The Guardian (5 page)

J
odi glanced at her cousin’s garage but kept moving to the house and a cooler place for the little girl in her arms. She set her down on a patio chair to unlock the back door, then took her hand and led her inside, heading to the kitchen to put some ice on her forehead. “It will help the swelling,” she said, but the child said nothing.

After showing the little girl how to hold the ice pack, Jodi carried her into the small bathroom near the kitchen to wash her face. Her bare feet and legs were also terribly grimy, as if she’d been walking for a very long time.
Why—and how far?
wondered Jodi, offering a tentative smile.

She crouched down to eye level. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

Wide eyes stared back.

“Do you understand?”

The lower lip trembled again. “Mamma …”

“Aw, honey, I know … we’re going to find her real soon.” Jodi was heartbroken for her yet baffled as to why she spoke only one word.

Jodi knelt on the floor, patting her own chest. “My name
is … Jodi.” She gently pointed to the child. “What’s
your
name?”

Again, the youngster’s eyes brimmed with tears, and she looked anxiously around the small room, still holding the ice pack on her bump.

Jodi made another attempt. “Do you know your phone number?” Essential information all parents would want to drill into their child. “It’ll help us find your family.”

More quivers from the little girl, and soon, big tears spilled down her pink cheeks.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Jodi’s maternal instinct intensified. “Let’s wash your face and hands.”

After not having much luck in getting the dirt off her face with a mere washcloth—and worried about hurting the bump on the girl’s forehead—Jodi leaned to turn on the warm water in the tub. “Do you like bubble baths?” she asked, opening the pretty pink bottle and pouring in a capful. “See? A nice warm bath will make you feel better.” She swished the bubbles around as the child’s eyes grew bigger. “All we need now is a rubber ducky or two,” she said, trying to keep the mood light—the girl seemed so painfully naive.

In that moment, something cautioned Jodi not to bathe her.
What if there’s evidence?
But the little girl dropped the ice pack and leaned over the tub, her tiny foot up on the edge, eyes wide with wonder. And just that quick, she splashed into the sudsy water, underwear and all.

Not wanting to leave her, Jodi reached for her cell phone and dialed Scott’s cell number, which quickly went to voice mail. Hearing Scott’s message, she changed her mind—she didn’t want to bother him on his vacation with Paige. It was such a rare thing, their getting away together, as Scott worked long hours at the police department. Paige had mentioned as
much when lobbying for Jodi to come and stay at the house.
House-sit, really?
Jodi had thought reluctantly at first, especially because it would eat up her last days with Trent before he left for Japan. But she’d empathized with their situation and finally agreed after promising to Skype with Trent every day.

“
Ich will mei Mamma,
” the little girl said softly as she looked up from her soapy pool, where she’d removed her panties.

Jodi handed her a clean washcloth and the bar of soap, but the girl gave it back.

“
Wu is sie heit?
” the child whispered. “
Wu?
”

“You want me to wash you, sweetie?” Jodi asked. But when she didn’t respond, Jodi began to soap up her arms, then her back. The whimpering ceased for a time, and Jodi was relieved, though still anxious to find out where she belonged.

Her mother must be beside herself
, Jodi thought as she shampooed the long, silky hair.

When that was done, Jodi wiped the preschooler’s face carefully, then washed out her underwear in the tub, as well. Rolling them in a clean hand towel, she hung them up before swathing the child in a thick bath towel and lifting her out of the tub.

When she tried to set her down, the girl clung tenaciously. “It’s all right. I’m just going to help dry you off,” Jodi assured her.

But the girl wrapped her arms around Jodi’s neck all the tighter, wet hair pressing against her face. Not wanting to frighten her further, Jodi carried her and the damp underwear to the laundry room. She stepped over the bag of clothes Paige’s friend had dropped by earlier as she placed the clean items in the dryer and turned it on.

Still carrying the child, Jodi headed to the kitchen, where she sat the waif on one of four kitchen chairs situated in a cozy breakfast nook. The girl’s hair formed ringlets over the towel, and her blue, blue eyes scanned the sunny kitchen.

