The End of the Rainbow

         Someone decided they wanted to rip out my soul. They found the one way that keeps me alive but leaves me in an empty shell of a body. It's been ten days now since my nine year old daughter Miranda has gone missing. Ten days of agonizing, crying, hoping, screaming and imagining the absolute worst things that she is going through.  I have no idea where she is. I have no idea if she is in pain or if she is even alive. Don't let anyone tell you that a child dying is the worst pain there is, because at least then you know. You can try to deal with the loss and the grief or if you choose, you can end your grief altogether. But when your child is missing, you always have this small, damning hope that you will get them back. You want to face reality and after ten days, the reality is- she's most likely dead. But what if she's not? What if I give up and she is still alive, still waiting for me to find her, to take care of her, to save her. I keep pleading with a God I'm not even sure exists to return her home. I promise him that if he brings her back to me that I really will believe, I will repent, I will do whatever he wants. Then I start to wonder if this is my punishment for not believing all along: if this is Hell, because I can't imagine a worse pain than this. I would gladly lay down my life just to know that she is okay. I would do anything, go anywhere. The thought of having to go through the rest of this earth bound existence not knowing where or how she is makes me want to vomit.

         Miranda told me she wanted to go outside and chase the rainbow. It had been raining earlier with storm clouds gathered all around and it had looked like it was going to continue for the whole day, but then like someone flipping a switch, the sun came out and lit up the world. She had looked out the window at the field in back of our house and seen a brilliant rainbow. She loves to hop in puddles and try to find the 'pot of gold' at the end of every rainbow, so I told her to go out and have fun while I stayed in finishing up my taxes for the year. She asked me to come and play with her, but I was too busy with my adult world problems to join in the rainbow chasing child fantasies. I remember every once in a while looking out the window and seeing her running after a butterfly or some imaginary leprechaun and laughing her silvery, beautiful laugh. Then I looked and she was gone. I wasn't worried though, because I figured she was just out of my line of sight or had run around to the side of the house searching for that ever elusive end of the rainbow.

    It was at this point that I called my friend that was an accountant seeking some free tax advice. I didn't expect to be on the phone long, but tax talk turned into chit chat and by the time I ended the conversation 20 minutes had passed.  This time when I looked out and did not see Miranda I started to get annoyed, because she knew I didn't like her being out front without other kids or adults around. She loves to get on the big wooden swing on the front porch and stare out at the mountains and imagine horses in the clouds or fairies in the trees.  So I stepped out front expecting to scold her for knowing better than to be out there alone, but I couldn't see her anywhere.  Now the annoyance that I had felt earlier turned into a small finger of fear that crept up my spine and tapped on my heart to make it beat faster.
   
      I looked across to the small ranches on either side of ours to see if she was perhaps playing with one of her friends, but the yards were deserted of children. I saw some bikes haphazardly laying in the Burke's yard and an open umbrella that still looked wet over on the Carter's porch.  I went back through the house and out the rear French doors. Now I started calling her name, but there was no answer. I searched the yard and the surrounding trees hoping she was concentrating on watching a lady bug or some other creature and hadn't heard my calls. My search was fruitless and the single finger of fear had now turned into several fingers and was speeding up the tempo they were playing on my heart.

      Of course I still wasn't thinking she was missing. I knew when I called Maria Burke, she would tell me that Miranda and Emma were playing in the kitchen helping her prepare one of her gourmet pastry creations.  Or if I called Ally she would say that all of the kids were in the game room playing ping pong or the latest video game. But when I called both neighbors, I was told that my Miranda was not there and that they hadn't seen her.  The fingers were now a fist beating my heart and digging into my stomach. I desperately searched the house, hoping she had come in without me noticing and was curled up fast asleep not knowing she was causing me to panic.  Again and again I kept coming up empty.  I knew I had to call Sam then.

    With a shaking hand I dialed the number.  I heard the deep baritone voice of my husband and a sob escaped my throat. Sam tried to calm me down so that I could tell him what was wrong, but the only word I could say was Miranda. Instead of trying to get further information out of me, he told me to stay calm and he would be right home.  I waited what seemed like an eternity for Sam to arrive, but in reality he was able to get home in about seven minutes, since he used lights and sirens.

