Jubilee's Journey (The Wyattsville Series) (15 page)

Jubilee looked up with a sly smile. “This’s same as making biscuits,” she countered and began rolling out the dough.

Once Olivia busied Jubilee with the second batch, she slipped into the living room and called Clara. “I apologize for hustling you out the door,” she said, “but I was afraid you’d say something to upset the child.”

“I hardly think that excuses—”

“I know,” Olivia replied, “but under the circumstances…”

She went on to say that she didn’t want to burden the girl with such bad news until she had a bit of good news. She explained how there was an aunt who hopefully lived in Wyattsville and hopefully had the last name of Walker. “I’m hoping to find this woman, so Jubilee can at least be with family.”

“That sounds like a whole lot of hoping without much to go on.”

“I know.” Olivia sighed. “But I was thinking maybe you’d be able to help.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

Clara was wordless for a few moments. Then she said, “I suppose I could lend a hand, but I’m not gonna stand around and listen to you telling the kid those bare-faced lies.”

“Fair enough.”

“Okay then, if we’re really gonna try and find the kid’s aunt we need more information,” Clara said. “When Ethan brought the girl home, did she have anything with her? A bag or suitcase maybe?”

“Yes, a travel bag.”

“Go through it. If the brother was planning to go to the aunt’s house, maybe her address is in there. You might also find out something more about him.”

“Good idea,” Olivia answered. She glanced over and saw the small bag that had arrived with Jubilee. It was still sitting in the far corner of the living room.

After Clara promised to check out the remaining Walkers listed in the telephone book and call Seth Porter to get more information, they hung up.

Olivia returned to the kitchen and pulled a second cookie cutter from the drawer. “Do you want the circle or the tree?”

Jubilee laughed. “That’s a Christmas tree! It’s not Christmas.”

“I know,” Olivia said, “but Christmas tree cookies taste good any time of year.”

Jubilee scrunched her nose as if she doubted such a thing was true. “I’m gonna do the round ones,” she said and kept a tight grip on the cookie cutter she already had.

As they worked, Olivia talked. She peppered the girl with questions but learned nothing more. Every answer was a yes, no, or obscure statement that gave no hint of where the brother was headed or what their plans had been.

When the last tray of cookies was pulled from the oven, Olivia said, “Well, now that that’s done, let’s get you cleaned up.” She retrieved Jubilee’s bag and carried it into the bedroom. “First we’ll get you a clean dress, then a bath.” She unzipped the bag and right on the top were three slightly faded pictures.

“That’s me,” Jubilee said, pointing to a baby the woman held in her arms.

“And is this Paul?” Olivia pointed to the young boy in the picture.

Jubilee nodded, then went on to say the other two were her mama and daddy. “That’s when I was bab-sized,” she said proudly.

Olivia turned the picture over and on the back was a hand-written date—July 17, 1949. She was hoping for something more recent, something that would let her know if the missing Paul resembled the man in the television sketch. In this picture he was just a boy, so it was impossible to tell.

The second picture was a studio portrait of a young woman. The logo of Milburn Photography was gold stamped in the lower right hand corner.

“That’s Mama,” Jubilee said.

On the back of the photograph was written “Ruthie Jean Walker, 1931.”

The third picture was a group of coal miners, but it was so faded that the faces were almost impossible to make out. Olivia checked the back. Nothing. “Who’s this?”

 Jubilee pointed to the man third from the right. “That’s my grandpa,” she said, “but I never knowed him.”

Beneath the pictures she found a handful of threadbare underwear, a coal miner’s hat, a music box with a picture of a rose on the top of it, a worn Bible, and a book of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Olivia pulled these things from the bag, then asked, “Did your brother have another suitcase?”

Jubilee shook her head, “No, ma’am.”

“You didn’t bring any clothes?”

“We just brought what was important.”

Olivia looked at the hard hat. It was greyed with coal dust. In the front just below the lantern light were black letters reading B. Jones.

Olivia

I
can understand holding on to things that were part of someone you’ve lost. God knows I did it for way longer than I should have. If it wasn’t for Clara and the girls, Charlie’s toothbrush would probably still be hanging in the bathroom. What I don’t understand is children leaving home with stuff like that and not a stitch of clothes. If Jubilee’s brother is old enough to work, then he ought to know the girl would need something to wear.

While Jubilee was taking her bath, I started putting the stuff back in the bag. That’s when I discovered the letters folded inside the Bible. Maybe it’s wrong to go prying through someone else’s personal belongings, but since the envelopes were postmarked Wyattsville I thought they’d give information enough to find the aunt.

The letters were from Anita all right, but there was not one word about her last name or where she lived. There was plenty of criticizing her sister. Downright scorn for Bartholomew, who I’m assuming was Jubilee’s daddy, and one mention of a baby. Right off Anita struck me as a person who was heavy handed on advice and short on tolerance.

Her mean-spirited words had me riled, until I thought back on how I used to squabble with my sister. We’d get to fussing over some silly nonsense and say the awfulest things to one another. Then before a week went by we’d make up and go right back to being friends. Sisters don’t weigh their words with each other; that’s just how it is. When you’ve got a gripe on your chest you say what you’re thinking, whether it’s hurtful or not. You never stop to consider there might not be a tomorrow when you can take it back.

I can’t imagine what a terrible burden it must be for Anita, carrying around a guilt such as that. 

Thinking It Through

O
livia put the letters back into the bag, zipped it shut, and set it in the floor of the living room closet.

But putting the bag away didn’t erase thoughts of the letters. Anita’s words remained in her head, and the more she mulled them over the more convinced she became that not only did Jubie need her aunt but Anita needed her sister’s child.

Olivia thought back on all the times she’d argued with her own sister. In the heat of anger she once told Geraldine she detested the sight of her face and never again wanted to lay eyes on it. The name-calling and angry glares lasted for almost two days and disrupted the entire household. It finally ended when their mother said she’d disown both of the girls if they didn’t stop that infernal arguing.

When Olivia remembered the hatefulness that had passed between them, she felt a stabbing pain shoot through her heart. Her hand flew up to her chest, and she fell back into the chair. “Lord God, what if Geraldine had died in the midst of all that?” 

It was a question, but Olivia already knew the answer. She would gather all five of Geraldine’s children to her bosom and treasure them as if they were her own. Anita would surely feel the same. Olivia could almost see the joy in the sister’s eyes when she met the delightful little girl she had never known. A sense of excitement began to surge through Olivia. It was the thrill of bringing such happiness to someone who, for now, was a stranger.

After Jubilee dried herself and climbed back into the wrinkled dress, Olivia suggested they go downtown and pick up something for her to wear.

“You’ll want to look your best when you meet your Aunt Anita.” She then went on to describe the wonders that awaited. “Aunt Anita will want to take you everywhere: to the circus, to the zoo, out to lunch…”