disclaimer. i don't claim to own any of the characters from the book To Kill a Mocking Bird. i wrote this story because it was an assignment for school-not for money. i only want an 'A,' not to be sued. thank you.rated R for graphic scenes and events.
blood is thicker than water Faith. What was it? Was it something someone could easily define? She sure couldn't. If you asked ten different people, would they give you ten different answers? Would they give you an answer at all? Was faith a possession? Could you earn it? Lose it? Or live without it? Or was it like a trait? Could you have, or lose it without knowing? Atticus would know, she thought. Atticus knew everything. He knew how to explain everything. He had to know what faith was.
She wrapped small fingers around the charm that coiled around her neck. Ma's necklace, she thought with a sigh. Atticus wouldn't realize that it was gone. Besides, it was hers. Well, it would be eventually, but it still was hers.
The pearl necklace reminded her of her mother. Had her mother have faith? Had she believed in something full heartedly without any real proof? Was that what faith was? Was that the reason why God took her away from Atticus, Jem, and her? Because she had faith? She didn't want faith then, she decided. Especially if it took her away from Atticus, or prevented her from marrying Dill.
She wondered if Atticus had faith. But then again, had he ever lost that faith? Was that the reason why God hadn't invited him to come up to the heavens to live with Ma? But if that were it, then what would happen if Atticus were to get his faith back? Her mind panicked. Then who'd stay here on Earth with her? She'd have to have a little talk with him later. She'd make sure that he'd never have faith again, she decided with a smile. No one was going to take Atticus away from her. Besides, she didn't think he had faith. He just believed-
"'Ey Scout! You comin'?" It was Jem. "'Seen snails move faster than you. Come on." He shouted a few yards ahead of her. She ran up to walk besides them, taking her usual stance behind Jem, yet next to Dill. That way she'd always see all the happenings and hear everything said, either good or bad.
"Whatcha 'ya think faith is?" she asked to no one unparticular.
Dill was the first to answer. "Faith? Everyone knows what faith is. Either you have it, or you don't. And if'n you're born with it real strong like, they put one of those white thingers 'round your collars. That's where priest come from." Dill explained. "Nah, that ain't it," she stated, completely unconvinced.
"Shore it is." He must of read her disbelief. "Well, if that ain't it, what is it?" "It's a belief in somethin'. You know, like God," Jem stated a few feet ahead of them, kicking rocks into the Coosa besides him.
"Yeah, but how can you just believe in somethin'?" she questioned.
He turned to her squinting. The sun was being such a pain today. It was as though the thing were undecided. One moment it would hide away in the dark clouds that threatened to drench them all, and then the next, it would be out blinding people. She sure wished that the darned thing would make up its mind. "I don' know," he said. "I can remember Atticus talking about it way back, even when I was younger than you. Can't ever remember questionin' it. Just sort a' acceptin' it."
"Jem? How can you just accept somethin'without reason?"
"I don't know, ask Atticus." He paused, and turned to look at her more fully. "You ain't turning into one a' those fancy little high strung church girls, are ya Scout?"
"'Am not!" She yelled, insulted, as she landed on him. Her force sent them both to the ground in a knot of arms and legs. "Take it back!" she screamed at him, sending blows with her fists in a way that wasn't threatening; yet threatening, at the same time.
"Come on, Scout. Ya can't him. He's kin, and killing kin's against the law. They'll lock ya up with some crazies if'n you kill 'im." He put his arms around her, and pulled with force that sent both of them stumbling to the ground feet away. Unbeknownst her, the force that sent them tumbling to the ground was just enough force to shatter the delicate clasp of the pearl necklace, and send it flying towards the river.
Oh no, she thought, as her fingers reached for the suddenly nonexistent chain. Ma's necklace. Bet Dill knocked it right off of her. "Now look what ya done!" she snapped at Dill.
Where was it? She searched the riverbed wildly for any indication that the necklace had been saved from a treacherous, damp doom.
