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?"

"Oh, of course," Jack said. "I have some pennyroyal in my herb garden. Perhaps that will suffice?"

"Let's go, then," he said, striding eagerly towards the garden, leaving the momentary vulnerability behind.

Jack followed him, her thoughts in a muddle. Her queries had only brought greater confusion rather than clarity, and Jack wondered if she would ever gain another glimpse of the unveiled side of his character. She rather liked the open side of the man over the charm and charisma.

"So, pennyroyal," Jack said. She leaned over to identify the small violet flowers in the jumbled underbrush of weeds and herbs at one corner of the garden. "I typically just boil it in a tea. How do you use it medicinally?"

"The same," Donovan said, plucking the tiny green plant from the ground at the root, dirt beneath his fingernails as he crouched near the ground. "It's very beneficial for treating fevers. I remember a pennyroyal tea curing me of the flu when I was just a boy."

"Did you grow up on the reservation?" Jack asked as she knelt next to him and plucked a few more of the plants.

"I did," Donovan answered, and for a moment he said nothing else. "Until I turned sixteen. Then I left for Boston and worked for a few years before I got into college."

"Why did you leave?" Jack ask, sitting back on her heels so she could turn and study his bronzed features and intelligent eyes.

"I had no future on the reservation--no one does. There aren't enough jobs, and I wanted more. I didn't want the life ahead of me there. I didn't want to waste my life on drink like my father or labor from daybreak to dusk on the farm like my mother."
"Didn't you miss your family when you left?" Jack cried, thinking of the relationships with her nieces that she so cherished.

Donovan smiled a little at Jack, squinting in the sunlight. "Do you always ask so many questions?"
Jack thought for a moment. "No, I don't suppose so because I'm usually not so interested in someone--er, something. Irvington doesn't have much to offer by way of entertainment."

He laughed but answered her question. "I missed my family, of course, but both my parents were dead by the time I left. My mother died of tuberculosis when I was a boy and my father was shot in a saloon fight when I was in my teens. I left behind only an older sister, but she was married. There wasn't much keeping me there."

"Did you ever go back? To visit? Or for holidays?" Jack asked, the pennyroyal forgot as she sat on her behind and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Not for many years, no. I've lived in Boston for over a decade, but even there, it was hard. I was never--it wasn't home."
Donovan's reticence did nothing to dissuade Jack's curiosity. "What was hard? Life in Boston? Missing your family?"

Donovan abandoned the search for the herbs and faced Jack, outstretching his legs beside her knees and leaning back on his hands. Jack rocked forward on her knees to listen more intently to the fascinating tale.

"Have you ever been discriminated against for something beyond your control?"

Jack let out a bitter laugh. "I'm a woman in my thirties who lives with alone with no intention of wedding any time soon, and I romp about the fields doing whatever I please. Well, perhaps some of that is in my control, but still--I'm paid less than all the men who work at the factory, I can't vote, and I'm laughed at all the time for my choice of independence over marital compromise."

Donovan chuckled, picking at a blade of grass. "I suppose you know exactly what I'm talking about. But I'm not like you, Jack. I cared what people thought. I wanted to fit in while I lived in Boston. I wanted to be the best, and my race has always held me back. Always."

"I do care sometimes," Jack murmured under her breath. "I try not to, but I don't always like living on the fringes of society like I do. I suppose it's better than compromising my ideals, but sometimes I yearn for acceptance as well. It's difficult."

"It is. People aren't like you, Jack. They don't see my Powhatan ancestry as an advantage." Donovan leaned backwards, reclining on his elbows and squinting up at the sky. Jack studied the way the sun glinted off of his satiny hair and highlighted the high cheekbones and strong features. "I sometimes hate what sets me apart--my ancestry, my history, my people. I hated that I wasn't given a fair chance at the life I wanted. All I ever asked for was a fair chance."

"Has your heritage always been a limitation?" Jack asked. "Hasn't it ever given you an advantage, a perspective you wouldn't have had otherwise?"
"I suppose, perhaps, at times. I shouldn't complain. I still have a law degree, and I've found decent success despite all of this."
"For all your struggles, your life sounds grand," Jack mused, wrapping her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on her kneecaps and gazed up at the gossamer clouds hovering above them. "I would love to see Boston. I never made it that far north."

"Perhaps you'll have the chance to go someday," he said with a curious half smile.

"Perhaps I will, if a rich relation dies and bequeaths me all their fortunes," Jack said with a laugh. "No, I'm afraid I'll be stranded here in Irvington all my life."

"At least you have friends and family here," Donovan said, and Jack noted the wistful tone in his voice.

"And history and lots of enemies, I assure you. Most of the townspeople have known me for all too long."
"It sounds like you've earned yourself quite the reputation, what with saving folks from the factory fire," he said, referencing the incident to which Dr. Benjamin had referred.

Jack's face flushed. "I'm afraid that's one of the few accounts of me that falls in my favor."

"Now you've incited my curiosity," Donovan said with a laugh. "I'm convinced you have quite a few of your own fascinating stories to tell, Jack."

Fascinating. The word rung in her ears, fresh and new. Jack Harrison, fascinating? She'd been given many appellations over the years, but few had been complementary and even fewer had seen her as anything more than an eclectic curiosity. She was at best a circus act and at worst a dangerous radical with unconventional, newfangled ideas. But fascinating? No one had ever called her fascinating before.

"Maybe so," Jack said, and for a moment she forgot what she was going to stay as she studied him and he studied her.

Jack wasn't sure what it was that drew her to him like a moth to a flame. He interested her, and that was more than she could say about most of the men in her acquaintance. His experiences, history, and past intrigued Jack, and she couldn't deny that there was something peculiarly attractive in his defined features, long black hair, and sharp eyes.

You must be careful, Jack or you're find yourself quite besotted. She could only imagine what the town would have to say if Jack found herself tangled in a courtship with a man of Indian descent. She almost relished the scandal such news would incur.

"I suppose I have no more excuses to take up your precious time," Donovan murmured, rising to his feet gracefully. He extended his hand to her and she took it, smiling as he pulled her upright. His hand lingered in hers again, warm and confident. "Thank you, Jack. For bringing me along today."

"Of course, any time," Jack said, hoping that he would give the town another chance and join her and her friends again. "You're most welcome."

"And thank you for your candor," he continued, eyes darkening. "You have no idea how rare you are."

"Oh, I think I do," Jack said, glancing down at where Donovan still held her hand, keeping them linked closely together. "I'm reminded of my peculiarity on a regular basis."

"Perhaps our differences aren't always deficits," Donovan said, dropping her hand and waving a goodbye.

"See you soon, Jack."

What secrets is Donovan hiding? And is Jack's interest in Donovan mutual? Let me know in the comments!