Dishonoring Jack

Chapter Eleven

 As Jack and Donovan drove home, Jack's thoughts were on Donovan's unexpected response to the injured soldiers. Was it cowardice in his expression? Regret? Guilt? Anger? Jack wasn't sure--the man was quite a mystery to her, but she wondered if they'd built enough of a rapport that she could question him. He seemed to enjoy her company and he didn't express any of the tension he'd shown with Dr. Benjamin and Corrie. She hated to think that she had made him uncomfortable or done anything to cause him distress.

The raucous churn of the motor gave Jack time to mull and wonder as they returned to her house and Jack bounced and fidgeted in the automobile's seat. She had just determined she would ask him at least a few of her questions while they searched for herbs as Donovan pulled the car into the dirt lane leading to her house, parking it and turning off the motor.

Jack climbed out of the Model T as soon as it clattered to a stop, eager to begin her interrogation. Donovan joined her, brushing his smooth black hair behind his ear.
"So, I was thinking we try to find willow bark and pennyroyal--"

"Are you alright?" Jack interrupted, tilting her head to study him.

Donovan paled a little and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry?"
Jack's face reddened at his obvious discomfort. "It's just--well, you seemed a tad distressed when we were at the doctor's office. I hope I haven't done anything, or said something--is everything alright?"

Donovan's eyebrows shot up, genuinely shocked that Jack had noticed. "I--I assure you, it has nothing to do with you. I've enjoyed your company today immensely, and I don't want you to think--it wasn't you, Jack."

If Donovan was surprised at Jack's intuition, Jack was even more astounded at the well-spoken lawyer stuttering over his words. They stood in Jack's front yard for a moment, gawking at each other.

"Then what is it? What's wrong? If you don't mind me asking."

Donovan's tense expression eased a little and he smiled. "Your honesty is a welcome surprise. I--it's difficult for me to face the brutality of the war." Donovan ran his hand over the smooth metal hood of the Model T absently. "I lost someone recently. He died fighting--or rather, from disease and malnutrition. It's still hard--it's difficult. To face it."
Sympathy rose in Jack as she studied Donovan's furrowed eyebrows. She thought of Christina, constantly terrified that she would receive the dreaded missive from the War Office, and of all the other letters Jack had delivered, telling of the deaths of Roy and other boys just like him. No one was untouched by the tragedy.

"I'm so sorry," Jack said, taking a tentative step towards him and resting her hand on his forearm.

Donovan flinched at her touch, and Jack wondered if she'd overstepped. What was she thinking? Perhaps the man would suspect that she was making untoward advances on him when all she'd meant was to offer simple comfort and sympathy.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice cracking with the words. He coughed and rose to his full height, squaring his athletic shoulders. "I'm sorry--it's just still fresh."

"I understand. I--I recently lost someone I used to know," Jack said, thinking of Roy. She knew no words that could offer solace, only an empathetic presence.

"It's just--it wasn't the same. It's not the same for my people," Donovan continued, his voice the low rumble of distant thunder. "Most of us aren't citizens, and the ones who gain citizenship are just drafted and sent off to die. He--he didn't deserve to die, not for a country that's treated him like scum." Before Jack could ask him what he meant, Donovan lifted his chin and smiled at her and the guarded joviality returned to his voice. "Well, shall we find some herbs for the doctor?"