Edith didn't let Simon inside.
Rather, she forced him to go in the backyard. Without being told, Jean and Louise followed the pair. Atticus, who probably thought that all three women were insane, trailed behind them. The three women sat on the porch swing, each of them glaring at Simon. At the sight of Edith, it seemed as though Simon had grown quite afraid again.
Nobody said anything for a while. Instead, Edith gave Simon a cold look, as if she was telling him to speak up soon or he might as well leave. Jean's mother never wasted time with "useless" people.
"I can't believe she's gone," Simon said as he wiped his face with his hand. When Jean heard a scoff she could've sworn it had come from Louise, but it had actually come from her mother.
"You know, we said the same exact thing about you once you left." Edith said coolly, smirking at her son-in-law. "But then, once we really thought about it, we didn't expect anything less."
Simon quickly moved his hand away from his face. "You don't understand—"
"You might as well have put her in the grave yourself,"
"Her drinkin' did that,"
"Don't talk about my sister that way." Jean found herself saying, crossing her arms.
"If you're going to be delusional—"
"Don't talk to her," Louise said harshly.
Jean looked over at Atticus, who was standing off to the side. His hands remained in his pockets, and he watched them intently. She couldn't help but to wonder what he would do in case Simon stepped out of line in anyway. The thought of her husband getting into an argument with her brother-in-law actually made her laugh.
"Who's that?" Simon asked, nodding his head towards Atticus. He seemed annoyed at the fact that a stranger was watching their interaction. She shouldn't have looked at him, maybe he would've gone by unnoticed if she hadn't.
"My husband." She responded coolly.
"Don't change the subject," Edith added harshly, for which Jean was infinitely grateful of. Atticus didn't need to get involved in this. "What do you want?"
Suddenly, it was as if Simon had gotten the strength to stand up to Edith—like he had a secret weapon of some sort that would knock her down. "My daughters," he said. Jean could almost swear her heart stopped. From the corner of her eye she could see Louise sit up straight, and for some reason Edith looked unfazed.
"No." Edith said firmly.
"They're my—"
"You have no right to call yourself their father," Edith's voice was shaking with anger. "You leave for seven years and dare to come back with some woman in your car—"
"I lost my son," Simon said, his face was growing red again. "What Charlotte did—"
"We all lost him, Simon. You're stupid to think you're the only one." Edith said. "What you've done is inexcusable. If you think you can just come back and take them, you've got another thing comin'."
"Where else would they go?"
"Here. Where they belong."
"They'll end up just like Charlotte with you raising them,"
"Don't," Jean and Louise started in unison. They paused, looked at one another, and glared back at Simon.
"Don't talk to her that way," Jean said. She was nearly yelling, but she didn't care.
"You should be grateful," Louise said bitterly. "You should be grateful that she's taking care of them. Who knows what would happen—"
"Nanny?" A small voice said from the back door. All of them looked over quickly to see Clara and Libby standing in the doorway. Their eyes were red from their crying, and they looked exhausted. Immediately, Clara caught a glimpse of her father. Libby, who hardly knew the man, looked confused.
"Hey girls," Simon said, clearing his throat. "Why don't you come to daddy?"
Almost instantly, Libby looked incredibly nervous. Wildly, she looked from her father to her sister, then to her aunts and grandmother. She must have seen Atticus standing off to the side, because the moment she set her eyes on him she went running towards him at full force. She wrapped her arms around one of his legs and buried her face in his thigh. Simon watched as Atticus collected Libby in his arms and lifted her up. Jean could swear she detected a hint of jealousy in Simon's eyes as Libby wrapped her arms tightly around her uncle's neck. Jean was glad he was jealous.
Clara, on the other hand, looked petrified. She hadn't seen her father since she was nearly five years old—she probably thought he was never going to come back. Nervously, her eyes never left Simon as she walked past him and stood next to Jean. Jean didn't care that her niece was almost eleven, she pulled the girl into her lap. Simon looked absolutely dejected.