"Wha' is it?" came Jem's voice from besides her. "Speak up girl! Wha' is it?" he demanded.
She pointed, soundlessly, to the pearl necklace that now dangled cautiously on a large piece of floating debris that, at one time, had been the section of a very large tree. Her heart lifted at the very sight of the jewel, but then sank again at the realization that it was still in the river. How'd she get it back? She sure couldn't just jump in and retrieve it. Everybody who lived at least three miles from Georgia knew that the Coosa's current could an entire person alive. She'd even heard about this one boy, Garret Wilson, who was in the river for half a second, and disappeared. He was eaten alive, they say. No one ever found the body.
She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and her body stiff, to see if he had figured out the cause of her despair. He had. She could see the shocked look in his eyes as he turned to the river, glanced at her, and quickly return his gaze at the river.
"That's Ma necklace!" he stated, talking to no one unparticular. He turned to face her, and she swallowed, hard. "Where'd you get that from? You steal it?"
"I didn't steal nothing. Was mine to begin with. Atticus said so."
"You dumb fool. It ain't yours till he gives it to you." He paused and took a long glace downstream. "Best get it back before Atticus finds out that it's gone," he said softly, and took of after the floating debris.
What in the Sam Hill is he doing? She obediently followed him downstream. And she would have followed him unto the small wooden bridge, had he not noticed her.
"Stay here, Scout," he ordered, taking a stance in front of the rickety old bridge that had been there since Atticus was little. "Dill, go take watch over yonder. Someone finds out we're on the bridge they'll tell Atticus. Go on. Don't come till I tell ya to." Dill nodded and was gone in a flash.
"I'm comin'." She told him, out-flat.
"No you ain't. You've done enough for today." The two were facing each other in an obviously threatening way. But she backed off, hearing mentally 'don't make me tell Atticus,' without every really hearing the words from Jem.
The bridge wasn't all that big, but then, it wasn't all that small either. It stretched maybe four, or five yards across a narrowing side of the Coosa. The threatening waters foamed, and burbled a foot beneath the actual bridge itself, reinforcing the threat.
The boards creaked loudly with each rapid step Jem took, who was attempting to find a place where the necklace could be easily receipted as it floated beneath the river. She crossed her fingers, and chewed on the nails of her index finger, under her middle. She sure hoped he would get it. Jem' would only get one chance to grab the necklace. If he missed, it would be forever gone and she would, promptly, be forever hidden away in the very darkest corners of the earth as her punishment.
In a single, quick motion Jem bended over, and swooped the chain of pearls in his hand. He had succeeded. He stood up stiffly, with pride, and held the necklace in front of his enormous smile. She laughed, and caught the precious jewl with both hands as Jem threw it. She backed away from the river, taking long strides, as though to prove that she was better than the river itself.
"Shore glad you got this back. Atticus would 'a had my neck if this thing'd gone missin'." She turned around and gazed intently at the necklace. "When'd Ma wear this Jem? Did she always wear it? Like every day? Jem?" She was answered by silence. "Hey, Jem." She turned around only to find the bridge completely empty. No Jem. What the heck? "Jem?" Her eyes searched everywhere. "Jem? Where are ya?" She looked down the embankment, but there were no signs of Jem-anywhere. She looked upstream, downstream, east, west, all the hiding places visible. He was gone. She was panicking now. "Jem Finch! Stop foolin' right now and come out!"
Wait. What was that? There it was again! She cursed at her heart for pounding so loud.
"S---cout!" was a gurgled reply.
"JEM!" she screamed, and ran down the embankment and found her brother being pulled rapidly down the current. Oh Lord. It was her fault. Oh Lord. Her fault. Oh Lord. "JEMMM!!!!" she ran down the river, her heart racing, following Jem. But suddenly, he disappeared beneath the waves.
"DILL! DILL!" Dill came running, shock in his eyes. "He's done fell in, Dill!" she stated hurriedly, practically ripping off all of her cumbersome clothing. "Don't just stand there you dumb fool! Get help!" he nodded blankly, and again ran off.
