The Narrow Path

by Gail Sattler

  At the end, she stood and drew everyone into a circle as she pointed to one particular phrase.

  Being the only person in the group who wasn't singing, Ted remained seated. From his lower vantage point, he watched Miranda. As she spoke to Elaine, Miranda turned her back to him to point to the music. He noticed that she was wearing the same jeans she had worn at the airport on the day he had picked her up. Not that he ever paid attention to such things, but that day he had noticed how her jeans had fit her because he had compared her to some of the other ladies from the same plane whose jeans were far tighter.

  His breath caught as he studied her from behind. She leaned over more to play a few notes on the piano without sitting on the bench. Her jeans surely did not fit the same as they had that day; they were, indeed, looser.

  He couldn't stop thinking about this. Even though he had been raised in the town, he knew that farm families kept track of the weights of their animals because it was an important tool to monitor good health. He'd heard his mama talking about the weights of babies and young children. A healthy weight must therefore be important for adults as well, although he suspected it was more difficult to monitor.

  He had never had a scale in his house. His pants fit him the same every year. The day he no longer needed suspenders to keep his pants up would be the day he would begin to monitor his own weight.

  He had a scale in the shipping department at the factory. He could not imagine how he would be able to get her to come there and stand on it for him. Yet even without the scale, it was obvious that she had lost weight. She was already the thinnest of all the ladies.

  Ted stood and rested his guitar on the chair. "Frank, can you please come with me? I have something I must do and I need your help."

  No one said anything, but Ted's abrupt departure caused an agitated stir in the group.

  "Please, everyone, we've got to concentrate," Miranda said."This is our third time going through this song." She plunked the soprano and alto lines out with two fingers. "Like this. Let's try again."

  As she began the introduction, a few of the ladies were still glancing toward the doorway. Miranda gritted her teeth.She had no idea what could have been so important that Ted needed to leave so suddenly, especially to drag Frank off with him. In this town, she doubted there could have been an emergency at the furniture factory or Frank's grocery store.

  She had been depending on Ted's guitar-playing. Even though she had composed the songs, she needed to focus her concentration on teaching the singers, not accompanying them on the piano.

  If only Ted had taught himself to play piano as fast as he had taught himself guitar. He was learning the piano quickly, but not quickly enough to accompany the choir, even for practice time, which was another reason that she had to find another accompanist. She couldn't direct the play while playing piano, especially for the performances.

  Miranda pulled out her cell phone and made herself a task reminder to find a piano player.

  She slipped her cell phone into her back pocket, then slipped down onto the piano bench. "Okay everyone. Let's try again from the chorus. Elaine, watch that high note, and Frank . . ." Her voice trailed off. Frank, her best bass, was gone. With Ted, her guitarist.

  "Men . . ." she grumbled.

  "Ach, ja," Elaine nodded, half grinning. "What can we do with them?"

  All the ladies giggled. A few of the men blushed.

  Miranda checked the time. "I guess with those two gone we'll end our practice a little early. Let's just do this song one more time, and then everyone can go home."

  Brian cleared his throat. "I will be driving Sarah home, but if Ted does not return, I will take you home as well."

  She opened her mouth to say that she could go home with Len and Lois, but Lois was watching Sarah and smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

  Miranda captured her lower lip between her teeth to hold back her own grin. This was probably less an offer of a ride than it was asking if she would accompany them so they could spend more time together. "That would be great," she said, but she was really thinking that she wanted to go home and go to bed. However, without an escort, Sarah wouldn't be allowed to spend any more time with Brian than the time it took to drive five blocks, which barely allowed time to start a conversation, much less to actually finish one.

  Lois's grin never stopped. "I will call your papa and let him know this."

  "All right, let's start at the first verse and this time . . ."

  The main door banged, disrupting their focus again.Everyone turned toward the entrance to the foyer. Part of her felt relieved that Ted had returned, but part of her wanted to reprimand him for his timing.

  The timbre of male voices in the hall told her that Frank had returned with him.

  "They're back, so we're going to do . . ." Ted and Frank stepped into the sanctuary, carrying large grocery bags. Miranda pressed her hand onto the sheet of music. "What is that?"

  Ted and Frank both grinned as they set the bags down on the pew closest to the piano.

  Ted reached into the first bag and pulled out a large plastic bottle filled with brown liquid.

  Miranda stared. "Root beer? What are you doing with that?"

  Frank reached into one of the other bags and pulled out a tub of vanilla ice cream.

  Ted jerked his head toward the doorway. "If some of you ladies could bring some bowls and spoons from the kitchen, I have a surprise for everyone."

  Practice was over. All the ladies left to go into the kitchen, leaving Miranda with the men.

  She tightened her hands into fists. She'd seen nothing that was cause for this sudden celebration. "Would you mind explaining what in the world you're doing?"

  "I am going to make root beer floats."

  "Why?"

