“Brought us some sandwiches and bags of snacks from the convenience store on the highway,” he said as he set a large paper bag on the table near the carafes. “Not a feast, but at this hour it was the only place open. I also stopped by the Nissley place, to see if Ella had found her way home. Julia’s holding up pretty well, but she said she’d leave a note on their door and come to sit with you.”
Although her heart was grateful for the bishop’s kindness, Lydianne’s mind balked at the idea that Jeremiah believed she needed a keeper . . . especially if that keeper was Ella’s adoptive mamm. “I suppose it’s a gut idea for her to keep me company so you can join the search, if you’d like to,” she murmured.
“No sense in both of you gals fretting alone when you could commiserate together,” he agreed with a gentle smile. “I’ll go as soon as we’ve eaten. That way, I’ll know you ate something. We can’t have you falling ill on top of being worn thin from this ordeal, honey.”
Lydianne’s heart wanted so badly to accept Jeremiah’s kindness—not to mention his affection for her. Rather than saying anything to encourage him, however, she dutifully sat down at one of the older scholars’ desks and took a bite of the warm ham and cheese sandwich he’d brought her.
About halfway through their makeshift meal, she heard buggies approaching.
“Still no sign of our girl?” Preacher Ammon asked as he entered the schoolroom.
Lydianne shook her head dejectedly. She let Jeremiah chat with Ammon and Clarence about where to look next, glancing at the clock above the doorway.
Ten-twenty. Far too late for a first-grade girl to be unaccounted for. My little daughter should be snug in bed, secure in her mother’s love—but I failed her. Maybe God has taken her away from me because I obviously can’t take care of her.
She shook her head to free it of this thought, which cut her like barbed wire. Then Julia Nissley came through the door. Instantly, Lydianne rose from the desk to embrace the tearful mother who was raising Ella. Julia clutched her tightly.
“I am so sorry I wasn’t paying attention at recess,” Lydianne sobbed.
“I’m so sorry Ella’s putting you through this,” Julia insisted at the same time. “She should’ve asked you—we’ve tried to tell her—”
As the two of them looked at one another, Lydianne was again amazed by the lack of blame in Julia’s gaze and words—the same acceptance and forgiveness she’d experienced when Tim had joined the search party. These young parents had to feel as worried and frightened as she did, yet they displayed no ill will toward her.
If you knew the truth about Ella—and me—you wouldn’t behave so graciously.
Lydianne busied herself offering coffee as more men came in. She took comfort in the confident way Jeremiah spoke as he directed the groups of men toward areas that hadn’t yet been searched.
When the searchers had left again, Jeremiah hastily finished his sandwich and wadded the sack into a tight, wrinkled ball. “I’m going out there to look for her,” he said wearily. “We can’t give up until we find her, and the more men we have on the lookout, the better our chances are.”
“Well, if anyone has an in with God about where my little girl might be, it would be you, Bishop,” Julia remarked, smiling through her tears. “Our prayers go with you. We have to keep believing she’s found a safe place, or that someone will eventually find her and bring her home.”
Jeremiah nodded. As he stepped out into the unfathomable darkness, Lydianne sensed—no matter what the bishop and Ella’s mamm said—that they were all facing the longest night of their lifetimes.
Chapter Seventeen
As the next hours passed, Jeremiah’s arms grew leaden from holding up the lantern. His legs felt as heavy as concrete columns with the effort of combing the wooded areas behind the schoolyard. The thick trees followed the narrow, winding fork of the river well beyond the city limits of Morning Star, and more than once he stumbled over roots and debris he couldn’t distinguish because the lantern’s glare fooled his tired eyes. He’d started out walking west, covering areas other men had searched earlier—figuring that Ella would’ve kept moving, perhaps in circles, as she became confused in such unfamiliar territory. He’d left Mitch in the pole barn at the school because riding the tall Percheron among the dense trees would’ve been hazardous to both of them.
At least he hadn’t spotted a small, lifeless body floating in the river, or caught on the rugged rocks along the shoreline.
