The Storekeeper's Daughter (8 page)

Inside the kitchen, Naomi found her sisters standing in the middle of a big mess. Broken glass and some of last year’s peaches were splattered on the floor. Nancy swept at it with a broom, while Mary Ann sat at the table, sobbing.

“What happened here? I cleaned this floor once already.” Naomi pointed to the sticky linoleum. “I thought you two were supposed to be bringing up jars from the cellar for canning.”

“We were, but Mary Ann wanted some peaches, and even though I said no, she took a jar anyway,” Nancy said.

Naomi turned to face her youngest sister. “How come?”

“I—I—was hungry, and seein’ all those jars of fruit made my stomach want food.” Mary Ann hiccupped. “I cut my hand on the glass when I tried to pick up the pieces.”

It was then that Naomi noticed Mary Ann’s hand was wrapped in a napkin and there was blood seeping through. Naomi hurried to her younger sister and gently took her hand. “You’d better let me take a look at that.”

“Don’t make it hurt more.” Mary Ann’s lower lip quivered.

“I’ll be careful.” When Naomi pulled the napkin aside, the child winced. “This needs some antiseptic and a bandage.” She clicked her tongue. “Don’t think it’s gonna need any stitches, though.”

Mary Ann sniffed. “I’m glad. I don’t wanna go to the hospital; that’s for sure.”

Naomi nodded at Nancy. “As soon as you get the glass picked up, would you mind gettin’ a jug of cold root beer from the refrigerator? I’ve got a customer outside waiting.”

“Jah, okay.”

As Nancy finished her job, Naomi led Mary Ann upstairs to the bathroom, where the first-aid supplies were kept.

When they returned to the kitchen a short time later, the floor was still a mess and Nancy was gone.

Probably took the root beer out like I told her.
Naomi grabbed a mop from the utility closet and tackled the sticky floor. “Is there no end to my work today?” she muttered.

The back door opened, and Nancy sauntered in, holding a jug of root beer and looking kind of miffed. “You sent me outside for nothing. There was no customer waitin’.”

“Sure there was. He asked for cold root beer, and I told him there was some in the house. Maybe he’s in his car.” Naomi grabbed the jug of root beer from Nancy and handed her the mop. “Finish this up while I go check.”

When Naomi turned, she stubbed her bare toe on the rung of a chair. “Ach!” She limped out the back door and around the side of the house.

When she reached the front yard, Naomi came to a halt. The man was gone, and there was no car in the driveway. “Guess he got tired of waitin’.” Her gaze swung back to the picnic table, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Zach was gone, and so was his quilt.

Naomi’s stomach clenched as a wisp of fear curled around her heart. She set the jug on the picnic table, willing herself to breathe.
It’s okay. Zach’s here someplace. He just climbed down from the picnic table and crawled off.

“Zach! Where are you, baby?” She scanned the yard and strained to hear anything that might give some indication that her little brother was nearby. “He has to be here—just has to be.” The only living thing in sight was a chicken wandering up the driveway.

Naomi’s knees, decidedly unsteady, threatened to buckle beneath her. She clutched her midsection and held herself in order to keep from collapsing.
Why was I so stupid? I should never have left Zach sitting on the picnic table with a stranger. What am I gonna tell Papa if I can’t find him?

Ignoring the pain in her foot from her stubbed toe, Naomi rushed back to the house, calling her sisters to come quickly.

Nancy ran out the front door. “Was is letz, Naomi? You look upset.”

“Zach’s missing, that’s what’s wrong,” Naomi panted.

Mary Ann followed Nancy onto the porch, her dark eyes huge as saucers. “What do you mean, he’s missin’?”

Naomi swallowed hard as a raw ache settled in her stomach. “I left him on the picnic table when I came inside to get cold root beer for the man and to see which of you was screaming.” She pointed to the table. “But he’s gone now. I don’t see him anywhere.”

Nancy glanced around the yard. “Who was the customer, Naomi? Was it someone we know?”

Naomi shook her head. “It was an English man.”

“How come you didn’t bring Zach along when you came to the house? What made you leave him all alone?”

