Strangers in the Lane

by Virginia Rose Richter

  “Yes. Story-time. Teddy too!” He held up the bear. Miss Tyler took the toy, admired it and returned it to Phillip.

  “Bye.” He winked at her.

  Miss Tyler broke into a big smile and waved goodbye.

  Jessie and Tina stared. They had never seen Miss Tyler like this.

  “The winking seems to be paying off,” whispered Tina.

  “Good morning, Jessica and Kirstina. Better hurry. The program’s about to begin,” cautioned the librarian.

  The girls scurried past the tall desk and made their way to the children’s section.

  Parents and their offspring crowded the room. The smell of wet wool mittens—drying on the radiators—filled the air. Rows of tiny boots sat in puddles of melting snow on throw rugs by the windows. Many of the children and their mothers had been at the baby shower for Tina’s mom the day before. They called and waved to Jessie, Tina and Phillip as they entered the room.

  Small tots milled about—tripping and falling, laughing and crying, and pulling various toys and books out of each other’s hands.

  Tina paled. “Brother,” she moaned.

  “Remember, listen to the adults,” Jessie whispered.

  Phillip became shy and quiet. Jessie unzipped his snowsuit. She listened while the voices around her gossiped and laughed, but she heard nothing except plain old American speech.

  A tall blonde woman in her twenties approached the group. She clapped for attention. “Good morning and welcome. My name is Sylvia Miles and I’m the storyteller today.” She smiled down at a toddler pulling on her jacket. “We have a surprise. A friend of the library will play a short piece on his violin.”

  There he was! Bryce Peterson, the new neighbor, with a violin tucked under his chin. Jessie felt weak.

  He played Brahms’ “Lullaby” and it was the sweetest music Jessie had ever heard. The whole time, he looked only at her.

  Everyone clapped and suddenly he was gone. Behind her, Jessie heard someone with an accent say, “You like music, little von?”

  “What’s the deal, Jessie?” Tina was whispering in her ear. “Do you know that guy?” She gripped Jessie’s arm. “I swear, he was playing that music just for you. Oh…is that your new neighbor? He is so cute!”

  Jessie nodded at Tina and pulled Phillip into her lap. The story was beginning. She tried to think. How can I concentrate on this baby monitor mystery when my head’s filled with some boy?

  Then she remembered the foreign voice. She twisted around and looked behind her. She spotted a woman in a flowered scarf. Was she the voice? Or the lady next to that swarthy man? I don’t know them. But everyone was quiet now—listening to the story. I’m such a crummy detective. She laid her cheek against Phillip’s curls and daydreamed about Bryce Peterson.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  With story-time over, Jessie pulled the sled past shops bordering the Town Square and told Tina what she had heard.

  “There was a foreign accent in the crowd at the library, but I didn’t pick up on it fast enough.” Jessie stopped and fastened Phillip’s hat.

  “Did it sound like the one on the monitor?” Tina took the pull rope from Jessie. “Was it the same woman’s voice?”

  Jessie shrugged. “It could have been. There aren’t many accents around Fairfield, except Swedish. But it didn’t sound Swedish. More…maybe German.”

  Bryce Peterson was passing them on the sidewalk. “Hi!”

  “Oh, hi.” Jessie felt her face get hot—even though it was freezing outside. “Uh…this is Tina Adams.”

  “I liked your music,” Tina said. “How’d the library people know you played the violin?”

  “My dad and Miss Tyler are old friends. She asked me to play.” He leaned toward the sled. “Hi, Phillip. Remember me?”

  Phillip clutched Teddy and said, “Big dog!”

  Jessie was silent. Oh, fine. Tina talks away and I can’t think of a thing to say.

  “See you later. Nice meeting you, Tina. Bye, Phillip.” Bryce waved at the child and moved ahead of them—down the street. Then he turned and walked backwards. “Bye, Jessie.”

  She smiled. That’s all she could manage before he disappeared around a corner.

  “Brother. You’ve got it bad!” laughed Tina. “I’ve never seen you speechless before.” She turned around and walked backward, still pulling the sled. “But I have to admit, he’s very cute and has really nice manners.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” moaned Jessie. “He probably thinks I’m a total loser.”