“Ella? Ella, are you here?” he called out every now and again.
To stay awake—to keep from sitting on a stump too long and falling asleep—he prayed out loud whenever he stopped to rest. “If I really do have an in with You, Lord—if it’s Your will that I find Ella,” he said loudly, “then please guide me in the direction I’m supposed to go. I don’t believe You’ll allow Your little lamb to come to harm.”
Jeremiah firmly believed what he said. But as he doubled back to the schoolhouse—twice—and read the deepening despair on the two young women’s faces, he began to wonder. The best he could hope for was that a family in Morning Star had spotted Ella and taken her in for a warm meal.
But wouldn’t they take her home as soon as they found her? Wouldn’t Ella tell them her parents’names and where she lived? Are we missing something, Lord? Looking in all the wrong places?
As the hours plodded by, occasionally punctuated by the calls of other searchers in the distance, Jeremiah had no idea what time it was. Time ceased to matter to him, except that every passing minute represented the potential for Ella to fall and hurt herself, or to meet up with other forms of danger he didn’t want to ponder.
Jeremiah reached a point where he needed to regroup, mentally and physically. His lantern was getting low on kerosene again. After checking in with Lydianne and Julia, he mounted Mitch and rode carefully toward the road, grateful for the streetlights as he passed through town. Spending ten minutes at home to drink a glass of water and grab a quick snack would give him a chance to warm up before he began searching again.
He started up the lane and then stopped Mitch halfway to the house. Pink ribbons of dawn were visible on the horizon, and the air around him took on a serene stillness. The countryside vibrated with a silence only heard along winding, unpaved roads, away from the noise of town—a silence that reverberated within Jeremiah’s soul.
His heart told him to visit his favorite spot on the riverbank, where he so often meditated and received inspiration. Exhausted as he was, he felt an urgent need to sit on his large, flat rock for a few moments to listen to the whisperings of the river and watch the sunrise.
When he’d ridden to the edge of the woods just beyond his stubbly, harvested cornfields, Jeremiah dismounted and left his horse to wait for him. The dawn illuminated the leaves on the maple trees, which were taking on their autumn colors. As he approached his special rock, he sucked in his breath.
There, aglow with the first light of day, a little girl lay curled up asleep.
“Ella!” Jeremiah cried out hoarsely. “Ella, honey, are you all right?”
By the time he’d reached her, she was stirring—and she bolted upright as though she had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten there. She blinked at Jeremiah with sleepy eyes akin to a newborn kitten’s. Her kapp was gone and her blond hair had loosened from its little bun, framing her dirt-smudged face with tendrils of gold that caught the first rays of the sun breaking through the trees.
Scooping her into his arms, Jeremiah hugged her fiercely. “Ella, you’re safe! Thanks be to God,” he said in a voice gone raspy with emotion.
“I got tired, so I took a nap,” she murmured matter-of-factly. “This rock, it was nice and warm from bein’ in the sun all day.”
His eyes widened. “You’ve been here all night? Since yesterday afternoon?” His feet were carrying him toward his horse, even as he focused on the wee angel in his arms.
“I was gettin’ lost, so I stayed right here in one spot where someb
ody would find me,” she replied with a decisive nod. “And here you are, Somebody.”
“And here you are, Ella,” he said with a relieved chuckle. “We’re going to take you back to your mamm and Teacher Lydianne. They’ll be really glad to see you, sweetie.”
His exhaustion forgotten, Jeremiah carefully positioned Ella against his shoulder and mounted Mitch for the ride into town. He wanted to laugh and cry and sing and pray all at once—but he focused on the road to be sure he delivered his precious armload safely to the schoolhouse. As his Percheron clip-clopped along the shoulder of the county highway, staying safely away from the cars, Ella watched their surroundings pass by from over his shoulder.
Jeremiah allowed himself the sheer joy of feeling a child in his arms. She was probably snuggling against him to stay warm in the chill of the dawn, but for a few moments he pretended Ella was his own dear child—because she did resemble his Priscilla. As he turned into the lane leading to the schoolhouse, the autumn sun broke away from the horizon to rise in the sky like a golden beacon behind the simple white building.