    He skidded into the drive and didn't bother to turn off the car or the lights. He and his partner Alex came bounding up the front steps.  Sam demanded to know if Miranda was hurt or worse, but all I could do was shake my head and tremble. He grabbed me firmly by the shoulders and made me take a breath. Finally I found my voice and told him that our daughter was missing. I let him know about the rainbow and all of the searching I had done. While I was talking to Sam, Alex got through to dispatch and requested help.  Since I was a cop's wife I knew they would issue an Amber Alert and that all available police personnel would come and help search for her. I also knew the statistics that said if the missing child is abducted by a stranger and not found with in the first three hours, they are most likely going to turn up dead if they turn up at all.

    Now ten days have gone by. We have held the press conferences, the candle light vigils, the bake sales. We have pleaded for her safe return and cried on camera. We have endured the looks of pity and horror and the whispers about what bad parents we must be for not keeping a closer eye on our child. The fist of fear has become an all consuming entity that weighs down my entire body. When I sleep my dreams are filled with Miranda. If they are happy dreams, I cry when I wake because I have to go through the realization that she is gone once again. If they are nightmares of finding her too late, I still cry when I wake because I think my dreams are trying to prepare me for what I can't face.  I eat because people are forcing me to, but everything tastes like cardboard and I can only take a few bites at a time, or I feel like I will throw up again. Sam's face has taken on an ashen look and his eyes are always searching, always looking and never finding. I see him shriveling up inside, but I can't comfort him, because I have already shriveled up myself. We cling to each other in the dim lights of our house, but we are two empty vessels and there is no warmth left in our bodies. We go to bed and at some point during the night I pray that the whole world will just end. I pray that the earth will explode and wipe out the human race and all of our suffering. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this, so in some small, tiny corner of my mind I pray the most horrible, selfish prayer, that they find Miranda's body so that this horror will end and I can finally end my life.

    Day eleven comes and it is once again raining. I wander aimlessly around the house staring at everything but seeing nothing. The rain stops and the sun comes out, just like it did the day she disappeared. I look out the window and once again see a rainbow. Somehow this symbol of hope gets through to me and I can actually appreciate the beauty of the pastel colors. I can see Miranda in my mind chasing the rainbow and finding the end. I see her standing bathed in the rays of colorful light smiling and laughing. She is so beautiful. I start to call out to her, but the phone rings and shatters my daydream. Sam has returned to work so it is up to me to pick up the phone.

    "Hello."

    "Is this Sydney Woods?" a woman asks.

    "Yes, this is she."

    "Are you the woman searching for her daughter?"

    My heart skips a beat. I stammer, "Y-y-yes. My daughter Miranda is missing."

    The woman on the other end stifles a sob, "Oh my God!"

    "Oh my God what?"  I scream into the phone. "Oh my God what?? Do you know where she is? Is she ok? What have you done to her?"

    The woman on the other end is openly crying but calms down enough and says "I'm with her and she is ok."

    In the hours that pass we are led back to our precious daughter. The lady that called, Patty Scythe, explained that her sister's daughter had recently died in a car accident and that Miranda bore a striking resemblance to her. Her sister, Carol, had seen Miranda in the store and had become convinced that it was her daughter.  Part of her knew the reality that this was not her daughter, but another part took over and her mothering instincts overwhelmed her perceptions of right and wrong. She had taken to watching her and on the day of the rainbow, she had seen Miranda out front on the porch swing and had called to her with the promise of kittens in her car. Miranda's love of animals won out over her warnings against strangers.  Carol was a nurse and had taken some chloroform from work. She used the chloroform and had gotten Miranda in the car without a struggle. She had kept Miranda locked up for the past ten days, but had never hurt her. Finally, today she had called Patty and begged her to come over to watch her 'daughter' so that she could go to the store. Her sister hadn't heard from her in two weeks, so she had no idea what Carol had done.  When she arrived at Carol's, she realized what had happened, so she let her sister go out shopping and then she heard Miranda's story. That's when she called me.

    My nightmare is now over. Miranda is once again sleeping in her own bed. I can't stand not to have contact with her, so I am lying next to her making sure that I am touching her.  Every few minutes I hold perfectly still so that I can feel the rhythm of her breathing and her heartbeat against my body.  Sam feels the need too and is sitting by her bed softly stroking her foot.  We are not three separate people tonight, but one united soul. The warmth is returning to our bodies and the fist has finally relented its grasp of my heart.  In a strange way I think I understand what Carol did. Her mind could not accept the loss of her only child and it broke her.  I guess I am supposed to hate her, but I don't.  Hot tears course down my face for this woman that took my daughter. I know that she faces endless gray days and an emptiness that can never be filled. Now that Miranda is back my gray days are done and I have finally found the end of the rainbow.