The Narrow Path

by Gail Sattler

  "It is no trouble. Ted, he comes to our home for supper every Wednesday. Because we do not have a single daughter."

  Miranda nearly lost her footing over a small snowdrift on the sidewalk. "What do you mean?"

  "Poor Ted. He does like to eat, but he does not like to disappoint the mamas when he does not court their daughters."

  "Is he not interested in finding a wife?"

  Lois laughed. "Ja. But he says God will show him the woman who will be his wife, not the girl's mama."

  "Then he's not seeing anyone? I don't want him ignoring his girlfriend because he feels it's his duty to help me while I'm here." She also didn't like the feeling of being a burden to him.

  "No, he is not with anyone. Do you have a gentleman waiting for you at home?"

  "Yes. His name is Bradley, and he really is waiting. He asked me to think about marrying him when I got back."

  This time Lois's pace slowed. "You do not sound excited.This should be a joyous thing."

  Even though she had spent more time with Bradley than with her best friend, his proposal had been completely unexpected.They were so close they finished off each other's sentences, but her father had recently pointed out that Bradley only held her hand when the other single women at church were watching. In retrospect, her father was right.

  "He's really special." Almost like the sister she never had.Not that he was gay or anything. It was just that when he embraced her, and even when he kissed her, she didn't feel the sparks and fireworks like in the romance novels.

  "He asked me to marry him at the airport just before I had to go into the boarding area, so he kind of caught me off guard. It wasn't the most romantic proposal in the world." She shrugged her shoulders. "But that's just the way he is, and I gotta love him for it."

  Lois nodded. "Ekj seene," she mumbled. "I see." As they trudged up the steps, Lois inserted the key into the lock and they went inside where once again, it was warm.

  Miranda stomped the snow off her boots, then pulled the scarf off her head. "Do you mind me asking what happened to Ted's parents?"

  Lois's hand paused on the closet doorknob, and all the sparkle left her eyes. "Daut trüarijch. So sad. Their house caught on fire late one night, and they did not make it out. Ted was away with Pastor Jake at a conference and he was not there to help.So tragic, but they are with Jesus, and we celebrate their good life and loving hearts."

  "Is he an only child? No brothers or sisters?"

  "No, no brooda or sesta. No one knows why. David and Evelyn wanted a large family, but it was not God's will. When his parents went to glory, he was left alone except for his onkel and tante."

  "Is that why he's running his uncle's business? Didn't his Uncle Bart have any children?"

  "Ja, but Bartholomew and Elsa had three lovely daughters who did not want this. All three went to college, but instead they became nurses and a teacher. Donna and Anita have gone to the city; only Sandra has stayed."

  She cringed, but she had to ask. She didn't know Ted well, but she didn't like the feeling that he had been forced to take over the family business when it wasn't his dream.

  "Is Ted happy with this?"

  Lois's smile returned. "Ach. Ja. He works very hard, and he is a good manager. He is very happy, and all who work there are happy with him too. The business is growing, and he is very proud of it. His heart is good." She waved her hands at Miranda in a shooing motion. "Now you go. I will be fine in the kitchen. You have important things to do, like Ted."

  Miranda smirked. "I feel like you're sending me into my room to do my homework."

  "Then you go."

  Being sent to her room was not a bad thing. The house was quiet and she didn't have the temptation of the Internet, so she got more work done in one afternoon than she'd ever done before. The only distraction was the increasing aroma of cooking food—onions melding with rich meat and later the sweetness of a chocolate cake in the oven. Also, Lois hummed when she cooked, a comforting, encouraging sound.

  Miranda had nearly finished the first fiscal quarter's reconciliations for her most important client when the doorbell rang. She didn't want to be rude, so she hit save and made her way to the front door, arriving just as Ted set his boots on the rubber mat. His hat was already hanging on the rack.

  "Goondach, Miss Randi-with-an-'i,' " he said, nodding his head once in greeting. He smiled as he unbuttoned his coat.

  Miranda stopped suddenly, causing her socks to slip on the polished hardwood floor. She managed to regain her balance just before she almost fell, then looked up at Ted. The smile looked good on him, making her realize that he didn't smile often enough. It was nice to see the smile at the same time as he said her name.

  She cleared her throat. She had no idea why he'd suddenly called her Randi, even if it was the long version with the explanation.He hadn't called her by her nickname once since she'd been here, and it had been over a week. "Hi back to you. But that's just Randi."

  The smile dropped. She wanted to kick herself for correcting him.

  "I am sorry. But I have never called a woman by a name I have used only for a man before. This will take me time to get used to."

  "Don't worry. It's not important." She smiled at him, hoping he'd smile back, but he didn't. "Miranda, Randi, Miss Randi, it doesn't matter. Call me anything you want. Just don't call me late for dinner."

  His brows knotted. She could almost see his mind churning as he remained silent.

  "That's a joke. A play on words."

  He thought about it for a few seconds, and his face relaxed."Ah. I understand now."

  She wondered if he'd told "knock-knock" jokes as a child, or if he ever wondered why the chicken crossed the road.

  "I brought the books that were ready for you at the library."

