Guardian, the

by Beverly Lewis

  “Listen, honey, you can’t just wear your undershirt and—”

  “Sehne?” The child patted her tummy.

  Jodi had her work cut out for her. “Let’s just try on the skirt and top, okay?” Even though she knew the girl had no clue what she was saying, she attempted to persuade her with a gentle and hopefully encouraging tone. She held out her hand and led her into the guest bedroom, then stood her in front of the floor mirror. She put the skirt up next to her waist and dangled the green top above, making eye contact with the youngster in the mirror. “See how pretty you look? Very pretty.”

  Without waiting, Jodi slipped the green top over the girl’s head. And, wonder of wonders, there was no further resistance. So far, so good. Jodi held the skirt open and the child stepped into it, although her eyes were wide, as if she’d never worn anything like it. She even let Jodi button the waistband.

  “Okay, we’re set.” Jodi offered her hand again.

  Then, thinking perhaps she should slip a skirt over her running shorts, Jodi hurried to the closet and did just that. She also grabbed two pillows, hoping to make her passenger comfortable in a seat belt. “Now, let’s go find your mom.”

  “Jah . . . mei Mamma!”

  Jodi smiled as she looked down at her. She hoped the Hickory Hollow bishop could help them find the girl’s family. Scott’s so sure about this, she thought, anxious that all go well. She was surprised by how very much she cared for the small child who now clung to her hand.

  Chapter 12

  Jodi squinted into the midmorning sun, surprised at seeing so many fruit and vegetable stands on a short stretch of road. She was also intrigued by the many hand-lettered self-serve signs. Other wooden signs posted at the end of lanes advertised food items: peanut brittle, jam, homemade root beer, cabbage, onions, squash. To her amazement, money boxes had been left out in plain view for potential customers at the unattended road stands.

  “Amish folk must be very trusting,” she murmured, looking back at the child in the rear seat, who was perched on the pillows and securely buckled in. Jodi had been vigilant to drive extra cautiously with such precious cargo.

  The little girl’s eyes lit up and she giggled as she pointed to the horse-drawn carriages coming toward them on the opposite side of the road. Does she recognize them . . . or is it just a childish attraction to the horses?

  Jodi was captivated herself and gave the horses wide berth. It suddenly struck her that these back roads might be ideal for jogging—there was hardly any car traffic.

  In the field to the right, a mule team pulled a strange-looking contraption that was bundling wheat. She slowed, astonished at the charming sight. Men and boys were setting up each bundle into sheaves by hand.

  So these are the People. . . .

  Two barefoot girls rode scooters just ahead, moving courteously onto the dusty shoulder when they noticed Jodi’s car. Their strawberry-blond hair was pulled back into identical thick knots, and they wore matching long mint-green dresses and black aprons. She moved toward the left side of the road, giving them plenty of room. For a moment, she considered stopping to see if they might recognize the child she had with her. But remembering Scott’s instruction, she continued on, watchful for the one-room schoolhouse and the lane to the Amish bishop’s place.

  Farther up the road, two boys walked side by side with fishing poles slung over their slight shoulders, talking and laughing and wearing straw hats, black pants rolled midway up their legs, and thin black cloth suspenders over blue short-sleeved shirts.

  Jodi tried to remember if she’d ever seen anything like this—even on a postcard. The clothes and carriages were straight out of the nineteenth century. She observed the gray buggies with their spindly wheels and cringed to think of what damage a car might inflict on them even at low speeds.

  Jodi braked again to accommodate a small cart pulled by what looked like a pony, with two youngsters tucked inside—a boy and a girl who certainly could pass for twins—hauling two chickens in a wooden box with wire mesh on both sides.

  Jodi assumed things were done in pairs here in this place that time had seemingly passed by. She spotted the much-anticipated schoolhouse just as Scott had said. It was charming, with a bell atop its roof and what looked like individual outhouses for boys and girls. There was a baseball field on the south side, and she considered taking a picture with her cell phone. “We’re almost there,” she said over her shoulder, noting the little girl, who looked mesmerized by the surrounding farmland.

  Is anything familiar to her?

