Jubilee's Journey (Wyattsville #2)(73)

Ethan nodded, and the three of them started toward the building.





They rang the bell several times before Anita answered. “What?” she said in a heavy voice.

“Detective Mahoney,” he answered.

“I thought we already talked,” Anita said. “You gonna keep bothering me?”

“This is the last time. I’ve got something for you.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

The buzzer sounded, and they entered the building. After practically pushing Jubilee up the stairs, Mahoney rapped on Anita’s door.

When the door swung open, Anita took one look at the kids and gasped. There were no words, just the stunned look of a woman who had seen the dead. With a nod of her head, she motioned them inside.

Mahoney led the way but said nothing. He knew this moment had to carry its own weight. Words could not smooth the pathway. Anita had to feel the family connection. Although he was not a church-going man, Mahoney knew that whatever happened from this moment on was up to God. Nothing he could say or do would change things.

Although it seemed like a length of time had passed, it was less than a minute before Anita bent down and wrapped her arms around Jubilee.

“You look just like your mama,” she said soulfully.

Jubilee said nothing and stood rigid as a board.

When she let go of Jubilee, she turned to Ethan. Making no move to hug him she gave a sad shake of her head and said, “You’re awful small for your age and don’t look one bit like your mama or daddy, do you, Paul?”

“I ain’t small, and I ain’t Paul,” Ethan replied.

“Well, who—”

Before Anita finished her question, Mahoney explained Ethan was the grandson of the woman Jubilee had been staying with. “Jubilee was feeling a bit shy, which is why Ethan came with her,” he said.

“Oh.” Anita gave a sigh that reeked of relief. “So, it’s just the girl you want me to take?”

“For now,” Mahoney nodded.

“For now? You know I ain’t exactly in a position of—”

Mahoney cut in before she got to the point of saying something Jubilee shouldn’t hear. “I’ll bet you’re anxious to know more about this pretty little niece of yours, aren’t you?”

Anita turned her attention back to Jubilee and began talking about how as a girl Ruth had looked exactly the same. “Do you sing?” she asked. “Your mama had the most beautiful singing voice.”

Without waiting for answers to her questions, Anita opened a floodgate of memories about their childhood and the years they’d shared in Norfolk. “I was with your mama the day she met your daddy,” she said sadly. “That’s a day that ain’t easy to forget.”





When Olivia watched the trio disappear into the building, a fear of the unknown began to pick at her heart. While earlier she had imagined Anita as a stern-faced, uncaring woman, a different picture now emerged. Anita became rounder, her mouth softer and upturned in a smile. As she waited she could see the new Anita clasping Jubilee to her chest and showering her with kisses. She could hear the woman’s voice cooing about how she had been frantic with worry over her sister’s missing children.

Anita most probably already had a room set up for Jubilee, a little girl’s room with frilly pink curtains and a fancy new doll waiting for its owner. All Olivia had to offer was an alcove, with a not-fancy folding bed and a way-too-small chest of drawers. As she waited each second seemed to stretch itself into a minute, and the minutes had the feeling of hours. Fear settled into her heart, and when Olivia could no longer hold herself back from following them inside she climbed out of the car.

Inside the lobby Olivia scanned the mailboxes. Walker, Anita: Apartment 310. As fate would have it, Missus Lyndhurst from 308 was on her way out of the building at that time, and as the inner lobby door began to close behind the woman Olivia reached out and snagged hold of the handle. She hadn’t exactly planned to go upstairs. In fact she hadn’t finalized any type of plan, but here it was presenting itself. Olivia stepped inside and started up the stairs.

As she lifted her hand to knock, Olivia heard Anita’s voice. She hesitated and listened. The words were not clear enough to distinguish what was being said, but the tone was soft and sentimental. Her arm felt as though it weighed ten thousand pounds as she lifted it and knocked.

“Now what?” Anita grumbled and slid back into the person she’d been before memory took hold of her.

Although Olivia hadn’t heard the words, she heard the change in tone. Quickly rummaging through her handbag, she pulled out a flowered hankie. When the door pulled open she flounced the hankie in the air and walked in saying, “Ethan Allen! You went off without a hankie in your pocket, and I just know—”

“I got a hankie,” Ethan replied.

“Oh. Well, then, I supposed I needn’t have bothered.” Olivia tucked the hankie back into her purse and introduced herself to Anita. “Sorry to barge in like this, but you know how kids are. You’ve got to watch them every minute.”

“Every minute?” Anita replied.

“Yes, indeed. Turn your back for a few minutes, and they’re off and into trouble.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.” A washboard of ridges appeared on Anita’s forehead. Mahoney cringed.