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.
Chapter 9
Joshua 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, b
ut 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.
Chapter 10
Maryanna had slowly become accustomed to making her own decisions over the past nearly three years. She no longer conferred with anyone about what to grow in the greenhouse. Nor did she hesitate to light a lantern on a sleepless night to read in bed, or think twice about cooking her favorite meals—and the children’s—or just plain doing things the way she chose to. She wouldn’t call herself set in her ways, exactly, but with God’s help—and the help of her extended family—Maryanna and her children were doing quite well.
She and young Tobias had only been home a few minutes from their fruitless search for little Sarah when her sister Mollie Yoder turned into the lane with their family carriage.
“Hullo, Maryanna,” sweet Mollie called while tying the horse to the hitching post. Maryanna’s older sister by a few years, she wore her gray choring dress and black apron, some of her light auburn hair already falling free of her bun. “Came to keep ya company.” Her brown eyes were sad, and the area around them was puffy and red. “Jeremiah and I heard the news and went right to prayer. I came just as soon as morning chores were finished.” Mollie eyed the horse and walked toward Maryanna, bringing two of her girls with her. “Whatever needs done, we’re here to help.”
Twelve-year-old Bertie smiled timidly—she’d been born with Bardet-Biedl syndrome. Bertie wore thick glasses to help her failing eyesight and had a tiny sixth toe on her right foot. In part due to her poor vision, she struggled with learning difficulties. Bertie’s genetic disorder was one of the reasons for Maryanna’s and her husband’s concern and faithful prayers for healthy children, each of whom had been tested in turn at the Clinic for Special Children. Bertie’s younger sister, Fannie, was blond like Bertie and had recently turned ten. Both girls now followed their mother toward the house, across the newly mown lawn and up the walkway.
Right from the very first, when they were young girls, Maryanna had sensed something special about this sister. With Mollie near, everything was going to be all right, no matter the circumstance. Even today, when Mollie opened her arms in greeting, Maryanna felt much more secure. But she had a strong urge to cry as she clung to her, though she tried to compose herself in front of her nieces. Bertie was especially sensitive to outbursts of emotion by others. They made the dear girl awful panicky.
Once indoors, out of the heat, Maryanna composed herself under Mollie’s sympathetic glances. She didn’t feel much like being a hostess, but Maryanna washed several clusters of red grapes and quartered some apples, glad she’d changed out the old red-checkered oilcloth on the table for the new blue-and-white one. She returned to the gas-powered refrigerator and reached for a large pitcher of cold meadow tea, then carried it to the table.
“Jeremiah was out searchin’ all night with the men,” Mollie said, looking mighty tired herself.
“Truly glad for that.”
“Some disbanded for rest a while ago, and to tend to livestock.” Mollie added that she’d made something for Jeremiah to eat right before coming. “That’s why it took us this long to get here.”
Maryanna understood. “No need to apologize.”
Bertie nodded, her hazel eyes blinking fast. “Jah, we had to do all of Dat’s mornin’ chores first.” She rubbed her plump belly. “But we didn’t mind.”
Fannie smiled, then looked quickly toward the window. “When did ya see Sarah last, Aendi Maryanna?” she asked.
It was all Maryanna could do to recount the story of last evening’s trip home from Paradise for Fannie and the others. But she tried to put herself in her precious nieces’ shoes—both Fannie’s and Bertie’s faces looked drawn as they listened to Maryanna’s account.
“Mattie Beiler and the bishop’s wife headed out to take food and water to the men looking for Sarah,” Mollie mentioned. “And to bring back those
who needed to catch up with farm duties and whatnot.”
They settled down at the table, nibbling on the fruit, even though none of them probably cared much for a snack.
Where on earth is my Sarah? Maryanna shook her head, feeling dizzy again. Where?
Mollie touched her arm. “You didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, did ya?”
Maryanna refused to admit she’d only dozed in a chair, not wanting to seem to complain.
“Why don’t ya go upstairs and put your feet up for a while?” Mollie suggested kindly. “The girls and I will take care of everything—cook the noon meal and supper for ya, too.”
Maryanna didn’t need to say that her own children were out doing their many chores. Very soon they’d be running to the house to greet Aunt Mollie, one of their favorite relatives. She certainly could trust Mollie to look after them.
I should let myself rest, thought Maryanna, all in. I need to be strong for Sarah’s sake . . . for all of my children. She held her breath so she wouldn’t give in to tears. No matter how bleak things seemed, she refused to relinquish hope.
Joshua drank his fill of refreshing cold water, Buster panting nearby as the weary band of men, who were rotating in shifts, clambered onto the wagon.
In short order, they were on the way back to Hickory Hollow with Mary and Mattie. Many of the men promised to return later in the day, if need be. If Sarah’s still missing, thought Joshua with a great sigh.
In the meantime, all of them were committed to praying for God’s protection over the little girl and divine help in finding her. Will someone defy the bishop and call the police now? he wondered.
A half mile or so from his house, Joshua and Preacher Yoder got out of the wagon and started walking home. Joshua released Buster from the leash and set him free, watching as the devoted dog headed straight toward home. Buster had not wavered during the search, and for that Joshua was grateful.
Guardian, the Page 5
