The diamond ring Titus had given her was imprinted in Jack's hand because she was squeezing it so tightly. She hadn't let the ring out of her sight for days, but it had haunted her--staring at her from the stand beside her bed, burning a hole in the pocket of her dress, reminding her of dreams cut short by cruelty. Jack had put off speaking with Hannah and relaying those words, partially out of respect for her lesson but also out of cowardice. She didn't want to see anyone that reminded her of those events; in fact, besides going to work with Minnie each day, Jack was a recluse, avoiding all society.

Every day that passed, Jack half-expected to see Oliver Walker show up outside her door, chauffeured by his butler, to tote Jack to jail, but he didn't. Jack awoke every morning and parted her gingham curtains to see if Donovan's automobile still sat outside the Bookers'. He hadn't left--yet. Jack's heart couldn't bear the thought of Donovan's imminent departure. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of his flashing eyes through the window, but they hadn't spoken. Jack was afraid they were past saving.

Jack's seclusion had to end today, however. Titus Fletcher's funeral would take place in the church in only a few minutes and Jack had to attend--she owed Titus that, good, strong Titus. He had harbored no hard feelings for Jack and had left her with only one wish--that he tell Hannah the future he'd imagined with her. The future Max Slate had stolen.

Jack glanced at the clock with the broken minute hand that rested on the windowsill next to her--it was time to go. Jack pocketed the ring and laced her boots, wearing the only dress she had left after her muslin was destroyed. It was a blue dress, too bright for a wedding, and Jack had only a black frock from the period of mourning following her parents' death tomark her grief, and it was too small. Jack glanced in the cracked mirror at the corner of her bedroom--it would have to do. Her features had aged years in only a few months, eyes swallowed by dark bags.

"Be strong, Jack," she whispered to herself, turning on the heel of her boot and beginning the resolute march back to Irvington.

Jack's bike had reappeared under Margaret's ownership, so Jack was subjected to walking to town and to work, but she didn't mind. Her own company was all she could tolerate, and even that she found depressing.

Fall engulfed the Virginian countryside and further inland, the trees were baring themselves to the world as they lost their leaves, fleeing for winter. Irvington appeared and Jack kept her head down; she couldn't deal with the curiosities of any nosy town gossips today. If anyone asked her about Titus's death, Jack was afraid she might punch them and she'd had enough of violence for the time being.

"Jack, is that you?"

Jack looked up to see a friendly if sorrowful smile on the face of Irvington's preacher, Reverend Smalley. "Please, come in!" he said. "We missed you in church this Sunday, Jack."

"Yes, well, unless you're talking to a mouse in your pocket, I think you're the only one."

Jack stepped inside the church, shaking off the chilly wind. The church looked as it always did, two columns of pews facing a pulpit at the front. Today, however, the pulpit as well as the altar and the two crosses flanking the front were draped in rich black cloth and a closed casket sat in front of the pulpit. Jack felt familiar sorrow leap through her.

Even though Titus had no living family in the area, the church was filled from front to back with mourners clothed in black, murmuring under their breaths as they filled the pews. Some people were even forced to stand in the back, but Jack could scarcely move from the doorway as people filed in behind her. She was paralyzed.

This is because of you.

Jack wished she could squeeze Donovan's hand as a tangible reminder of the reason they'd endured all of this, but he wasn't there. He was gone, if not physically, then emotionally.

"Jack, here!"

Jack looked to see Corrie, bordered by the doctor and Christina, beckoning to her. They'd saved her a seat in the front row and Jack's stomach lurched. She didn't deserve to sit there, but she had to. Jack skirted a few of the attendees, ignoring Oliver Walker who sat across the aisle from his daughters, and squeezed onto the pew between Christina and Corrie. Due to the long walk from her house, Jack had arrived just in time and she could only receive the whispered greetings of her nieces as Reverend Smalley rose to give the eulogy.

As if somehow knowing the pain her aunt was feeling, Christina squeezed her hand. Jack couldn't even bear to look at Hannah, the girl whom Titus had loved. The girl he would have married had he been spared.

"Dearly beloved," Reverend Smalley began, clasping his hands over the Bible on the pulpit. "We are gathered together today to commemorate the life of a man the town of Irvington grieves to lose. Titus Fletcher was a good man, a great man. He was known for being both compassionate and just, and wise beyond his years, and in the events of this past week, we have lost him far too soon."

A murmur of agreement and anger coursed through the crowd; Irvington had loved Titus Fletcher and they would not forget his death.

"But ours is not to judge," the pastor continued. "Ours is to remember and to mourn a life cut short by cruelty and malice. I have been blessed by knowing Titus, our sheriff, neighbor, and friend, since we were both young. Anyone who has met him can attest to the kindness he showed to everyone, the maturity and depth of character that marked him, and the dedication to justice which he pursued even to the cost of his life."

Jack heard Hannah stifle a sob and she looked down to see the girl pressing a handkerchief to her face, her eyes rimmed with red. The doctor put an arm around his sister's shoulders.

