The Narrow Path

by Gail Sattler

  Miranda shook her head. "Not me. I've got a very high metabolism, thanks to my mother. It drives my friends crazy."

  Pastor Jake cleared his throat. "Speaking of the cities and the difference to our little town, how did you enjoy our shopping area? Ted told me he was going to take you there today."

  "It was great. I got some fabulous pictures, and the first thing I'm going to do when I get back to Len and Lois's home is to start knitting myself a nice warm scarf, and hopefully a hat. You've got a wonderful market area. I can see that it's very popular, both with your residents and with people from farther away."

  "Ja. Opening the market area has been very good for us.We are no longer a farm community. Our young people are leaving the farms as machinery can do more and they are doing other things. Some have opened shops and are running businesses, and many of our people work in town instead of on the farms as they did a few generations ago. Others of our young people have gone to the cities to get an education. Some return, but many do not come back because we do not have jobs for them. Ted, he returned to us, and has doubled the size of the furniture factory."

  Her eyes widened, she stopped chewing, and stared at him."Really?"

  Ted did not have fond memories of college. "Many of our people do not come back, but I did not enjoy my time in the cities. There are many evil things there. Alcohol. Illegal drugs.Most people are always in a hurry. Even at the dormitory, where students were supposed to trust each other, there were thieves and people often did not treat each other well."

  "You took a business course, then?"

  "Ja. I took extra classes so I could graduate with all I needed in two years." Which was why he stayed at the dormitory. He wanted his time in the city to be as short as possible. He hated crowds, and the college was always crowded. Starting early and finishing late every day, he got enough extra credits so he could graduate in two years instead of three. Besides that, Onkel Bart needed him back as soon as possible.

  Miranda's eyes narrowed. "You didn't go to a Christian college, did you? I know they would probably be brutal to you."

  "The Christian college was too far away. I made some friends where I went, but we were not together all the time. On campus there was much disrespect."

  "Didn't you go to church on Sundays? Surely there were enough Christians on campus."

  "The service was multi-denominational, including non- Christian faiths. I was not comfortable there. I tried to come home once a month to be with my own people."

  She reached toward him and wrapped her fingers around his hand. "That's too bad, but you did it, and you can be proud of yourself for your accomplishments. I did all my courses for my BA in accounting at an excellent Christian university in Seattle. I was there for four years, and it was a wonderful experience."

  He looked down at her hand, then pulled his out from under hers. "I was not at college to have a wonderful experience.I was there to study and prepare myself to return to take over Onkel Bart's company."

  Kathleen smiled, but yet her smile was sad. "We have found that those who go to Christian universities are the ones who seldom come back. This means we are seeing more and more of our people leave us and not return."

  Miranda nodded. "That's happening all over the country in all small towns. It's expansion and progress. A small town can only support a certain population, and then the town either grows, or people leave so they can find jobs. There's probably only enough work for one or two doctors here. You've only got a small community hospital that would barely be called a clinic in Seattle. I would think there's also only enough work here for one lawyer, and he or she probably wouldn't do many interesting cases. It would be the same for all professionals.There's a limited marketplace in a small town."

  Pastor glanced at his wife, then looked back toward Miranda. "I am not saying it is bad for our people to leave. In these times, often there is no choice. For them, we do our best to make them ready to spread God's word wherever they go.But just as we want to spread God's word into the cities, we wish to do the same here. Our town has many people who are not of our faith, or any faith. We wish to reach these people, and the people in all the towns around who are close enough to join us in worship every Sunday. We do not want to lose our heritage, but at the same time we want to welcome strangers to join our family. To show them God is good. As you learn about our town, and our area, this is what our church wishes for you to think about. How can we bring these people in, but not lose or compromise our heritage? This is why we want to bring many people to celebrate our church's anniversary at the same time as we celebrate Christmas."

  "My Mennonite church in Seattle is very different from yours. I won't say our heritage is lost, but we have made some big adjustments over the years to meld ourselves with life in the fast-paced, big city."

  Ted looked at her. His opinion hadn't changed since he first saw her at the airport. To call the difference "adjustments" was an understatement of monstrous proportions.

  "As long as you are right with God in how you conduct your worship, this is what is important. Just as we are also sure that we are right with God in the way we live and conduct ourselves here." Pastor leaned back in his chair, a position he usually took when he was comfortable and knew his point had been taken and accepted.

  Ted leaned forward. "There is more to living your faith than how you conduct yourself during the Sunday worship service. And what is right for one group of people will not be right for another. We are not willing to compromise ourselves."

  Miranda cleared her throat and set her fork down beside her empty plate. "I know that."

  He waited for her to put her thoughts together and say something. Visiting the museum was a start, but it wasn't much of a local history lesson. She knew nothing of their way of life. They probably hadn't shared a common ancestry for at least three generations.

  Kathleen rose from the table. "Ach, it is time for pie. I hope everyone will have a large piece."

  Miranda smiled graciously. "Yes, I would love a piece of pie. Just not too large. I think, despite my claims, that I ate too much of your good supper."

