by Ruth Reid
“What’s going on with you?” Olivia sidled up beside him.
“Bay injured his leg.”
“I mean what’s going on with you and Faith?”
“Why do you care? You’re leaving Posen”—me—“the plain way.”
She shrugged. “You look at her the way you once looked at me.”
Olivia’s reminiscence sounded as if she held a morsel of regret. He wasn’t falling for that even if it was the truth. Up until the day they were to be baptized, she was absolute about their future. About getting married. Now he was absolute about one thing—never falling in love again with someone making plans to jump the fence.
Olivia leaned against the wooden stud framing the stall wall, a wry grin on her face. “She’s everything you want. Marriage material.”
“Stop it,” he said.
“I suppose you’ve been counting the weeks until her baptism. You two secretly making plans to wed?”
“Olivia.” His tone sharpened. “That’s enough.” He stared at her a moment, then slowly shook his head. Blinded. That was the only way to describe why he’d been drawn to her for so long.
“I liked it when you looked at me that way. When we kissed, you made mei toes tingle.”
Don’t fall for it. Look away. Guard your heart. If the rumors were true, and she’d stolen money from the restaurant till, he could never trust her again.
“These past few weeks I’ve been very confused.”
“Months,” he corrected. “You walked out of the baptism service almost a year ago.”
“I’ve been meaning to—”
“Explain why you’ve avoided me?”
“I’m nett avoiding you nau,” she said softly.
Gideon’s muscles tensed. After months of silence she wanted to talk now? He waited a moment for her to speak her piece, then turned his attention back to Bay.
The three-year-old was standing on his foot, moving gingerly around the stall. Did Gideon dare chance taking him home? It hadn’t stopped raining. Even from where they were under the hayloft, he could still hear the rain tapping steady on the tin roof.
Olivia pushed off the wall and walked away.
A part of him wanted to stop her. She owed him an explanation. Instead, he flipped the latch on the stall gate and went inside. Crouching on one knee next to the horse, he ran his hand down the length of Bay’s leg. The horse jerked when Gideon touched a tender spot midway. “Easy, boy.” That settled it. He couldn’t risk moving Bay tonight.
The wooden floor of the hayloft creaked above him. An animal? No, it sounded more like shuffling footsteps. Olivia was in the loft. A faint jingle of what sounded like coins in a glass jar drove his curiosity to investigate. He left the stall, then eased up the wooden ladder leading to the loft. Once he reached the landing, he inched toward the small beam of light glowing in the far section.
Olivia was seated on the floor next to a flashlight, money piled in her lap, and holding a wad of cash she was too busy counting to know he was peering at her from around a beam. Flashlights were not allowed in their district and, as a general rule, anyone under twenty-one years of age and living under their parents’ roof contributed the majority of their earnings to the household fund. The youth didn’t accumulate large sums of cash other than to save for a horse and buggy or when a man started saving to build a house as Gideon had been. Judging by the wad of money Olivia was counting, the rumors had been right.
“Olivia!” Faith’s voice rang with a sense of urgency.
Gideon sailed down the loft ladder, landing on the concrete pad inches from Faith. He eyed the blue dress, different from the wet one she’d worn at the river. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s mei parents. Have you seen Olivia?”
He pointed to the loft. “Up there.”
Faith’s mouth dropped open, then she tightened her lips into a straight line. A flicker of light from the lantern she was holding illuminated her strained expression before she lowered the light and shadows filled her features.
He reached for the handle of the lantern and she released it to him. He held it up, casting enough light to see her grimacing face. “What’s wrong with your parents?”
She peered up the loft opening. “There’s been an accident.”
Faith stepped out of the glow of the lantern and into the shadow, avoiding the spotlight Gideon had cast on her. She appreciated his concern over her parents and his attentiveness, but she needed to keep a safe distance.
“Tell Olivia that Beverly Dembrowski is taking me to Alpena.” She wasn’t going to leave her Englisch driver waiting any longer. Not in this stormy weather.
