A/N: For the purpose of this story, I changed Hank's age/some minor details about him ever so slightly!
-o-o-o-
Jean Louise didn't sleep a wink that night.
She hadn't intended on staying up all night, but the stack of her mother's journals safely stacked in the corner of her room were just too tempting to pass up. She discovered that the earliest journals had started when her mother was ten. These entries were filled with accounts of different squabbles amongst the Graham sisters, different games she played with children in the neighborhood and the typical things that ten-year-olds wrote about.
That was until she reached that November. The month that Rowan Graham, her maternal grandfather, died of a heart attack in his own lawn. Jean Louise found herself gasping and becoming further engrossed in the journal as if it were some cheap novel she had bought at the drugstore. She found herself feeling badly for her ten-year-old mother, whose father died and was soon after shipped off to an all-girls boarding school in Vermont with her Aunt Louise. The entries became filled with chronicles of life at school with her sister and the various different girls she met there, her summers home in Montgomery with her sisters and her aunts and her childhood friends. Hours seemed to have passed by with a blink of an eye, and soon enough Jean Louise was opening up the beginning of her sixteen-year-old-mother's journal just as the sun was rising. Various times throughout the night, she tried to shut the journals and go to sleep, but her mind was full of the journals and what they said. As her mother became a teenager, she found herself laughing at the various stories she told about her and Louise, and feeling bad whenever young Eugenia wrote about how inadequate she felt whenever in the presence of some girl named Katrina (had Jean Louise ever met her?). She found herself wishing she could remember her mother's voice just so it would seem as though her mother was actually telling her these stories.
"Jean Louise!" Aunt Alexandra called. "It's time for breakfast!"
Jean Louise gasped as she closed the journal shut, realizing in just a short half hour she would be on her way to school. Sighing, she placed the journal on top of the stack of others and rubbed her eyes. "Comin'," she grumbled groggily before being overcome by a feeling of defeat. Quickly, she grabbed a skirt and an old linen blouse and threw them on. Looking in the mirror, she noticed her hair was askew, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Sighing, she figured this was the best she was going to get today.
She grabbed her knapsack from the doorknob on which it hung before throwing herself on a chair in the kitchen, where Alexandra was cooking breakfast. Cal had left years ago, at the insistence of Alexandra, and while Jean Louise had attempted to maintain a relationship with her old housekeeper, she found that the woman no longer wanted anything to do with the family. Jean Louise had been hurt at first, but after a while she guessed that this was the way that life went.
"You look like shit," Jem said as he grabbed a piece of crusty bread from the table, causing Alexandra to turn sharply on her heel.
"Jeremy Finch!" She exclaimed before setting eyes on her niece. "Oh my, you don't look well…" she said as she quickly approached Jean Louise, planting her bony hand on her niece's face, making her jump. "Honey get back into bed, now."
"Who's gettin' back into bed?" Atticus asked from the doorway. "Zandra, what are you doin' to her face?"
"Brother, look at her," Alexandra said. "She looks absolutely exhausted!"
Jean Louise almost rolled her eyes, but decided that if she had any chances of being able to stay home and sleep she better not. Her father examined her, his hands resting in his pants pockets, his pocket watch hanging out of his vest. She couldn't help but to think about him talking to her mother last night. How often did he do that? Was this something new because she had agreed to the debutante ball? Did he always do this? What else didn't she know about her father?
"Go back to bed, Jean Louise." He said calmly, flashing her a small smile. Simultaneously, she was filled with a sense of relief and guilt. Sneakily, she grabbed a piece of crusty bread (she was not allowed to eat in her room) and hurried to her room. Quickly, she removed the clothes she had carelessly thrown on and got back into her pajamas. She grabbed the journal she had put down moments before and crawled back into the comfort of her bed.
She opened to the first page, dated Friday, December 29, 1912.
Mama bought me this leather-bound journal for Christmas, and I was quite excited to move beyond the ratty paper-bound one's I've been using for so long…
Before she could read any more, Jean Louise found herself drifting off to sleep, her face resting on the pages.
-o-o-o-
She wasn't sure what time she had woken up, but all she was aware of was her aunt crouching besides her bed, her face nearly against her niece's. When she woke up to see her aunt's piercing eyes so close to her own, Jean Louise nearly screamed. Instead, she scrambled up, grabbed the journal her face was resting on and quickly shut it. Aunt Alexandra looked at her quizzically. "What are you readin'?" She asked.
"It's my lab journal," she said quickly, not knowing what else to say. "For my biology class. I was readin' over my notes since I'd be missin' school today."
"I'm glad to see you were tryin' to keep up with your studies," Alexandra said, finally stepping away from her bed. "But you really should be resting. I just wanted to let you know I'm headin' to Stephanie Crawford's house for lunch."
"Mmm hmm,"
"I made you some soup, it's still on the stove."
"Thank you,"
"The milkman brought a fresh bottle,"
"Alright,"
"Your Uncle knows you're sick and says you can come over if you'd like,"
"I'll probably do that,"
"Do you need anything?"
