Jubilee's Journey (Wyattsville #2)(25)

Accustomed to shopping at the company store and settling for anything that looked big enough to last two or three years, Jubilee shrugged. “I dunno. What size they got?”

Olivia eyed the girl, then pulled a size five from the rack. “This looks about right.”

“Ain’t it kind of small?”

Olivia looked at the dress again, then looked at Jubilee. “Turn around,” she said. She measured the dress against Jubilee’s back. “No, I think a size five is just right.”

“I’m still growing,” Jubilee warned.

Olivia chuckled. “I know that but by the time you’ve outgrown the size five, you’ll need new dresses anyway.”





They left Kline’s with six dresses, ten pairs of lace-trimmed socks, embroidered panties for each day of the week, two pink nighties, and a pair of black patent leather Mary Janes. Jubilee was wearing a red-and-white check pinafore and the Thursday panties. After stopping at Woolworth’s for lunch, they started home.

Perhaps it was because she was busy thinking of the time and wanting to get back before Ethan Allen came from school, or maybe it was because she had drifted into remembering her own nieces and nephews who were now grown with families of their own. Regardless of the reason, Olivia drove home without considering what route she should take. They were traveling west on Main Street when Jubilee let out an ear-piercing yelp.

“Stop!”

As she slammed her foot down on the brake, Olivia realized why. They were in front of Klaussner’s. She eased the car to the side of the street and turned off the motor.

With a petrified look on her face, Jubilee pointed to the bench. “It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“The note of where I am.”

“Maybe the wind blew it over by the grass.”

“No.” Jubilee sniffed. “Ethan put a rock on it.”

“Let’s go have a look.” Olivia climbed out of the car, circled around, and opened Jubilee’s door. “Come on,” she said, extending her hand.

With tears already overflowing her eyes, Jubilee looked at the empty bench and shook her head sorrowfully. “It’s gone.”

The sadness in her voice made her words seem old, like those of a woman who had lived too many years and lost too many loved ones.

“We’ll write a new note,” Olivia suggested. “And we’ll tape it to the bench so it can’t blow away or get lost.”

Jubilee shook her head again. “Unh-unh, I gotta stay here.” She scooted onto the bench and sat with her feet dangling above the ground.

Olivia sat down beside her. “Well, if you stay here, then I’ll just have to stay here with you, because I can’t leave you here alone.”

“Don’t worry. You can leave me alone. I’m big enough.”

Olivia was looking down at a miniature-sized version of herself. She remembered the lonely times when she was too independent to allow someone else into her life. If she had it to do over, would she do it the same way? Probably not. Being brave on the outside was a lot easier than being lonely on the inside.

“I know you’re big enough,” she said. “But friends don’t run off and leave each other.”

There was no response.

After two full minutes had passed, Olivia asked, “We are friends, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so.”

Without another word they sat side by side on the bench for almost two hours. When Jubilee began to fidget—scratch one leg and then the other, lean forward, lean back, puff the skirt of her dress, then smooth it out—Olivia figured it was time.

“I really do think taping a note to the bench would work fine,” she said.

“If it rains, the writing will wash away.”

“I’ll write it in pencil. Pencil doesn’t wash away.”

“It don’t?”

“Doesn’t,” Olivia corrected.

“What if Paul don’t see the note?”

“I’ll make it big. If he comes back, he’ll have to see it.”

Jubilee shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we try it?” Olivia suggested. “I’ll get some paper and tape. We’ll make a new note and tape it to the bench. Then if you don’t think it will work, we’ll stay here and wait.”

“If I don’t think the note’s big enough, you’re gonna stay here with me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then.”

“Do you want to stay here and wait while I get paper and tape?”

Jubilee nodded.

When Olivia started walking toward the stationery store a block down, Jubilee called after her, “You’re coming back, aren’t you?”

Olivia stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Of course I am,” she said, then turned and kept walking. She couldn’t see the smile on the girl’s face, but she knew it was there.





When Olivia returned, she had a yellow legal-sized pad and a fat pencil. “Okay now, what do you think we should say?”

Jubilee tilted her head, thought for a few moments, then answered. “Dear Paul,” she began. “You gotta say dear, ‘cause then he’ll know I ain’t mad at him for being gone so long.”