“Wait,” he said, following her to the door. “I’ll go with you.”
“Gideon, I don’t think it’s wise for—”
Olivia walked out from the shadows. “Were you calling me?”
You know I was. Faith steeled her emotions. “Mamm and Daed were in an accident.”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open, her expression blank.
Faith spoke over her shoulder as she opened the door. “Beverly Dembrowski offered to drive us into town.”
“Wait!” Olivia bolted out of the barn, lunged for Faith’s arm, and stopped her. Pouring rain soaked her prayer kapp, her hair. Olivia’s face puckered. “Tell me what happened.”
Faith pushed loose strands of wet hair away from her face. “All I know is that they were in a buggy accident.” Color had drained from her sister’s face, turning Olivia’s usual peachy complexion the same shade as the whitewashed chicken coop. Faith gave Olivia’s arm a tug. “Kumm on, let’s get out of the rain. We’ll find out more as soon as we get to the hospital.”
Gideon followed them to the Englischer’s parked car. “I think I should kumm along,” he said, water running off the brim of his straw hat and landing on his shoulder. He opened the back door of the car and motioned for Faith to enter.
Faith didn’t object. Her sister was upset and needed Gideon’s support. But rather than climb into the backseat where Gideon was trying to direct her, Faith opened the front passenger door and slid into the car. “Thank you for taking us,” she said to Beverly, buckling her seat belt.
“Not a problem.” Beverly put the car in reverse. She peered at the rearview mirror, then the side mirror, and frowned. “I can’t see a thing outside with these windows fogged.” She rolled her window down and craned her short chubby neck outside.
“Did you hear how bad the accident was?” Faith asked once they were heading south on US-23 toward Alpena. The elderly woman was a sweet grandmotherly type with gray hair, who waddled when she walked. She often poked fun at herself by referring to her figure as a perfect square, as wide as she was tall. But that wasn’t true. The Englischer had a few more inches in height, even though, standing straight, her head only came up to Faith’s shoulder.
Beverly gripped the steering wheel as a passing car splashed road water. “Hospitals have some sort of healthcare protection law that prevents them from discussing patient care information without written consent. At least that’s what I was told. But I’m sure once we get there, someone will be able to give you more information.”
“Jah, I hope so.”
Faith stared at the headlights’ reflection off the wet pavement and listened to the rhythmic whooshing sounds of the windshield wipers. A wheel could have dropped into an unseen pothole and thrown the horse off-balance. Traffic was unpredictable. Oftentimes vehicles whizzed past them without leaving much room on the road for a horse and buggy.
“Our gardens will sure benefit from this rain,” Beverly said. “For a while I wasn’t so sure my corn would reach knee-high by the Fourth of July, but it’s already reached that plus.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Gideon, do you still have cherries for sale or is the season over?”
“I still have more to pick.”
“I’ve heard tart cherries are loaded with antioxidants that reduce inflammation and they’re even good for insomnia.” Beverly turned h
er blinker on and sped past another vehicle.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that, but I do know cherries sure taste gut in pies,” Gideon said.
Faith smiled. She often baked cherry pies for the afternoon meal after church service, and Gideon always made a point of eating dessert first so he didn’t miss out on having a slice. Olivia probably didn’t know that about Gideon. If she did, she didn’t go out of her way to bake him anything special. In fact, Olivia avoided baking whenever possible, claiming no one needed extra sugar. Her sister was right, of course, and as a result, she didn’t carry the added weight on her hips that Faith did.
Beverly continued to make small talk, asking questions about the restaurant’s busyness and what size garden they had planted this year. Faith didn’t mind the distraction; talking helped to make the twenty-mile trip to Alpena go by faster. Besides, Beverly appeared a little shaken too. She and Mamm had been friends for years.
When they reached the hospital, Faith held her hand to her chest and took a few calming breaths, which didn’t work. Until she learned the extent of her parents’ condition, she’d be on edge. Closing her eyes, she whispered a prayer. “Have mercy, Father.”
