Jubilee's Journey (Wyattsville #2)(57)

I’m gonna go see Paul more times, and I’m gonna keep reminding him all the things what happened. Soon as he starts remembering stuff, I’m gonna remind him about how we’re gonna get us a nice place to live and not bother about finding Mama’s sister. If I thought Aunt Anita was nice like Ethan’s grandma I might feel a bit different, but I can’t say for sure I would.

I like Miss Olivia a lot. She’s real nice to me. Yesterday when me and Ethan was asking for more cookies he called her Grandma, and ‘cause I forgot she just belongs to Ethan and not me I called her Grandma too. She laughed real loud and said she wasn’t actually Ethan’s blood kin grandma, but they’d agreed it was a good name to call her and if it was good enough for Ethan to use, then I could go ahead and use it too.

I was real happy until she added, “For now.”

I guess Paul’s right. Good things don’t always last forever.





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After Carmella Klaussner overheard the conversation between Mahoney and Gomez, she began to sizzle inside. For more than a week she’d sat beside Sid’s bed, watched a machine force breath in and out of his almost-lifeless body, and counted heartbeats as the neon green monitor light zigzagged up and down.

Even when her arthritic hip was inflamed and painful, Carmella fell to her knees and prayed. “Please, God,” she said, “spare my Sid.” Every time there was an involuntary muscle twitch, she’d jump to her feet believing Sid was now going to open his eyes and speak. Each time she’d been wrong, and her dashed hopes brought more heartache.

Carmella had cried enough tears to fill an ocean, but she’d also cursed the evildoers who caused this turn of events. For the first three days Carmella’s prayers asked only that Sid be healed. On the fourth day she added a second prayer asking for vengeance on those responsible.

“Curse them,” she’d prayed. “Strike them down as you would Satan!”

Two doors down from Sid’s room, Paul had opened his eyes. He had spoken and today he had family come to visit. “How can this be?” Carmella asked God. “How can it be that a sinner is healed, and a saintly man lingers on death’s doorstep?”

Not long afterward, she’d overheard the heated conversation that took place outside the boy’s room. The thought of someone even suggesting the boy might be innocent was like a razor slicing through Carmella’s heart. “Are you not listening, God?” she raged. “Do you not care about justice?” After nearly an hour of arguing with her soul, Carmella Klaussner decided that it was on her shoulders to see justice was done.

Gomez was still in Paul’s room questioning the boy about things he had no memory of. “Where did you first meet Hurt McAdams?” he asked, but the look in Paul’s eyes was nothing more than one of confusion.

When he heard a rap on the door, Gomez turned. It was Carmella Klaussner. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Gomez gave Paul a menacing look and snarled, “Don’t think this is over. I’ll be back.” He walked outside to where Carmella was waiting.

“Is it true?” Carmella asked. “Can that other man get this boy off scot free?”

Gomez gave a disgusted shrug. “Yeah, I guess it could happen.”

“You know he’s guilty! How can you let a man go free when he’s guilty?”

“It’s not me,” Gomez said defensively. “It’s Mahoney. He’s the one.”

“Why do you let him get away with it? Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care,” Gomez said. “I care, but sometimes caring ain’t enough. You need proof positive.”

“My Sid shot him!” Carmella’s bottom lip quivered as she spoke. The anger she was holding back was almost too much to bear. “Sid’s a God-fearing man. He would never shoot another human being if he didn’t have good reason!”

“I know that, and you know that,” Gomez replied, “but try telling the rest of the world.”

At that point Gomez walked away and left Carmella stewing in her own rage. “That’s exactly what I will do!” she grumbled. Already a plan was forming in her mind.

Carmella returned to Sid’s room, and for almost three hours she sat beside his bed. Only now she wasn’t listening to the whoosh of the machine pushing air into Sid’s lungs, nor was she watching the green bleeps traveling across the monitor screen. Now Carmella was thinking of how to get the revenge she wanted. It was four-thirty when she picked up the phone and dialed Lucinda’s number.

“I need a favor,” Carmella said.

“For you, sweetie, anything,” Lucinda answered.

Carmella explained that it wasn’t just for her, it was for her dear, sweet Sid. She went on to remind Lucinda how Sid supported the school baseball team, hand-delivered groceries when anyone was sick, and gave generously to the church. Then she launched into the unfairness of the man who shot Sid getting off scot free. “Is that a fitting tribute for a man like Sid?” she sobbed.

“But,” Lucinda stuttered, “what can I do about that?”

Carmella’s sobbing stopped. “Not you. Mike.”

“Mike?”

“Yes,” Carmella answered. “If Mike were to run a story about how someone is trying to circle around justice, I think public opinion would turn against that detective and he’d have to do the job he’s supposed to do. As the editor of the paper, he has an obligation to let folks know what’s happening.”