  Passing the school, Jodi saw the lane Scott had so aptly described, as well as a handful of gray boxlike carriages parked in the side yard. Six or seven Amishmen dressed in black pants and short-sleeved white shirts with tan suspenders stood around toward the side of the house, their straw hats nearly bumping as they huddled.

  The small girl in the seat behind her pointed and babbled in Deitsch. Then, when Jodi slowed to turn into the lane, she began to shake her head, saying, “Nee, nee.” She strained her body against the seat belt as she continued to point forward.

  A wave of mixed emotions met Jodi, who was torn between what her cousin had told her to do and what the little girl was urging, speaking rapidly now in her mother tongue.

  Jodi decided to follow the girl’s lead, and the child nodded her approval, an eager smile on her face. So she did know where they were, and with that in mind, Jodi began to cautiously speed up, driving straight ahead.

  Maryanna waved good-bye to Rhoda Kurtz, who’d come to pick up her order of late celery plants, seedlings Maryanna had started in Benuel’s greenhouse. She stood near the house, watching the road horse pull out of the drive to make the turn onto Hickory Lane.

  It had felt good to offer some comfort to Rhoda, who like Maryanna was beside herself with worry over Sarah’s disappearance. In reaching out to her longtime neighbor, Maryanna had felt the hand of the Lord God consoling her, as well. They’d embraced and Rhoda had assured Maryanna of her prayers, also offering to bring food over, even though Mollie and her girls were there at Maryanna’s cooking several dishes to store in the refrigerator.

  Maryanna headed to the well pump to wash her hands before going inside again. She was conscious of the searing heat and was searching the sky for a rain cloud when a dark blue car slowed near the mailbox and gradually turned in, creeping now up the driveway.

  Maryanna gawked and moved closer, curious. “Ach, who’s this?” Other than the hired drivers she sometimes used, she knew not a single soul who drove a car.

  A slender woman with brown hair, no more than her late twenties, quickly emerged from the driver’s side. She wore a long white skirt and white top and kept her head down as she hurried around to the opposite side of the car.

  Then, lo and behold, she opened the door, leaned into the backseat, and brought out a little girl in fancy getup: Sarah!

  “O merciful Father!” Maryanna ran toward the car and her young daughter, who’d spotted her and was already dashing toward her, looking mighty peculiar in a polka-dot skirt and green shirt.

  “Mamma, Mamma!” sweet Sarah called, tears of obvious joy rolling down her chubby pink cheeks.

  Maryanna bent down to receive her daughter, and oh, the joy of this longed-for moment, holding her so near! Thanking the Lord and kissing her baby’s face over and over, Maryanna’s tears blended with her darling’s.

  In her childish voice, Sarah told her in Deitsch that the lady who drove her home had found her asleep along the road. “She took care of my bumped head, Mamma.”

  “Did ya fall out of the carriage, then?”

  “Jah . . . and so did my dolly,” Sarah said before going on again about the English woman, who she said was like the Good Samaritan in the Bible. She stopped talking long enough to show Maryanna her other minor injuries, then babbled on about looking for her Dallbopp. “Aren’t ya glad the nice lady brought me back to you, Mamma?”

  Maryanna inhaled quickly and turned to thank the sligh
t woman standing back near the car. But Sarah was itching to get down, and when Maryanna released her, she ran to the young woman and took her hand, affectionately tugging her along across the yard.

  “Mei Gardien Engel,” Sarah said, looking up at the woman clad in white.

  Maryanna trembled at the thought. Wasn’t that exactly what they’d prayed for? And here she was in the flesh—Sarah’s guardian angel!

  “I can’t tell ya how very grateful I am,” Maryanna told the woman as she extended her hand. She blinked back more tears.

  They clasped hands. “It was your daughter who helped me find you,” the woman said with a friendly smile, her eyes gleaming. Then, as if remembering to introduce herself, she added, “I’m Jodi Winfield.”

  “Maryanna Esh . . . Sarah’s mother.”

  “I’m so happy to meet you.” Jodi quickly explained how her cousin had suggested coming to the Hickory Hollow bishop’s home. “But it was Sarah who led me right to your door.”