"Aren't you happy to see me?" He asked Clara, and Jean wanted nothing more than to punch him straight in his face. Was he trying to guilt trip her?
Clara remained silent. "You don't need to answer," Jean whispered in her ear.
"What did you say to her?" Simon asked.
"Nothing."
"Yes you—"
"I'm not." Clara said in a shaky voice. Simon's eyes widened.
"What?"
"I'm not happy to see you," she responded, her voice firmer. "You're not mama."
"Mama didn't even—"
"You asshole!" Louise nearly shrieked, standing up. Jean felt Clara jump in her arms. "You're going to—"
"What's going on out here?" Maudie asked from the doorway. She leaned against the doorframe, holding Jeremy on her hip. Hattie, who had been standing behind her, quickly made her way to the porch swing where her mom and sisters were sitting. Jeremy, obviously not knowing what was going on, began to babble excitedly at the sight at his family. Jean couldn't help but to smile at him, waving her fingers in his direction, making him laugh even more. Maudie quickly smiled down at the baby before directing her attention back to Simon. Instead of saying anything, she shook her head at him. "Aunt Edith if you need any of us, we're right in here." She said before taking Jeremy back inside.
He was too busy fuming at Louise to even notice Maudie. "How dare you—"
"Stop!" Libby cried, her face still buried in Atticus' shoulder. At hearing her sister upset, Clara jumped off from Jean's lap and rushed towards her uncle, who was starting to walk towards the door.
"I'm taking her inside," he said as he walked passed them. He paused for a moment to put his hand on Jean's shoulder. "I don't think her or Clara need to hear any of this."
He moved his hand from Jean's shoulder, and extended it for Clara to take. Simon opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but seemed to quickly change his mind. Looking even more sullen, Clara took her uncle's hand, but as they made their way to the door, she stopped and turned around. As she went back into the yard, Atticus waited in the doorway for her.
"Nanny?" She asked as the tears fell from her eyes. It looked as if what she was saying was causing her pain. Edith, whose expression had begun to soften, examined her oldest granddaughter.
"Yes, baby?"
"We don't have to go with him, do we?" She asked, trying to hold back a sob. Simon looked absolutely defeated. "We want to stay with you."
"Sweet, you're not goin' anywhere." Edith responded, her eyes filling with tears.
-o-o-o-
Despite the fact that it was rather obvious that neither of his daughters wanted to be near him (which Jean didn't blame them for at all), Simon still tried to take them from Edith. Out of desperation, Jean awkwardly mentioned how Atticus was a lawyer and if he tried anything funny, Edith would have the best defense in the state of Alabama (she was glad Atticus hadn't been in the room to hear that, because he probably would've looked at her like she was insane again). However, it wasn't until Louise went out to his car and started to ask the woman sitting in it about her relationship with Simon that he decided to leave, obviously disgraced from the interaction. He told Edith he would be in contact with her about the girls, though they all doubted that he actually would.
The moment he and all of the other guests finally left Edith's house and everything had been tidied up, Jean's mother slumped on the couch and buried her face in her hands. Jean, who had been in the kitchen washing dishes, hadn't actually seen that happen. Instead, Atticus came in and took the sponge and glass from her hands.
"Go sit with your mother," he said softly. "She needs you."
She furrowed her eyebrows, but listened to him. When she entered the living room she found Louise laying on the floor by her mother's feet, and Harriet sitting in an armchair by the sofa. Jean slowly stepped over Louise to sit next to her mother. "He ruined it," Edith said grimly, her hands still covering her face.
Louise frowned and met Jean's eyes. "Edie," Louise said before pausing. "Mama—I'm sorry—"
"You didn't do anything," Edith said, making Louise sit up. If it had been any other day, Edith would've berated Louise for her behavior. "He came in here like he was entitled to and he made a mockery—"
"You did a pretty good job of showing him his place," Jean offered as her mother finally removed her hands from her face. "He was awfully scared to see you."