She took a step back, prepared to jump in the water to save her brother. She did not care or see anything but Jem, drowning, and needing help, and ran, full force, towards the river. Her feet lifted from the ground and she was airborne, but the impact of the water's surface never came. She opened the eyes she had realized were closed, and saw the ground feet beneath of her. Someone's arms, she realized. She was in someone's arms. She didn't have time for this! Jem was drowning! She kicked, thrashed, and screamed in the arms that held her, and found herself being swung around, and held upright.
"No, Scout." It was Reverend Styles.
"JEM! Let me go! JEM!!" she was desperate now, screaming and letting the tears roll down her cheeks. Why couldn't he see? WHY! He was drowning! He was drowning because of her! Because she took something that wasn't hers! It was her fault and they wouldn't let her save him. He wouldn't let her go. He just kept walking farther and farther away from Jem. She reached out an arm, as if to, somehow reach to him. Let me go, let me go, LET ME GO!
"LET ME GO!! JEEEEMM!!!" she wailed, her insides, twisting and tying in every form of a knot that man had ever created, her heart feeling as though it would explode. She realized the Reverend was talking, and she concentrated on the syllables, trying to form them into words.
"They'll get 'im, Scout," he said, indicating to the group of men she didn't care to identify, who were seemingly in a mad rush to help Jem. "Don't you worry, they'll get him." He put his hand over the back of her head and pressed it to his shoulder, shielding her from the scene. She tried to lift her head, tried to pry the hand away, but could not. So, doing the only resolve she had, she sobbed. And cried the tears of a girl, who had just been broken.
~/*/~ The dark blue clouds, floated carelessly above Maycomb, swallowing daylight, and bringing the entire town into an oblivious night. A storm was coming. It was more obvious than day. Not only was a storm coming, but along with that storm came another. And this one had nothing to do with the weather.
The wind came down from the heavens to gently push the swing of the Finch household. The swing tipped back and forth and cried in it's own way for it's loss. And in the shadows stood two men. The presence of their heavy hearts could be felt miles away. When the wind was not howling, and silence came, their first words could be heard. "I'm sorry Atticus. Your boy is dead," one of them said.
"Oh...Lord..." whispered the other, his voice thick with agony. "How?"
"He drowned. Fell in the Coosa. Foot got caught on some underbrush. He died before he could free himself..."
"At the river?" A pause. A moment of composure. "Scout? And Dill?"
Silence. "Still at the river. Didn't have the heart to tell her."
More silence. Leaves danced around them, as the wind howled once more.
The swing creaked forward and back, forward and back, with a rocking motion that was soothing, yet unsettling at the same time.
~/*/~ She didn't know how long it had been since she had first gone into the Reverend's strong embrace. The sobs had calmed enough for her to be able to see and hear again, and for her to be able to take in her surroundings. And that scared her. She didn't want to be aware of her surroundings. She wanted Jem safe. She wanted the necklace back in the jewelry box under Atticus's bed. She wanted to be home. And she wanted to be in Atticus's arms and have Jem besides her. That's all she wanted. Was it really a sin to want that?
"Miss Jean Louise?" The Reverend's soft drawl called.
She turned red-brimmed eyes to look at his face, worry swirling in his eyes. But he was looking at something else, and stood up, taking her with him in his tight embrace. His eyes were beyond her face and she twisted around with dull curiosity. Her heart leaped in her mouth, and her eyes widened. Atticus.
"Atticus!" she screamed, but he was facing the opposite direction, not acknowledging her in any way. She leaped out of the Reverend's arms and race over to her father, calling to him as she ran.
He turned, suddenly, and saw her fast approach. "Scout?" He glanced, quickly at the thing behind him, and just as quickly ran to intercept her, scooping her up in his arms in a tight embrace. She did not realize that she was being quickly carried away from that particular area for a reason.
