Disclaimer: Again, I don't own any character mentioned in this story. I also don't own Savage's poem. I'm not sure if this is where Jack got the name of his cat from, but it made sense (the woman who is the subject of the poem was apparently admired by Savage, and died an early death while traveling to India).
The first thing Jack did when he heard of her death was buy a cat.
Well, that isn't entirely true. When he first received that dreadful call from Alexandra, telling him he needed to come home immediately because of Jean's unexpected death, he cried. He cried so hard and for so long he thought that he would never be able to stop.
After he gathered enough willpower to stop himself from crying, he went to the liquor store down the street from his apartment and bought two bottles of his favorite scotch. Then he got hopelessly drunk and cried some more. He figured he might as well get it all out of his system before he returned home to Alabama and was forced to fully come to terms with the fact that the love of his life was no longer alive.
He knew that he would never have her, that even before her death it would've been impossible. But at least she had been alive, for God's sake. He could handle not having her as long as it meant he could still see her, still have the opportunity to know her and be in her presence.
And now, she was gone.
A sudden heart attack is what Alexandra had said, and Jack was honestly surprised to hear his older sister crying herself.
"Oh, dear," Zandra had said, sniffing. It didn't help that the long distance calling made it slightly more difficult to hear her. "Our poor brother, her poor children. I can't even begin to imagine how their lives will be… Atticus was hardly functioning properly before he married her!"
Jack remembered hardly being able to say a word as his sister carried on about how she feared their niece and nephew would be ruined by this. He couldn't help but to feel slightly offended for his brother. While Atticus had never been the "conventional" father, he still did the best he could and Jack strongly disagreed that Jeremy and Jean Louise would suffer from his parenting.
Throughout the entire phone conversation, Jack felt conflicted. He wanted to cry for himself, to grieve the loss that he was privately enduring. Jack also felt crushed for his brother and his children, who were obviously suffering an excruciating loss.
"How's Atticus?" Jack had managed to ask, hoping he didn't sound too distraught.
That made Alexandra cry more. "The poor thing's a wreck," she said. "He found her, you know. Just lyin' on the front porch. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, he hardly had a clue that anything was wrong."
That made Jack want to be sick. This was all too random, he thought. "Zandra," he said, swallowing hard. "I must go. I'll come to Alabama the day after tomorrow."
His sister sniffed again. "I'll be sure Jimmy will be there to pick you up. Brother?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
He couldn't even return the thought. Immediately, he slammed the phone back on the receiver and cried. Jean was dead, Atticus was a wreck and even Alexandra was crying. Luckily, Jean Louise was so young that she was probably blissfully oblivious to what was going on, but he didn't even want to think about Jeremy. It was all too cruel.
He felt like he could cry for days. He thought he had more time with her, he thought that she would at least be able to see her children grow up. Guiltily, he surely thought that she would've outlived Atticus—why, she didn't even seem sick.
As he drank to her, for her, because of her he continued to cry. He couldn't even recall crying this intensely when he was a child, and felt that something must have been wrong with him. Why, he wasn't even married to her! He couldn't bring himself to drink both bottles of scotch, but it felt like he did. He had grown so sick and distraught that he felt as though he was being ripped to pieces. He couldn't help but wonder if she had felt any pain before she died.
The day before he left for Maycomb, he unwisely bought a kitten (never before had he taken care of a cat, and was hardly prepared to take on the responsibility). A beautiful golden girl whom he named Rose Aylmer after one of his favorite poems by Walter Salvage Landor. Once he returned to his apartment, he opened the second bottle of scotch and pet Rose Aylmer, recounting the poem aloud: "Ah what avails the sceptered race, ah what the form divine! What every virtue, every grace! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes, may weep but never see, a night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee." Then, he cried again. The cat, not interested in what her new owner was doing, leapt off of his lap and walked to another part of his apartment.
Hungover and exhausted from his weeping, Jack left for Maycomb early the following morning. He wasn't looking forward to what was to come, and was actually quite nervous to see what kind of state Atticus was in. For most of his trip, Jack continued to weep. People around him had stared, but he was too distracted to pay them any mind. It wasn't until he reached Alabama that he forced himself to calm down.
"Oh, Jack! Have you been drinking?" Alexandra gasped when she and Jimmy greeted him at the train station. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she had been crying, and she looked tired. "You look disgraceful." She said, hugging him.
"I'm glad to see you, too, Zandra." He replied dryly as he got in the back of Jimmy's car.
"I'm sorry," she huffed. "It's just been hard around here, I couldn't help it."
"It's quite alright."
