Jubilee (12 page)

B
efore she left for work at the bookstore on Saturday, Amber pulled boots out of the jumble in the hall closet. “A pair for you, a pair for me.” She waved her hand. “There's a raincoat in the closet upstairs.”

She put her arms around me. “Be careful if you go out.” We could hear the wind and rain getting stronger. “It's so lucky that you're on the mainland away from that windy island.” She hugged me and went out the door.

Upstairs, I looked through closets filled with shirts and jeans, and pulled a raincoat off the hanger. The boots were too big; I put on an extra pair of socks, and my feet still needed to grow another inch or two.

Outside, rain spattered on the hood of my rubber raincoat and splashed up against my boots; puddles rushed along the curbs.

No one else was in sight.

I hurried toward the water, watching the ferry pull away in the distance, going home. “Goodbye,” I whispered, even though I knew Saturday was Gideon's day off.

I wandered along the cement path, went closer to the edge, and crouched down to watch the water smash against the wall.

Seaweed waved underneath, and I could just see a school of fish and some jellyfish waving underneath. Even the sand on the bottom swirled up in angry whirlpools.

And then I saw it.

Imagined it?

But it was there, swimming along, slate-gray, speckled, the largest turtle I'd ever seen. Its head was stretched out, its neck wide, its clawed feet and legs moving forward deliberately.

Going south.

A leatherback turtle.

It didn't belong here. It had come from somewhere, on its way somewhere. Maybe it was going home, wherever that was. I watched it, my head close to the water, watched the turtle that almost belonged to Mason, and to me.

Then it was gone.

“Oh, Mason,” I whispered.

He should have been with me to see it.

What was I doing here on the mainland instead of home?

On the island where I belonged.

I stood still, the rain pelting me. And then I realized what had bothered me last night. I'd done to Dog what Amber had done to me. I'd just left him. How had I done that?

Wrong. I put my fist to my mouth. I tried to see as the wind drove the rain across the water and great gray clouds turned the afternoon sky into night.

Still, I didn't have much time. The ferry would be back within the hour.

I raced across the parking lot, ran back to the house, and threw open the door. I should have left my boots in the hall, but instead I left wet spots on the stairs as I clumped up to my bedroom.

I tore a piece of paper out of my cartoon book and wrote
I love you, Amber.
I've been happy to be with you.

That was true.

Someday I'll come again. But it's time to go back to the island. My dog needs me. I know you won't mind if I take the raincoat and boots.
I drew a heart underneath and signed it Jay.

I put the junonia shell and my cartoon book deep inside the raincoat pockets, but there was no time for anything else.

I took the stairs down two at a time, one hand sliding along the banister. I left the note on the hall table and went out the door.

The streetlights were on now, guiding me to the ferry slip. As I ran, the warning sound of the horn blared.

Only one pickup truck and a van were in the parking lot. Who would be going to the island in this weather?

Only me. Going home.

The ticket taker's hair was soaked. “Crazy rain, right?”

I nodded.

“You live on the island, don't you? I think I've seen you. You're catching the last boat. We're shutting down.”

So lucky that I'd made it!

I went downstairs to sit at one of the massive windows. I swiped at it, trying to see out. Where was the leatherback turtle now?

The ferry was like that turtle, lumbering along, steady even in this storm. I'd left everyone I loved: first, Aunt Cora and Gideon, and Dog. Especially Dog, who needed me.

My mother would be gone again someday. But I knew her now. I understood. But I'd never leave the people I loved again.

I remembered something Mr. Kaufmann once said to me: “You'll feel better when you understand yourself.”

My face was reflected in the glass as the rain ran down the window. A wavery cartoon face.

I'd run to the house, to Aunt Cora, and put my arms around her wide waist.

Then, at Mason's house, I'd kneel on the muddy ground while Dog whined and kissed my face.

I took out my cartoon pad. I drew the leatherback carefully, showing the massive head and the short neck. I drew the tail, shorter than the legs.

On top, I wrote,
Heading for warmer waters, heading for home.

I couldn't wait to show it to Mason.

T
he trip seemed to take forever, but, at last, the wooden walls of the slip loomed closer, screeching as the ferry edged in against them.

Moments later, I slid down the ramp and ran along the muddy road, my huge boots holding me back. The wind blew the rain in my face and pushed against me, almost as if it didn't want me to reach home.

Arms out, I went up the back path and circled the flattened garden.

