Read Online Jubilee by Patricia Reilly Giff - Free Book Online

brushed back her hair. “Cora called me a few minutes ago to tell me you were coming. She wanted me to watch out for you. She asked me to call when you arrived.”
    Her fingers went to her hair again. “I would have met you at the ferry, if I’d known sooner.”
    It didn’t matter. I had done it. I was sitting in my mother’s kitchen.
    My mother, the stranger.
    Aunt Cora had awakened; she knew I was gone. I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Did she think I didn’t love her?
    My mother—Amber, I’d call her in my mind—picked up the phone. I heard Aunt Cora’s voice as Amber told her I was there.
    She spoke for just a moment. “She looks fine, don’t worry.” When she put down the phone, she said, “Cora said to tell you it was all right, that she understands.”
    Why did I have this pain? It wasn’t exactly all right; it didn’t feel the way I’d imagined it. Strange.
    She opened the refrigerator. “Not much in here. We’ll shop tomorrow.” She pulled out a container of orange juice and poured two glasses. “I’m a mess in the kitchen.”
    I watched her move around, wearing a purple bathrobe that was soft as fur, a button missing on top. She opened a box of cookies and slid them onto a plate.
    “You’ll have to stay alone for a while tomorrow. I have to work. But we’ll settle you in and talk about all this in the morning.”
    I didn’t try to answer. I knew words weren’t coming. I took a sip of juice and a bite of a cookie. Suddenly I was tired. Bone-tired, Aunt Cora would have said. Bushed, Gideon would have said. And Dog would have yawned, his jaws opened wide.
    I yawned now too, quickly covering my mouth.
    “Of course,” Amber said. “Upstairs. The extra bedroom is a little cluttered.” She smiled. “Not a little, a lot. But we’ll manage. Jay—Judith, we’ll manage. Step by step, we’ll get it together.”
    I finished the juice and she went up ahead of me to a room at the end of the hall. It was small. It might have been cozy, but I was too tired to think about it as she said good night.
    She turned back from the door, and reached out. She ran her hand over my hair, which was so much like hers, and gave me a quick hug. I watched as she padded down the hall to her bedroom.
    She hadn’t told me why she’d left, what had been so wrong.
    But maybe tomorrow.
    I tossed my jacket over the end of the bed, toed out of my sneakers, and pulled the quilt up to burrow underneath it. I stretched out my feet, feeling something missing.
    Dog wasn’t curled up at the bottom of the bed, resting on my feet, keeping them warm.
    Oh, Dog. Suppose he was still outside all this time, with no one to be with him? If only Mason knew he was there. If only he’d taken him in. Dog would be on his bed now, warm and safe. But I couldn’t be sure of it.
    What about my mother? Amber, who looked like Aunt Cora, whose hair was almost like mine? How did I feel about her? I just didn’t know.
    I must have slept; I dreamed, but not of Aunt Cora or Gideon, not even of Mason and Dog. I dreamed of a bale of turtles playing and afterward sunning themselves on a lacy log.
    Early in the morning, I slipped out of bed and knelt below the window. In the distance the water was gray with small whitecaps, and the ferry, like a toy, was halfway across.
    The island rose up, almost hidden, but green and lovely. Not my island anymore. Suppose I never saw it again, or Aunt Cora and Gideon? Suppose I never saw Dog? I bit down hard on my lip.
    I heard footsteps going down the stairs. Amber was awake. I found the bathroom and ran warm water over my face and brushed my teeth with my finger. And then I was ready to go downstairs…
    To see my mother.

O n my way down the hall, I heard her humming. It was a good sound, happy. I took a breath and went into the kitchen.
    She turned and smiled. “Good morning.”
    I froze.
    “I know,” she said. “Don’t worry about talking. Cora told me…” Her voice trailed off. “Don’t worry about