  Maryanna’s heart was so moved, she wanted to do something for the sweet-spirited Englischer. “Please, won’t ya come inside? My sister and her girls are here.”

  “Really, I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Ach, you brought my daughter home to me!” Maryanna declared.

  Still holding her angel’s hand, little Sarah urged Jodi toward the house, and Maryanna fell in step with them on the walkway.

  O dear Lord, thank you for this wonderful-gut answer to prayer!

  Chapter 13

  The warm reception from Maryanna Esh surprised Jodi, as did Sarah’s show of affection. Jodi was led along a flowery path, where a curious menagerie of old children’s shoes had been pushed into the soil and planted with flourishing red, white, and pink petunias. She’d never seen anything like it, though the same could be said for the unfashionable gray dress and black apron on Maryanna. Aside from her outfit, Sarah’s mother was uncommonly pretty, and her blue eyes twinkled when she smiled. Her white net head covering had a distinctive seam down the middle that created the shape of a heart, and its long white ties draped loosely over Maryanna’s shoulders. The woman’s hesitance around a stranger was evident, but relief shone from Maryanna’s clear countenance.

  Delighted exclamations were coming from inside the house even before they set foot on the back porch. Sarah reached up to politely open the screen door for her mother. Another Amishwoman—evidently the sister Maryanna had said was visiting—wore a maroon-colored dress and apron similar to Maryanna’s, and two girls wearing matching green dresses and black aprons rushed out to greet Sarah. The woman scooped up Sarah and kissed both her cheeks, her own face glowing. The older of the two girls clapped her hands repeatedly, grinning and blinking exquisite hazel eyes behind thick glasses.

  A round of quick talk in Deitsch ensued, and Jodi noticed the other Amishwoman touch Sarah’s skirt and shake her head. “Ach . . . nee,” she said, eyeing Jodi as though she realized Jodi was somehow responsible.

  “Mollie, I want you to meet the young woman who found Sarah,” Maryanna Esh told her sister before turning to Jodi. “This is Jodi Winfield.”

  “Hello, Mollie.” Jodi offered her hand.

  “It’s ever so gut to meet ya,” Mollie replied, gripping Jodi’s in a firm welcome. “You just don’t know!”

  “I can imagine how you must feel,” Jodi replied. “Sarah is a precious little girl.”

  Mollie asked how long ago she’d found Sarah, and Jodi was quick to fill in the details, as they were obviously eager to know everything.

  Maryanna invited Jodi to sit at the wooden kitchen table near three windows, and offered her a tall glass of delicious homemade iced tea.

  “We call it meadow tea,” Mollie said, folding her arms and coming to stand right between Maryanna and little Sarah. Mollie looked first at her sister and then at her niece, tears springing up. “Such a reunion, this is!”

  Maryanna bent down and put her arm around Sarah, leading her to the table, where they took seats across from Jodi. “We thank the Lord for bringing our lost lamb home,” Maryanna said in a soft whisper, her voice cracking. She kissed Sarah’s face, and Sarah reached up and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, beginning to cry.

  “Now, Boppli,” Maryanna said, her cap strings getting jumbled in the embrace. Then, glancing at Jodi, she continued speaking in English. “She’s home . . . home, I say! And I’ll never let her out of my sight again.”

  “I knew Gott would lead her back to us,” Mollie said, looking up as three more children came rushing into the kitchen.

  “Well, for pity’s sake! I nearly forgot to tell your sister and brothers the news,” Maryanna said, setting Sarah on the bench and rising at the entrance of the older girl and two boys, who resembled Sarah a great deal. “Must be I’m ever so ferhoodled.”

  Ferhoodled? Jodi had never heard such a charming word.

  The new girl leaned down and kissed the top of Sarah’s head, but the slim towheaded boys hung back—the younger staring at Sarah’s clothing and frowning in what looked like disbelief.

  “Children, I’d like ya to meet Jodi Winfield. She found little Sarah,” said Maryanna, motioning toward Jodi.

  The boys removed their straw hats and held them over their chests. “Hullo,” they said in unison.

  “Denki for bein’ my sister’s angel,” the older girl said, staring now at Jodi. “And ya surely must be, ’cause you’re dressed all in white.” She said something in Deitsch to Sarah, who had a ready response, and they all laughed pleasantly.