For the moment, she was satisfied. She could have stayed there forever, surrounded by his warm arms, and held tightly as though she meant something to him. But then her heart felt heavy. If he knew that it was her fault that Jem fell in the river, he wouldn't feel that way anymore.
The embrace didn't last long, and he swung her carefully on the ground. He kneeled down in front of her, and put one hand on the outside of her shoulder. With the other hand, he took off his glasses, and wiped them nervously against the vest of his shirt, taking a glance behind him every once in awhile.
"Scout. I have something very important to tell you." His voice was soft, almost too soft, like something bad was going to happen. He glanced behind again. Or something bad had happened. Wait a minute. What was that? There, her mind pointed. A man carried a lumpy, disheveled blanket in his arms. Something was undoubtedly underneath it. Atticus started speaking, but her attention was on the mass under the blanket. The blanket was set in the backseat of a car, with tender care. There he was! She knew that shoe anywhere! Jem was under that blanket. "Did you hear me, Scout?" asked Atticus, gently shaking her. She shook her head. "Jem is..." he didn't get to finish. She twisted her way through his grasp and went racing over to the car, where Jem lay.
There he was. She knew he'd be okay. She never had a single worry, her mind boasted. She ran faster. Dumb fool. Why was he just lying there, though? She reached the car and maneuvered into the vehicle and reached his side, playfully pushing him. He didn't move. She pushed him again, and still nothing.
"Scout!" she heard Atticus call her distantly, and almost mechanically moved the blanket down from her brother's face. Her eyes widened, and moisture turned into pools that turned into sobs, once again. His eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling of the car with a lifelessness that would make doves cry. His skin was blue and colder than Antarctica's icebergs.
"Jem?" she whispered. She shook him, and let the tears fall from her eyes unto his face. "Je-Jem?" Her voice cracked. She shook him even harder. This wasn't her fault! She shook harder. She didn't want this! And harder. Don't be dead. And harder. My fault! And harder, until the once still body was convulsing underneath her. Can't be. No. No. NO. "JEM!" she screamed at him, a scream that could break even the strongest man into pieces.
"Scout! Atticus yelled, and tried to embrace her. But she was quicker. She bolted, not wanting to be near any of them. Not wanting to tell them. Not wanting to tell Atticus, that he was...he was...dead, because of her. Her mind stumbled over the words. This was her fault. But they hadn't let her go after him. And she could have saved him. She could have kept him alive. She ran, twisting her way through all the mourners, spectators, and weepers who stood around the body of her brother, hanging their heads as she charged by. She didn't have to listen to hear Atticus desperately calling her, or look behind to know that he was trying his hardest to catch up with her. But she was faster. She ran. Ran as though the devil were at her heels. She ran as though, maybe, just maybe, she could run fast enough, and somehow shatter out of the world of reality and land into a haven of an oblivious peace. So she ran, so fast, and so hard, so as not to face up to what she left behind.
~/*/~ Her fault. Lord, it was her fault he was...the word came awkward to her, as if she didn't comprehend the meaning of it. It was her fault that he was dead. Like anyone really knew what that word meant, anyway.
She walked through the drizzling, cold rain, her crossing her arms tightly around her chest for some meager attempt at warm. The cold didn't bother her, she barely even considered it. She was too much in a daze to notice, letting the tears drip off of her face in the rain with every harsh step she took.
Why did things like this happen? She wanted to scream at God, yell at him...but then she remembered that God had nothing to do with it. Her earlier ponderings came back to her, recalling that people who had faith died. But Jem didn't have faith. Jem died because she had stolen a stupid necklace, and let it get knocked into the river. God had nothing to do with that. It was her fault he was dead. She was the one who brought upon his death, not God.
A sob choked in her throat, and a mangled cry thick with emotion escaped her lips. Her cold hands covered her face, and the tears fell rapidly once again. Why?