  She accepted them with appreciation, set them on a side table, and followed him into the living room. The front door opened behind them as Len arrived.

  "I am sorry I am so late."

  Miranda waited for him to say that he'd been stuck in traf- fic, and then she had to give her head a mental shake. There was no traffic here. Very few families even owned a car.

  Lois appeared from the kitchen. "Was there something at the school you forgot?"

  Len smiled. As the principal, he made it his duty to be the last person out of the building every day. "No, I had to talk to Mark's son. He is not doing his homework, and his grades are too low for a boy of his ability."

  Even as an adult, the thought of facing the principal made Miranda cringe. In high school, she'd always done her homework and had been a straight-A student, up until her last year when she had let herself get distracted with the band and too much social life. That year, she had received too many such talks.

  Len followed Lois into the kitchen, but Ted lingered.

  "I hope you do not have somewhere to go after dinner.There is something we must discuss. And we must talk away from other people."

  8

  Miranda sat on the other end of the couch, her back as stiff as a two-by-four. Her hands were wrapped around her mug so tightly it was as if they had been treated with cured resin.

  Len and Lois had gone into the kitchen to give them some privacy, but not too much.

  Ted stared at her, no words coming. He had not shared much in the conversation during the meal because he was thinking of the right words for this moment. However, he still had no clearer idea now that she was waiting expectantly in front of him, and that was unusual. At work he never had dif- ficulties saying what was needed.

  Miranda cleared her throat. "I have said something really stupid and hurt someone's feelings, haven't I?"

  "No. You have not." He forced himself to look directly into her eyes, as he did when he spoke to an employee. "But what you have done is to encourage the ladies to, uh . . ." he struggled for the right words. He wanted only to stop her, not to alienate her. ". . . change their style of dressing. You have worn your denim jeans everywhere except to the Sunday service and no
w the young ladies and even some of the mamas think this is a good idea. They say just to keep warmer outside. I have already had three requests to drive to the Mall of America in Minneapolis."

  She blinked repeatedly, and her mouth dropped open.

  He waited for her to say something, but she didn't.

  "I would like you to encourage them to make another choice."

  "You don't want them to wear pants outside, do you? Even when they could get frostbite? And hypothermia? And die? Would you go outside in this weather with bare legs?" She tipped her head to one side. "No, you probably don't even wear shorts in the summer, do you?"

  At the airport where he usually waited to pick up guests, he'd seen a large advertisement poster displaying men with wet hair wearing very small shorts and no shirts, promoting some kind of beverage. His face burned at the thought of their near-nakedness.

  "I didn't think so," Miranda mumbled.

  "I did not mean it in that way. I certainly do not wish the ladies to be cold. Elsie told me you were at the ladies sewing circle today. Can you not sew them?"

  "Jeans aren't something you can just sew. They're very complicated, and not every sewing machine can handle thick denim like that."

  "Jeans are very expensive. These ladies do not have a lot of money. Pants that are not jeans would be best."

  Miranda nibbled her bottom lip. "I never thought of that.Very few of them have jobs. For the ones who aren't married, the only money they get comes from their parents."

  "As well, if they sewed pants that weren't jeans they would not be found wanting in cold weather. Times are changing. My mama stayed inside for most of the winter, but now the ladies do not stay home. It is not right that they should be cold."Not that he'd deliberately looked, but once when he saw Mary walking to the restaurant early in the morning, the wind had blown her skirt before he could turn his head. She had been wearing pants under her dress to keep warm. He suspected many of the women who had jobs in their community already wore pants and the men did not know about it.

  "The cheapest places for jeans are always the factory outlets.We could go to one of those."

  "But these factory outlet stores are only in the cities. It is a three-hour drive to Minneapolis."

  "Let me guess. You don't want to be stuck in the car with four single women for so long."

  His cheeks burned hotter. When he took a group of ladies in his car, it was usually very quiet. They would whisper between themselves and every once in a while he would catch the ladies looking at him, and then they would giggle. He never liked that. However, if he took Miranda in the car, anything they whispered would be repeated for all to hear, whether he wanted to know or not. And then Miranda would be taking pictures of everything of interest, as well as things not of interest.Including him. He had caught her sneaking pictures of him the day he took her to the museum. He didn't like his picture taken. Most of his people didn't.

  "I was thinking that the price of gas has gone up again."

  "Wait." Her eyes narrowed. "What bothers you the most isn't that they want to break tradition and wear pants, it's the expense? And you don't want to go so far, not because we'd drive you nuts, but because the price of gas went up? You're a . . . a . . . cheapskate."

  "I am a careful steward."

  "You're definitely a Mennonite."

  Something in her tone told him it wasn't necessarily a compliment.He pressed on. "Can you not help these ladies sew their pants? I am sure you could convince them that homemade pants are better than purchased jeans."

  "I could. We can buy what we need from Agnes's fabric store and make it a special sewing day because I don't want to intrude on our quilting days."

  Ted crossed his arms over his chest. "You are making a quilt?"

  "We'll just say I'm attempting it. By the way, my stuff should be here next week, including my electric piano."

