A Little Luck

"The Writer's Cramp - Poetry Week!"  co-winner, 10/15/09

“Come along Sarah. We have to go now.”

I heard a woman’s voice, and as I turned to look, I felt something being shoved into my hand. A small girl of about ten with long blonde hair was hurrying after a tall thin woman in a raincoat. In my hand was a thumbed and well-worn small notebook. I opened my mouth to holler to them, but the woman was already pulling the child through the exit door. For an instant, the little girl turned. Her eyes met mine and one finger touched her lips. I closed my mouth as I looked into those sad, haunted eyes. Then they were gone.

I hurried through the register and paid for my books. Once outside, there was no sign of the woman or the little girl. I walked on to my car and, after settling behind the wheel, I opened the notebook. This is what I read.

"My name is Heather Anderson. I am ten years old, and I live at 422 West Twenty-Third Street, Jamestown, Ohio. I am writing this down so I don’t forget and hoping I find someone to give it to. The woman I am with is not my mother. She came up to me after school one day and told me my mom and dad were in an accident and wanted her to bring me to the hospital. I don’t remember how long it’s been but it seems like many weeks ago. I was scared and I went with her. She didn’t take me to the hospital. She took me to her house but I don’t know where that is. It took a long time. She said my mom and dad were fine and if I wanted them to stay that way I’d better pretend she was my mom. She treats me okay but I miss my mom and dad. She won’t let me go to school even though there is one across the street from where she lives. I look out the window and watch the kids go by when she’s not looking. She buys books and tries to teach me but I want to talk to other kids. I am so lonesome and I miss my mom and dad. I hope I can find someone to give this to who can help me. And I hope she doesn’t find it."

My heart was racing. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911. After explaining what had happened, the operator said a policeman was on the way and for me to stay put. The officer arrived shortly and I handed him the notebook to read.

Even though I’m sure he dealt with tragedy every day, he was affected in much the same way I was. It was a heart-wrenching story. I told him everything I could remember about how they looked. He wrote everything down, took my name, address and phone number, and said he would keep me posted. He gave me his card and left to check with the bookstore clerk for any information they could give him on today’s customers.

I went home, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that little girl, Heather. Now she had a name. I decided to do a little digging on my own. I turned on the computer and googled Jamestown Ohio property appraiser. In the county property appraiser’s site, I entered the property address, 422 West Twenty-Third Street. There were their names, Joseph and Helen Anderson. They were real people.

I couldn’t wait. I called the officer’s number and told him what I had found out. He already knew and even had a picture of Heather for me to look at. He said another officer was speaking with the postman who delivered mail near our school. Luckily, ours was a small town with only one school to look for.

Within hours, Heather and her kidnapper were located. The woman gave police no resistance. Officer Meldon later told me she seemed relieved.

Heather had been held captive for seven weeks. Our small town was only eighty miles from Jamestown. Heather had not been abused and bounced back quickly as only the young can. She and her parents visited me later and since then we have enjoyed many dinners together. We are all very thankful I happened to be in that bookstore that day.