Chapter Fifty-Six

July 7th, 1914
New York City, New York

When Jack returned to the studio after the weekend, he found Frenchie by himself at the communal table, lazily sketching in his notebook. Jack was nearly thirty minutes late, but Rose had been up and down throughout the night feeling unwell, and Jack had stayed up with her. He let out a wide yawn as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack.

"Hey," Jack said, raking his unkempt hair from his face. He slowly meandered towards the communal table, his hands dug into his pockets, "Where's Iris?"

Frenchie didn't even look up from his portfolio, "In Maryland."

Jack stared at Frenchie for a moment before clearing his throat, "Maryland? What for?"

Slowly, Frenchie lifted his eyes and deadpanned, "She's met someone."

"Really now?" Hesitantly, Jack lowered himself onto a stool, sitting rather stiffly, "Has she been gone the whole weekend?"

"He called for her the morning after the party," Frenchie set his pencil down. He did not seemed pleased at all, "And she went, without a second thought, and has left me by myself all weekend. She hasn't come home for a thing. Not even a change of clothes! She's surely out by now! And besides," Frenchie's stool scraped across the dirty concrete floor and he came to a pace on his feet, "This is all happening too fast, Jack! Iris has never had a beau before and now I think she's moving entirely too quickly! Not to mention this man is much older than her. He's even older than me!"

"Uh, who is it?" Jack asked, rather sheepishly, from his stool.

"This is the really crazy part," Frenchie stopped abruptly on the balls of his feet and turned towards Jack, "It's this lawyer named Tim Calvert. He used to represent someone we do commissions for. I know the man. He's likeable, yes, but I don't think he has any business wooing my little sister!"

"A lawyer, huh?" Jack whistled unevenly, "Well, you know she'd be taken care of."

"I take care of Iris!" Frenchie exclaimed, throwing his hands out at his side, "She doesn't need some hot-shot lawyer who lives an entire state away!"

"Well, I think you're lookin' at this all wrong," Jack shrugged now, "Think about the past year of Iris' life, Frenchie. Her mom dying, wanting to leave America... not to mention the entire mess I made with her," He waved his hand dismissively, "Don't you think a little love could be good for her? It would make her feel better about herself, I'm sure."

"Iris doesn't need a man to make her feel good," Frenchie declared, "She has you and I and this entire studio! This is an artist's dream right here!" His voice echoed through the empty space.

Jack stood, coming around the communal table towards Frenchie, "Actually, she does need a man to make her feel good," Jack told him, "Frenchie, you have to let her grow up and make her own decisions. You gotta stop swooping in like you're the hero, offering to clean her messes. It belittles her. It irritates her. Iris can get what she wants on her own. You'll always be her big brother, but you have to let her do what she wants now."

"Oh, you're one to talk about the hero and maid service," Frenchie was growing agitated quickly, "What about every time you did that when you thought she was doing something stupid?"

"Skipping town on a boat into the unknown is stupid," Jack shot back, "Becoming romantically involved with someone you like is not. Learn the difference."

"Well, our definitions vary," Frenchie scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "I don't think Iris has any business hanging out with that lawyer. We don't know what his intentions are."

"I can assure you there's no malice," Jack replied.

"Oh? And how can you know?"

"Just trust me, Frenchie," Jack held his hands out at his side, "This is different, I know it is."

"You're only saying that because you finally have breathing room from her," Frenchie's anger sizzled in the tone of his voice, "You had damn well a year to become enamored by my sister! She was perfect for you and you broke her heart. You've pushed her to do things she's never done before. This is crazy for her, Jack! She's just skipped town on a train now, this is no different. What if she's tied up in a basement where no one can hear her?! What if she's been chained to a radiator and mocked?! She's just run off and I don't know where the hell she is, but that doesn't bother you, no. You're just happy she has eyes for someone else so you can finally stop feeling bad about rebuffing her!"

Frenchie's voice resounded across the empty studio. The echoes sunk into Jack's skin. The two men held tense eye contact. Their nostrils were flared as they breathed heavily, angrily. Jack felt his hands curling into fists.