"If Charlotte was here I think she would've made fun of him for being such a baby," Harriet said. "She also would've appreciated you stickin' up for her."
"He was too busy shaking at the thought of you to actually make a mockery of today," Louise said, smirking. "If you had just a couple of more minutes with him, he probably would've wet himself."
"There were too many people here who loved Charlotte to let his pettiness overshadow anything." Jean assured her mother.
Edith sniffed and wiped her eyes, and it was almost as if she hadn't been upset at all. "He had some nerve," she said, the bitterness returning to her voice. "Bringin' that woman with him."
"Her hair color definitely came from a bottle, and needed to be redone desperately." Louise said, smirking. Edith gave her a stern look as Jean and Harriet laughed.
"What did you even say to her?" Jean asked. Proudly, Louise's smile grew and she shrugged her shoulders.
"I asked her if he ever called her Charlotte when they slept together,"
And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Jeans mother actually laughed.
-o-o-o-
After spending nearly two weeks in Montgomery, Jean couldn't help but to be glad that they were finally returning home to Maycomb. Edith still found it unnatural that her second daughter no longer saw Montgomery as home ("this is your home, these are your people," she would often say, making Jean roll her eyes), but Jean hardly cared anymore. All she needed was the quiet of Maycomb and her son and husband to feel perfectly content. She couldn't help but to think that it would be nice for it to be just the three of them again. Frankly speaking, she was also tired of having to share a twin-sized bed with Atticus.
"Maudie let Cal know when we were comin' back once she got home," Atticus informed her a couple of minutes into their car ride. Jeremy had already started to fall asleep in her arms, and she was focused on keeping him awake so he'd sleep through the night. "I asked her to stay longer for the next few weeks since I'll probably have to stay late to catch up on some things."
"You can just bring it home," she said, batting her eyelashes at him, which made him laugh. "I've been so spoiled getting to spend so much time with you."
"You want to make it so I get so behind it takes me nearly a year to catch up, don't you?" He asked, smiling at her. "You look like Mark Walsh's wife the way you bat your eyelashes like that."
Mark Walsh was a man who served on the legislature with Atticus, and if Jean remembered correctly he was from Baldwin County. His wife, Maggie, was a young thing who was always laughing loudly and constantly batted her eyelashes vigorously whenever she listened to anyone speak. Jean always found her to be overbearing.
"At least I have a brain," she retorted (though she felt a little vicious saying it). "I promise I won't be a distraction to you, you won't even know I'm there!"
"That's not my problem," he said as he quickly looked away from the road to kiss her. "I wouldn't want to get anything done if I were at home."
She frowned a bit, inching herself closer to him. Jeremy's head began to loll as he dozed off again, prompting her to sit him up so he wouldn't sleep. "I didn't realize how much work you'd get behind on—"
"Don't worry about that,"
"We probably should've left earlier, huh?"
Atticus shook his head, still concentrating on the road in front of him. "This was more important, sweet."
She smiled at him and laughed softly to herself. "I'm glad you're not like Simon."
He sighed. "I don't like to make assumptions about people I just met—"
"He doesn't deserve your kindness, sweet."
"He wasn't a good man," Atticus said firmly. Even when he was speaking poorly about another person, he always maintained some level of politeness. "In fact, he was trash. Eliza was terrified of him—she and Clara both thought he was going to take them away."
For some reason, that made Jean feel as though she had been hit with a ton of bricks. After losing their mother, the last thing those girls needed was to think their father was going to take them away from the place they were most comfortable at. For a moment, Atticus looked at her and noticed she was upset. "I'm sorry," he said, taking one of his hands off of the steering wheel and placing it firmly on her knee. "I shouldn't have—"
"No," she said quickly, clearing her throat. "It's fine. I just can't believe how awful he's become."
"He wasn't always like this?"