Jodi removed a banana from the bunch and peeled it, then offered it to her. The girl reached for it quickly and popped the end into her mouth.

She’s famished!

“Ba-na-na,” Jodi said slowly, pointing to it.

The girl smiled faintly. “
Friehschtick.
”

“Friehschtick means banana in what language?” Jodie asked herself. “Is it German?”

“
Meh.
” The child stared anxiously at the banana. “
Meh?
”

“What are you asking for?” Jodi whispered, terribly frustrated. If only she’d taken German instead of French in college. “You must be very hungry,” Jodi said, getting up to go to the fridge to pour a glass of milk. She set the glass in front of the child and sat across the table, inching her chair closer.

“Mamma …”

Jodi grimaced. “Honey, do you speak any English?”

“
Ich habb mei Mamma falossa … un Kaylee.
”

“Ich habb,” Jodi repeated. “Has to be German.”

From the intensity of the girl’s tone, Jodi assumed she was asking where her mother was—and something about a person named Kaylee. The worrisome thoughts nagged Jodi again. Was the girl a victim of kidnapping? Abuse?

If so, might I be implicated?

She refused to wait a second longer. Jodi yanked her cell phone off her waist clip and dialed Scott’s number again. This time, she left a voice mail. “It’s Jodi, and I’m really sorry to bother you, but this is an emergency,” she said. “Please call me ASAP.”

Maryanna could stand it no longer—she simply had to do something. She tugged at the dainty white handkerchief
beneath her sleeve and wiped her clammy forehead and cheeks. Sighing, she set aside a good half of the greenhouse orders and abandoned the potting bench, determined to put her faith into action.

She hurried to the stable and led Dandy out of her stall and down to the carriage, where she’d left it last night. She began the hitching-up process while Benny and Leda were busy with chores in the pigpen. Soon, Tobias wandered out from the chicken coop, looking mighty dejected. “I wanna help,” he said, scarcely able to get the words out, and Maryanna could see that he’d been crying.

When they finished hitching up, he asked if she’d take him along, wherever she was going, and she agreed. Right away, she called to let Benny and Leda know she was leaving to retrace last night’s journey, taking Tobias with her. “We’ll be back shortly,” she promised before hurrying to the waiting horse and carriage. Lo and behold, Tobias had settled himself in the driver’s seat, already holding the reins.

He moved over right quick when she climbed up. “Denki, son,” Maryanna said, suddenly glad for his company.

On the way up Hickory Lane, she told him to keep a keen eye out for Sarah’s little cloth doll. “Ya know, the one she takes almost everywhere. She had it with her last evening. I know she did.”

“Jah … and she calls it Kaylee,” he said, blinking fast. “That ain’t even an Amish name, is it?”

“No, that’s right.” This wasn’t the first fancy name little Sarah had chosen for one of her dolls. “Why’d she pick it, Mamma?”

She looked down at her young boy. His hair was all
schlappich
and a piece of straw stuck in the crisscross of his black suspenders. “I honestly don’t know.”

“How’s she know ‘em?”

“Englischer names?”

He nodded slowly, his face cheerless.

“Well, I s’pose from the tourists’ children at market.” It occurred to her then that Tobias had rarely accompanied her to the Bird-in-Hand Farmers Market. Typically, he spent market day next door, helping Josh feed chickens and running errands and whatnot. Of all her children, Tobias had most latched on to Josh after Benuel’s passing.

“Are we lookin’ for a doll, then?” Tobias asked innocently.

“Just let me know if ya happen to spot it anywhere, is all… .” Maryanna didn’t say more. She couldn’t reveal that she wished she’d gone searching with the menfolk last night—though how unconventional would that have been? No, Maryanna wouldn’t let on that she was, in all truth, looking now for little Sarah herself.

J
oshua pressed onward with the other searchers, probing past the boundaries of Hickory Hollow with his German shepherd. All the while, he struggled with his recollection of Maryanna lying limp in his arms after she’d collapsed. Daed had awkwardly looked away for a time as Joshua quietly prayed she’d quickly come to. Thankfully, she had, and he hadn’t made a fool of himself, though he certainly could have.