"Fuck you, Frenchie," Jack said curtly, stepping away from Frenchie.

"Oh, yeah, fuck me!" Frenchie shouted, following closely on Jack's back pedals, "This is my sister we're talking about! I think I know what's best for her, Jack, and my concerns are valid."

"I never said they weren't valid," Jack told him, exasperated, "I'm just saying you are working yourself up over nothing."

Frenchie's arms snapped out, snagging Jack by the collar of his shirt. He was jerked forward against Frenchie, staggering on his feet. Quickly, Jack's hands snapped to Frenchie's wrist, their faces only inches apart, "This is not nothing, Jack. I'm losing my sister and you don't even care!"

"What part of me said I don't care?!" Jack rasped, trying to wrangle Frenchie's steel-like grip off his shirt, "You know I care about Iris. I only want what's best for her."

"Then why didn't you pick her?" Frenchie whispered, his eyes locked intensely with Jack's. His grip only tightened around his friend's collar, "You would have been perfect for her. You would have inspired her to keep doing what she loves."

"Frenchie, no," Jack shook his head. He tried harder now to unwound Frenchie's fingers, but it was to no avail, "How many times do we have to go through this?!" Jack sneered, "How long will you hold this over my head!?"

"For as long as she keeps doing this stupid shit!" Frenchie yelled, jerking Jack back against him. Jack's brain rattled in his head as he was brought closer to Frenchie again, "My sister had always been timid, quiet, and calculating! She wasn't rash! She was very agreeable! Now I don't know what's gotten into her. Ever since you first came asking for a job, you snapped something inside of her. You changed my sister and I want to change her back, dammit!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack furrowed his brow, "I didn't do anything!"

Frenchie released one hand from Jack's collar and charged it backwards, bringing it forward full force against the side of Jack's face. Jack staggered, nearly falling to the ground but managed to swoop upwards and stay on his feet. The side of his face radiated and he touched it tenderly. He looked over his shoulder just in time to take another punch from Frenchie. Jack stumbled backwards into a paint smudged concrete pillar, blood dripping from his nose, down his chin, and onto his shirt. He looked at Frenchie with deep anger now and lunged forward knocking Frenchie off his feet. Jack landed on top of him, watching Frenchie deflate like a balloon as the air was knocked out of him. Jack brought his fist back and hit Frenchie on his right cheek. As he pulled his fist back to do it again, Frenchie caught his wrist by surprise and threw Jack to the side. The men rolled into the stools surrounding the table and they clattered over the wrestling duo. Frenchie grabbed Jack's neck and slammed his head straight into the leg of the table. Jack howled in pain and elbowed Frenchie in the gut, sending the man backwards. Together, the men laid on the floor side by side with the stools arranged around them. They panted heavily. Jack sat up, glancing towards his bloody shirt. Gently, he touched his tender nose, blood smearing on his fingertips.

Jack looked over his shoulder at Frenchie who was staring at the ceiling. Jack sighed, pressing his elbows into his crossed legs. He lowered his head, watching droplets of blood splatter onto the concrete floor. After a few moments, he heard Frenchie shifting about. He came to sit up beside Jack, hugging his knees.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Frenchie finally said, "That was... that was just a lot of pent up anger from the last few months. It shouldn't have come out on you."

Jack lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet Frenchie's eyes without staining his shirt anymore. He nodded at his head at Frenchie, "Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?"

"Do you really think I've changed Iris like you said I did?"

Frenchie sighed and stared forward at the wall in front of him, "I don't know, Jack."

The two men fell into silence again. They sat side by side as Jack waited for his nosebleed to run dry. The only sounds to be heard was the metal roof creaking against the breeze outside.

...

Jack and Frenchie decided to stay together at the studio as the morning waned into the early afternoon. Jack shrugged out of his navy blue button up and only glanced fleetingly at the speckles of blood soaking the cotton. He carelessly disregarded it over a stool and seated himself at the table in just his white undershirt. Both the men's heads throbbed horrendously and slowly their faces grew to be faintly purple and blue. Purple rings began to reach beneath Jack's eyes as his nose became increasingly sore. The two men were quiet for the next hour, hovering over their sketch pads, but nobody made a single stroke across their open pages. Occasionally, they made eye contact and averted it just as fast. After an hour ticked by, Jack sighed and tapped his pencil against his paper.