The three of them were silent for a majority of the car ride, and it wasn't until Jack realized that they were headed towards Finch's Landing that he spoke up. "Aren't we going to see Atticus?" He asked, confused.
Alexandra swallowed. "Not today, dear. I'm afraid he's been going downright crazy with everybody frettin' around him. He wanted some time alone with the children. We won't be with him until the funeral." She almost sounded regretful as she said this, and Jack couldn't help but think that she was the one who drove him crazy.
"How is he?"
"Honestly, he's terrible." She said, shaking her head. "He barely knows what to do with himself or the children and it's just an awful sight. He's hurtin' pretty badly."
Jack felt an immense wave of guilt rush over him. Here he was, crying as if he lost his wife, when it was really Atticus whose life was ripped up from under him. "I feel bad for him." Was all he could say.
"We all do, sweet."
Once they got to the Landing, Jack could tell that Alexandra was going absolutely crazy over the fact that she was not at Atticus' house helping him. She always felt at ease when she was in control, but Jack knew that Atticus detested when women were fretting and stirring about uneasily and that was the last thing he needed. Alexandra tried to baby Jack, offering him food and whatever else he may want or need, but he didn't want any of it. "I'm just going to go to my room," he offered, feeling another pang of guilt as Alexandra flashed him a sad look. "I'm tired from all the travelin'."
"Do you want me to sit with you? We can read silently together." She offered. Jack didn't realize how lonely she was.
He almost said no, but he realized that Alexandra could quite possibly cry from the rejection. He had never seen his sister like this before, and it scared him. "I would enjoy that." He said after a few moments of silence. Alexandra looked relieved.
His sister had kept up with her promise. While Jack expected her to give up on her reading shortly before she began, she remained silent. He pretended to read.
At length, Alexandra sighed.
"Sister?"
"I was hoping it wasn't true." She said, looking at him sadly from over her book.
"What's that?"
"That you loved Jean like Atticus did."
"Wha-"
"You haven't turned your page since we started reading, and you're cryin'. And you most certainly cryin' before we met you at the train. Just don't let Atticus know." She said as she crossed the room and took the book out of his hand. She gave him another sad look as she kissed his forehead. "My poor brothers." She lamented before going back to her seat.
As much as she annoyed him, Jack couldn't deny that Alexandra knew everything. He opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him. "It's okay," she said, not looking at him as she went back to her book.
The next morning at the funeral, Jack was downright scared to see his brother. He wasn't sure what to expect, and he didn't know how he would react to seeing Atticus. Before she went to bed, Alexandra had set out the clothes that Jack would wear, just like a mother would for her child.
Jean's children would never have her to do that for them.
Jack and Alexandra didn't eat breakfast that morning. They silently drank coffee while they waited for Jimmy to get ready (Jack hated how slow the man moved all of the time). Once he came downstairs, Alexandra rushed him to the car as she berated him for taking so long. "Our brother needs us." She scolded, and Jack suspected that Jimmy hardly felt guilty at all. He never seemed too fond of Alexandra's family.
Though it was bright outside, there was a general feeling of dread all around. Alexandra nearly jumped out of Jimmy's moving car as they approached the chapel, in hot pursuit of Atticus and the children. He was standing on the steps, with Jean Louise on his hip and Jeremy hanging on to his leg. They were all composed, as if they were going to Sunday mass. The only difference was that Jeremy was crying and Atticus looked miserable.
"There's my brave little man," Alexandra said soothingly to her nephew as she got down on his level to hug him. The moment she put her arms around him, he began to cry.
"He's been quite strong, Zandra." Atticus said, his voice hoarse.
"Oh yes of course," Alexandra replied, wiping the small boy's face with her handkerchief. "You are so strong, sweet."
"I miss mama." Jem said sadly through his tears. Inhaling sharply, Alexandra picked the boy up and whispered something along the lines of we all do in his ear. Jack could've sworn he heard her tell Jeremy that he needed to be a little ray of sunshine in his father's life. The boy only sniffed in response.
"Mama, mama," Jean Louise happily gurgled in Atticus' arms, looking around for her mother. The poor thing didn't realize mama wasn't coming back.
"She doesn't know what's happening." Atticus said sadly, looking at her daughter. "It's hard to rationalize with a two-year-old."
Jack didn't know what else to do but hug his brother. Atticus felt stiff, but still returned his brother's hug. "Atticus," he said. "I'm—"
"It's fine." Atticus said. He smiled at his brother, but Jack could see the sadness in his eyes.