  “I’ve read about this,” said Tina. “It’s called a ‘crush’.”

  “No way. Not me. I have work to do. I have to solve this mystery. I don’t have time for boys—even cute boys with beautiful eyes who play the violin. I love the sound of a violin.”

  “Relax.” Tina faced forward again and handed Jessie the pull rope. “Your parents won’t let you go out with boys anyway.”

  “Jessie! Tina!” squealed Phillip. He was standing up in the sled pointing at a shop window display.

  “What? What? Sit down and tell me what you see.” Jessie steadied him and eased him back to a sitting position.

  “Look! Boots! Lights! Please, Jessie.”

  Jessie walked up to the window and examined the red rubber boots behind the glass. They were rocking back and forth as if someone were walking in them. Each time the heel or toe touched the ground, little lights lit up.

  Phillip was laughing and pointing now and a small crowd was gathering. People were smiling and chuckling at the excited little boy.

  Jessie lifted Phillip out of the sled. “Let’s go inside and take a look.”

  The store owner, Mr. Zador, smiled when the three entered the shop. “Well, well. What can I do for you?”

  “Phillip loves those boots in the window. Do you have them in small sizes?” Jessie unsnapped Phillip’s cap, removed it from his head and smoothed his ruffled hair.

  “Yes, we do. Let’s try them on,” said Mr. Zador. “They happen to be on sale for half-price—ten dollars.”

  The smallest size fit Phillip. Jessie had six dollars of her babysitting money and Tina had some money left from her allowance.

  “I’ll pay you back,” Jessie said.

  Phillip strutted out of the store wearing his new boots. Every step he took made the lights twinkle. He walked home.

  Her mother was not thrilled with the boots. “He’s got a perfectly good pair of boots and these look a little glitzy, don’t you think, Jess? Besides, it took all of your money and Tina’s too.”

  “You had to be there, Mom. There was no way we were going to get past that store without buying those boots.”

  He wore them all the time and cried when he couldn’t sleep in them. Jessie put them by his crib where he could see them and she sat in the rocking chair until he fell asleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, Sunday, Jessie and Tina took Phillip to the nursery at Tina’s church. The woman in charge seemed delighted when they volunteered to help with the children.

  When the parents picked up their offspring, the girls watched and listened. No foreign accents.

  “This plan isn’t working very well, Jessie. Maybe we should try something different. Why doesn’t the ‘Accent Woman’ ever show up in public?” They were walking to Tina’s house. Tina’s mom was having a meeting and some of the people were bringing their little kids. This time the girls would be paid for “sitting.” Phillip marched between them, admiring his boots.

  When the meeting ended, Jessie looked out the window and saw a storm was brewing. The sky was black and bare trees bent in the wind. She hurried Phillip into his snowsuit, fastened his hat and pulled on his mittens. “Come on, Phillip. We’d better get home.”

  “You want my mom to drive you?” Tina had opened the front door and was eyeing the black clouds.

  “No thanks,” Jessie said. “We’ll run through the yards by the fields so we don’t slip on the sidewalk.”

  Phillip’s boots tw
inkled as they walked down the Adams’ front steps.

  Five minutes later, the whole world changed. Jessie studied the horizon. Flat gray clouds hung low to the ground. “Hurry, Phillip.” She wanted to run, but didn’t want to scare him. She gripped his hand and gently pulled him along.

  Now sleet began to swirl down and sting their faces. Tree limbs snapped in the wind and fell into snowy yards.

  “Jessie! Look. Here, puppy!” Phillip’s voice was muffled in the roar.

  She didn’t answer or look down, but just kept moving. The wind howled. Snow blasted down and dimmed her vision. She felt like she was pushing against a wall. Her red scarf unwound from her neck and shot up into the air. She lunged to grab it, but it was gone. When she reached for Phillip’s hand again, he wasn’t there.