"Are we going to talk about this?" Jack asked, doing his best to mask any exasperation.

Frenchie looked up from his empty sketch book that nearly mirrored his mind at this point, "We should just wait for Iris to come home."

"No, this talk is just between you and I," Jack said, pressing his elbows against the top of the table, "I want to know if you really meant it."

"What, my comment about Iris being different?"

"Yes, that one!" Jack shook his head but stopped abruptly when his whole skull began to throb, "To me, she's not much different. She's more mature, but... I guess I'm just not seein' what you are. Care to elaborate?"

Frenchie licked his lips rather pensively. It was obvious he did not want to revisit the words he said in anger, but by Jack's look, Frenchie knew the man was not going to back down on this. Frenchie heaved a sigh, scrunching his shoulders for a moment, "I just think..." Frenchie started slowly, his eyes trained on the dirty table, "She put her entire heart into you and when it came back to her, it changed her. What I said... you know I was angry, Jack. I was exaggerating in many senses. All I know is that I've just seen my sister change before my very eyes in the past year and a half."

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe it was just a pivotal moment in her life?" Jack asked, "That maybe... it was just coincidence that I showed up at the same time? I mean, hell, I've seen the change in women that age. You know, Iris is the same age as Rose and I'd say Rose is a different kind of woman altogether since 1912. But in a good way. And I think you should look at Iris and think that, too."

Frenchie sighed again and closed his eyes now, "I just want to hold onto what I have left, Jack. In the past five years, I've lost my mother and father. Iris is all I have left now and I just... I want to hold onto her. I can't accept the change. It's like I'm allowing my life as I know it to shrivel up and blow away in the wind."

"Don't you want to see Iris grow up and be happy? Live out all her dreams? Find love? Have a family?" Jack asked, "You can't seriously expect her to be that little girl anymore who daydreams and watches you paint."

"I only want what's best for her, you know that," Frenchie answered quickly, "I just know that I can do that for her. I want to be her rock. I'm her brother for God's sake."

"Yeah, but everyone needs love, Frenchie," Jack replied, "What about you? Have you never thought about falling in love?"

"No, never," Frenchie shook his head, "The only love I have in my life is art and that's fine for me."

"Fine for you," Jack pointed his finger at Frenchie, "That doesn't mean it goes for the rest of us. I really think whatever is happening between Iris and Tim will be good for her. Besides, when's the last time Iris ever left New York?"

"She's honestly probably never left New York," Frenchie muttered, "I've only gone to a different state once in my life. And that was just Virginia," Frenchie looked to Jack, "I'm scared something will happen to her, Jack. I want her treated right and I know I can do that for her. If you want something done right, do it yourself... That's what my dad always said."

"You can't just apply that to all situations," Jack sighed, cradling his sore head in his hand, which was bruised from meeting Frenchie's cheek bone, "Let her have some love in her life, Frenchie. And welcome the change. Who knows, you might just like it once you embrace it."

Frenchie was opening his mouth to respond when the front door of the studio suddenly swung open, greeting the room with its familiar creak. Frenchie was to his feet in a second. Jack simply looked over his shoulder. Iris came through the door with a bag slung over her shoulder and the widest grin on her face. She kicked the door shut behind her and carelessly dropped her things on the ground beside the entrance. She nearly skipped to the communal table, but came to a grounding halt upon getting a closer look at the artists.

"What happened to you two?" Iris asked, furrowing her brow, "Did we get robbed?"

"Yeah," Jack cracked a light hearted grin, "We fought 'em off with our own fists."

Iris took a moment to laugh before she crossed her arms over her chest, "No, really, what happened?"

"Never mind our ugly faces," Frenchie waved his hand dismissively, "Did you just get back from Baltimore?"

"Yup," Iris nodded, seating herself at a stool. Slowly, Frenchie copied, "I took the first train out this morning. You know, the rolling hills surrounding this general area are beautiful at day break," Iris grinned at the thought. Jack shot Frenchie a knowing look.