Nancy’s question was nearly Naomi’s undoing. Guilt clung to her like a fly trapped in a spider’s web, and tears she’d been fighting to keep under control rimmed her eyes. “I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. When I heard the scream, all I could think of was getting to the house to see what happened.” She shook her head. “I never dreamed Zach would try and climb down or crawl off somewhere while I was gone. Besides, he wasn’t alone. I figured the English man would see that Zach stayed put.”

Nancy tipped her head and gave Naomi a look that sent shivers up her spine. “How do ya know the boppli crawled away?”

“He sure enough didn’t walk, unless he’s learned something new without us knowing.” Naomi was in no mood for these silly questions. They needed to find Zach, and she knew it had better be before Papa got home.

Naomi’s shoulders were tense, and a jolt of pain shot up her neck. “I need you two to help me look for him. He couldn’t have gone far.”

For the next half hour, the girls searched in the garden, the woodshed, the chicken coop, and all through the house, even though Naomi didn’t see how Zach could have crawled there without her or one of the sisters seeing him.

With a sigh of resignation, she finally sent Nancy out to the fields to get the brothers. They needed more help looking.

After Naomi explained to Matthew how she’d left Zach on the picnic table, everyone spread out, searching a second time in every nook and cranny and calling Zach’s name.

“I’m hitching up the buggy,” Matthew announced. “I’ll look for Zach along the road.”

“Come now,” Naomi said with irritation. “There’s no way he would have crawled up the driveway. Not with the sharp rocks and all.”

“Did you ever think maybe that English man took him?” Norman said, squinting and looking at Naomi like she didn’t have half a brain.

Reality settled over Naomi like a dreary fog. She didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that her little brother had been kidnapped. “The man seemed so nice, and—”

“Did you get a good look at the car he was driving?” Jake asked.

The thought that Zach could have been taken by the English man pierced Naomi to the core of her soul, and her head began to spin. She grabbed hold of the porch railing. “I—uh—think it was a van, but I can’t be sure. It could have been a station wagon or even a truck.”

“Didn’t you see it parked in the driveway? Think, Naomi. Surely you must have noticed.”

Matthew’s words weighed on Naomi like a sack of grain. “I—I did see it but barely took notice. I’m not sure if it was a van or not, and I don’t even know the color of the vehicle.”

“Then I suppose you didn’t pay attention to the license plate, either?” This question came from Norman.

Naomi’s only response was a slow shake of her head.

“Well, did ya see what direction the car was headed when it left?” Matthew asked.

She blew out her breath. “Now how could I have noticed when I was inside the house when it left? I already told you, Matthew.”

“I’m goin’ out to search the roads just the same.” Matthew turned to Norman. “You’d better come along, and Jake can stay here and keep looking.”

As she headed for the barn to look one more time, a sense of dread weighed heavily on Naomi’s shoulders. How she wished she could erase what had happened and start her day over again. She would have done everything differently if she’d only known the way things would turn out.

“Oh, Lord,” she prayed, “please keep my little brother safe, and help us find him real soon.”

Jim glanced in the rearview mirror. No police cars. No Amish buggies in pursuit.

If I get caught, I’ll be arrested for kidnapping. If I go back to the hotel empty-handed, Linda will be devastated.
He gripped the steering wheel with determination.
Just keep on driving, and don’t think about what you’ve done.

The child in the backseat gurgled, and Jim turned his head for a brief look. “You okay, little guy?” Could it have been fate that took him to the Amish farm for root beer? After all, he needed a baby, and that family had plenty of kids to go around. The little boy was just one more mouth to feed, and he didn’t even have a mother.
Maybe I did them a favor by taking the baby off their hands
.

When he caught another glimpse of the boy, his thoughts turned to more expedient matters. “Clothes. The kid’s gonna need to be wearing more than a diaper before I take him to see Linda. Otherwise, she’ll ask a bunch of questions.”

A short time later, Jim pulled into the parking lot of a Wal-Mart store. As soon as he turned off the engine, he hopped out of the car and went around to open the back door. The baby giggled when Jim lifted him out of the car seat. “Sure are a trusting little fellow, aren’t you?” Not once since Jim grabbed the boy off the picnic table had the baby cried or even fussed. In fact, the baby seemed perfectly at ease with Jim, which only confirmed in his mind that he’d done the right thing by taking the child.