She shook her head. "Heavens, no." She responded. "Why, we all loved him. He lived just a few blocks away when we were growin' up so it was like we knew him forever. He was always jokin' with us and treatin' all of us like we were his own sisters. Then when baby Simon died it was like he became a different person. He was so mean to Charlotte, he was always fightin' with her about how she was grievin' and one day he just left. He said it was because he got a job offer, and he originally wanted Charlotte and the girls to come, but she refused to leave. He just never came back."
"Was he mean to you?"
"Hmm?"
"After," Atticus paused for a moment, and his grip on Jean's leg became a little tighter. "After it happened, was he mean to you?"
It finally dawned on her that he meant when Simon died. She sighed, remembering how he would look at her coldly and couldn't even speak to her afterwards. "One time," she chuckled, even though she didn't find it funny. "He made a point of polishing all of his guns in front of me. He did it slowly, and pretended to aim some of them—"
"At you?"
"He aimed for a picture just past my shoulder," she said. "It was a picture of us girls and my mother. Other than that, he didn't really speak to me."
She looked over at her husband, and noticed that his grip on the steering wheel had been so tight that his knuckles on his left hand were beginning to go white. She thought about that picture of her mother and sisters and her and wondered where it was now—it was probably packed up in one of the boxes that Edith needed to go through. Her mind went to the snapshot of Simon that was folded up in her pocket, and she couldn't help but to feel sad. Quickly, she brought her attention to Jeremy—her very alive baby, and kissed his head. His eyelids fluttered a few times, and she decided to give up on trying to keep him awake.
Atticus' thumb rubbed against her knee. "I shouldn't have brought it up," he said. "I'm sorry."
"It doesn't bother me anymore," she said, though she wasn't entirely telling the truth. "It's fine."
"I didn't mean to upset you," he said quickly. "I'm sorry."
"I promise you it's fine." She responded. "You look upset."
"The fact that he treated you like," he paused and exhaled. "The man's just trash, sweet."
"We all know that, dear." She said, smiling at him in an attempt to get him to smile. Atticus went silent, he was probably deep in thought.
Jean loved many things about her husband, but one of the things she loved the most was how thoughtful he was. To those who weren't closely acquainted with him, Atticus Finch seemed like a stand-offish and awkward man. However, the opposite was actually true about him. He was a warm man, and an extremely caring one. It didn't matter if he knew a person for an hour or for ten years, he treated them with the same amount of respect and compassion. While Atticus liked and cared about people, when it came to social situations Atticus was more of a thinker than a speaker. He could eloquently argue how an author's point in a book he was reading was invalid, easily defend one of his clients, and partake in mundane small-talk. It was just that he didn't particularly enjoy speaking. He was perfectly content in sitting in silence, just thinking about anything (though he always knew what to say and when to say it), and for some reason it was very comforting to Jean. Though, she wouldn't be completely honest if she didn't admit she would love to know what the subject of her husband's many thoughts were.
"What are you thinking about, dear?" She asked. His hand was still resting on her knee, so she put her free one on top of it.
"Nothin'." He responded.
"You're a terrible liar."
"I'm thinkin' about you."
"How you're excited to go back to work so you don't need to see me as often?" She responded sarcastically, batting her eyelashes again.
"You should really consider getting a job as a fortune-teller." He teased.
"Louise was right, I have tainted you." She said, chuckling. "I am quite proud of the accomplishment."
"I was thinking about how I love you," he said, a smile growing on his face. "And how the expression on your face when Simon was wagging his finger at you was priceless. I can't help but to keep imaginin' you tryin' to fight him." He added, laughing to himself.
"You're really sweet until you say things like that,"
"It's not my fault I have a funny wife," he said. "And besides, you're the one who tainted me."
She rolled her eyes and laughed at him. "I suppose I love you, too."
"Well, that's good for your sake because you'd be in quite the predicament if you didn't."
"Oh, shush."