"Why?" She looked up, bringing tear brimmed eyes to look at the heavens. Maybe God was watching her, she thought with some hope. Maybe, if he just took a minute to look down and see her. Took a minute to see her walking in the cold rain, freezing, and see how much she missed Jem, he'd send him back to her. She stood there, frozen, in the hope that it would happen. She stood there, in the middle of a deserted, muddy road, beyond the outskirts of town, waiting for God to give her any sort of a sign. But it didn't happen. The moment turned into seconds, the seconds turning into minutes, and the minutes turning into a destroyed, and charred structure that had once been her hope.
God wasn't there. If he was, he wasn't listening, or caring that her heart hurt so much. He wouldn't forgive her for killing Jem, she knew, because he didn't acknowledge her, or sends her any of the help she desperately needed.
She swallowed hard, and looked down at the slosh of mud beneath her shoes. A tear fell from her eye as she did so, and she continued walking with a lost faith, that she had never found.
~/*/~ She woke reluctantly, not wanting to do anything but lie there and not exist. Her body still shook with shivers, and her heart coursed with guilt, but she sat up anyway. Her body ached from sleeping on the small abandoned church's wooden floor. In a dull way she was shocked to have found the small building the night before. But there it was, a small living room sized building with a rusted bronze cross on the door. No one was here when she first came, and thankfully no one was here now.
Lightening flashed through the windows, sending shards of different colors of stained light dancing on the floor. The windows did not provide much protection against the storm, though. Half of the stain glasses windows were, like most of the church. They were broken and wounded in some way. Half of them were completely shattered, letting the rain and wind gust in as though they were not there at all. She had seen this upon entrance though, and as a result, hidden in a small corner of the chapel were the drafty window's air could not reach her.
The floorboards creaked underneath her small feet, as she inched her way to the head of the chapel. She stood directly in front of the crucifix and promptly kneeled.
"God?" she asked in a sincerely childish voice. The tears fell once again. "God, I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry." She looked up into the structure's eyes. "I'll do anything you want...just bring him back...please. Bring him back. I didn't mean to...to...to k-kill him..." she stumbled, and continued, "I'm so sorry." So sorry, her mind repeated. She wanted Jem back. She wanted Atticus to want her back, instead of hating her for killing Jem. She didn't want to have to hate herself. But mostly, she wanted faith. She wanted to be taken up to the heavens with her brother and her ma. But that would never happen. Because she killed Jem. And killers never had faith. Killers like her.
Faith. She had never figured out what it was. She had wanted to, but how could she gain something so valuable, after doing something so terrible? Did she already have it? "God?" She paused, swallowed, and looked the figurine in its eyes, as though she was looking into God's eyes. "Do I have faith, God?"
"No." Her heart jumped in her mouth, and she instinctively scurried over behind a wooden pew. She hid behind it, her pulse jumping wildly in her ears. Did God just talk to her? She cautiously peered over the partially dilapidated pew and looked at the statue of Jesus on the cross. It hadn't moved.
"No," it said again, only this time footsteps were accompanied with the response. She ducked back behind the pew, and angled herself so she was concealed from where the noise was coming from.
Her head snapped to the doorway, as a man, clad in black with a white collar, stepped inside. His coat was freshly drenched in rain, and he was turned to the door as though he was expecting something.
"I won't go." She hitched her head a little higher to see whom he was talking to. She quickly ducked back down as another man entered the small confines of the room, and wiped the tears away with the heel of her hand.
"Please Father, you're the only person he wants." The man with the short brown coat replied.
"No. I'm sure there are plenty of other priests in town. Ask one of them," the Father stated.
The other man placed a hand on the preacher's shoulder, and looked intently into his eyes. "Please father. Sending you to give him the last rites was his final request." Someone was dying. Fear clutched at her heart-Atticus? Couldn't be. He was okay a couple of hours ago. But then, you never know what grief could do to a man. The father's head bowed down, in silent agreement. "What's this fellow's name? And where?"
"His name is Radley. I'll write down the address for you." He patted the preacher's arm with affection. "Thank you, Father Stonewall."
