The copper church bell rang the Doxology from the brick belltower of the Methodist Church, the sound echoing off Irvington's cobblestone streets. Churchgoers poured out of the building like milk from a jug, the women donning their feathered felt hats and the men straightening stiff collars that poked their clean-shaven necks.

Everyone was dressed in their finest Sunday array, and even Jack wore her one fine dress, a plain blue dress that she had hemmed and mended over the years to match the changes in style. She had been all too relieved when the change in women's roles thanks to the war had also dictated a similar change in fashion, allowing her to shorten her hemline and gain greater range of motion.

Jack stood up at the end of the oaken pew reserved for the Walker family. At the end of the row, Mayor Oliver Walker and his wife Anita, Jack's sister, filed into the aisle, followed by Dr. Benjamin and Corrie, who each took Christina's arm and helped her limp out of the church. Jack followed them as the sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows and cast colorful shadows on her tanned skin. Titus Fletcher and Hannah followed behind Jack, and the family procession exited the church.

Jack's foot drummed on the church floor as the mayor dallied in the doorway, talking to his constituents and she longed to escape the square brick building and take a lark through the meadows where the birds were bound to sing. Jack wondered for a moment if she would encounter Donovan, the stranger who had surprised her the day before, but Jack knew he was probably only visiting for a few days, and she had no need of the trouble he invited. She did wish that the Bookers attended the same church as she so she could catch another glimpse of the man, but the churches in Irvington were still segregated and she had no doubt that if the Bookers and Donovan had come to the Methodist church, they would have ignited a scandal all through Irvington.

"God bless," Reverend Smalley said, his voice piercing through Jack's reflections. "Have a wonderful Sunday, Mayor Walker." He greeted Dr. Benjamin and his wife as well as the recovered invalid with a generous smile and offered Jack a hearty handshake. "Good day, Miss Harrison. God bless you!"

"Good day, Reverend Smalley! And I must admit, I quite enjoyed your sermon," Jack said, winking at the aged minister.

The tips of the Reverend's ears pinkened as they both recalled the way he had slammed his hand against the lectern, calling for greater sacrifice and understanding during war time and demanding that they cooperate in unity instead of falling apart in division. Though often given to fervent preaching, this had been one of his most zealous sermons to date and Jack had loved every moment of it.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't be doing so every Sunday, Miss Harrison, or I'll be kicked out of church," he joked, returning the wink and greeting Hannah and Titus behind her. Jack followed Corrie, Dr. Benjamin, and Christina into the open air outside of the church where the morning sun already radiated its heavy heat. Churchgoers chatted in the streets, some of the women fanning themselves and a few of the younger men slinging their jackets over their arms.

Oliver Walker turned towards his daughters with a pompous sniff of his upturned nose and bid them a quick goodbye. He detested being seen with the likes of her, and he and his wife were quick to make their exit. Anita didn't even spare her sister a backwards glance, but Jack was too used to being shunned to let it ruin the glorious day she was itching to enjoy.

"Are you joining us for dinner?" Corrie asked, turning to an aunt with a hand on her forearm. Her red hair glinted in the sun, tied beneath her hat in a pompadour.

"Am I invited?" Jack returned with a sideways grin.

"Always," Hannah interjected from Jack's right, looping her arm through Jack's.

"Then I'm coming," Jack answered.

The troop of friends weaved through the crowd of churchgoers, returning to Dr. Benjamin's hospital and the many hungry men who had been unable to attend the service. Reverend Smalley would visit them later in the afternoon and offer a short sermon for since the majority of the men were immobilized by their injuries. The cheery front room glowed in the sunlight as they traipsed indoors, Jack narrowly dodging a man who had fallen asleep on the floor with a jacket as a pillow.

Corrie invited them all upstairs and the friends shared a meager repast, the meal quickly brought to a close when Dr. Benjamin was called away for an emergency. Hannah helped Corrie wash the dishes so they could assist Dr. Benjamin downstairs.

"Jack, will you help me downstairs?" Christina asked from Jack's side, her voice ringing light and sharp.