“Lydianne! Julia!” he called out as he approached. “Look who’s here!”
When the two women burst through the doorway, little Ella sprang to life. Before he could even stop his horse, she was extending her little arms.
“Mamma! Teacher Lydianne!” she sang out as Jeremiah carefully handed her down to her mother.
Julia rocked her daughter gratefully in her arms for several long seconds, murmuring endearments—until Ella reached for Lydianne. As the girl wrapped her arms around her teacher’s neck, Lydianne burst into tears and clutched her close.
“I—we—were so scared when we couldn’t find you, Ella!” she rasped. “It’s so gut to have you back safe and sound.”
Jeremiah’s heart turned a happy, lopsided somersault and his whole body felt shimmery. Years from now, he knew he’d recall this deeply touching scene as the moment he fell in head-over-heels, no-going-back love with Lydianne Christner.
Then he blinked. Lydianne’s exhausted outpouring was understandable, yet as she continued to embrace Ella, her emotional investment in this child’s welfare struck him as far more than the usual teacher-student relationship.
He sucked in air when he saw Lydianne and Ella nose-to-nose. He told himself his eyes and mind were tired after searching all night, yet he couldn’t miss the startling resemblance . . . the jawlines, the rosy complexions, the tilt of two noses that were identical except for their size.
“Ella, whatever possessed you to take off during recess?” Julia’s crossed arms and no-nonsense tone broke through Jeremiah’s musings. “We’ve talked about this, jah?”
Ella had the presence of mind to compose her answer rather than just blurting it out. “We went outside for recess after it stopped rainin’,” she recalled, “and there was a big, beautiful rainbow in the sky—just like in our story about Noah’s ark!”
Lydianne nipped her lip, nodding as she waited for the rest of Ella’s explanation.
The little girl looked up at the sunlit sky, a sense of wonder lighting her face. “I thought if I followed the rainbow to wherever it touched down, I’d find the ark! Or maybe even see God!” she added in a reverent whisper. “So, I kept on goin’.”
Jeremiah’s breath caught. How could anyone be upset with a little angel who’d embarked upon her journey with such sincere, childlike faith?
“Oh, Ella,” Lydianne murmured, pressing her forehead against the little girl’s. “You do love that story, don’t you? We’ve talked about it so many times, it’s become real to you, jah?”
“But it is real,” Ella insisted solemnly. “God really did make it rain forty days and forty nights, and He really did make the rainbow for Noah when it was safe to come out of the ark with all the animals. The Bible says so.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Jeremiah said as he stroked the little girl’s loose hair back from her face. “I bet your mamm’s ready to take you home now, because it’s been a long night. But before you go . . . did you see God, Ella?”
Her face lit up. “I sorta did! He told me if I got up on that rock, I wouldn’t be lost anymore, coz somebody would come and find me. When I turned around to look for Him, though, He was gone.”
“Oh, He stayed right there with you, child,” Julia reaffirmed as she held out her hand. When Lydianne set Ella down and the girl had clasped her mother’s fingers, Julia gazed purposefully at Jeremiah. “Didn’t I tell you about that in you had with God, Bishop? Denki so much for listening to my suggestion, and for following as the Lord led you to my little girl.”
As Jeremiah watched the two Nissleys get into their buggy, he was filled with awe. It was one thing to study the Scriptures and preach what God put into his head on a Sunday morning, but it was another blessing entirely when one of his flock put God’s promises into everyday action—and then thanked him for it.
“I’d better let our searchers know our lost lamb is back in the fold,” he said as Julia drove toward the road.
Lydianne nodded. “I’ll gather up the carafes and cups so I can drop them back at The Marketplace on my way out. And I’ll leave Jo a note about why I won’t be working today—even though we’re hosting a special Mums and Pumpkins Auction.”
Jeremiah nodded. He observed the relief in Lydianne’s expression, the return of the spring in her step as she entered the schoolhouse.
