I sipped from a glass of icy milk and Dog slurped down about a gallon of water from his new bowl in the corner. He was getting to know this kitchen, our house. I hoped he knew that I loved him, that he’d be here forever.

I put my glass in the sink and went along the back hall to my bedroom. There were things to figure out before Aunt Cora came home from decorating the altar at church.

I sat on my bed with the quilt Aunt Cora had patched together for me. It was a sea of blues and greens, like the water that surrounded our island on a peaceful day. Eyes burning, I looked at the curtains that blew against the screen, and the blue-violet rag rug that Aunt Cora and I had made together.

Mrs. Ames would call to say I’d left school, I was sure of it.

How could I explain to Aunt Cora what had happened? I’d never want her to know what Sophie had said, those terrible words: Nobody wants you.

Dog stood at the bottom of the bed until I patted the quilt. Then he jumped up with me, and I rubbed his ears.

The phone began to ring.

Mrs. Ames?

The screen door opened. Aunt Cora was home from church.

Dog looked toward the bedroom door, and then at me. Maybe he knew trouble was on its way.

I slid off the bed and walked down the hall.

Aunt Cora stood there, her purse slung over one arm, smiling at me, and before she could reach for it, the phone stopped ringing.

Maybe Mrs. Ames would forget by Monday.

Get real, Judith.

Aunt Cora saw my face. “Something’s wrong? Something in school?”

My eyes slid away from hers.

The phone began to ring again.

She dropped her purse on the hall table and picked up the phone. “Hello.” She made circles on the rug with one plump foot. “Um-hum,” she said. “Oh, yes. Oh, um-hum.”

Mrs. Ames’s voice was angry; it was loud. I could almost hear what she was saying.

I sat on the stairs leading to the attic and leaned my head against the railing, the slats hard against my forehead. Then the phone call was over.

Aunt Cora sat on the step just below me. “I was the one. I was determined that you belonged in a regular class. I told Mrs. Ames that you didn’t have to speak to get along. I went up there and demanded…”

Demanded. I rolled that word around in my head, staring down at her soft curls on the step below me. I couldn’t imagine Aunt Cora demanding anything.

“I want everything for you.” Her voice was thick. “If they only knew you the way I do.”

Dog stood in the hall, just below Aunt Cora, and put his head on her lap.

He couldn’t imagine why she was crying, but he knew something was wrong.

“The day you came…,” Aunt Cora began.

The day my mother left.

“I was right here in the hall. The front door opened and you stood there, your mother behind you, her suitcase in her hand. She was on the way across the country, ready to be an actress or a writer. She was so young to be a mother. Too young.”

Across the country, almost like Ms. Quirk.

Aunt Cora cleared her throat. “You stood at the window, looking after her, such a little girl. I could see your reflection in the glass, your woebegone face. I knew it was going to be hard for you, but I didn’t know how hard.”

I was sure she was going to say I’d stopped speaking then. But she put her hand on my shoulder. “For me, it was a miracle! A child to love. A jubilee.”

She sighed. “Later I started you in a little Sunday church group. You were the only one without a mother, and I think you wondered what the other children thought. You still said a few words. But then…” She raised her shoulders. “You stopped talking.”

I began to cry without a sound, warm tears sliding down my cheeks. I wasn’t crying like Travis whose mouth opened wide; his screaming was so loud I could hear it from wherever I was. It would have been a relief to cry that way.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I’ve loved you, Jubilee,” Aunt Cora said.

I bent forward and put my arms around her neck. Warm. Safe.

She reached up and put her hand over one of mine. “It’s going to be all right someday, Jubilee. You’ll talk when the time is right.”

That was what Mr. Kaufmann had said.

“But in the meantime…”

I knew what was coming.

“Mrs. Ames will give you only one more chance. Otherwise you’ll be back in the special class.”

I patted her shoulder and nodded. I couldn’t remember that day at the window. Or could I? My mother on the path, looking back at me, raising her hand to wave.

And Aunt Cora! How lucky I was to have her. She wasn’t my mother. So I couldn’t love her the way I loved my mother with her question mark face.

But still…

We stood up, all three of us. “Let’s have a garden and cheese dinner.” Aunt Cora wiped her eyes and ran her hand over Dog’s broad back.

Outside, we walked around her garden and tore off lettuce leaves; we dropped plum tomatoes into a strainer, and shredded bits of basil on top.

I had one more chance. No matter what Sophie said, no matter what anyone said, I was going to stay in that classroom. I was beginning to like Ms. Quirk, who’d had a dog named Princess. I wanted to know about the wildlife on the island. What had she said? Something like You can’t appreciate creatures unless you know them.

And I wanted to get to know them. And maybe I wanted a partner too.