  Maryanna quickly translated: “She says, ‘Jodi doesn’t have to wear white to be my angel.’ ”

  Jodi smiled at this, still amazed by their openness, allowing her to be a part of Sarah’s happy homecoming.

  Maryanna introduced her three older children more formally now. “This is Benny, Leda, and Tobias, who sometimes goes by Toby,” she said, indicating each child in turn. “And these two girls here are Mollie’s daughters, my nieces Bertie and Fannie.”

  Eventually, after chattering excitedly with Sarah, the girls scattered to different locations in the kitchen to finish making the noon meal. Meanwhile, the boys replaced their straw hats, though the older boy, Benny, seemed apologetic about needing to return to the barn.

  Sarah scooted off the bench and wandered over to climb into Jodi’s lap, surprising Jodi.

  Maryanna’s jaw dropped, and for a split second, she stared. “Well now, look at this,” she said, finding her voice. “She’s really grown attached to you. And so quickly, too!”

  The poor girl looked content but droopy-eyed. “I wonder if she slept much last night, with all that wandering about after falling out of the buggy,” Maryanna said. As if to punctuate her mother’s comment, Sarah rubbed her eyes with tightly curled fists and yawned.

  Jodi could not comprehend how she’d fallen out the back of the carriage. It was difficult to imagine. She and her sister, Karen, had once ridden in a hay wagon when they were younger, but they’d sat safely in the middle, as far from the edge as they could get. Other children were more daring, sitting with legs dangling over the side, and Jodi recalled being nervous for them at the time.

  Sarah’s mischievous personality was unfolding for her as Jodi pieced together the things Maryanna was saying. It seemed unlikely the average Amish child would connect with an outsider as readily as Sarah had.

  “And she took off her dress, for goodness’ sake. Such a fright she gave me!” Maryanna said to Jodi. “The neighbor and his father found it and brought it to me in the wee hours. She must’ve felt mighty hot for that.” She said something to Sarah in their language and shook her head with obvious disapproval.

  Little Sarah shrugged slightly. Then her eyes blinked shut and she gave a slow, deep sigh as she fell sound asleep, right there in Jodi’s arms.

  Maryanna gave a sympathetic smile, then gently took her from Jodi. “Ach . . . mei Boppli!” She carried her out of the kitchen, presumably to bed.

  “Seems she’s awful t
ired,” Mollie said to Jodi over her shoulder, where she helped her girls tear lettuce for a salad.

  “Might be she’ll sleep through the noon meal.” Fannie glanced at Jodi shyly from her place at the wooden cutting board.

  “She’s gotta sleep sometime,” Bertie noted. She appeared to be having a hard time counting out utensils from the nearby drawer.

  Beginning to feel out of place, Jodi rose, deciding that as soon as Maryanna returned, she would excuse herself and say a proper good-bye. Yet the thought of leaving this homey setting, somewhat reminiscent of Little Women, made her a bit wistful.

  Jodi walked to the back door and scanned the wide, newly mown yard, noticing a latticed area surrounding a well pump, as well as a horse stable and a white gazebo. The size of the trees indicated their advanced age, and she assumed the house was also historic, though very attractive and well kept.

  “Aren’t ya stayin’ for dinner?” Mollie asked, calling her back.

  “Dinner?” Jodi was confused. Dinner was hours away.

  “Round here it’s supper at night and dinner at noon.” Mollie smiled. “And I’m ever so sure Maryanna would want ya to stay and eat with us.”

  Bertie twitched and nodded her head.

  Fannie, on the other hand, continued chopping cucumber, not making eye contact as she added it to the bed of salad.

  Not knowing what to say, Jodi decided to wait until Maryanna returned. “It’s nice of you to suggest it, Mollie. I should probably be heading out, but thank you.”

  Leda grabbed a towel from the counter, wiping her hands, looking Jodi’s way. “You can’t stay?”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “Impose?” Mollie replied. “We can never thank you enough!” Mollie continued, saying she couldn’t imagine life with her niece gone missing. “’Specially with all we’ve been through, losin’ Maryanna’s husband.”