Jubilee's Journey (The Wyattsville Series) (29 page)

“Lynn and Henry Ontiveros? On a Tuesday?”

“Yes,” Christine answered. “She gave me an absolutely wonderful recipe for baked chicken but it serves eight, so I invited them over to share.”

“Can’t it wait? I’ve got something I wanted to take care of down at—”

Christine turned and looked at him with a sad-eyed expression. “I’ve already invited them.”

Of course, dinner turned into an evening of conversation and then expanded itself again when Christine insisted that Lynn show Jack the pictures of their vacation. It was near eleven when they ended the evening.

All through dinner Mahoney thought about Olivia’s words. “If Jubilee only had someone—real family, someone to love her.” His children had so much, and that little girl had so little. The more he thought the slower he ate. Twice Christine glanced at the food still on his plate and asked if perhaps he didn’t care for the chicken. “No, no,” Jack answered. “It’s good, very good.”

The truth was his mind simply wasn’t on food. He was thinking of the possible ways he could track down Anita. Although one side of his brain chastised him for not being down at the station searching for Freddie Meyers, the other side counted up the blessings of being here with friends and family. He tried to imagine one of his girls in the same dilemma, but it was impossible. It could never happen. Even if something were to happen to him and Christine, the kids had their grandparents, aunts, and uncles. They were loved.

Jubilee Jones had one person, a brother who quite possibly wouldn’t even recognize her. And an aunt she had never laid eyes on; an aunt who was proving herself impossible to find. He had to find Freddie Meyers. He’d know where Anita was. He had to know.

When Jack Mahoney climbed into bed that night, his heart was far heavier than his eyelids. He couldn’t rid himself of the image of Jubilee Jones standing in a giant circle of aloneness. On the far edge there were crowds of people, but no one reached out. The pain she felt was visible; it was a jagged scar that ripped across her face and ran toward her heart. As Jack tossed and turned, a second image came into view: the memory of Ethan Allen scooting his chair closer to Jubilee’s.

Ethan Allen was a boy who understood loneliness. He’d been there himself. He’d reached out and a stranger—a woman who never wanted children—answered the plea. Now he was ready to do the same for Jubilee.  “I promise I’ll stick by you,” he’d said.

One small boy who understood loneliness was ready to step up to the plate to do what no one else seemed willing to do: stick by Jubilee Jones.

She’d turned to him and he’d answered.

I promise I’ll stick by you.

The Road to Remembering

M
ahoney left his house long before dawn and was knocking on Olivia’s apartment door at six-fifteen. He had hoped to search out Freddie Meyers and have some good news to report, but now it would have to wait. He needed to get Jubilee in and out of the hospital before Gomez got there. If there was any chance of the boy opening up, it wouldn’t be with an antagonistic cop hovering over him ready to pounce. It was a good plan, and it might have worked—if not for Ethan Allen. 

Olivia had anticipated that just she and Detective Mahoney would accompany Jubilee on the trip to the hospital, but Ethan Allen thought differently. Last night she’d told him they were going to leave early, and Clara would come and wake him when it was time for school.

“Tell her not to bother,” he’d answered, saying that he didn’t plan on going to school. “I done promised Jubie I’d stick by her, and I’m gonna do it.”

“You can stick by her all you want when we get back from the hospital, but tomorrow morning you’re going to school.” As far as Olivia was concerned that was the end of the discussion.

Not so with Ethan Allen. He’d stayed awake for most of the night so he’d be ready when they started to leave. When Jubilee sat down at the breakfast table he was right beside her.

“Go back to bed,” Olivia told him. “There’s no need for you to be up this early.”

“Yes, there is,” he answered. “I promised Jubie I’d stick by her, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Not this morning. Paul’s more likely to remember Jubilee if she’s alone.”

“I gotta be there in case he don’t remember.”

“No,” Olivia said flatly. “Now shoo on out of here, and let me fix breakfast.”

“If you ain’t gonna let me come with you in the car, I’ll take my bike and be following right behind.”

Slowly losing patience, Olivia said he was going to lose his allowance for a full month if he didn’t listen. “You’ve already missed two days of school this term, and I was none too happy with that D on your last report card.”

Words flew back and forth, and the argument continued until Jubilee spoke up. “I’m scared, Miss Olivia,” she said. “Please let Ethan come with me.”

With those few words, she reached in and took hold of Olivia’s heart. The child’s fear was painfully real, close to the surface like sunburned skin blistering and ready to pull away in torn bits and pieces.

“Well,” Olivia relented, “I suppose if he promises to catch up on his homework and get better grades…” She hadn’t quite finished the sentence when Ethan grinned and said, “Thanks, Grandma.”

On the drive to the hospital Olivia sat in the front seat alongside Mahoney, and the two kids sat in the back. As they pulled onto Monroe Street, Mahoney checked them in the rearview mirror. Ethan Allen was squeezed close to Jubilee on the right side of the seat. It was a sharp contrast to his son and youngest daughter who, when there was an occasion to ride together, sat on opposite ends of the seat, as far away from each other as possible, acting as if one had poison ivy and the other was wary of catching it.

In this moment of relative calm, he tried to warn the child. “Jubilee, you know your brother’s been very sick, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happened before Paul came to the hospital?”

“He got shot.”

“Being shot has caused him to not remember things, so he might not recognize you.”

“I know.”

