Guardian, the Read online

  Once the boys and Leda had gone to the barn, Maryanna carried the dishes to the sink, thinking ahead to the long day. She felt rather lifeless knowing she must redd up the kitchen, mow the backyard, and finish up her orders in the greenhouse for a list of customers. They’ll understand if I’m not ready . . . if I’m unable.

  Sighing, she recognized again how a person’s sudden absence could completely drain a day of its significance. It was all she could do to plod out to the little wooden shed and get the push mower. But soon, several Amish neighbors dropped by and mowed for her, as well as did other chores, not wanting her to be alone, for which she was so thankful. And as they worked, Maryanna fretted about her responsibility as a mother. She blamed herself—there was no getting around it. She should’ve insisted on Sarah coming up front and sitting with her last evening. Am I really that lenient with my youngest?

  Maryanna glanced over at the Peachey farmhouse, a cornfield away, remembering sharing favorite dessert recipes, such as blueberry crunch cake, with Josh’s petite wife. Oh, the glow of love in Suzanne’s eyes when she’d confided in Maryanna that she was expecting their first baby. Maryanna also recalled the school board deciding to flunk Josh and make him take his eighth and final year over again, all because he’d slipped away to hunt or fish rather than attend the one-room school down the way. Being the oldest in the school and two years older than Maryanna, Josh was expected to be an example. But when he got caught playing hooky, he’d always tell the teacher he loved God’s creation more than book learning “any ol’ day.”

  Of course eventually he settled down and joined church, becoming downright responsible before he married lovely Suzanne.

  Maryanna went indoors and washed her perspiring face, then headed out to the greenhouse, where she gathered up the necessary potting tools with help from her Amish friends, who’d congregated at the farmhouse, as was their way. Reaching for the trowel, she noticed for the first time the marks in her left palm, where she’d clutched Sarah’s hairpins much too hard.

  Trembling anew, Maryanna stopped to pray as sunshine splintered through the east-facing windows of the greenhouse. Lord in heaven, hear the cry of my broken heart. Will you bring little Sarah back to me?

  Chapter 7

  Well into the fifth mile of her morning run, just past the sign for Old Leacock Road, Jodi’s cell phone vibrated on her waistband. She groaned but kept jogging as she reached to unclamp the phone. She checked to see who the caller might be.

  I have to get this. She moved to the shoulder, running more slowly now. “Hey, Mom!”

  “Hi, Jodi—you sound out of breath.”

  “I’m jogging.” She laughed.

  “I won’t keep you, honey. Just thought you should know that Trent’s father ran into us yesterday. Such a wonderful Christian man.” Her mother proceeded to tell Jodi that her fiancé was going to Japan to teach English for a year, as if Jodi didn’t know.

  Jodi felt a stab of guilt. “I’d planned to tell you and Dad. Things just got away from me.”

  “We know you’re busy.”

  “Mostly with training for the half marathon. But I am enjoying the scenic farmland here.” Jodi described the great swath of earth to the south that rose up in the near distance to what the locals called Grasshopper Level. “You should come to Lancaster County sometime, Mom. I think you and Dad would like it.”

  A short pause. Then her mother said, “I’m sure we would, but we’re just swamped right now. Too busy, I think.”

  Jodi knew that was true. Her parents had thrown themselves into outreach ministry after Karen’s death, their days of pew warming over.

  “Well, maybe just keep it in mind.”

  Mom sighed into the phone. “I’m not putting you off, it’s just that—”

  “Don’t worry, Mom.”

  “There’s so little time during the summer,” her mother said. “We have a lot of catching up to do at the rehab center before school starts again. Our free time belongs to God now.”

  Mom’s new motto: Saving the world, one addict at a time.

  Jodi suddenly realized she’d stopped running. “It’s all good, Mom . . . what you and Dad are doing.”

  “You’ll be back in Vermont when?”

  “Actually, I just arrived here the day before yesterday. I have two days less than two weeks to hang out in the garden spot of the world. Not a bad place to house-sit. Oh, and did I tell you they have a cat?”

  “It’d be so wonderful if you could come to New Jersey and help us at the center during your off days this fall.”

  Jodi cringed. Teachers rarely have downtime, she thought, and her parents knew this firsthand. “Weekends, you mean?”

  “Sure, honey. Whatever you can do.” There was a pause before her mom said, “Well, I know you want to get back to your morning run.”

  “Okay, nice to hear from you. Tell Dad I said hi.”

  “Keep in touch, dear.”

  “I’ll text you, okay?”

  Mom laughed. “If you insist.”

  “It’s faster, you know.”

  “That’s fine. We love hearing from you, whatever form it takes. We’re praying for you, honey.”

  There had been a time when Jodi would’ve said, “I’m praying for you, too.” “Be safe,” she replied instead. “I love you.”

  They said good-bye and hung up.

  “Okay, now I’ve totally lost my momentum.” Jodi began to walk briskly. Truthfully, she’d lost her momentum in more ways than one. It wasn’t hard to decipher the real reason for Mom’s call. Since Karen’s death, Mom called more frequently, which was fine. But today it was also obvious she’d wanted to let Jodi know they were on top of things, that she and Dad were in the know about Trent’s plans. Of course, this news should have come directly from Jodi. And why not? Shouldn’t it be a joy to share the details of life with the people you loved?