  “PHILLIP!” The snow was thick and whirling. On the edge of a cornfield, she saw a single red flash—his boot. Her stomach tightened. Jessie started to run. In a clear spot, she saw a dog fleeing through the dead cornhusks. “PHILLIP!” she screamed. Her voice was lost in the wailing of the wind. Now it was so cold. Oh, no. Oh, no. Please, please let me find him. She wanted to stop and get sick. Please! “PHILLIP!” For a brief second, the blizzard calmed and she heard him cry—a desperate cry, “Jessie—Mama.” Then it was gone.

  Weeping, Jessie dropped flat on her stomach and peered through the stalks. Wind and sleet tore at her hair and neck. Her hat was gone, her scarf blown away.

  Jessie willed herself to be still. Then she saw it—a red boot. Half crouching, she ran toward it. She started to breathe and her stomach relaxed. But when she grabbed the boot, it was empty.

  Sobbing now, Jessie threw herself on the ground again, waited and looked. She saw a tiny flash. Don’t lose your boot, Phillip. Please, please. She crammed the empty boot into her jacket and ran toward the twinkle.

  He was on the ground, his little foot bare to the cold. Jessie fell down by him and pulled him into her lap. While she rubbed his foot, she eased on the boot from her jacket. He was quiet. Too quiet.

  “Oh, please be all right, Phillip.” His hat was missing. She yanked off her jacket and wool sweater and wrapped the sweater around his head, leaving a space for him to breathe, and tied the sleeves at the back of his neck. His mittens were gone. Jessie slipped her gloves over his cold hands. Then, she pulled on her jacket, picked him up and ran toward lights at the edge of the field.

  Her mom was standing there—the car’s high beams trained on the cornfield.

  Jessie stumbled from the field.

  Her mother ran to them and took Phillip from Jessie. “Oh, thank God! Quick—get in the car. It’s warm.”

  Jessie didn’t remember ever crying like this. Phillip sat snuggled in Jessie’s lap, hiccupping against her shoulder. She looked at her mother. She was crying too. Sobs were the only sound in the car except the engine running and wiper blades moving back and forth.

  “Mama. I saw a puppy. My boot falled off.”

  “Oh, Mom—those boots. They saved him. I couldn’t see him, but I saw the boots.”

  “Thank God for those boots,” sobbed her mother. She put the car in gear. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  No one blamed Jessie for what had happened that day in the cornfield. Grownups in Fairfield were familiar with just such a storm coming on them. People learned to dress warmly and stay on the sidewalks on cold winter days.

  For a child, being lost in a cornfield during a swirling snowstorm was like becoming disoriented in a forest.

  Dr. Adams came to the Hanson home and checked on Phillip’s foot. He said it looked nice and pink. Phillip relived the bad moments over and over.

  “Let him talk,” Dr. Adams cautioned. “Be sympathetic—even if he repeats it a hundred times. It’s the best therapy.”

  Jessie was worn out. She lay in bed with the covers up to her chin.

  Her father sat in a chair by her side. He said he just wanted to keep her company. They didn’t talk much. She would doze off while he read by her lamp. At times, she would wake with a start and be glad he was there.

  The next morning, she heard Phillip. “Puppy—Mama. Run—run.” He was banging with his little hammer. The noise stopped. “Teddy—need—a—hug?”

  He sounded like himself. Cheerful. She turned her face into her pillow and wept tears of relief.

  Her dad roused in the chair next to her. He moved to the bed and put his arms around her. “What happened was a terrible thing, Jess. But you made things turn out fine. Mom and I are proud of you.”

  “I shouldn’t have gone out in it,” she said. “I should have called Mom or let Mrs. Adams drive us home.”

  “Every day, I hear my clients doing just what you’re doing—going over and over what they should have done,” said her dad. He was talking about his law practice. He pulled up her pillows and gently turned her face to him. “But, you know what?”

  Jessie looked into his face—at his kind blue eyes and easy smile. “No. What?”

  He dried her eyes. “Once you’ve figured out where you went wrong, you don’t have to keep going over it. Once you know…”

  “Once I know?”

  “Yes, once you know that you should get a ride or stay where you are when a storm’s coming, that’s what you learned from this.”

  “What if people say, ‘You should have done this or why didn’t you do that’”? asked Jessie.

