Jubilee's Journey (Wyattsville #2)(51)

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



Mahoney 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?”