Radley. Boo Radley. Boo was dying. She had already known that, but now...now it was a reality. She turned to the crucifix to her left. This wasn't the answer she was looking for. She just wanted to find faith, not more death.
~/*/~ "...In the name of the father...the son...and the holy spirit...Amen. And may God have mercy on your soul." The voice drifted from the dark, decayed room through the hallway and into the closet where she hid, waiting for the preacher to leave. Footsteps. Heavy ones that echoed on the wooden floorboard. She closed the door of the closet, shutting it with a hollow click, and curled into a ball in the corner of the small closet. There wasn't anything in the closet besides a worn broom, and a single light bulb that dangled from the ceiling unsteadily. But somehow, she felt more secure by hiding like that in the closet. The footsteps were becoming louder with the man's swift approach, and then soften, as he disappeared down the stairs of the Radley house.
Wow, she thought. If only Jem could see her now. Alone, on the second floor of the Radley house in the closet. But then she remembered with a sudden pang of guilt, that he was dead. Dead because of her.
It had not been hard getting here. She had simply snuck into the backseat of the preacher's car. The man was deaf. He didn't even seem to notice her at all. Slipping into the Radley house had also been easy. Consequently, the door had been left open after the preacher entered the house. Not like it would have been locked anyway, but still, it was odd. The voices of the preacher and Mr. Radley could be heard from her hiding place. She took the advantage and silently snuck out of the closet, being careful not to make too much noise as she walked on the wooden floor.
She slowly crept down the hallway, and peered into each door as she walked. Where was Boo? Suddenly, she saw a light that seeped out from underneath the door at the end of the hallway. She turned to look at the staircase down the hall to see if anyone was coming, and gently pushed the door open. It creaked loudly, but she made an opening large enough for her to fit through.
In the small room were a single bed, a wooden chair, and a nightstand. She heard disheveled, raspy breathing that rattled with every breath. She didn't have to look at the bed, or see the man underneath all of the blankets to know that it was Boo. She stood there, frozen. She did not know what to do besides listening to his breathing to know that he was still alive, and listen to her own heart throb in her chest as a reassurance that she was still alive.
He turned to her suddenly, his eyes pale and dull from illness, which somehow lit to life when he saw her. The corners of his mouth turned upward, in some attempt for a smile. She took a step toward him. The darkness and silence would have scared her, if she had not already been dwelling in it for the last day and night. She quietly approached him, and was a foot away from the bed when something on the nightstand caught her eye. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she picked up the piece of paper that was next to the room's sole manufacturer of light.
She squinted, and tried to read the scrawled letters that evidently formed words. Her heart twisted, as she read them out loud quietly, "Father." She paused, not knowing if she could continue. "Please come. Take car...girl in church...leave car door open for girl...bring her with you...don't let her know you know she there..." She lifted shocked eyes to stare into the hollow depths of Arthur Radley's. "How'd you know...?" she whispered, dumbfounded.
He moved closer to her, and she noticed this, and came forward so that his face was only inches away from hers. His mouth moved, as if speaking, but no sound came out. He tried again, and she leaned in even closer. This time, there was sound. Sound that was so harsh, and rigid with disuse that it made her toes curl.
"'Cause that's where I went..." he managed to choke out, before succumbing to a coughing fit that left him breathless.
The five words hit her like a ton of brinks. That's where he went? The incident when he was a kid, she thought. He had run away from his father. He had run away from his conviction, and ended up in the same place she had. He knew how it felt, then. He knew what it was like to be driven from your home, by your own free will, yet, in a way, by others.
She took his large hand, in her small one, and felt the metal object that he held there. He must have noticed her puzzlement, for he uncurled his fingers to show her the small silver cross.
"Mr. Arthur?" he turned, pain-filled eyes to her. "Do you have faith?" She looked, intently into his eyes, desperate for an answer. He gazed into her eyes, and nodded slowly, making sure she knew the question's answer. "How?" she asked, her voice so tiny, and desperate, it brought tears to her own eyes. She wanted an answer. She wanted to be free of all this hurt and pain that she was flooded with.
