YOU JUMP, I JUMP
Prologue

Jo Dawson, upon the birth of James Calvert, Jr.
March 21, 1923

He was the strangest thing I had ever seen. I’d never been around babies. Mama was so tired. I’d never seen her so tired. But she was happy and so was Dad, so I was happy. Jim was my stepfather, but I never called him anything but Dad after he married Mama.

"Jo, what do you think of your brother?" Mama asked me as I was ushered in by Dad.

"Oh," I said, peering down as I climbed onto the bed to sit beside Mama. Her arm went around me as I moved closer to the warmth of her body.

"This is James," she said softly, smiling affectionately at me as if trying to put me into her memory forever.

"He’s funny-looking…his face is all bunched up," I said, noting the reddish, wrinkled look of his face against the bright red of his hair. I heard Dad chuckle.

"Sweetheart, he was just born. He’ll look different in a few days…" he said, brushing a stray curl from my face. I smiled.

"I sure hope so. Poor baby," I said as Mama kissed my cheek.

"Will you help me take care of him like a good big sister?" she asked. I nodded.

"Yes, of course," I replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She smiled, handing the baby to Daddy as she pulled me into her lap. I was quite big by then, ten years old, and it surprised me that she wanted to hold me like this.

"You know, Jo…if you’re jealous of the new baby…it’s all right, baby. But I want you to know that no one could ever take your place…no matter how many babies we have," Mama said, crying a bit. I looked up at Dad, who smiled.

"It’s true, Jo. You will be loved equally." I blinked at them in confusion, looking down at Mama, thinking.

"But…why would I be jealous? I don’t understand…" I said. Mama and Dad shared a look. He nodded at her with a grin and as she sobbed, she hugged me so tightly, I began to gasp. "Mama! Mama…Ma!"

"What, darling?" She sniffled.

"You’re sucking the life out of me!" I choked. She laughed, letting go of me.

"Give me a kiss," she said, as I obliged. As Dad took me for some lunch, he explained.

"Your mom is just a bit emotional after having the baby…it’s normal, sweetie," he said, handing me my drink.

I began to see why I would be jealous, however, a few weeks after James came home. I was practicing my cursive for school when I came to the letter z and couldn’t figure it out. Dad was at work and Mama was cooking dinner.

"Mama?" I asked, frowning.

"What is it, Jo?" she asked tiredly.

"I can’t figure…" I was cut off, however, by the shrill cry of my brother.

"Hold on, darling," she said, and left the room before I could get another word out. After a bit, she returned, looking even more tired than before, and returned to the stove.

"Mama, I can’t figure out how…" I began again, and was once again cut off by Dad coming into the house.

"Hello?" he called. "Everything all right?"

"Fine!" Mama called back, smoothing her hair back.

"Mama…"

"Rose, I think the baby is crying!" Dad called from the other room.

"Damn," Mama muttered.

"Mama, I need help with my cursive!" I cried, frustrated. She spun on me, her eyes bloodshot and exhausted.

"Damn it, Josephine! I will talk to you in a minute. Right now, the baby needs me!" she yelled angrily. I knew she wasn’t really angry at me, but it stung all the same. Tears filled my eyes. "Jo…" she said in a softer voice, looking regretful.

"No!" I screamed at her, upset. "The baby always needs you, Mama! Well, maybe I need you, too! But you don’t care anymore because you have your stupid old baby!" I threw the notebook at her and left her gaping as I flew past Dad up the stairs to my room and flung myself on the bed to sob my heart out into the pillow. I thought of my real father, whom I had no picture or vision of. He was just some faceless stranger who had died before I was born. For the first time, however, I wished he was there to hold me and comfort me. I knew that if Jack was there, I could tell him anything. But Jack wasn’t there and I was alone…and now my mother probably hated me. A knock on my door brought my face up from the tear-soaked pillow.

"Jo?" Mama’s husky voice came through the door. I could tell she’d been crying, too.

"Go away!" I yelled, wanting to stay angry at her and merely succeeding at becoming angry with myself instead. I knew I was acting like a spoiled brat, but in my innocence, I didn’t care. The door opened anyway and I heard her walk in, though I kept my face in the pillow. I felt her sit on my bed and touch one of my braids.

"Jo…"

"Leave me alone," I sobbed resentfully. "I don’t want to see you!"

"Well, I want to see you…I’m sorry for being harsh with you," she said, swallowing a sob.

"No, you’re not! You’ve hardly said two words to me since Jamie was born!" I accused, sitting up and turning to face her. Her pale face was streaked with tears.

"I know...it’s been a bit overwhelming…"

"I wish my real father was here!" I blurted out, and she looked as if I had slapped her.

"Wh-what?"

"I wish my father was alive!" I said, glaring at her. "I bet he would pay attention to me! But he’s dead! And I’ve got no one!"

"But Jo…you’ve got me…" She reached out to touch my hand and I pulled away.

"You told me we would be loved equally, but it sure seems like you love him more. You’re always showing him off…you’re always cuddling him. I’m nothing. I’m just the stupid kid who sits by herself in the kitchen while everyone fawns over the baby. Well, you know what, Mama?" I wanted to hurt her as she’d hurt me. "I hate your stupid baby…and I hate you!" I could hear her gasp as I looked away.

"You don’t mean that, Jo," she said quietly.

"Don’t I? What good am I?" I asked, biting my lip to keep it from quivering.

"What good are you? Jo, you are so special to me…you were my first…you’re the reason…" She stopped herself. "You gave me hope to go on when I didn’t have the strength. You saved me." Touching my shoulder, she met my eyes. "You don’t understand now…but someday, you will. You will understand just how special you are to me. My goodness, Jo…I love you so much, it kills me. And if you hate me…" Her voice broke. "I just don’t know what I’ll do with myself. I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings, Jo."

Now I felt like an even bigger brat, but I threw myself into her warmth as her arms clasped me tightly.

"I’m so sorry, Mama…I love you! I don’t hate you! I’m sorry I’m such a bad daughter!" I buried my head in her shoulder and let my body wrack with such violent sobs, I began to hiccup for breath. Her grip on me tightened.

"Hush…" she replied calmly. "You are the most wonderful daughter in the world. And I meant what I said," she whispered. "No one will ever take your place…but you must make room in your heart for your brother…he’s so little…he needs Daddy and you and I to care for him. He’s not strong like you, Jo…he can’t take care of himself."

"Well, that’s…true," I admitted grudgingly as she used her thumbs to clear the tears from my eyes.

"I promise to give you more time during the day, though," Mama said. "I know it’s hard. I remember when it was just you and I…but now we have Dad and Jamie…it’s all my fault for forgetting how much you need your mother."

"It’s okay," I said, sitting in her lap and allowing her to baby me. She began to play with my braids. "I’m sorry for being a brat," I added, resting my head against her shoulder.

"You’re never a brat, Jo…" she replied. "I’ll tell you what," she said, making me look up at her. "Oh, those eyes…" she murmured with a smile. "After dinner, you and I will spend the rest of the night together. I’ll tell Daddy to look after the baby."

"Really?" I asked hopefully. It wasn’t that I hated the baby. I just missed my mother.

"We could bake some cookies together if you’d like."

"Oh, could we?" I asked. She nodded and took my hand. "Now, about those z’s…"

Chapter One
Stories