Mr. Stevens nodded toward the vacant chair. “Please be seated, and I’ll explain.”
Jim remained firmly planted in front of the desk with his arms folded.
The lawyer shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Shelby said after thinking it over, she’s not able to part with her son. She’s had him a whole year and has grown quite attached.”
“Then why in thunder was she planning to give him up for adoption?”
“If you wish to hear the rest of the story, then I insist you calm down.”
Jim drew in a deep breath and sank to the chair. “I’m listening.”
“The birth mother and the baby have already bonded, and she feels her son will be better off with her.”
“That’s ridiculous! What can an unwed mother give a child that my wife and I can’t?”
“In a material way, probably nothing, but she does have a mother’s love to offer her son.”
“We would have loved him.” Jim clenched his fingers until they were digging into the palms of his hands. “I own a successful painting business. We could give the boy a good upbringing, and he would lack nothing in the way of material things.”
“I’m sure that’s true, which is exactly why your lawyer should have no trouble finding you another child.”
“So that’s it then? There’s nothing more to be said?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
As Jim stood, a sense of defeat crept into his soul and wrapped itself tightly around his heart. How could he face Linda and tell her they had no son? There would be no grandbaby to show off to his folks in Ohio. The truth was, there might never be.
Without another word, Jim stormed out of the lawyer’s office, slamming the door behind him. When he climbed into his van and drove away, it felt like a fifty-five-gallon drum of paint rested on his shoulders. He headed out of Bel Air, up Interstate 1, and onto Highway 222 toward Pennsylvania, wondering what he could tell Linda that might soften the blow.
He gripped the steering wheel and clenched his teeth. “If there’s a God in heaven, why would He have allowed this to happen?”
Two hours later, when Jim drove into Lancaster County, he was still fuming. “I need to get myself calmed down before I go back to the hotel.” He rolled down his window, but a blast of hot, humid air hit him full in the face.
Snapping on the air conditioner, he turned off the main road and drove aimlessly along the backcountry roads. Over a covered bridge, past several Amish farms, he went farther and farther. A sign nailed to a fence at the end of a driveway caught his attention: HOMEMADE ROOT BEER—$3.00 A GALLON.
He turned in. “Root beer won’t solve my problems, but it might take care of my thirst.”
***
Since Zach was happily crawling around on the clean floor, Naomi decided to tackle the kitchen cupboards. The girls had finished cleaning their bedroom and were downstairs in the cellar gathering canning jars, which would be put to use next week.
Naomi pulled out a step stool and was carrying it to the cupboard when she heard a horn honk.
“Ach! Why now?” She turned toward the door and was about to open it, when Zach let out a howl. Her first thought was to ignore him, but then she remembered her sisters weren’t able to watch the little guy while she waited on the customer.
Scooping Zach and his small quilt into her arms, Naomi grabbed a tissue from her apron pocket and swiped it across his nose. The horn blared again, and she hurried outside.
An English man stood near the picnic table.
“Can I help ya?” she asked, balancing Zach on her hip.
“I was wondering if you have any cold root beer.”
Naomi nodded. “There’s some in the house.”
“Do you sell it by the glass or only in gallon jugs?”
“Just in jugs, but I’d be happy to give you a paper cup if you’re wantin’ to drink some now.”
The man looked awfully tense, but he did return her smile. “Cute baby you’ve got there. Is it a boy or girl?”
“He’s my youngest brother. Just turned one in April.” She plopped Zach in the center of the picnic table, wrapping the quilt around his bare legs. “He weighs a ton, and I’ll sure be glad when he starts walkin’.”
“Do your folks have many children?” the man asked.
“My mother was hit by a car and died when this little guy was only two months old. That left eight kinner—I mean, kids—for my dad to raise.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s too bad about your mother.”
Naomi was about to comment, but a loud shriek caught her attention. “That must be one of my sisters. I’m guessing our crazy goose is chasing one of them again. As soon as I see what’s up, I’ll be right back with your cold root beer.” She dashed off, leaving Zach on the picnic table.
***
Jim waited patiently for the young woman to return with the root beer, the whole time keeping an eye on the diaper-clad boy sitting in the center of the picnic table. At first the child never moved, but after a few minutes, he began to squirm.
“Sit still, little guy, or you might fall,” Jim said.
When the baby grabbed hold of his blanket, scooted to the edge of the table, and tried to climb down, Jim’s heart slammed into his chest. “No, no, little boy. You’d better stay put until your sister gets back.”
The child’s legs dangled precariously over the edge of the table, and Jim knew if he didn’t do something, the kid would fall. He grabbed the boy around the waist and lifted him into his arms.
The baby giggled and kicked his chubby feet as a blob of drool rolled down his chin.
Jim grabbed the edge of the colorful quilt and blotted the boy’s face with it. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” He looked back at the house. Where is that girl, and what could be taking her so long? Does she think I came here to buy root beer or baby-sit her brother?
When the child burrowed his downy head into Jim’s chest, his heart welled with an emotion he’d never felt before. So this is what it feels like for a father to hold his son.
Jim cast another quick glance at the house. All was quiet, and not a soul was in sight. With no thought of the consequences, Jim made an impulsive decision. He whirled around and dashed for the car.
Jerking open the back door, Jim slipped the child into the car seat and buckled him in. He glanced at the house again, and seeing that the coast was clear, he hopped into the driver’s side. He slammed the door, turned on the ignition, then sped out of the yard.
CHAPTER 10
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 co
ld 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.
“Ou
t 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.”
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