Touch brought her back from he silent reverie, as his cold, pale finger, wiped the cascading tear from her cheek. But he gave her her answer. With his other hand, he placed the silver cross into her palm, and curled her fingers around it, wordlessly. He had given her an answer, she realized. Faith was believing in God. But she did believe in God, yet she didn't have faith. She couldn't have faith that way, considering that she had killed Jem. Oh no. Did he know about Jem? Did someone tell him? Her head hung in despair.
She suddenly felt his hand underneath her chin, bringing it up. She knew his body motions enough to know what he was asking.
She reluctantly gave him an answer, knowing that he was entitled to the truth. "Jem is dead. I killed him Mr. Arthur."
She quickly looked to see his reaction, and was surprised to see him shaking his head. "I didn't mean to..." she was crying now, barely able to continue. She covered her face with her hands. "And now I'll never find faith," she sobbed, "and I'll never see Jem or Ma again!" she whispered harshly.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, moving slowly, as though breathing was a difficulty. He shook his head slowly at her, and his mouth moved once again. She moved in closer to hear, and muffled her sobs.
"...Didn't kill yor brother..." He licked his lips and concentrated on the words. "River kilt him...not you." He paused again, and she gave him all of her attention. How'd he know? Who had told him? His father wouldn't have. Her heart felt full of emotion. He truly was a friend then, to care, and go as far as seeking her out before he died. But he had said it wasn't her fault? Wasn't it? Was he right?
"Shouldn't be lookin' in...wrong places, or for things you 'ready have..." His words made sense, and yet they didn't make sense at all. But somehow, they worked. Her mind was soothed, and she had something in Boo. She had a belief that he was right, and she had no reason to prove that. Could one say that she had faith in Boo Radley?
She smiled, genuinely, at him. It was still a sad smile, which also showed relief. He enfolded her hand in his, and she, unexpectedly, reached out to hug him. They both knew, that it was her way of showing gratitude, and her way of saying good-bye forever.
~/*/~ The rain had stopped now, but her clothes were still damp from the previous downfall. The sun wasn't out, yet she still felt a warm inside of her that she hadn't felt in awhile, as she walked toward her house.
She turned back to look at the Radley house. Boo wasn't dead, this she knew. Somehow she also knew, that by going there they had both found a sort of peace inside of themselves. It was almost as though helping each other had pulled them out of the hole of fate they had both fallen into. He had helped her find some peace inside herself, and she had helped him feel fulfillment that he had done a very righteous thing before he died, and that he wouldn't die unbeknownst the town. That she'd still keep him in her heart. And she would too. This, she promised not only Boo, but to herself also.
She didn't walk to the very front of the house because she didn't want a lot of attention. She didn't even know if she really was going to go home, or if Atticus would want her there. So she walked, cautiously, along the side of the house in the darkness that the storm had brought.
She slowly walked forward, keeping a hand on the side of the building for support. She froze in her tracks. Voices. She pressed her body up against the side of the building to listen.
"I wouldn't worry, Sir. They'll find her. As God as my witness, they'll find her." It was Calpurnia. But whom was she talking to?
"I'm sure they will Cal." She breathed a sign of relief. Atticus.
"We just have to keep our hopes up, Mr. Finch."
A pause. "I know, Cal. And I have faith in her, and faith that God will led her back home."
Faith? He had faith in her and in God? So he wasn't mad at her. The rapid succession of steps informed her that Calpurnia had left. She was able to tell because Atticus steps were usually more laid back and casual.
