The Lost and Found

Chapter 5 - Frustrating Riddles

At the table Sandra kept stealing glances at John between the small talk made by the farm's occupants. James rambled on about how the pigs had gotten out again, while Mark complained about the goats getting into his garden and eating the lettuce. Amanda flitted her eyes at Matthew as he made mention of the wonderful meal she had prepared for them. Mary was missing from the table, though no one else seemed to notice. John remembered how tired she had looked at the last meal, and he suddenly felt worried for her. Something stabbed at his heart as if he had always known the little girl.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked, getting the farmer's attention. "Where is Mary?"

His kind eyes misted at the mention of her name. He put a hand on John's shoulder. "Waiting for you, my son."

Confused, John rose from the table. "Where can I find her?"

"Follow the sound of her heartbeat." The old man returned to his meal. John wanted to argue against such nonsense but was silenced by the sound of a faint heartbeat in the distance. It beat quietly, yet he could hear it over the undying dinner conversation.

The others didn't seem to notice the heartbeat at all. He got the attention of the farmer's wife, who simply lifted her eyes to the stairs. John went to the stairs, looking back at the farmer's wife for a nod of confirmation before climbing them. The others continued their meal without even noticing.

He came to the top of the stairs and found Mary's door left slightly ajar. The heartbeat grew louder as he grew closer. Gently pushing the door open, he found Mary lying in her bed. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked frail and weak. Beside her bed lay a Bible much like the one in his room. He pulled a chair close to her bed and sat near her. For several moments he simply watched her breathe. She was so young. How did she get here? He felt his heart break for her as he gently ran his fingers through her hair. He sensed the farmer standing behind him.

"What's wrong with her?" John asked. "Why can't you help her like you helped me?"

"I cannot force help upon those who do not want it."

"Why not? Can't you see she is sick?"

"Sadly, it is her choice." Old Sam sat on the edge of Mary's bed, laying a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "She does not wish to be well."

"What did she mean when she said she had waited a long time for me?"

"She's been here awhile—longer than any other, in fact. She always knew a deliverer would come."

"What made her think I was her deliverer?"

"We all have been called to serve others. It's our job to seek after what is lost."

"But I don't even know her. How could I seek after someone I do not know?"

"Seek after what is lost and all will be known. Your heart knows her better than most."

"I don't understand." He felt a wave of emotion hit from somewhere in the past. "Will she be all right?" The feeling of losing someone close flooded his heart, though he couldn't recall who it was he had lost.

"That's up to her... and you."

"Me? What can I do?"

"Seek the lost."

"You've said that," he spouted impatiently. "I don't understand."

"You will, son. You will."

John turned his face toward the old man, only to find him gone. He was alone in Mary's room. He held her hand for a moment or two to pray for her.

The cedar chest at the foot of Mary's bed caught the attention of his peripheral vision. Intrigued by some desire to know what the old man was hinting at, he went and knelt before the chest. It held the same intricate detail as the one in his room, though it bore no name. He opened it slowly, hoping to find some explanation to Mary's claim. Inside he found very little except a copy of Dr. Seuss's storybook, Green Eggs and Ham. A note written on the inside cover read, "To my precious Mary LouRae Stanton, 5th birthday. Love, Mom." Beneath the inscription was a family portrait of a man, his wife and what appeared to be twin daughters. The girls looked to be about six or seven in the picture. They looked just like Mary, but the date on the back of the portrait read 1981. That would put these girls into their thirties. Maybe one of the twins was her mother.

He found another picture of the twins dated 1984. They were posed in front of a cake bearing ten candles. He found a birthday card from the same year and a small locket with their pictures inside it. Suddenly he remembered the picture of the girl in his chest and how similar she looked to these girls. 'Odd,' he thought. One of the twins had the same brown eyes as Mary, the other had green eyes.

He picked up a newspaper clipping that had been tucked under the book. Many of the words had been smeared, making it nearly impossible to read. The headline read, "Accident claims a mother's life," but he could read no details. Returning the book to its place, he closed the chest. Looking at Mary's pale face placed a burden on his heart he didn't understand. He had no idea who this little girl was or how she was tied to him, but he knew he had to find out if he was going to be able to save her.

John joined the others in the den for the reading. The old man's voice was calm and soothing as he read:

Then he said: A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the portion of goods that fall to me.' So he divided to them his livelihood. And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, journeyed to a far country, and there wasted his possessions with prodigal living. But when he had spent all, there arose a severe famine in the land, and he began to be in want.

His eyes panned the room but the only set of eyes that were on him was John's.

James sat with his legs crossed and eyes closed. Amanda and Matthew were ogling each other. Mark sketched in his book, the farmer's wife crocheted, and Sarah dusted. John listened intently as if it were the first time he heard the story. Sandra rested her head on his shoulder; her slow, steady breathing told him she was asleep.

Satisfied, the farmer returned to the story:

But when he came to himself, he said, 'How many of my father's hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.' And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him."

Again the farmer panned the room. "Someone is waiting for you to come home," he said as he rose. "Each of you."

The others stared into his face, but none seemed to acknowledge his words. The statement hit John in the chest with a sudden pang of remorse. Was he running from someone? Who? The farmer simply gathered up his Book and left the room, silent; his blue eyes, though misted over, pierced John's soul.

Be patient. I still need you, my boy. That voice! I know that voice. No one else seemed to have heard it.

Sarah was the first to break the silence after the farmer left. "Well, time for chores, now. Go on about your business and let me to mine."

Everyone filed out of the room to do their respective chores except the farmer's wife, who simply continued her crocheting. Again, there would be no questions answered; they would have to wait awhile longer. Frustrated, John left with Sandra to tend to his chores.

A/N:  Welp, that's it for this one here.  I hope you've enjoyed this snippit and I sincerely hope you will purchase the published version to see how it ends.  I hope it has piqued your curiosity.