"So, um," Frenchie cleared his throat, uncomfortably shifting on his stool, "How was your time in Baltimore with your... friend?"

"Oh, Frenchie! Tim is great!" Iris' eyes lit up at the mention, "He took me to so many museums! I saw paintings I thought I'd only ever read about in magazines. And I learned so much history about Baltimore. For having only lived there a few short weeks, Tim was the best tour guide! And his town house is so pretty. The streets are vibrant with green leaves! It's a world of differences compared to New York. I never even considered Maryland before. It's a beautiful state. I definitely will be a repeat tourist!"

"You're... you're gonna go back?" Frenchie asked. Jack could almost see the man's heart sinking to his stomach. Iris stood and crossed to the ice chest they had, pulling herself a frosty bottle of Coca-Cola out. She popped the cap off and turned back to Frenchie, taking a sip of her soda.

"Well, of course! Tim is going to take me on a wine and foods tour next weekend," Iris said with a big grin, "And we're planning a beach trip, too, at the end of July. Oh, and he wants to take me for a drive through the countryside. It's all so exciting!"

"So, you're going to be seeing a lot of this friend, then?" Frenchie's voice had deflated significantly, "What about our commissions we have lined up?"

"I'll only be gone on the weekends," Iris assured him, returning to the communal table. She set her bottle on the surface and immediately, the wooden top became wet from the sweat of the drink, "I'll be able to help during the week days as normal. Weekend getaways will be good for me, anyway. Sometimes this studio makes me feel stir crazy."

"Who is this Tim Calvert to you?" Frenchie finally asked point blank. Jack arched his eyebrows and monitored Iris' slow cascading facial expression.

"He's a really good man," Iris said from behind her drink, "He treats me with respect. He likes to listen to me talk. I'm quite fond of him, too. Tim is so much different than any man I've ever met before, Frenchie. He's direct and calculating. He's incredibly handsome, if I do say so myself, and I like the way he makes me feel when I'm with him."

"Don't you think this is all moving a little too quickly?" Frenchie asked, moving his hands in weird directions, "I mean, you've only known the man for three days and you two already have your summer booked up with each other."

"No, I don't think things are progressing too quickly at all," Iris told him plainly, "Frenchie, I really like Tim. And I mean it. I know it's only been three days, but I feel like I could trust this man with my life. And I would, without a second thought."

Jack watched Iris closely, knowing those words and feelings all too well. It reminded him of his hurried explainations to Fabrizio and Tommy. The sounds of the Atlantic ocean began washing through his ears. His hair stood up on the back of his neck as Iris continued.

"He's thoughtful and sweet. He's utterly polite. He's well-groomed and has a magnificent life story trailing at his feet," Iris told Frenchie, nearly bouncing in her seat with delight. Her brother was the absolute opposite, "I think he could even... be the one," She added, rather shyly.

"You're not marrying this man," Frenchie told her.

"Well, obviously not right now," Iris heaved a sigh, drooping her shoulders, "But if everything continues as it is... we'll see," She grinned at the idea. Frenchie looked to Jack, mostly seeking help. But something inside of Jack quivered and he sat up on the cue of Frenchie's intense look.

"It sounds like you had a good weekend, Iris," Jack said. Frenchie shook his head and lowered his eyes.

...

"Tim? Timothy Calvert?" Rose paused, looking at Jack in the reflection of her vanity mirror, "The lawyer? Are we talking about the same man?"

Jack couldn't help but grin from where he was propped up in bed with a forgotten newspaper in his lap, "Yup, none other. Frenchie is pissed. I think it's good, especially for Iris."

Rose was quiet for a moment before she turned in the stool, looking towards Jack, "The world seems so huge, but when things like this happens... well, it really reminds you of what a small world we actually inhabit."

"There are millions of people out there, but I was still lucky enough to bump into you," Jack grinned, which Rose returned. After a moment, she turned back towards her vanity to continue brushing her curls out before bed. Jack could see she was still smiling in her reflection and he did the same as he returned to his newspaper.