She cautiously peered over the side of the building to find Atticus hunched over on the porch swing, his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face. She didn't know if she could do it, suddenly. All she had to do was say a single word, or make the slightest noise, and he'd know that she was there. It was one of the simplest things in the world, yet she didn't know if she could do it. She saw the necklace then, in his left hand and he crossed his arms in front of him, looking straight forward, yet not really seeing anything. He knew then. He knew everything that had happened at the river. Dill must have told him, she decided because she swore she had seen Dill pick up the pearls. She was momentarily mad at Dill, but then again, if she had been in his predicament she would have done the same thing.
But she had nothing to lose now. Gaining his love back, was gaining her life back. So she took a "leap of faith."
"Atticus?"
~/*/~ Back and forth. Back and forth. The movement went back and forth, as she was surrounded by warmth and encased in steady arms. She couldn't think of a better place to be than where she was now, nestled in a blanket in Atticus's arms on her mother's rocking chair.
"I'm sorry, Atticus," she whispered. He was surprised she was still awake. It was late, and her day had already been perilous enough. "I'm sorry I took Ma's necklace without permission. If I hadn't a' tookin' it, then Jem might still be alive."
He was surprised, twisted his head to look at her face. "Scout, I want you to listen to what I have to say. Jem's death was not your fault. The bridge should have been reconstructed years ago. And as for your mother's necklace, I was going to give it to you yesterday. But Mr. Cunningham requested my assistance, and by the time I got back, you and Jem were already gone."
"You were gonna give it to me all along?" He nodded. She hadn't stolen it then. He had left it out, as a reminder to give it to her. The burden on her heart was suddenly lighter. But somehow her burden still dragged her down. Jem was still dead, and she still hadn't found faith.
"Did you ever find your answer Scout?" he asked her suddenly, as though reading her thoughts. Seeing the look of confusion on her face forced him to elaborate. "Did you ever figure out what faith is?" He was reading her thoughts. "Dill told me you were wondering what it is. Did you find your answer?"
She shook her head, and nestled herself deeper in the blanket. "Nah. No one gave me a straight answer. 'Cept Arthur. He tried, but I don't understand what he told me." "Arthur?" he questioned. "Arthur Radley? When did you see him?"
"Followed a preacher to his house. He said that I shouldn't be lookin' in the wrong places or shouldn't be looking for things I already have. What does he mean by that, Atticus?" she asked, barely stifling a yawn.
"Well Scout, maybe you already have faith. You're just looking for it in the wrong places." She looked up to him, confused. "Maybe you should look here," he placed a hand over her heart, "first, for your answer."
"You mean I already have faith?" she asked, bewildered.
"Scout, faith is a strong belief in something, almost like your positive it's true, and that it exists." She was watching him intently. "I think you've found your answer, already. It was faith, and God's will that sent you to that church, and to the Radley house. And it was faith that gave you the strength to come back home, and come back to me."
"I thought you wouldn't want me back, Atticus" She paused. "I thought that you wouldn't want me back, because Jem died." She became silent.
With strong arms, Atticus sat her upright, to look him in the eye. "Scout. There is nothing on this earth that will ever stop me from loving you, do you know that? I know that it's a tragedy that your brother died, but that won't stop me from caring about you." The burden on her heart was lifted. "We'll get through this Scout. I promise you, we'll get through this. You and me."
She burrowed into the warm of Atticus's body and the blanket, feeling, in a way protected completely. She knew that he wouldn't allow any harm to her tonight, and guard her from all further harm, like Jem had. She hadn't killed Jem. Jem was taken up to heaven because that was God's will, not because she made it happen. Now he was safe in the heavens taking care of Ma as he once did her.
She had found faith. She found, something she had, but never knew, and lost without knowing what it was. But she had found it again. And it was stronger than ever. She knew that the situation was nowhere no over, and that she'd still have to deal with the aftermath of Jem's death, but somehow she knew she and Atticus would pull through. With an even stronger faith, they both would overcome.
She didn't know where she had heard a particular saying pertaining water and blood, but it applied now. It possibly could have been from the Bible. She figured that water symbolized death, and that blood symbolized family and faith. So, she fell into a comforting sleep knowing that blood really is thicker than water.
finis.