  Ted did not smile. Today had been a day not just for Miranda to learn more about them. It had also been a day for him to learn about her. What he had learned did not fill him with confidence.

  The church board had withdrawn from him the task of putting together their celebration event because of his inexperience with such a large-scale production. But he at least knew his people, and he knew their boundaries.

  Miranda had the experience, but he didn't know what her boundaries were. Or even if she had any.

  And there was only one way to find out.

  7

  I'm not doing very well," Miranda muttered around the finger in her mouth. The bitter taste of blood made her wince.She pulled her finger out and pressed the injured spot with another finger.

  Betty waved one hand in the air. "Ach, you have never done this before, so you are doing very well. Show everyone your square."

  Miranda had never been afraid to try new things, but here in Betty's living room, among this group of the quietest and most humble women she'd ever met, she felt totally incompetent.

  As she looked around the room, everyone looked back at her. When they saw her obvious hesitation, they all smiled warmly. Even though she participated in many of the ladies' functions at her own church, she'd never experienced anything like this.

  The room was small, at least compared to the homes of her friends, and even her own, in Seattle. It wasn't furnished for feng shui, but rather for function. Every inch of wall space had something pressed against it, mostly for seating, because Betty's home was the meeting place for the weekly quilting circle.It should have been too small for fifteen, and now, including herself, sixteen ladies. Yet these women didn't mind squeezing six of them onto what was supposed to be a couch for four; in fact, they were quite happy. Perhaps because they were so close, it made a closer group for conversation.

  Across the room
from her, four more ladies squeezed onto a worn loveseat. As Miranda was a newcomer, they had insisted that she sit in the armchair, and two ladies sat back to back on the ottoman in front of her. Betty had dragged three chairs from the kitchen, and squeezed them into the living room, supposedly with enough elbow room to do their quilting.

  Moving around was another matter. Every woman had brought her own sewing basket stuffed with fabric scraps and different colors of thread, all with an extra hoop. All the bags were on the floor near their owner's feet. Betty had dragged the coffee table into the center of the room for tea, coffee, and mountains of delectable cookies, buns, cakes, and muffins brought by all the ladies in attendance.

  Miranda should have been embarrassed by the fact that she'd eaten the most while everyone else just nibbled, but between the alluring scent of Lois's fresh-baked cinnamon buns, the close-your-eyes rich smell of Betty's chocolate cake, and Helen's fragrant melt-in-your-mouth chocolate chip cookies, she had a hard time concentrating on sewing. Not that it was a valid excuse.

  Slowly, Miranda held up a square of her alleged quilt.Everyone else had done at least three. She wasn't even halfway through one. Everyone nodded and clucked their approval, even though Miranda had no illusions about the quality of the workmanship, or lack thereof.

  "At home, I made a baby quilt for a friend once," she said as she lowered it into her lap. "I bought a piece of fabric with a picture already on it, put some padding under it, added a back piece, and then I stitched on the lines. It looked really nice." The instructions had been really simple, and it had only taken a few hours. Not a few months. Or a few years, the way she was going with this one.

  The entire room fell silent.

  Miranda lowered her head and did another stitch. A little blood wouldn't matter. This was cotton and washable. By machine, I hope.

  Sarah, who appeared to be the same age as Miranda, was one of the two sitting on the ottoman. She looked up at her and smiled. "I am so glad you came today. I think you are learning very fast, since you say you have never sewed by hand before. Your quilt will be very beautiful when you are done.What kind of sewing machine do you have at home? My mama uses our sewing machine so much that mama and I went into the city with Ted and we bought a new one for me. Now we can both sew at the same time." Sarah lowered her voice so no one heard her except Miranda. "It is very modern."

  She suspected that the modern abilities of Sarah's sewing machine were much different from what she and her friends had at home. "I don't do a lot of sewing, so I don't have a fancy machine, either. Lately all I've used it for is sewing on buttons."

  The room fell silent again.

  Sarah's grandmother, who was seated across the room, gasped. "You sew on buttons with your sewing machine?"

  Miranda lowered her square to the table. "Yes. It's got a special foot for that. I love it, but I do go through a lot of needles."With it, her buttons were always sewn on tightly; they never came off.

  Sarah's eyes widened. "I was so excited when I saw that this sewing machine made buttonholes. I made sure to buy that machine quickly."

  "That's a wonderful feature." Miranda didn't say anything about the computerized sewing machine that her friend owned. It embroidered pre-programmed pictures and even threaded itself.

  "I have decided to get a job with my sewing machine."

  Miranda nearly stabbed herself with the needle again. "A job?" She glanced around at the circle of women, all in various stages of making their quilts. Every stitch by hand. No change from the way it had been done since the 1800s, except they were using commercially produced fabric and thread. "What kind of job?"

  "I will hem pants and skirts, and make the city people's clothes fit them better. It is called alterations. Ted said that since I live near the same street as the shopping area, if I put a sign in front of my house, people will come. Not many at first, but they will."

