as quickly as he had arrived. "And Atticus? Thank you," he called back as he reached the porch steps.
"Yes, sir."
When John had disappeared around the corner, Jean grasped Atticus' hand tightly in hers. "Bob Ewell is accusing Tom Robinson of rapin' his daughter?" She asked for clarification. Surely she had picked this up wrong.
"He is," Atticus nodded.
"That's ridiculous. Any time I've passed Link Deas's yard he's been nothin' but a gentleman. He would never do somethin' so despicable," Jean argued.
"I know he's innocent, that's why I agreed to take the case. Any other court appointed lawyer would only give a half hearted defence when it's a black man on trial but I intend to defend him as best as I possibly can. He deserves that at least," he replied.
"Honey, you know you don't stand a chance of winnin'," Jean breathed out. She hated that she sounded so negative but it was the God's honest truth.
"I know that, too. But I have to do this, Jean. I have to put up some kind of fight for him. It's about time things in this town started to change," he responded with a shake of his head.
He was right, of course, but what chance did he stand against the backwards racists of a small Alabama town? There was no possible way he could do anything to change their way of thinking. He was only one man. But he was also her husband and she would support him in whatever he decided to do.