One long year had passed since he’d held a woman like that, his own sweet wife, gone to Gloryland.
Dear Suzanne, she suffered so,
he thought of his bride, who had died in childbirth. Maryanna’s missing little girl had brought back thoughts of his own tiny daughter with soft hair the color of sunlight.

Our firstborn … who lived but a single hour.

Joshua sighed. He was a widower, and from the looks of it, without any recourse to remedy that unless he found the courage to invite one of the area’s younger widows out for a date.

Jah, I must ponder that… .
Maryanna Esh would be his first choice, although it was unlikely she’d ever agree to go anywhere with him. She was clearly a determined woman with a mind
of her own—qualities he admired. Not only that, he had been impressed with the way she’d held things together for her four young ones back when Benuel died without warning, and here again with this strange disappearance of little Sarah.

An admirable woman,
he thought, bone-weary now. They’d tromped all over the county during the night without rest or sustenance.

Pulling on Buster’s leash, Joshua bent to pick up something that might belong to Sarah Esh, just maybe. But alas, it was merely refuse stuck in the soil.

Several of the older men looked nearly stooped and sometimes paused briefly to press their strong fingers into their necks and shoulders, all done in. Joshua wished those who hadn’t left for the early morning milking would simply drop out and head home to rest a spell. Made good sense, yet the remaining farmers kept pushing onward. As for himself, he refused any notion of stopping—more than anything, he wanted to find Maryanna’s beloved child and bring her home.

Waiting for Scott to return her call, Jodi stood in the kitchen while the little girl slept on the living room sofa. If this were a summer ago, Jodi might be praying now. Her mother would not be reticent about it at all, leading out in a confident prayer and asking God for guidance to find the child’s family. Jodi’s father, too, would be praying aloud as he drove to the police station with the lost girl in the backseat.

So what am I waiting for?

Oh, but she knew. Too many times during her year of teaching, she’d encountered children who had been moved from one foster-care setting to another. There were plenty of wonderful
foster families, but she felt fiercely protective of this innocent child.

Jodi grabbed a bag of carrot sticks and noticed Gigi standing near the food bowl again, staring her down. She dismissed the feline and her power struggles—there was plenty of food in there.

Jodi hurried back to the sleeping child, a wave of sympathy overwhelming her. The knot on the girl’s forehead still concerned her. Glancing at her watch, Jodi realized it had been a couple hours since she’d found the child along the roadside.

The youngster opened her eyes and looked right at her, the rosebud mouth widening with a smile. The girl blinked sleepily, turning her head in time to watch Gigi leap onto a chair across the room, the cat’s tail curling serenely around her body. Eyes brighter now, the little girl rose and scooted over next to Jodi, towel and all, leaning against her arm. Then, after staring at the cat for a few minutes, she promptly fell back to sleep.

She must be dreaming,
Jodi assured herself, shaken by the child’s easy affection toward a stranger.

Maryanna sighed heavily in the carriage seat, fanning herself with the embroidered hankie. Was it just her, or did the day seem remarkably hot and humid? She’d purposely slowed the mare from the outset and had scanned the roadside for miles, tears dimming her sight at times, though she hid them from Tobias.

“Does everyone have a guardian angel, Mamma?” he asked.

“What does the Bible say ‘bout that? Do you remember?”

He shook his head and shrugged his slight shoulders. This was the young son who’d chosen to sleep away his birthday
the year after Benuel died, staying in bed, no doubt missing his father. Maryanna had known he wasn’t sick because the very next day he was back to normal, out working with the twins once again.

Such a sensitive soul …

“The ninety-first psalm says angels will keep us in all our ways,” she said, clinging hard to its truth.

Tobias nodded, his straw hat pushed back on his head.
Like Benuel always wore his
… “Just makin’ sure,” he muttered.

She reached to pat his shoulder. “There now, don’t ya fret. We’ll find her,” she said. “In God’s way and time.”

Her words sounded forced. Did Maryanna truly believe that? Were the words from her heart in perfect unison with the Good Book?

“Thy will be done”
echoed in her head.