“I’ll park the car and be in shortly.”
“Okay.” Faith’s voice quivered.
Olivia and Gideon crawled out of the backseat and waited on the sidewalk under the canopy.
The rain wasn’t more than a drizzle. Faith almost wished they would walk in ahead of her, save her from the awkwardness swimming in her head. She glanced up at the red illuminated Emergency Room Entrance sign hanging above the glass doors and took a deep breath. Surely the hospital worker who had called to inform them of the accident would have said if her parents had died in the accident. Don’t panic. God is with me.
Gideon stopped before her. “Are you okay, Faith?”
The tenderness in his tone made her want to cry. She nodded, unable to answer with words. The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer.
Olivia sniffled. “I know I’m the oldest, but I don’t want to be the one to ask if they’re . . . alive.”
Faith clasped her sister’s hand. “We can do this together, Livie.”
When Olivia squeezed Faith’s hand tighter, hope swelled Faith’s heart. Perhaps this could be a fresh start as sisters . . . or friends at least. Faith had always looked up to her big sister, wanting to do everything she did when it came to learning to cook and sew.
Gideon led the way through the automatic sliding doors and to the information desk where a long-haired blonde was seated. “We’re here to see Mordecai and Irma Pinkham. I believe they were brought in by ambulance.”
“Are you family?” the woman asked.
“Jah,” Gideon replied for all of them.
Faith held her breath as the woman tapped the keyboard and eyed the computer screen in front of her.
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.” She stood.
“Are they alive?” Olivia blurted.
The receptionist smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Faith released a lungful of air.
“I’m not able to update you on their condition, however.” She pointed to an area off to their right where chairs were lined up in a row and a television played in the corner. “If you’ll have a seat in the waiting room, the doctor should be with you shortly to answer your questions.”
The three of them entered the crowded waiting area and took the only group of chairs together, which happened to be in front of the television. Staying true to her beliefs, Faith looked at the floor and studied the worn pieces of linoleum tile in order to avoid the broadcast. Though she couldn’t avoid listening to the program without covering her ears, and doing so would only make a scene.
“If you’re just joining us, with me today is founder and president of the Adriana Hope Foundation, Roslyn Colepepper, who is here to talk about a mother’s worst nightmare—child abduction. Welcome, Roslyn.”
“It’s always a pleasure to be here, DiAnna.”
“The Adriana Hope Foundation is near and dear to your heart. Will you share with our viewers how the foundation came about?”
“Adriana was—is—my daughter. My daughter was only eighteen months old when she was abducted from a grocery store parking lot.”
The airway went silent, and Faith looked up at the television screen to see the woman being interviewed dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Faith’s heart tugged for the woman on the screen, a woman she didn’t even know.
The camera zoomed in on the mother’s glazed blue eyes as she struggled to compose herself. “This Labor Day weekend will mark the fifteenth year since my daughter was abducted.”
Faith’s throat tightened.
The brokenhearted mother’s lips quivered into a smile. “The Adriana Hope Foundation was something good and meaningful that came out of my daughter’s kidnapping. No mother should have to go through the same nightmare.”
“And what an impact the Adriana Hope Foundation has made in helping to recover missing children.” The host looked straight at the camera. “After the break, Roslyn will share more about how her foundation is establishing a national database for infant DNA registration.”
Beverly stepped into Faith’s line of vision as the talk show broke for a commercial. “Have you heard anything?”
“Nett yet.” Faith stood at the same time as Gideon and both of them motioned to their chairs.
Gideon offered first. “This seat is open.”
“It’s okay, Gideon, stay seated,” Faith said. “I need to look for a drinking fountain.” She left the waiting room to search for something to soothe her dry mouth. Wandering down the hallway, she came to an intersection and wall with signs showing arrows to the X-ray and lab departments and to the left, the cafeteria. Having left the house without money, she wouldn’t be able to purchase a drink, but maybe one of the workers would give her a cup and direct her to a water fountain.
