Read Online Jubilee by Patricia Reilly Giff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Reilly Giff
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She sat at the table, waiting. “No one has done this for me in years,” she said. “And I certainly couldn’t do it for myself.”
I put toast and butter on the table, and even the jar of apricot jelly.
“I’m in heaven,” she said.
I dumped the eggs on two plates and sat too. I liked the way she ate, the bites she took of the toast, the look on her face. “You made such a great meal.” She hesitated. “Could I ask you…”
I tilted my head.
“I’ve called you Jay for so long. It’s because of a bird we saw together when I was still on the island.”
Jubilee. Red. Judith. Jude. All good names. And now Jay. Why not?
I almost said it. I formed the words with my lips, but nothing happened. Instead, I nodded.
She hadn’t seen my cartoons yet. So while we ate, I pulled out a pad and drew a stick figure holding a bird.
She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.”
We finished the eggs and I brought out a little cake I’d made from a mix. It was high on one side, flat on the other. I’d tried to even it out with lots of chocolate icing that came from a can.
But it was terrible. I took a forkful, and made myself take another. Then I raised my hands over the cake, and made motions as if I’d toss it, but Amber kept eating, one small bite after another. “It’s delicious,” she said.
I shook my head. She didn’t have to do that. But she kept eating, until I pulled the plate away from her, grabbed my pad again, and wrote the words
EEEK. NOT BIRD FOOD.
She was laughing again.
And so was I.
T he next three nights we went to a diner. It was warm inside, the windows steamy. “I wish I knew what you’re doing all day,” she said.
I smiled. Every day, I’d gone down to the water, a long way from the ferry slip. A cement path lined the edge for as far as I could see.
I’d walked along that path. The gray-green water was much deeper at the edge than it was at home. Still, I could see shells and fish that were larger than the little ones that darted near our wharf.
I’d found a tiny library, and in the afternoon, I’d tiptoed back to the children’s section to leaf through books about turtles.
Now Amber leaned forward. “I wonder what you’re thinking.” Her voice was louder than usual, because a TV blared on the wall overhead, giving the weather.
A server came toward us. “I’m Ellie, and we have pasta tonight. It’s really good.”
Ellie had tried some, I could see that. Tomato sauce was smeared across the sleeve and the front of her shirt.
We both nodded.
Ellie’s tomato stains reminded me of Mason. He would have loved wandering along the water with me. And Dog would have sat up on the rocks watching. I raised my hand to my chest, feeling that ache.
“I never stay in one place for long,” Amber said.
What did that mean? What was she telling me?
Above us, on the television, was the weather forecast: heavy storms on their way.
“There are things I have to tell you,” Amber said.
I sat up and nodded.
Amber tapped my wrist. “You want to know what happened to me.”
I swallowed. Waited.
“I was seventeen when you were born. You were beautiful. Even then you had red in your hair.”
Over our heads, the TV blared news about the storm. And the server stopped to talk when she brought our plates to the table.
But how could I eat?
Amber spread her hands wide. “I did everything wrong. If you cried, I didn’t know how to comfort you. You began to walk, and then fell. Fell more than once. My fault.” She raised her shoulders. “My own parents had died. Cora and I had only each other.”
I could see it: Amber, who didn’t know what to do.
“My friends were still in high school,” she said. “And I was home with a baby doing everything wrong. All I could think of was escaping, going to California, becoming an actress, or at least something exciting, something new.”
The TV: “A possible hurricane. Massive flooding over the
I put toast and butter on the table, and even the jar of apricot jelly.
“I’m in heaven,” she said.
I dumped the eggs on two plates and sat too. I liked the way she ate, the bites she took of the toast, the look on her face. “You made such a great meal.” She hesitated. “Could I ask you…”
I tilted my head.
“I’ve called you Jay for so long. It’s because of a bird we saw together when I was still on the island.”
Jubilee. Red. Judith. Jude. All good names. And now Jay. Why not?
I almost said it. I formed the words with my lips, but nothing happened. Instead, I nodded.
She hadn’t seen my cartoons yet. So while we ate, I pulled out a pad and drew a stick figure holding a bird.
She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.”
We finished the eggs and I brought out a little cake I’d made from a mix. It was high on one side, flat on the other. I’d tried to even it out with lots of chocolate icing that came from a can.
But it was terrible. I took a forkful, and made myself take another. Then I raised my hands over the cake, and made motions as if I’d toss it, but Amber kept eating, one small bite after another. “It’s delicious,” she said.
I shook my head. She didn’t have to do that. But she kept eating, until I pulled the plate away from her, grabbed my pad again, and wrote the words
EEEK. NOT BIRD FOOD.
She was laughing again.
And so was I.
T he next three nights we went to a diner. It was warm inside, the windows steamy. “I wish I knew what you’re doing all day,” she said.
I smiled. Every day, I’d gone down to the water, a long way from the ferry slip. A cement path lined the edge for as far as I could see.
I’d walked along that path. The gray-green water was much deeper at the edge than it was at home. Still, I could see shells and fish that were larger than the little ones that darted near our wharf.
I’d found a tiny library, and in the afternoon, I’d tiptoed back to the children’s section to leaf through books about turtles.
Now Amber leaned forward. “I wonder what you’re thinking.” Her voice was louder than usual, because a TV blared on the wall overhead, giving the weather.
A server came toward us. “I’m Ellie, and we have pasta tonight. It’s really good.”
Ellie had tried some, I could see that. Tomato sauce was smeared across the sleeve and the front of her shirt.
We both nodded.
Ellie’s tomato stains reminded me of Mason. He would have loved wandering along the water with me. And Dog would have sat up on the rocks watching. I raised my hand to my chest, feeling that ache.
“I never stay in one place for long,” Amber said.
What did that mean? What was she telling me?
Above us, on the television, was the weather forecast: heavy storms on their way.
“There are things I have to tell you,” Amber said.
I sat up and nodded.
Amber tapped my wrist. “You want to know what happened to me.”
I swallowed. Waited.
“I was seventeen when you were born. You were beautiful. Even then you had red in your hair.”
Over our heads, the TV blared news about the storm. And the server stopped to talk when she brought our plates to the table.
But how could I eat?
Amber spread her hands wide. “I did everything wrong. If you cried, I didn’t know how to comfort you. You began to walk, and then fell. Fell more than once. My fault.” She raised her shoulders. “My own parents had died. Cora and I had only each other.”
I could see it: Amber, who didn’t know what to do.
“My friends were still in high school,” she said. “And I was home with a baby doing everything wrong. All I could think of was escaping, going to California, becoming an actress, or at least something exciting, something new.”
The TV: “A possible hurricane. Massive flooding over the
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