Jack pushed her chair back with a squeak and rose, lifting Christina's discarded crutches in one hand and reaching around the girl's waist to help her stand with the other. Between the broken leg and the horrendous bout of pneumonia, Christina had withered away into nothing, weighing scarcely more than a child. Christina wove her arm around Jack's body, relying on her aunt's strength to hobble down the stairs on her one good leg.

Christina breathed heavily in Jack's ear and at the landing in the center of the stairs, Jack tilted her head to look at her niece. "Is everything alright, Chris? Shall we take a short break?"

The girl gritted her teeth, her face wan, and shook her head. "No, it's fine," she forced through her teeth. "I want to read to the men for a while before I have to return home."

Jack wanted to protest and tell Christina to allow herself to rest, but despite her physical weakness, Christina had a stubborn streak and Jack wouldn't be the one to tell her she couldn't do something.

"Alright," Jack acquiesced with a sigh. "Let's go."

They staggered down the remaining steps and Jack tried to ignore the girl's pained groans and the sound of her teeth grinding together. They both let out sighs of relief when they hit the foot of the stairs, and Jack hurried to set up a chair in the crowded hospital room. Christina sagged into it gratefully, her face pale from the exertion.

"Do you wish to read?" Jack asked Christina.

"In a moment. Perhaps I can rest, for now, and you'll talk to me, Aunt Jack?"

"Of course I will," Jack said, pulling up an abandoned stool and patting the girl's leg. "You know how much I love to spin tales."

Christina mustered a wan smile, and Jack moved to situate her stool across from the girl to find that all the space around them was now occupied by the injured soldiers who at Christina's arrival had flocked to her. Some pulled their cots closer and others settled on the floor, studying Christina's pale, ethereal features and her piercing green eyes.

"Hello, gentlemen!" Jack said, offering a handshake to the men who were nearest. "How are you on this fine Sunday?"

"Is it fine?" one man asked. "I wouldn't know. I haven't been outside in weeks."

Jack noticed his bandaged arm and leg and the scars on one side of his face and felt a stab of pity. Before she could offer her condolences for his condition, however, a wheezing voice spoke up. "Don't you listen to him, Jack." A cough interrupted the man, but he recovered. "He's just upset because his sweetheart's waiting for him to get home so they can marry."

A grin broke across Jack's face at the sight of her favorite of the wounded men, Private Buchanan. He laid on a cot near the wall with his head propped up and an arm draped lazily over the edge. A cigarette dangled from his fingers despite his bad lungs and he ran his fingers over his mustache.

"Ira Buchanan, always causing trouble," Jack cried, stepping over the cots to greet her friend with a handshake. "And how are you feeling?"
The Navy private took a puff of his cigarette, the smoke wafting through the room. "As well as I can be, thanks to the doctor's ministrations. You don't reckon you can sneak me a few more cigs, do you? Mrs. Benjamin caught me the other day and demanded I give it to her."

Jack suppressed a laugh. "For a man with bad lungs, you sure know how to make it worse. Of course I won't get you cigarettes, not until you're all recovered and can run a mile without losing your breath."

The private let out a dry laugh. "I don't know if I'll ever see that day, Jack. I don't know." A moment passed between the friends and Jack studied the wrinkled lines of his face, weathered from a thousand days spent exposed to the harsh marine winds. "You better get back to your sweet little niece before the vultures descend."

Jack looked back at Christina, now hemmed in by men on every side, and laughed, touching Ira's hand before she left him. "Get better soon, Private Buchanan, and I'll find you a good Cuban cigar before you return home."

He took Jack's hand and squeezed it fervently, his gray-green eyes sharp. "I'm going to hold you to that, Jack."

Jack gave him one last smile before returning to her guardian position in front of Christina, warning back the audacious soldiers with a glare from her cornflower eyes.

Christina leaned her head against the back of the chair, her hair fluttered about in a dark halo around her with her hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes were closed and her voice distant and haunting. "Tell me something, Jack. Anything."