"No, ma'am."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive,"
A smile spread on Alexandra's usually stern face. "Once you're feelin' better we can start discussin' your dress and everything for the debutante ball!" She said excitedly, making Jean Louise want to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. "We should probably discuss which young man you'll be escorting—"
"Wait, what?" Jean Louise asked, slightly dumb-founded.
"It's customary for young ladies to have a date to these things," Alexandra responded, as though she was giving her niece information she should have known.
"Oh," Jean Louise said, nodding her head. "Oh, I totally knew that."
Her aunt didn't buy a word of it. "Well," she responded, patting Jean Louise on her head (her aunt had been acting very strange ever since Jean Louise agreed to this stupid ball). "I'm leavin'. If you need anything you can phone Miss Stephanie's house."
"Thank you, Aunty."
Jean Louise laid in her bed until she was certain that her Aunt was gone. The moment the door had shut, she scrambled out of her bed and made a beeline to her father's study. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for while she was in there, but she found herself curious as to what her father was talking to last night. Was it the air? A picture? She couldn't helped but to be baffled by the entire situation.
She had always sought refuge in her father's study, ever since she was a young girl. It was lined with bookshelves filled with books of various genres and topics, his large mahogany desk and plush chairs were always favorite hiding spots of hers whenever she was feeling any sort of emotion. As she got older, her love for her father's office never faded. Quietly, she stood behind his desk and rubbed her chin as she scanned its contents.
There was a manila folder full of various documents that stuck out to her because of how he kept his place among the papers. At first glance, it just looked as though he was using a snapshot of trees to keep his place, but when Jean Louise opened the folder she quickly realized what it was—an old snapshot of her mother.
It was the picture her Aunt Louise had given her and Jem when she was seven. It was all four of the Graham girls, but Eugenia stuck out the most with her vibrant smile (she must have been in mid-laugh) and messy hair. The image was fading and fraying, as though someone had been holding it a lot. She remembered yelling at Jem one day when she was nearly eleven, accusing him of stealing the photo—and he accused her of stealing it right back.
It had been Atticus.
She found herself overcome by the urge to cry. Not because she was sad over her mother, but because it was so evident that Atticus still missed her. Not thinking, she left his office, taking the picture with her.
-o-o-o-
After getting dressed, Jean Louise scurried out of the house and headed in the direction of her Uncle Jack and Aunt Louise's. On her way out she noticed the clock read 2:15, and couldn't help but to wonder where her day had gone. As she descended down her porch steps (the steps she apparently had dove from when she was just one-year-old), she heard someone calling her name.
"Jean Louise! Hey, Jean Louise!" Startled, she looked up to see Hank Clinton in Miss Maudie's yard, staring at her. She rolled her eyes.
Hank Clinton and his mother began rooming with Miss Maudie shortly after her house had been repaired from that fire so many years ago. His mother was an alcoholic (and if you asked Aunt Alexandra, she was what one would call a "loose woman") and died of liver failure just a year ago, leaving Hank alone in this world. While Maudie had been a big help to the young boy, she too was in failing health these days and Hank found himself with the dilemma of dropping out of school in order to take care of his mother and get a part-time job at the Jitney Jungle in order to pay for his room at Maudie's. Jean Louise couldn't help but to feel bad for him—he was barely two years older than she was and yet had way more responsibility than she ever had. Before his mother got too sick, Hank would spend his summers playing with Jem, Jean Louise and Dill.
However, Dill basically disappeared (he did write sometimes), Jem focused on getting his law degree, and Hank had to grow up—leaving Jean Louise to basically fend for herself.
"Hey, Hank." She responded dully. "Shouldn't you be weedin' or somethin'?"
"Shouldn't you be in school or somethin'?"
"Sick," she grunted.
"You sure do look awful," he retorted. "Oh wait, that's how you always look."
"You're incredibly charming." She said, rolling her eyes.
"It's just so easy when you're such a peach." He grinned (she couldn't lie—he had a nice smile). "Where are you off to?"
"My uncles," she replied shortly.
"Likely story," he teased. "I'll be sure to tell your folks that lame excuse if they happen to ask."
She scoffed.
-o-o-o-
From the moment Jack and Louise moved to Maycomb, Jean Louise and Jem were granted unlimited access to their house (as long as at least one of them were home), and it immediately became a safe-haven for Jean Louise. The home was just as eclectic as they were, full of books and trinkets and random things that always put a smile on her face. Additionally, almost every time Jean Louise came to their house, they were doing something strange—one time she caught her aunt climbing a tree in her nightgown trying to get in through a second-story window when Jack locked her out for being "too mean to Rose Aylmer." Another time, her and Jem were locked out of the house and were instead greeted by the sight of Jack and Louise carrying a piano down the street after having decided that they both had the urge to play one. Jean Louise didn't care what the rest of Maycomb had to say about her aunt and uncle—she found them delightfully strange.
When Jean Louise clamored through the door that lead into the kitchen, she was greeted by the sight of them reading at the kitchen table. They were using stacks of books to prop what they were reading up, so that they could read and eat their salads at the same time (Jean Louise had to try not to laugh at them). Next to Jack sat Rose Aylmer, who simply sat, watching her owner (Jack swore she was more human than cat).
