A Mother's Heart Stopped

         While adults stood in small groups visiting in the church yard, children ran and played across the grass that ended at the edge of the forest surrounding the country church.

         "Mrs. Rosson, can Betsy and Timmy come play with us?" the eleven-year-old daughter of Marty's neighbor asked.

         Marty looked at her. "I don't know, Missy. They're both rather young to be playing with you and your friends."

         "Oh, please, Mommy, we'll stay with Missy," Betsy begged as hard as only a four-year-old can. "I promise."

         "Me, too, Mommy." Timmy added, his dimples showing. "I want to play."

         "Please, Mrs. Rosson, I'll watch them both very closely."

         "Well, I guess, but only for a few minutes. We need to leave soon."

         Grabbing a hand of each child, Missy ran with them to where the other children played.

         "Marty, you worry too much. They'll be just fine with Missy," shaking her head, Clara Johnson admonished her friend. "Now, enjoy a few minutes without having to worry what Timmy is getting into."

         Laughing softly, Marty had to agree that the two-year-old was a handful, "Yes, there is that."

         Marty and Clara wandered toward the side of the church, saying hello to friends and acquaintances as they walked. Just as Marty reached the fringes of the cluster of youngsters, Betsy broke through the ring, tears flowing down her face.

         "Betsy, what's wrong?" Marty knelt to hug her daughter.

         "Mommy, Timmy's gone." Betsy sobbed into her mother's shoulder.

         Marty's heart seemed to stop. "What do you mean, Timmy's gone?" Her mind screamed, No, no, Timmy can't really be gone!

         "I'm sorry, Mrs. Rosson, I just looked away for a minute. We've looked everywhere." Missy's words stumbled over each other as she hurried to say everything she had to say. "We can't find him. I'm sorry, Mrs. Rosson."

         Standing slowly, one hand still holding Betsy's, Marty stared at the young girl while everything slowed and her mind froze in confusion. "I don't understand. How could you lose my little boy?"

         The rest of the children and young teens gathered around Marty, all talking at once. She turned wide, frightened eyes to the other woman, who wrapped one arm around her.

         "Missy, go get your parents, please," Clara ordered. "Roger, go tell the other adults we have to set up a search party. Jake, go ask your dad to call the sheriff's office and report a missing child." Clara took Betsy's other hand. "Come on, Betsy, let's take your mother into the church so she can sit down."

         "I...I don't want to sit down. I have to... to look for Timmy." Her voice broke. "Oh, dear God, please, my baby..." Staggering, she stumbled toward the forest edge.

         Clara grabbed one of her friend's arms, pulling her around. "Marty, we need to call Jack."

         "Jack... Jack will go crazy."

         "Probably not, he's a professional. Now, come with me."

         Marty sat huddled in a pew, her daughter beside her. The sheriff's deputies arrived, setting up a search center at the back of the church.

         "Marty?"

         Marty lifted tear-filled eyes to meet her husband's. He lifted her and folded her in his arms. "Tell me what happened, honey."

         "I let Missy take the kids to play with the others. I shouldn't have."

         "And?" His strong, soothing hand brushed her hair back from her wet face. "Come on, tell me the rest."

         "The kids all say he was with them one minute and then gone. My baby's gone."

         "We'll find him, honey. I called Mom, and she's on the way. Sit here while I talk to Betsy."

         Marty watched her husband kneel to speak to their daughter. He questioned her gently. Marty wondered at his calmness, but his gentleness didn't surprise her.

         Maybe he can stay controlled because he works with children disappearing so often. Dressed in his regular detective's uniform of dark suit, white dress shirt, and conservative tie, his clothing even appeared serene. If he hadn't been on duty, he would have been at church with them.

         After hugging his daughter, Jack scooted into the pew beside Marty. "I think Betsy needs us with her until Mom comes." His sigh brushed her cheek as he gathered his wife into his arms.

         "You're not as unaffected as you appear, are you?" Marty pulled back to see the strain showing around his eyes.

         "No, honey, I'm hardly unaffected. I'm scared half to death."

         "Daddy, are you mad at me?" Betsy's quiet voice interrupted. "Mommy is."

         Turning to her daughter, Marty scooped her into trembling arms. "Oh, sweetie, I'm not mad at you. Neither is Daddy. We're just worried about Timmy."

         "Then why can't I help find Timmy? I know I could help find him."

         "Sweetheart, the forest isn't a good place for you." Jack kissed Betsy's forehead. "You can help by going with Grandma and praying."

         "Well, I bet King could find him." The little girl nodded decisively. "King can always find Timmy."

         Jack jumped from the pew. "Of course, why didn't I think of that?" He strode down the aisle to the back where the sheriff and two deputies stood around a table with a map of the area.

         When Jack's mother arrived to take Betsy home, a police car, siren's blaring and Jack in the seat beside the driver, left for the Rosson home. Hearing that King would be helping with the search, the elder Mrs. Rosson briefly smiled.

         "You will keep me informed, won't you?" she asked her daughter-in-law.

         Giving the older woman a hug, Marty told her, "Of course I will. I'll check in every hour or so."

         By the time Jack returned with the German shepherd Timmy called "Ting," Marty felt ready to scream. When the dog jumped from the back seat of the car, he pulled Jack, who held the leash, to Marty's side.

         She knelt to wrap her arms around the dog's neck. The dog's black, wet nose pushed at her head laying against him. When she raised it to look at him, he cocked his head and gave a soft "woof." Marty sat back on her heels. "You know what I want you to do, don't you, boy? Go find Timmy."

          With a loud bark, King started sniffing the ground. Jack trotted to keep up as they circled the area several times before entering the trees.

         "Marty, don't you think you should come inside?" Clara asked after several minutes. "At least come sit on the steps, rather than on the ground."

         "I guess I could do that." Pushing herself off the ground, Marty stumbled to the church, collapsing on the top step.

         Hours seemed to pass before Jack walked from the trees, a bundle of boy in his arms. King bounded alongside, the leash dragging on the ground. Marty jumped from her seat, racing toward her husband and child.

         "Is he hurt? Is he all right?" Her questions echoed across the grass as she ran.

         "He's fine, just a bit scuffed," Jack called to her. Lowering his head, he whispered, "Tell your mother you're all right."

         Timmy raised his head. "I okay, Mommy!"

         Throwing her arms around both her son and his father, Marty buried her face against Jack's chest. "Thank God! Thank God! My heart can start beating again."