Joshua became aware of the rumblings of a dispute when Smithy Riehl took up the notion of contacting the police. He’d said it loudly, like it was something folks might actually consider.

Joe Hostetler pulled a disgusted face and spared no one’s feelings by stating emphatically that
he’d
never reported
his
daughter missing.

“Well, but your Lizzie was nearly grown and felt she knew her own mind,” the smithy replied. “Back then.”

“True, but we kept the Englischers out of it, like always.” Joe’s face was the color of ripe beets, including his earlobes, which stuck out from beneath his hair and frayed straw hat. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with trusting the Good Lord, I say.”

Mutters of agreement were heard all along the search line.

“The longer little Sarah’s not found … well, I don’t think it’s wise.” The smithy’s voice faded.

“It’s not that I don’t want to find her,” Joe replied. “Don’t get me wrong.”

” ‘Course not—you’re here, ain’t ya?” Smithy put his head down just then, looking grimly at the meadow grass.

Hoping things might die down, Joshua glanced at the bishop, just four men to his right. Would the man of God speak up?

Joshua felt his chest tighten as he gripped Buster’s leash. It wasn’t the first time their blacksmith had pressed things with the Hickory Hollow bishop, who was known for standing hard on most positions. Even stricter than other bishops nearby.

Still, Joshua couldn’t help but think the debate was sparked by the fact the whole bunch of them were not just dog-tired but hungry. They’d seen the moon set and then the sun rise up over the trees, casting a hazy gold shroud over fields and barns and windmills. And they’d heard the sounds of family carriages clattering up and down Old Leacock Road on the way to market. And the kindly calls of “Gott be with ya” and “We’re lookin’ for her, too.”

Now, though, the men were far from home, especially to be on foot like this.

“What say you, bishop?” asked Eli Lapp, Samuel and Rebecca’s middle son, married and with a small brood of his own.

There ‘tis,
thought Joshua, wondering if they might not end up arguing in a circle under the morning sun, smack-dab near the intersection of Old Leacock and East Gordon roads. Just a short distance from the train tracks.

“If ya don’t know by now, Eli, I daresay you haven’t been payin’ much attention for a
gut
long time,” the bishop declared. “Ain’t so?”

Has Eli forgotten what happened to his willful sister, Katie?

“How would ya feel if you were Maryanna Esh? Think of that.” Eli posed the unspoken question on Joshua’s mind.

The bishop nodded. “Well, son, we all know the Lord God sees and understands the worry in Maryanna Esh’s heart, and her youngsters, too.” Bishop John stopped walking, and the whole line of men followed suit. “Some of you concern me greatly. You sound like the fancy English we rub shoulders with over in Bird-in-Hand and New Holland.” He frowned. “If you can’t trust almighty God to help us find one of our children, how can you trust Him for your crops … your daily lives?”

Joshua considered that.
Still, other Amish districts use 9-1-1
, he thought, knowing it was true.

More murmuring followed, and then the blacksmith dropped out of the line and turned to head northeast toward Hickory Hollow. His young partner, Eben Troyer, stayed put.

“Anyone else?” the bishop asked loudly, as if daring them.

Remarkably, a bunch more men, including Hank Kurtz, Nate’s eldest, turned heel and left with a mighty swift gait.

They’ll catch it later.
Joshua wondered if Hank or the others would contact the police. Personally, he was torn between the two camps, wishing for a compromise.
Where’s the middle ground?
There was a child at risk, after all.

The men abandoning the search would certainly feel like deserters once the rest of them finally found little Sarah. Joshua wished they might change their minds and stay the course, drained though they all were.

“C’mon—let’s keep moving. Sarah Esh is still missing,” Bishop John said and stepped ahead, toward Paradise to the south.

The remaining men followed, marching forward with renewed determination. Thankfully, about the time Joshua’s
tongue began to curl with thirst, they heard a spring wagon rumbling along. The bishop’s young wife, Mary, and her neighbor Mattie Beiler were bringing sandwiches and thermoses of water.

The wagon pulled off the road, next to the grazing land, and the men flocked to it like parched birds.