"Well isn't it our little truant," Jack said, not looking up from his book. "Did you need somethin'?"
"No," she responded, planting herself in the empty chair next to Louise. Originally, she was going to confide in Louise about the trunks in the attic with the clothes and perfume and journals as well as what she discovered Atticus doing last night—but decided against it at the last minute.
"Did you decide against the debutante ball after all?" Louise asked, smiling at her niece. "Because Alexandra owes me ten dollars if you have!"
Jack glared at her. "You women are strange." He remarked before taking a big bite of his salad.
Jean Louise laughed. "Nome," she said, smirking at her aunt.
"Want some?" Louse asked, thrusting a forkful of lettuce in her niece's face. Realizing that she hadn't eaten anything since that bread this morning, Jean Louise accepted.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
"So," Louise said. "Is there somethin' the matter?"
"Um," Jean Louise cleared her throat. "No, there isn't."
"Why did you hesitate?" Louise asked quickly, finally looking up from her book.
"She said no, woman!" Jack said. "You nearly jumped down her throat."
"I'm just checking," Louise retorted, scowling at him. Jean Louise couldn't help but to smile. Among all of the women in her life, she guessed that the one who was most like a mother to her was her Aunt Louise. It used to be Cal, but considering everything that has happened between them, she found it more appropriate that her mother's sister assumed this maternal role.
"I was feelin' better so I thought I'd visit," she shrugged.
"What was wrong with ya anyway?" Jack asked.
"Do you have a few hours?" Louise smirked.
"You're hilarious," Jean Louise retorted. "I was up all night studyin' for biology and I guess it took its toll." She lied, feeling slightly guilty.
Her aunt and uncle shook their heads. "It defeats the purpose of studyin' for so long if you wind up missin' school because of it." Jack said.
"I realized that, but thank you, sir." She said sarcastically as he grinned in response.
She didn't realize how long she had spent there until Aunt Alexandra called in a tizzy, saying that she had no clue where Jean Louise was considering the fact that she did not leave a note as to where she was going (she guessed Hank had since retired back inside, unable to inform Alexandra of her whereabouts), which meant that she was more than obliged to return home.
She ate a quick supper with her family, where Atticus and Aunt Alexandra spent most of the time asking Jean Louise how she felt and what she did all day and what Jack had to say about her illness (she lied and said that Jack had deemed her fine). After nearly inhaling her soup (she hadn't realized how hungry she was), she bade her family goodnight and hurried back to her room. After showering at what seemed to be the speed of light, she crawled back into her bed with the journal she had precariously hid under her pillow that now had the picture she had accidentally stolen from Atticus tucked safely within it.
Friday, December 29, 1912.
Mama bought me this leather-bound journal for Christmas, and I was quite excited to move beyond the ratty paper-bound one's I've been using for so long. Lottie (was this Aunt Charlotte?) of course had made fun of me, having received a new vanity mirror for herself, but I found this to be one of the greatest gifts I've ever received.
Emmett had given me the literary magazine that's been sitting on the front shelf of the drugstore since summer, which I thought was quite nice (though Louise and I had read the entire thing two times the last time we were home while waiting for Aunt Bea to finish her shopping), but I think it was a thoughtful gesture. He also bought me…
"Jean Louise?" Atticus asked, knocking on the door.
"Yes, sir?" Jean Louise asked as she quickly shoved the journal back underneath her pillow. Slowly, the door creaked open and her father entered the room. He was wearing the sweater he always reserved for home, and his glasses were falling down his nose. He smiled at her before he crossed the room, looking at the top of her dresser and the nightstand before sticking his hands in his pockets.
"How are you feelin'?" He asked, continuing to look through the visible surfaces of her room.
"Fine, sir." She responded. "What're you…?"
"Oh nothin'," he responded, quickly bringing his attention back to her. "Just lookin'…just makin' sure you were alright."
"I am," she smiled, and he smiled back.
"Well, good." He said. "Goodnight."
"Night, Atticus." She said as he exited the room.
As he left, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach as to why he was actually in her room. Once she heard the door to his study shut, she quietly crawled out of bed and stood in the same spot of the hallway as she had done the night before.
"…I'm talkin' to your wedding picture tonight," he chuckled, and Jean Louise instantly felt guilty. "I'm afraid that the old picture must've fallen out when I was bringin' the folder home from the office…but I swore I just saw it this morning…"
She couldn't listen anymore. She knew that she should have taken the photo from inside of the journal and give it back to her father—but how would she explain why she had it in the first place. Regrettably, she knew that she was probably going to have to keep it for a while until she could think of a way to sneak it back into his study.
Feeling like a terrible daughter, she crawled back into bed and pulled out the journal, this time looking at the image of her nineteen-year-old mother as she did so.
He also bought me a tube of hideous red lipstick and claimed that it was a new waterproof design. He insisted that I tried it on so that we could test it out, but I firmly told him that I wasn't a stupid girl…