Jack had always hated funerals. With all of the sadness in the room, time seemed to go slow, leaving Jack feeling both nauseated and exhausted. He sat next to his brother, and held Jean Louise, who had grown quite fussy and cried for her mama throughout most of the service. Atticus, who usually was able to charm his daughter back into good graces, was having trouble even looking at her. Hell, he was having trouble looking at anyone recently. Jack attempted to rock with Jean Louise in his pew, but she was having none of it. Eventually, she had cried herself to sleep in his arms. He couldn't help but be glad about this, he wasn't sure if he would be able to endure her calling for her mother much longer. Next to him, Alexandra sat with Jem in her lap, the two of them crying together. Looking at her, Jack couldn't help but to silently admire her. She may have been a pain growing up, but she was a thoughtful mother and aunt. Firmly, he put his hand on her knee.
Jack had to refrain himself from crying aloud when they lowered her casket into the ground. If he had, he surely could have said that his nephew's grief is what brought him to tears. As they buried Jean, Jeremy sobbed. At this point, he was out of Alexandra's arms and was being held by his father. "B-but Atticus," he wept. "Won't she be afraid?"
"No, son. She's gone to a place where there's only light." Jack wanted to die.
After the funeral, Atticus' neighbor Maudie was gracious enough to host a memorial service. She had said that Atticus was in no such condition to do it himself, and because she knew how hard it was to lose ones spouse, she was more than glad to do it. The memorial was just as draining as the funeral itself. People who lived at the town cried at Atticus, who sat in Maudie's parlor stone-faced and stiff, with his children napping on either side of him. Both of them had to be exhausted from the events of the past few days and no one seemed to mind them.
Alexandra stood in the entryway of the parlor, watching the people with Atticus. She shook her head at Jack and let out a silent scoff. "Don't they realize he just lost his wife? He is far too good to these people." Jack agreed.
The memorial service seemed to be going on forever. About two hours into it, Jack and Alexandra brought the children home. They had both awaken from their sleep, but quickly grew overwhelmed at the number of grieving people surrounding them. "You stay here with them," Alexandra said after she put Jean Louise in her crib. "I'll go tend after Atticus."
Jack had no objections to this, for he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand watching his brother endure his own personal hell. He also wasn't sure how much longer he could go without crying himself. In the safety of Atticus' house, Jack cried silently with Jeremy as they attempted to read together. A few pages in, Jeremy sighed and stated that he was simply too sad to read and retreated back into his room. When Jack checked on him, he was sprawled on his bed, still in his funeral clothes, asleep.
With both children asleep, Jack went into the living room and sat in Atticus' chair. He looked around, contemplating reading one of the books that was sitting around the room, but decided against it. Everything around him was silent until the front door slammed open.
"Sorry," Atticus called as he entered the living room. Jack was able to fully notice how tired his brother looked.
"It's your house, brother. You can slam whatever you like." He responded, trying to smile. Atticus inhaled as he took a seat on the sofa.
"I wonder how long it'd take for them to notice I left," He said, trying to look amused. "Are the children asleep?"
"Out like lights. I didn't change them, though." Jack responded.
"That's fine. Don't let Zandra know this but I had them wearing the same thing two days in a row."
The two brothers remained silent. Jack slowly rocked in the chair as Atticus sat, staring straight ahead of him. Jack wished that he could say something profound, something that would help to ease his brother's pain, but all he had was a lump in his throat.
"I know." Atticus said, not looking at his brother.
"Hmm?"
"I know how you felt." Atticus said after a short pause. "About Jean."
Jack could feel his heart sink and was struck with an immense sense of guilt. He couldn't even try to deny it. "Brother, when—"
"She told me about it nearly six years ago. There were rumors going around."
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling absolutely dreadful. "She loved you."
"I know that."
"Then why—"
"She cared about you a great deal. She always thought of you like her own brother," Atticus said, finally looking at his brother. "Everything's fine."
"Atticus, I'm sorry. It must've been awful."
"Everything is good."
Throughout this exchange, Jack couldn't help but to notice that Atticus was crying. "I miss her," he said, taking his glasses off to wipe his eyes.
"I know." Jack said as fresh tears began to form in his eyes.
Silently, the two brothers sat mourning together. Despite the fact that his grief still rested heavily in his chest, Jack couldn't help but to feel relieved. Perhaps knowingly, Atticus had lifted a weight off of his shoulders.
"I bought a cat." Jack said, and for the first time he saw the hint of a real smile on his brother's face.
"Why on earth would you do that?"
"I was drunk."
A hoarse chuckle escaped Atticus' throat, and Jack couldn't help but to laugh with his brother. "I named her Rose Aylmer."
"Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes, may weep but never see, a night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee." Atticus said, solemn once again. Jack realized that though Jean might be dead, the two Finch men would love her for the rest of their lives.