With the soldiers listening in, Jack started her tale. "Well, yesterday I threw half of my eggs at a perfect stranger while I was perched in a tree."

Christina's eyes opened with a start. "You did what? It wasn't one of those Hunts come to get revenge on you, was it?"

Jack smiled as she thought of Donovan's good-natured response to her assault. "Indeed it wasn't."

"And why were you in a tree?"

"Martha got stuck," Jack explained. "You know she only has one leg, and she escaped to the highest branch and wouldn't get down."

"So you climbed up after her?"
"Of course!" Jack exclaimed. "I couldn't just leave her there. While I was fetching her back, a man appeared in my yard--I'd never even seen him before, and I wished in that moment I had my shotgun."

Jack's audacity earned her a few chuckles from the nearby men who now paid nearly as much attention to her as they did to Christina. "So I had to use eggs I'd hidden in my apron pocket. I pelted him in the chest a few times, warning him off."

"Did it work? Did you scare him off?" one of the men asked and Jack laughed.

"Well, not exactly. It turns out that he's a friend of my neighbors, the Bookers, who had come to introduce himself and invite me to dinner at their home."

"Oh, Jack," Christina said, falling back in her chair and rolling her eyes.

"I didn't know!" Jack protested. "I swear I didn't. I knew they had a visitor, but I'd never even laid eyes on the man. But he was quite understanding of our little spat--he even laughed at the egg yolk on his chest."

Christina's interest increased and she turned her head to study her aunt. "What kind of man was he, Aunt Jack?"

"Oh, he's a fine man," Jack said, more than willing to expound on the attributes of the man who had so easily captured her attention. "A Powhatan, from only an hour southwest of here. He's a lawyer and he went to school with Julius."

"A Powhatan?" one of the men interrupted. "You mean an Indian?"

The disgust in his voice struck a chord in Jack and she glared at him. "Of course he is. What of it?"

The man spat on the floor, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "No good savages. You shouldn't go fraternizin' with the likes of them, Miss."
Indignation rose in the pit of Jack's stomach, igniting her ruthless temper. "Perhaps you're the one I shouldn't be fraternizing with if you judge a man based on his heritage alone."

The soldier drew back a little, laughing but not daring to say anything else.

"Jack, it's alright," Christina said, soothing her aunt with a hand on her arm. "He didn't mean any harm. Is he really an Indian? Like--like the ones we read about in school?"
"Of course he's nothing like the books, Chris," Jack declared, standing up with her hands on her hips. "The books are ridiculous stereotypes designed by the government to keep everyone in their place, just like the magazines that tell women they should just cook, clean, and care for their husbands. It's bloody propaganda, and you shouldn't believe a word of it."

For a moment after Jack's tirade, the room was silent and no one dared to speak, but then a few of the men began to jeer at her. "You're just bitter 'cause there ain't no man who wants your care, woman!" one cried, and Jack's hands formed into fists. If the fellow weren't a recovering soldier, Jack swore to herself she'd make him sorry he ever said such words.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sure he's a fine man--I didn't mean to upset you so," Christina said, squeezing Jack's hand. "Why don't you go see if Hannah or Corrie need help? I'll manage fine here."

Jack released her tensed fists, casting a scouring glare over the room. Only Ira Buchanan offered her a bemused smile and a jaunty wave from his cot. "I believe I will," Jack said, and stormed out of the room with the fury of a tornado.

As she stomped out of the room with rage, Jack wondered why the soldiers' disapprobation of Donovan had engendered such a fierce response from her. She scarcely knew the man, and who was she to defend him as good or bad when she didn't know the answer herself? Jack was confident that Donovan, whoever he was, was a good sort of man and worthy of her ready defense, but still, why had she been so eager to defend a man she barely knew?

The questioned baffled her and she forced it out of her mind as Hannah passed her a bowl of dough that Jack planned to knead to kingdom come if she could not so punish the offending soldiers in the room below.

What do you think of Jack's eager defense of Donovan? Have you ever stood up for someone who was harrassed because of their race, gender, or something else? Let me know in the comments, and thanks for reading!