Footsteps sounded behind her. “Wait up.” Gideon strode toward her, his face contorted. “The doktah just came into the waiting room with an update on your parents.”
Chapter 9
Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
Fifteen years ago
We’ve located the car,” Agent Sanderson announced.
Roslyn gripped the edge of the desk for support. Consumed in a fog of numbness, she swayed in place as Agent Sanderson dismissed two of his agents from the room with a head nod. She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.
“And Adriana?” Roslyn searched the agent’s eyes. His indiscernible expression masked what he knew, but she suspected he wouldn’t have called them into the room without additional information. She gripped the desk tighter, her knuckles turning white with effort. The wait was too much. “Do you have news about my daughter or not?”
“Not yet,” Sanderson replied. “Our K9 units have been dispatched. If the child was in the vehicle they took after abandoning the Jaguar, we’ll know shortly. The dogs will pick up your daughter’s scent in the Buick Skyhawk.”
Brandon stepped forward. “Where did they find the car?”
Roslyn studied Sanderson’s expression. FBI agents were trained not to reveal every detail. Tell as little as possible, it’s how they catch criminals who slip up, know too much. She couldn’t help but wonder if she and Brandon were under suspicion.
“Cheboygan,” he said. “Forensics matched your nanny’s prints taken from Adriana’s bedroom with those in the recovered Jaguar, and soon we’ll have confirmation on the prints in the Buick as well.”
“What other leads are you following?” Brandon asked.
“At this point, state police are investigating a Yugo reported stolen from the same vicinity where the Buick was discovered. I’m not able to go into all the specifics,” Sanderson added. “We also believe multiple people are involved. Your nanny didn’t act alone.”
Roslyn looked at her husband, whose jaw twitched. Last month he’d asked for a divorce, for no particular reaso
n this time. His announcement hadn’t shocked her. She blamed it on the scotch— his liquid courage. The next morning, hungover and mousy, he apologized profusely. He snuck out of the house only to return a few hours later with a gold bracelet. The dangling charm read: “Love Without End.” But the damage had been done. He couldn’t threaten to take their daughter away from her one minute, then try to make things right with a piece of jewelry.
“Don’t look at me like that, Roz,” he growled. “I don’t know any more than you. She told me she was going to school for architectural design and she wanted to work for the company after graduation.”
Roslyn stared at him, uncertain whether to believe him or not. Outside of the agency’s impeccable references, she knew nothing of the girl. Prior to employing Brittany, Roslyn had insisted on a drug test and background check. Her spotless record hadn’t produced any red flags. Brandon planted his hand on Roslyn’s lower back and she tensed. His supportive gesture wouldn’t work to calm her down.
If the agent suspected tension between Roslyn and Brandon, he didn’t show it. He simply continued asking questions. “Did she ever talk about friends or relatives?”
Roslyn shook her head. As the questions continued, realization dawned. She knew little about the person she’d hired—the person she had put in charge of her daughter. What was Brittany capable of? Roslyn’s throat constricted. If there’s a God of mercy . . .
“Agent Sanderson.” The field agent seated with a laptop stood and pointed at the screen. “We’ve got an update.”
Thank God. Roslyn’s heart drummed as Sanderson viewed the monitor.
“Find out what roads are laying new asphalt,” Sanderson instructed one of his men. He glanced up at Brandon. “The K9 unit confirmed your daughter was in the Buick.”
“So what’s this about asphalt?” Brandon’s brow furrowed.
“Forensics found both horse manure and traces of asphalt on the tires.”
Roslyn covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Last month she had read a magazine article about a kidnapped child. At the time, the factual statistics listed that only a small percentage of children returned home unharmed. Reading how most were never found hadn’t made an impression at the time, but now she lacked the courage to ask what the odds of recovery were this late after an abduction.