  Sighing now, Jodi considered the uncomfortable new spiritual gulf between them. While her parents had raised her in a Christian home, their heightened focus these days on living as believers sometimes alarmed her, maybe more so because she’d gone in the opposite direction. In the end, Karen’s untimely passing had affected their lives in very different ways.

  Why wasn’t just attending church enough? She considered the friendly community place of worship they’d attended as a family in New Jersey.

  Jodi headed back toward the north, in the direction of her cousin’s house. Feeling slightly exasperated, Jodi knew her mom meant well; she always had. It was the undercurrent in the conversation, what hadn’t been said today, that troubled Jodi. Both of her parents had spoken to her on multiple occasions about her need “to get things squared away with God,” as her father had most recently put it.

  Dad had taught high school English prior to becoming a department head, then a principal. And Mom was a middle school strings instructor. In fact, every adult in Jodi’s family was involved in some aspect of education, for two solid generations on her father’s side. “Teachers aren’t made, they’re born,” Dad often said with a winning smile. Jodi had always been proud to share in the family profession and delighted in the connection it gave her to her parents. But now . . . well, Dad’s and Mom’s fervent interest in their faith had put a serious wrench in things.

  The sun felt warm on her right shoulder as Jodi steadily found her stride again. She enjoyed various new vistas in all directions—she could see why Paige had referred to the region as “God’s green earth” when she’d been tempting Jodi to stay.

  Jodi ran all the harder, eager to put an end to the numbness she still awakened with every single day. Running not only beat a counseling session, but it was the only time when things seemed almost manageable, as if Jodi had some control over her life. At one time, she might also have said that running was a good time to talk to God, but the last time she did that was the day Karen died, and she no longer remembered exactly what she’d said. She did remember, however, what she’d thought—that if the world were
to stop spinning right then, it would be quite all right with her.

  And if you don’t mind, I’d like to get off.

  Her plea now wasn’t exactly a prayer, but very close.

  ———

  Following a gentle turn in the length of road, Jodi zeroed in on a string of oak trees coming up on the left. From this far away, it looked to her like a small child was playing beneath them. Not thinking much of it, Jodi maintained her speed, enjoying her run now, relishing the breeze as she went. But as she approached the grove of trees, she noticed the youngster wasn’t playing at all but rather curled up like a kitten, fast asleep.

  To Jodi’s surprise, the sleeping girl was wearing only a white undershirt and panties. The sight startled her, and while she hadn’t wanted to stop or slow her pace again, she was helpless not to. Going directly to the side of the road, where tall grass grew and the sunlight sifted through wide green leaves overhead, Jodi stooped near the child, who looked about four years old, if that.

  Certainly a shady spot for a nap, but why here, so near the road?

  Glancing about her in all directions, Jodi scanned for a nearby neighborhood or a playground . . . anything. “So small to be alone,” she whispered.

  Moving closer, Jodi lifted a long strand of matted wheat-colored hair from the tiny tear-streaked face. She’s been crying! There was also a large bruised bump on the girl’s forehead. Jodi felt her heart pounding, and not from exertion.

  A further inspection revealed brush burns on the child’s right elbow and bare foot. Had she fallen? Was she a victim of abuse?

  Jodi crouched low and fumbled for her cell phone. Quickly, she searched the web for a child alert in the Lancaster County area. Turning up nothing, she checked for the entire state, then for the surrounding states, but there had been no such report today or even in the past few days.

  She touched the girl’s wounded arm, her dimpled hand. Her parents must be frantic with worry. . . .

  Jodi quickly dialed the local police station and the phone rang five long rings before she was transferred directly to the voice mail of her cousin, Lieutenant Scott Winfield. Strange, she thought and hung up.

  She decided to call 9-1-1 to report her discovery, knowing she should act quickly. Just as she started to dial, though, the little girl’s eyes fluttered open. Blue as the waves of the sea.

  “Mamma,” the adorable child whispered, big eyes searching hers.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Jodi said, her heart in her voice. “Are you lost?” Jodi inched back slightly, afraid she might startle the child, who was sitting up now. “Where do you live?”

  The little girl started to cry. Sobbing, she whispered, “Mamma . . . Mamma.” With each repeat, she sounded increasingly more forlorn.

  “Please don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you.”

  The tot began to shake all over, her eyes sorrowful beneath thick, long lashes. She lifted her arms to Jodi, as if pleading to be picked up and returned to her family.

  “Come here, honey. Let me take care of you.” Jodi reached for her and gathered her near, carrying her tenderly in both arms, like one might cradle an infant. All the while her heart raced—was she doing the right thing? She must get ahold of her cousin. Scott would know what to do.

  The little one burst into heartbreaking sobs, burying her face in Jodi’s neck.

  “You precious girl.” She formulated a plan, deciding to take the lost child to Scott and Paige’s house, then drive her to the police station. But the house and car were at least a mile away.

  Gently, Jodi carried the terrified child, refusing to tell her not to cry when she obviously had every reason to do so.

  “Mamma,” the little girl whimpered between cries.

  The tender way the name was spoken tore at Jodi’s heart. “I’ll find your Mamma, I promise.”

  Chapter 8

  Jodi 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 naïve.

  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 an
d 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.”