  He smiled that heart-stopping little smile with the little crinkles in the corners of his eyes. "It is a special treat for everyone for working so hard."

  She stared into his eyes, mesmerized. Her mind whirled with things she could have said, but the women returned, clattering dessert bowls and spoons. Lois hurried in front of them to drape a tablecloth over the pew beside Ted to protect the wood from spills.

  Frank ladled a large scoop of ice cream into the first bowl.Very precisely, Ted poured root beer over the ice cream, waiting for the fizz to die down before pouring just a little more. He reached into the bag and pulled out a spray can of whipping cream and squirted a generous amount on top.Frank was ready beside him with a jar of maraschino cherries.Ted spooned one out and gently set it in the middle of the whipped cream.

  "Done," he muttered as he extended his arm and held it toward her. "The first one is for you."

  Miranda had never put great emphasis on desserts before, and she had certainly never before been presented with one like this. It reminded her of her friends' descriptions of their boyfriends' proposals, although no engagement ring had ever been presented with such flair. And from Ted, of all people.She hadn't known he had a sweet tooth, nor had she ever seen such an artistic root beer float. It was a masterpiece, so pretty she almost hated to ruin it by eating it. Almost.

  "I . . . I don't know what to say," she stammered, her throat tightening up.

  Ted's smile faded. His opened his free hand and pressed his palm onto his shirt, just below his left shoulder. "You are not going to cry, are you?"

  "No, no . . . of course not." Before she actually did, she reached out with both hands to cup the bowl.

  But instead of releasing it to her, Ted moved his hand from his shirt and rested it over her hands as she held the bowl, preventing her from moving. "First we must pray."

  "Of course," she mumbled, unable to believe that she had almost forgotten.

  Ted bowed his head and closed his eyes, but instead of the expected volume used when praying in a crowd, his voice became low and quiet, almost beseeching, only loud enough for herself and Frank to hear.

  "Dear Lord, I thank you for this day, and for this opportunity to share. I ask that you wa
tch over all of us, for health, and for endurance, and that all will work together for Your glory, amen."

  "Amen," she replied, and Ted removed his hands, releasing the bowl to her.

  Beside her, Sarah handed her a spoon. "Wow . . . I have not ever seen something like that."

  Ted smiled. "My mama used to make these for me as a treat."

  Instead of making the next float, Ted stayed still, watching.As if he wouldn't continue until she tasted it and gave her approval.

  Miranda felt the eyes of all in the room on her.

  Slowly, she dipped in the spoon and took a generous helping.

  It was as good as it looked. Maybe better.

  She closed her eyes and let the sweet blend of flavors and thick texture of the ice cream roll around in her mouth. "This is so good. I haven't had one of these for years." She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thank you. But I want to know, if you can make these, how come you can't cook yourself a decent supper?"

  "This was not exactly difficult, although my mama would not be pleased that I bought whipped cream in a can and did not make it myself."

  With all eyes on them, Ted and Frank produced the rest of the floats in assembly-line style, scooping a portion of ice cream into each bowl as the ladies lined them up along the covered pew, then pouring the root beer in the same fashion, followed by the whipping cream. Unfortunately, the last few ran out of cherries, but no one, including Frank or Ted, seemed to mind.

  Miranda couldn't help but notice that hers had the most whipping cream, and was the prettiest. She was almost sure that hers had the most ice cream, too, because after Frank did the first scoop, Ted had been very careful to measure properly in order not to run out before every bowl had one scoop. She was half done by the time Ted started eating his.

  Everyone broke into small groups to talk while they enjoyed their desserts. Ted stayed with Frank and Len, so she didn't have a chance to thank him, but she didn't feel pressured because she would have plenty of time in the car when he drove her home.

  Miranda joined Sarah, and the two of them sat side by side on the piano bench. Miranda turned her head toward Sarah so she didn't have to stop eating to talk. "You know, it was really strange, but when Ted gave this to me, his grace felt more like he was praying over me. Kind of like being anointed with oil, except it was ice cream."

  Sarah giggled. "You are silly," she said so softly it was almost a whisper. "But now there will be more talk, for sure."

  "Talk about what?" Miranda asked around the spoon in her mouth.

  "Ted is sweet on you. Many thought so when he asked you to be with him at his onkel and tante's home for Easter dinner, but now this. He did this for you. I also saw how he looked at you."

  Arguing would only create more talk, so Miranda didn't dare deny what everyone thought. Besides, it would be more than a little embarrassing if she had to admit that it wasn't Ted who invited her for Easter dinner, but his aunt and uncle.Worse, the "look" he gave her wasn't that of dreamy expectation.It was fear that she was going to start crying again—not one of her finer moments.

  "We'll see. Just remember that I'm not going to be here for very long. After Christmas, after this is all over, I'm going back home."

  "This is only May. December is a long time. Much can happen."

  "That's true, but I think you can safely keep Ted in the bachelor pool."