“Out you go,” Jim said as he hoisted the baby into his arms. “We’re off to do some shopping, then you’re going to meet your new mom.”

It had been a long day, and Abraham was eager to get home. A few minutes ago, he’d sent Samuel out back where they kept the horse, telling him to give the animal a couple of apples. Abraham would close the store at five, then go out to hitch the horse to the buggy. They’d be home in half an hour or so, then he would tell the family about the campout he’d planned for tonight.

At two minutes to five, Abraham turned down the kerosene lamps he used to light his place of business. He’d just gotten to the last one when someone entered the store. It was Virginia Meyers, his least favorite customer.

“Hello, Mr. Fisher,” she called with a wave of her hand. “Is Naomi here?”

He shook his head. “She and the girls stayed home today to sell root beer and do some cleanin’ and such.”

She pursed her pink lips and gave her ponytail a flip. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to speak with her.”

Abraham moved toward the young English woman. “Mind if ask what about?”

“Just girl stuff. You know—stamps and things.”

Abraham wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t believe her. He had a feeling Virginia wanted to talk to Naomi about more than just rubber stamps. He’d heard the two of them a time or two and gotten the gist of the conversation on more than one occasion. Virginia wanted to show Naomi the world—her modern, English world. As far as he knew, Naomi had declined the invitations to do something fun, and he prayed she always would.

“Is there something I can help ya with?” he asked, feeling more impatient by the minute. “I’m about to close, so if you’re needin’ something, then you’d best hurry and get it.”

She glanced around the store. “No new stamps yet, I take it.”

“Nope.”

“Okay then. Tell Naomi I dropped by.”

“Right, Virginia.”

“It’s Ginny. Remember?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Ginny then.”

“Guess I’d better get back to the restaurant. The supper crowd will probably be filing in by now. See you later, Mr. Fisher.” Ginny bounded out the door, and Abraham heaved a sigh of relief.

He grabbed his hat from the wall peg, locked the front door, and headed for the back of the store.

Thirty minutes later, Abraham pulled the buggy into his yard, and Samuel jumped down. “Run inside and tell Naomi she can put supper on,” he told the boy. “I’ll get the horse unhitched and be right in.”

“Sure, Papa.” Samuel scampered toward the house, and Abraham went around to the front of the horse. He’d only begun to take the harness off when Naomi came running toward him with the older boys, Mary Ann, and Nancy right behind her.

“Hey, there!” he said with a smile. “Guess what I’ve got planned for tonight?”

“Papa, I think you’d better hear what I have to say before you share any plans,” Naomi said with a catch in her voice. She looked downright flustered, and Abraham wondered if she’d had a rough day with the kinner.

“Is everything okay here? Did the girls do their work as you asked?”

Tears splashed onto Naomi’s cheeks, and she grasped his arm.

“Daughter, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s Zach, Papa.” There was a note of panic in her voice, and Abraham steeled himself for the worst.

“What about the boy? Is he sick?”

“Please, take a seat at the picnic table, and I’ll tell you everything.”

He shook his head. “Tell me now.”

“Papa, I think it might be best if you sit down,” Matthew interjected.

Abraham looked at Naomi, then back at Matthew. They both had awfully grave looks on their faces. He was sure something terrible had happened in his absence, and he dreaded hearing the news.

Stumbling over to the picnic table, he dropped to the bench. “Tell me now, and be quick about it.”

Naomi rattled off a story about how she’d been asked by an English man to get some cold root beer and said she’d heard one of the girls scream and how, fearing Hildy the goose might have been chasing them, she had left Zach sitting on the picnic table while she rushed off to see about things.

“When I discovered Mary Ann’s hand was cut, I sent Nancy outside with the cold root beer while I tended the wound. When Nancy came back in, she said the man was gone.” Naomi took a deep breath and rushed on. “Then I went out to have a look-see, and sure enough the man wasn’t there.” She gulped. “The worst part of all was when I realized Zach was missing, too.”

Abraham’s eyes darted back and forth. “Is this true?”

Matthew nodded. “I’m afraid so. Naomi thought Zach might have climbed down from the picnic table and crawled off, so she sent Nancy to the fields to get me, Norman, and Jake.” He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “We searched and searched but couldn’t find Zach anywhere.”