  “Doesn’t matter. You already know those things. Just be polite and say ‘thanks’. Don’t explain or defend yourself. You don’t need to do that.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I smell breakfast. Put on your robe and let’s eat. You missed dinner last night.”

  The day after the storm, Jessie’s mother decided Jessie should stay home from school and rest. In the afternoon, she sat in her window seat and read. The sun was warm and she felt drowsy. The doorbell rang. She heard her mother talking to someone downstairs. A few minutes later, her mom appeared at her bedroom door. She wore her down parka. In one hand she held a plate of cookies and in the other, the baby monitor. She set the cookies by Jessie. “Carol Marshall brought these. She’s so glad you and Phillip are okay.”

  “Mom, how’d you know we were in the cornfield? How’d you know to shine the car lights right there?”

  “It was so strange, Jessie. I saw this thing waving in the wind—stuck on a tree branch. As I drove closer, I could see it was your red scarf. I was getting out to look at it when you ran out of the field with Phillip.”

  “My scarf! I lost it. It blew away.” Jessie started to cry. “We’re lucky, Mom.”

  Her mother hugged her. “We are lucky!” She picked up a blanket, tucked it around Jessie and dried her tears with a tissue.

  Jessie managed a smile. “Going somewhere?”

  “I have to do some errands. Will you keep the monitor with you? Phillip’s still asleep.”

  “Sure. Ymm—frosted cookies.”

  Her mother left. Jessie leaned on the window seat pillows and looked out on Willow Lane. Fluffy white clouds floated across a bright blue sky. What a difference a day makes, she thought. I wonder what Bryce Peterson is doing. She drifted off in a half-sleep.

  From the baby monitor, she heard Phillip shift in his crib.

  “Okay. Thursday for sure.” A man’s voice. Almost a whisper.

  Jessie jerked awake and jumped to her feet. The cookies slipped from the plate and fell on the floor. Her heart was pounding.

  “Is a safe time?” said a woman’s voice. There was that accent again.

  “Yeah. Three o’clock. Business is slow then. I’ve been watching. She’s alone on Thursdays. It looks like good stuff.”

  “Not to hurt her?” said the woman. Her voice sounded shaky.

  “I’m not promising anything.”

  “But…” her voice faded.

  “Ted—dy! Wake—up!” Phillip was awake and the strange voices were gone.


  CHAPTER SIX

  Jessie tried to think. She pulled a sheet of paper from her desk drawer. Her hand shook as she wrote down what she’d heard. Don’t lose your nerve now, she told herself.

  “I’m back.”

  Jessie jumped.

  Her mom stood in the doorway. “What do you think about going shopping? It’s beautiful outside. We can walk around the Square and maybe get that outfit you like at Bennet’s. Dad’s at the office. We can meet him and eat at the café.”

  It sounded good to Jessie. This would be the time to tell her parents what she’d heard over the baby monitor. The whole thing was getting too serious for kid detectives.

  In the car, with Phillip strapped in his car seat eating raisins, Jessie told her mom about the voices on the monitor and the plan for an apparent robbery.

  Her mother listened intently. After she parked the car, she said, “I’m glad you told me what’s going on. You realize we have to talk to the police.”

  They helped Phillip out of his seat and each took one of his hands. His feet twinkled as he walked. People smiled and waved. By now, everyone in Fairfield seemed to know the story of the flashing red boots and the cornfield.

  They came to a building across from the courthouse. A glass globe above the door read “POLICE.”

  “Is Detective Benson in?” her mother asked the sergeant at the front desk.

  “Sure enough.” He pointed to a little room by the entrance. “Have a seat.”

  Jessie and her mom sat on folding chairs at a dented metal table littered with half-filled coffee mugs. Phillip ran to the window and on tiptoes peeked over the sill.

  The Hanson family knew Detective Benson from his investigation of a case the previous year. He hurried into the room and greeted them with a big smile. He was short and burly with a gray crew cut and blue eyes. He wore jeans and a tweed jacket.

  “Well, Lars,” said Jessie’s mom. “We seem to have a problem. I’ll let Jessie explain.” She lifted Phillip onto her lap. “She just told me about it a few minutes ago. We decided to come directly to you.”