“That doesn’t mean Paul doesn’t love you.”

“I know, Ethan already told me,” she said sadly. Although you would think it impossible for the boy to be any closer, he leaned his head over and whispered something in her ear.

Mahoney watched them through the review mirror. “If Paul doesn’t recognize you, are you going to get upset and cry?”

Instead of answering Jubilee turned and looked at Ethan Allen. He shook his head, then whispered in her ear a second time. She listened then said, “I’m not gonna cry. I’m gonna be patient and wait for him to get better.”

After answering, she turned back to Ethan Allen. He nodded and smiled.

They arrived at the hospital at seven-ten and went directly to the intensive care unit. The night supervisor, Leslie Storey, was still on duty. She eyed the foursome and said, “Only two of you can be in the room at one time.”

“No problem,” Olivia answered. “We can wait outside.” She nabbed Ethan Allen’s arm and wrested him to her side.

“Hey, I was gonna—”

Before Ethan could finish his thought Olivia said, “I know what you were
gonna
do, but forget about it. You’re staying here with me.”

Mahoney took Jubilee by the hand and walked into room 412.

Paul was lying partway up. Even though his hair was gone and his head swaddled in bandages, Jubilee recognized him the moment she came through the door. She darted across the room, flung her arms around him, and began chattering about how much she’d missed him. “You should have come back,” she scolded. “I was there a long time, and I got scared, and then this boy—”

Paul eventually turned his head so that he was face to face with her.

“Where’s Mama?” he asked.

Jubilee stopped talking and loosened her vise-like grip on him. “Why you asking me about Mama? Mama got buried a long time ago.”

“Mama’s dead?”

“Cut it out, Paul, that ain’t funny!”

Mahoney squatted down beside her. “Jubilee,” he whispered, “I don’t think Paul’s trying to be funny. I think he’s trying to remember, but he’s only got bits and pieces and your mama’s death might be a piece that’s missing.”

Jubilee turned and looked at Mahoney curiously. “Does he have the piece of who I am?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ahead and ask him?”

“Ask Paul if he knows me?”

Mahoney nodded, then stood and moved back several feet.

Jubilee couldn’t find the courage to ask that question right away, so she began with others, others that would lead up to what she really wanted to know.

“Do you remember Daddy got killed in the mine?”

Paul lowered his chin, said nothing, and shook his head.

Jubilee turned back to Mahoney. “He don’t remember Mama and Daddy died.”

Mahoney put his index finger to his mouth, shushed her, then with a nod and a slight movement of his right hand indicated she should continue.

When there was nothing more for Jubilee to hang on to, she finally asked, “Do you know who I am?”

Paul cringed as if he’d felt a sudden pain, then he looked at her and gave a very slight nod. “Jubie?”

“You remember!” she shouted and lunged at him again.

Paul’s face still wore a look of confusion. “You’re big?”

“I ain’t no bigger than I was,” she said. “It’s just Miss Olivia bought me these fancy dresses, and they make me look growed.” 

Mahoney began to realize what was happening. Paul was remembering, but the present was gone. He remembered only the past.

“Paul, do you know what year this is?”

For a few moments it seemed as though he was thinking; then Paul shook his head.

“Do you remember taking the bus to Wyattsville?”

Thinking. Thinking. Finally another head shake.

Question followed question, and as he continued to nod or shake his head at things not remembered tears began sliding down Jubilee’s cheeks. Paul noticed. He stretched his arm out and curled her into it.

Mahoney listened as Jubilee reminded Paul how they’d walked down off the mountain and taken the Greyhound bus to Wyattsville. She explained how he’d told her to wait on the bench while he went inside to do a job.

At that point Mahoney interrupted. “Jubilee, did Paul say he was going to do a job or get a job?”

Jubie stretched her mouth into a straight line then crooked it to the right. “I’m not real sure on that,” she said, then turned to Paul and asked, “You remember which?”

He gave an apologetic shrug and shook his head.

Jubilee went on to remind Paul of the year their mama died and the awful time when the man from the mine came to tell them that Bartholomew had been killed in accident.

“Don’t you remember any of this stuff?” she asked.

Her brother responded with a lowered chin and a sad shake of his head. Once in a while some event or name would cause a flicker of memory to light his eyes, but for the most part those years were a blank. There were no memories to look back on, no sign of who he had been or what he had done.

Shortly after nine, Hector Gomez walked into the room. “What the hell do you call this?” he asked angrily. Before he could say anything more Mahoney pulled him out the door, leaving Jubilee alone with her brother. When Olivia turned to see what Mahoney was doing, Ethan scooted past them and into the room.

“This is the boy,” Jubilee said. “Ethan Allen. He’s the one what found me.”

Paul gave a half-smile and a nod. “Thanks,” he said. It was a single word rich with the sound of sincerity.

Ethan returned the smile, then went on to say how Jubie was settling in real good and could stay as long as she’d a mind to. “Seeing as how she’s none too anxious to go live with your Aunt Anita, maybe you ought to tell Detective Mahoney to not bother with looking anymore.”

“Aunt Anita?” Paul repeated, and the look of puzzlement returned to his face.

Gomez sputtered and stammered as Mahoney filled him in on what he’d learned.

“You couldn’t call me?” he argued. “It’s my case, but you come up with something big and don’t bother with even a phone call? One minute, that’s what it would have taken. One minute!”