Tugging on the rope and hearing the loud, clamorous clanging of the cast iron bell in the schoolyard relieved the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders, but the racket didn’t drown out the questions that were buzzing like bees in his mind. It probably wasn’t the right time to bring it up, but he wouldn’t sleep until he’d put his suspicion to rest.
When he entered the schoolroom, Lydianne was stacking mugs on a tray, tidying her back table. Even in her exhaustion she was beautiful, reminiscent of a Madonna in one of those ancient religious paintings he’d seen in magazines.
But appearances could be deceiving. And the right question could reveal quite a lot about why Lydianne Christner remained so emotionally distant, insisting that she couldn’t get involved with a man.
Jeremiah placed his hand on her shoulder, waiting until she looked at him. “This is probably way out of line—and if it is, please forgive me,” he began in a voice tight with concern. There was nothing else to do but ask the question that seemed so obvious as he gazed at the face that was the spitting image of Ella Nissley’s. “Lydianne, are—are you Ella’s mother? Is she the reason you came to Morning Star—the reason you keep your heart locked away?”
Lydianne’s mouth dropped open. The color rushed from her face as she exhaled so forcefully that Jeremiah grabbed her shoulders in case she fell over. When she tried to talk, nothing came out—
And that was all the answer he needed, wasn’t it?
The sound of male voices outside brought Jeremiah back to the present moment. “I’ll go tell the men Ella’s back,” he murmured. “Let’s you and I go home and rest, as well. And then, as your bishop, I hope you’ll talk to me about this matter, Lydianne. Is it all right if I stop by this evening?”
She looked ready to shake her head and bolt away from him. Then, however, her shoulders sagged. She nodded, her eyes closed against the tears that were dribbling down her cheeks. “I—I guess that’s the way it needs to be,” she whispered.
Chapter Eighteen
When Lydianne got home that morning, she collapsed on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Exhausted as she was after her all-night vigil, she knew she’d get no rest as she awaited Jeremiah’s visit—and his condemnation. Her body felt like a shoelace that was knotted so tightly no one could ever untie it.
Her secret was out. She’d never felt so frightened in her life.
Even after Aden had died and she’d learned she was carrying his child, Lydianne had felt a sense of hope buried deep within her soul. She’d had to run away from her judgmental family and everything she’d held dear in her
former life to escape the shame of bearing a child out of wedlock, yet she’d believed she could create a new future for herself. And she had, here in Morning Star.
Now, however, fear filled her soul. She saw only humiliation in her future. She would surely be shunned and lose her job. Then she would have to give up her home, as well, because she couldn’t afford the payments. Why would anyone in the Morning Star church district—especially Bishop Jeremiah and the preachers—ever trust her with their children again? And it was a sure bet that Martin Flaud wouldn’t rehire her at the furniture factory when he learned about the lies she’d told—or at least about the truth she hadn’t revealed when she’d interviewed for the teaching position.
She could already imagine the scornful reproach Deacon Saul would deliver . . . the disdain on Martha Maude’s face when she learned of Lydianne’s sin . . . the harsh Old Testament judgment Preachers Clarence and Ammon would bring down upon her as she confessed before a shocked congregation. Just weeks ago, her best friend, Regina, had been shunned. Lydianne recalled the way folks had turned their heads and refused to accept anything directly from Regina’s hand, because that was standard—if harsh—procedure for an Old Order shunning.
Her integrity was shot. Not even her maidel friends would forgive her.
Glenn will probably be relieved that I shut him down before he got too involved with me. And Jeremiah will feel so . . .
Lydianne began to cry again when she thought about facing the kind, gentle bishop who’d given her every benefit of the doubt. Jeremiah’s disappointment would slice her like a knife. He surely felt betrayed now that he’d figured out why she’d discouraged his affection—a relationship she would’ve welcomed, had she been the honorable, virtuous young woman he’d believed her to be.
But my life here is ruined. Why in God’s name did I ever think I could come to Morning Star—much less take the teaching position—without my love for Ella giving me away?
First Light in Morning Star Page 15