  "Why would you need your own piano? Len and Lois have an excellent piano."

  "Because I'll need it at night."

  "At night?"

  "When I get an idea in the middle of the night, I get out of bed and work on it. I don't want to wake anyone up, so I'll work on my electric piano with headphones." She closed one eye and tapped her cheek with one finger. "But I don't know what I'm going to do. There's no room in the bedroom for it.I'd have to move the desk out, but that would be rude after they went through so much trouble to put it in the bedroom. I guess I could put it in the big room next to the real piano."

  Ted didn't want to picture Miranda tiptoeing through Len and Lois's house in the middle of the night wearing her pajamas and carrying headphones. He really didn't. "I have a spare room at my house where I can store it."

  "Really? That would be great. In the beginning I'll need the desk more, but when I get all the lyrics done and the play written, I'll need the piano more. Then I can ask to trade the desk for my piano in the bedroom."

  "That sounds sensible. Until then I can keep your piano at my home."

  "That's really great, thank you. But you don't have to just store it. Go ahead and set it up and feel free to use it if you want."

  "I do not play piano. Only guitar."

  She waved one hand in the air. "I've seen you play your guitar in church. You're a very talented musician. I bet you could pick up piano in no time flat. If you want, I could give you lessons. I have a number of students back at home, and some of them are adults."

  "Your resumé said you were also a piano teacher." It was one of the major points that had given her credibility to do the tasks they needed her to do.

  She stroked her bottom lip. "Which reminds me. I need to get an Internet connection somewhere near the piano. Len and Lois's house is all hardwired, I already checked. I don't want them drilling holes in their walls to string cable to rooms where there isn't a phone line. What about your house?"

  "My house?"

  "You run a business. You told me that you don't have a computer, but really, think about it. If you had a computer at your home, you could do e-mail and connect remotely with your office and work from home when you needed to. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't work from home sometimes. If you had an Internet connection, I could do my piano lessons back home from your house." She rubbed her hands together with glee and smiled ear to ear. "What a great idea!"

  "People have mentioned to me that I should have a computer at home." He refused to work on Sundays, at home or the factory, but he did see the benefits of being able to catch up in the evenings or Saturday from home, where he could work in comfort without the expense of heating the entire office just for one person. "I have considered it, but I do not have time to go all the way to Minneapolis to buy a computer."

  "You don't need to. I'll help you shop online, and they'll ship it to your home. Most of the time shipping is free when you buy more than a single component."

  "What does me having a computer have to do with your piano lessons?"

  "I could do all my lessons remotely, with a webcam."

  He'd heard of webcams, none of it good. "How would you do that?"

  "They don't have to see my face, just my hands, and hear me. They would also just aim the camera at the keyboard, so I could see their hands. It isn't ideal, but it's the only way to do it. It's the next best thing to being there."

  "When would you need to do this?"

  "I'd like to start the online lessons next week. Then I'll give you lessons in exchange for letting me use your house and your Internet connection."

  He didn't know how to refuse, so he simply gave in. "That seems like a lot of work for you, when all I am contributing is a room that I seldom use."

  "It's an exchange for the commitment of letting me use the room, and having access to your house. We should go to your house now so you can show me the room. I might need to buy a new webcam. I can just add it to the order for your computer, and I'll pay you back." She set her cup on the coffee table and smiled at him. "This is going to work really well. Remember, you'll need to rearra
nge your schedule to give yourself time to practice. You don't need to practice an hour a day until you get to a certain level, but I do insist that you practice every day."

  Ted closed his eyes and pressed his thumbs into his temples."I think I am getting a headache. Were we not talking about sewing with the ladies?"

  "Oh. That." She waved one hand in the air. "I'll talk to a few of them tonight and organize something. Don't worry about it."

  Just her saying so made him worry more, although for all her flighty ways, he could see that Miranda did follow through on her word. He would remember to thank God in his prayers that night. He would also pray about her guiding the ladies for a modest choice of new clothes.

  Miranda stood. "You've got a key for the church, right? I'll go get my laptop, and we can do some online shopping."

  Miranda pressed the new sticker into Ted's lesson book."Great work! You're going through the lessons even faster than I thought you would."

  "I do not need stickers of cartoon animals in my book," he grumbled. "I know I have achieved the level of proficiency to pass each song."

  She stroked the newest sticker with her index finger."Humor me. As a teacher, I miss not being able to put stickers in my students' books. CyberStars just aren't the same. You've got to make up for it every time someone else passes. I would hate to think of how I'd feel if you didn't pass any songs one week. No pressure, of course."

  Ted's lips pressed together and his cheeks tightened, which meant he was grinding his teeth. Which meant that again, she had won.

  "Seriously, you're progressing faster than any of the adults I've taught so far. You really should have started taking piano lessons sooner. Especially after the way you taught yourself to play guitar."

  "I did not teach myself. I bought a book."

  Miranda refused to argue with him. Even when she praised him, he contradicted her. When the day came that they actually disagreed on something worthwhile, she would have to call upon divine intervention.

  Brian entered the room. "The bell on the oven has rung."