There were no lights on the porch. But I knew the electricity would be out. I opened the door, banging on the side of the wall so Aunt Cora would know I was home.

I could only hear the rain pounding on the roof. I went from room to room, up and down the stairs in the dark. She wasn't there.

I sank into a kitchen chair and pushed back my hood. The ends of my hair dripped on my shoulders, the curls tight to my head.

Had she gone to the mainland? Would she have left the island?

Never.

Then it came to me. The church! That was where everyone would be. The generator would give them light and warmth.

I dried my hair with a kitchen towel. I'd never been so thirsty. How strange, with all the water I'd just come through.

I smiled, thinking of Gideon reciting an old poem in his deep voice:
“Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”

I peered into the dark refrigerator. A glass bowl filled with syrupy fruit was on the top shelf. I pulled it out and held it to my mouth, gulping down the juice.

I pulled a spoon out of the silverware drawer, not even having to look. How well I knew this kitchen.

Home.

Dog and I would be together soon. If only he was all right!

I ate the pale grapes, the purple berries, and the orange slices, feeling them slide down my dry throat.

The wind moaned. It was almost as if I heard someone wailing with it. But I couldn't wait to go to the church.

As I went outside, the wind pulled the door out of my hands and slammed it against the wall. I wrestled with it, closed it, and tried to run up the road.

Like the kitchen door, I was captured by that howling wind; I zigzagged across the road.

At the church, a dim light beamed through the red and blue stained glass windows. The doors were closed and heavy, almost too strong for me, but someone opened them for me and I slid into the vestibule.

Sophie held the door.

I looked over her shoulder, searching for Aunt Cora, Gideon, Mason.

And where was Dog? Was he lost outside?

The pews were filled and people stood in the aisles, singing a hymn Aunt Cora loved, about angels. Bowls of rust-colored leaves filled the altar: Aunt Cora's favorites.

Sophie's cheeks were chapped; her eyes were filled with tears. “Travis is gone,” she said. “My father's out there, and my cousins. They're searching along the water, the wharf, the ferry slip. My mother is still at the hospital on the mainland. She couldn't leave her patients.”

She raised her shoulders. “I tried looking, but he always hides from me.” Her finger pointed at my chest. “He loves you better than me….”

I shook my head, shocked.

“He said he wished you were his sister, never yelling at him.”

No-Talk Girl.

Right now, I wished I could call him, yell for him like a true sister.

I turned. From the vestibule window, I saw the beginning of the path that wound up Windy Hill. I imagined tree branches cracking and splitting.

I'd never been so afraid. But I ran out the door into the driving rain. I knew my way; I could picture every rock, every tree, every turning.

A No-Talk Girl who'd wandered all over the island by herself.

Fallen power lines and trees crisscrossed the road. Rivers of muddy water ran down the hill.

Travis wasn't on the path. His hiding place under the trees was filled with water.

Why had I been so sure I'd find him?

Then I remembered the sandy shoe print in Ivy Cottage. Travis's print?

I went up the hill, bent over, holding on to whatever I could grab, a rock, a branch, until I reached the cottage.

I ducked through the door, trying to catch my breath. The rain drummed against what was left of the roof and ran down the walls. One end of the hall was a waterfall; the floor was covered with a slime of mud.

But then I heard…

over the howl of the storm…

a whine.

Not Travis.

A dog.

I slid along the caved-in hallway, arms stretched against the walls for balance, my heart beating somewhere in my throat.

Please let it be Dog.

And yes! He was curled up in the corner. His head came up, his flag of a tail thumped the slightest bit, and there was welcome in his great dark eyes.

He didn't come bounding toward me as he usually did.

Because wrapped around his neck was a small hand, fingers splayed out.

Travis lay behind him, asleep.

Oh, Dog. I'd never leave him again.

I curled up with them for a moment, my arms around them. Dog ran his rough tongue over the side of my arm, and Travis moved a little to get closer to me.

How had Dog found him?

Why wasn't Dog with Mason?

No matter. They were here with me.

Safe!

Sitting there with the wind howling, and the ferocious rain over my head, I'd never been happier.

I leaned against Dog's silky fur, his back warm, his thick tail still thumping.

By now Amber would know that I'd gone back to the island. I hoped she'd understand; I hoped she would.

My eyes were heavy. I closed them, just for a moment, remembering the old song Aunt Cora used to sing to me at bedtime. Something about a sandman.

I sat up. This was no time to sleep.