  "Ted said that?" She nearly choked at the thought of Ted encouraging one of these women to get a job, even if it was in her home. Even more surprising, she couldn't imagine him encouraging a local lady to be in contact with people from the city.

  Sarah nodded. "Ja. Those who come here know that our people are very careful with our work, and they will trust us.He even told me how much money people in the city charge for doing this. He told me to charge a little less, and people will be very happy to come here. Then they can shop while they wait. If it is a small job."

  "Very astute. There's marketing for both the individual and the community." Now that she knew Ted had a business degree, she could appreciate where his ideas were coming from.

  Elsie, whom she'd met initially at the church board meeting, nodded her head enthusiastically. "Ja, our Ted. He also has given jobs to Sarah's brooda and sesta. David and Anna, they work at the factory."

  "That's really nice. Does Anna sew cushions for the chairs?"

  "Ach, no. She talks to people on the phone when they wish to buy furniture, and she puts all the orders into the computer."

  "Really?" Miranda tried to picture a woman dressed like Sarah, in a long dress and the most boring shoes in the world, typing eighteen thousand keystrokes per hour on a computer.She couldn't. She tipped her head at the thought. Sarah and the younger women here were not wearing prayer kapps, even though every woman over the age of forty was. There truly was a move toward modernization in the younger generation here, just as the pastor had said. It was just happening about thirty years behind the times.

  Sarah sighed. "Yes. She sits at the desk next to William, Mary's brooda. I think one day they will get married. If only William would open his eyes."

  When that happened, Miranda wondered which one of them would get home from work first to start making dinner.

  While she didn't know exactly how big this community was yet, she guessed that perhaps up to a third of the church population could work for Ted. Ted was probably responsible for a large portion of the economy here, either as a direct employer, or by encouraging and offering good suggestions to people like Sarah. He'd known everyone they'd spoken to when he escorted her through their shopping district.

  She had badly underestimated Ted, likely because of his uneven speech patterns. He was college-educated, skilled in marketing and administration, and now that she thought about it, he spoke two languages. She knew only one. In the back of her mind, she could hear the lilt of his charming accent.

  She still wasn't sure how to feel about him. Everyone seemed to like him. She couldn't count the times since she had been here that different people had mentioned his name in conversation—always fondly. He was certainly pleasant to talk to, and she had seen hints of a quick wit, if only he would let himself relax.

  Just as Miranda once again took her chances with another stitch in her quilt section, the other ladies began to gather their projects and pack up.

  Lois paused to look up at her. "Our time for today is up. We all must now get home to cook supper."

  Miranda tried to be discreet about checking her wristwatch.It was only two-thirty in the afternoon. Even on a day off, starting to make supper so early would have been the last thing on her mind. However, these ladies all would be cooking something from scratch, including two servings of nutritious vegetables, not merely throwing a pound of ground beef with some Hamburger Helper into the microwave and then adding a sliced raw carrot at the last minute.

  They also had to walk to get where they were going. However, she had come to realize that in this climate, it likely would take longer to warm up a car and scrape windows than it would to walk the four or five blocks home.

  Miranda hadn't been able to go shopping for a new coat yet, but Lois had managed to find an old one she hadn't given away, so for now, Miranda would make do. With the addition of a sweater she was as warm as toast, even though she was so padded she looked and felt like the Pillsbury Dough Girl.

  As she slipped them on, she praised God for her new boots. A few ladies left together while she wrestled with her newly knitted scar
f. Since she hadn't quite finished the hat yet, she wrapped the scarf over the top of her head and under her chin, then around her ears, fastening it in a knot at the back of her head.

  Behind her, Sarah giggled, but Miranda didn't care what she looked like. At home, she would have. Here she would rather be alive and breathing than a dead but fashionable icicle when she got to her destination.

  Over her shoulder, she slung a tote bag that Lois had loaned her, tugged on her gloves, and then rammed her hands into her pockets anyway, following Lois out the door as they made their way back home.

  Her breath came out in a white cloud as she walked, something that didn't happen often at home. On cold days when she was a child, she and her friends had laughed and pretended to be smoking. But at these temperatures here in Minnesota, it wasn't funny.

  "Lois, I want to help you with the cooking today." Besides feeling obligated to do something useful, standing near the stove would help her nose thaw.

  "Do not be silly. I know you have much paperwork that you brought with you that you have not yet touched. Also the library phoned about the books you have asked them about."

  Again, Miranda gave silent thanks for her new boots.It would take fifteen minutes of walking at a fast pace to get to the library. "That's great news. When will they be ready to pick up?"

  "You do not have to do that. I know how you are not yet used to our cold weather. Ted will pick up the books for you."

  She thought of all the times in the last week she had seen Ted—every day, in fact. Wherever she went, he was there, including the Wednesday evening Bible study. "He doesn't have to do that."

  Lois grinned. "Ja. He does. Or else I will not give him supper."

  Miranda squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then forced herself to smile as she trudged forward. "You don't have to give him supper just for picking up a couple of books. I can really go myself." She probably wouldn't die of hypothermia.