"Titus is survived by a town that loves and honors him, friends that will always cherish him, and a sweetheart in whose heart he will always be remembered." Eyes looked to Hannah Benjamin who tried to lift her chin and gather her composure. "I think we can all agree that Titus Fletcher will not be forgotten in the annals of history and in our hearts."

A few people muttered Amens under their breath, and Jack felt the yawning hollow of grief in her chest, stretching to try to encompass this loss. She bore it like a weight around her neck, like a hole inside of her that would never be filled. Grief ravaged her heart as she squirmed in her seat, wishing she could flee from it all, but she couldn't. She supposed this guilt would follow her as long as she lived.

"I want to give the opportunity for any of you to share about a particular experience with Titus that you would like, but first, as your pastor, neighbor, and friend, let me exhort you: Do not forget the force that cut Titus Fletcher's life short. The deficiencies of human character--greed, malice, anger, revenge--have brought a good man to Heaven's doorstep, and none of us is immune to these failings. Please, I beg of you," the preacher implored, casting his finger towards the casket. "Let your response to this man's death be resolve, compassion, and peace. Resolve that such mindless cruelty never occur again. Compassion for those left behind. Peace that this battle go on no longer."

Jack felt as if the reverend were speaking into a trumpet blasting at her. Could he read her desire for vengeance in her heart? Was she so obvious, her desires so open? Jack hardened her heart to his pleas, however. The time for forgiveness and peace was long past. The weakness wallowing in Jack's heart had no place, she decided. She could not stop Max Slate if she were too busy grieving over a life now gone. No, she needed to immunize herself against grief so she could think like him, outsmart him, and end this. Not by turning over the deed. Not by running away. Not by rolling over and playing dead, but by condemning Max Slate for all he'd done and making sure he paid for it as dearly as Titus had.

Reverend Smalley stepped down from the pulpit and one by one, townspeople stepped forward to share their testimonies of how Titus had aided them. One elderly widow in a gray shawl recalled how he had captured and killed a feral raccoon that was living in her attic. The blacksmith remembered the way he had given him a ride in his automobile when his horse lost her shoe. A little girl told them how Titus had made sure a thief gave back every cent he owed after she and her mother had been robbed.

Every story, every remembrance, was a log thrown on the fire of Jack's desire for vengeance. The stories wound on and on, but no one seated in her row, none of the people who loved him best, could bring themselves to speak. It seemed wrong to speak of the most intimate moments of his life in front of such a crowd though Jack knew that each of their hearts ached to remember him.

Reverend Smalley closed the funeral and the viewers quietly filed past the close casket and outside the door, murmuring condolences to Hannah as they went. Finally, the church was empty except for Christina, Jack, Corrie, Dr. Benjamin, and Hannah who remained glued to their pews.

Jack knew what come yet; after all, her fingers kept finding the ring nestled in her pocket. She needed to stop postponing the difficult conversation ahead of her. As Corrie and her husband rose and came to Christina's side, Jack slid down the pew and placed a tentative hand on Christina's arm, covered in a black dress buttoned to her collarbone.

"Hannah, can I...can I talk to you?"
The girl lifted her chin, a loose curl framing her round face. "What can you possibly have to say to make this better, Jack?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Hannah's figure shrivelled and her back arched as she shielded her face with her hands. Jack slid closer to her and rested her hand on the girl's back, gently rubbing it. She didn't have any words of comfort, only a presence, a person, company.

When the girl's sobs abated, Jack reached into her pocket and palmed the ring, keeping it hidden. "Hannah, I have something to tell you. Before he died..." Hannah looked up abruptly, eyes wide. "He had final words. For you."

Hannah's mouth dropped open, tears racing down her crimson cheeks. "What?" she croaked between dry lips. "What were they?"

Jack chewed up on her lip. "He said to tell you he was sorry and that he loved you. To tell you that he wanted a life with you."
A sob rose in Hannah's throat, barely choked down, as Jack opened her hand, displaying the diamond ring. "And he wanted me to give you this."
Hannah stared with wide eyes at the ring for a long moment as if unable to grasp the paradox between the future Titus had wanted for them and the future she now had to face. Hannah snatched the ring from Jack's palm leaving a set of nail marks on her skin and she held the ring to her chest.

Jack rose from the pew and studied Hannah for a long moment. "I know this doesn't make anything better, but I'm really sorry. If I could have taken his place, I would have. I'm sorry."

The words felt empty and void in comparison to the depth of Hannah's loss, but Jack had nothing but her regret to give. She turned away but Hannah's voice stopped her.

"Jack, wait." Hannah stood to her feet, still clutching the ring against her bosom. "I meant what I said on the day he...he died. Titus died at the hands of those Slates. Don't let it go to waste, Jack. Everyone else has given up and they're blaming you and Donovan, but I know it's not your fault. Just--just make sure they pay."
Jack nodded. That was one promise she would die to keep.