  Sarah sighed. "Ted is not in the bachelor pool. Ted has made it very clear that he does not wish to seek a wife."

  Miranda glanced at Ted, who was laughing at something Frank said. "No. But from what I've seen, that hasn't stopped the ladies from trying. He gets invited out to the home of a single woman almost once a week. Before you tell me that he hasn't accepted any of those invitations because of me, that's only half true. The reason isn't because he's got a thing for me.It's because I made a deal with him to cook him supper once a week in exchange for using a room at his house for my piano lessons. So it's kind of like paying for room and board."

  "Say what you want. I know he is sweet on you. I have seen this."

  Miranda turned to Sarah. "You're only saying that because Brian is sweet on you. I've seen how he's been so quick to pick you up and drive you home. Next thing, he'll be sitting in church with you."

  Sarah actually blushed. "Maybe. But Ted is already sitting in church with you."

  Miranda sighed. "He's the worship leader. He's been assigned to sit with me. It's not his choice." She felt a quick pang of realization that if he hadn't been told to, he wouldn't sit with her."Hey, it looks like everyone is finished eating. Are you?"

  "Yes. I will help do the dishes. Since Ted is now here, Brian will take me straight home. Unless you and Ted would like to join us and go somewhere."

  It was all Miranda could do not to yawn. "Not tonight. I'm really tired. I was going to go to bed early but it's not early anymore."

  As soon as she stood, it was as if Ted had been watching her. He approached and stopped her before she could join the rest of the ladies on their trek to the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

  "I need to ask a favor of you."

  "Sure. Name it."

  "Len tells me that you have been making trips to the piano at night, so it is time for you to have your electric piano with headphones at Len's house. I have it in my car to take to Len's when I take you home tonight."

  "That's thoughtful of you, but that's not going to work. I need it more at your house on Thursday afternoons so I can do my piano lessons before you get home from work. You also need it for your own lessons."

  "Ja, I need a piano, but I should not have yours. I am enjoying learning to play the piano, so it is time for me to buy my own. I would like you to come to Bemidji with me on Saturday to help me pick the right one."

  Knowing how much he hated going all the way to Minneapolis, Miranda didn't want to suggest that he would probably get a better deal there. However, it was just as likely that the additional cost of gas and the expense of having to buy supper instead of eating at home would eat up his potential savings.

  "That's a good idea, but I have a practice arranged with the nativity group tomorrow so I can't go with you."

  "I know nothing of electric pianos. I would really like for you to come with me. What if we go early, and I have you back in time for your practice?"

  A little clock flashed in Miranda's mind. So much for her plan of sleeping in. "I guess I could do that, but that means we have to leave here at eight-thirty to be back for noon." Which meant she had to get up at seven. Miranda nearly groaned out loud.

  "That is good. Also, I was thinking that we should be talking more about the practices and what needs to be done. For at least a few weeks, I would like to meet with you at lunch time.I usually pick up my lunch at Elena and Mary's on my way to work, and I will have enough food for both of us."

  "Every day? Do you really think that's necessary?"

  Instead of answering her right away, Ted glanced at her face, then at her arms, then skimmed up and down her jeans.

  "Ja, Miss Randi." As the words left his mouth, he reached down and grasped one wrist with both hands. "It is necessary."

  Miranda struggled to keep her mouth from dropping open.Not only was he touching her, but he'd called her by the nickname she liked—something he said he couldn't do. Of course he had to qualify it by putting "Miss" in front. But he'd done it. With Ted, nothing was random. If he had just called her by the name she liked, it could only mean one thing.

  Something was wrong. And he didn't know how to tell her, so he was going to do his best to tell her nicely.

  His voice dropped in pitch as he brushed his thumbs over her wrists. "I think everyone is finished cleaning up and has gone home. Let us make sure everyone has left, and I will lock up the building. Then I will take you home, and I will see you in the morning."

  16

  Miranda waved at Anna, who was on the phone, and continued on to Ted's office. As she stood in the doorway waiting for him to also finish a phone
call, the wonderful smells of good food wafted toward her.

  She leaned into the doorframe and closed her eyes, lost in the delightful aroma. Whatever it was, it was not charbroiled McDonald's. She was pretty sure this was beef. The rich bouquet of simmering meat caused her stomach to rumble.

  Afraid the dream would end, she refused to open her eyes. It was almost like being in Lois's kitchen when she'd been cooking all day, except this was Ted's office— a place of business.The fact that it was so out of place emphasized the goodness of it.

  With one hand pressed over her noisy tummy, she inhaled deeply to try to identify what he'd brought. Besides simmering meat, the teasing scent of onions promised a rich and tasty meal. Some kind of spices enhanced the earthiness of the onions, but she couldn't identify them. She only knew that whatever this was, lunch promised to be great, and she was going to eat too much.

  "Miranda? Why are you like that with your eyes closed? Are you sick?"

  Her eyes popped open as Ted pushed his chair out from behind his desk and stood.

  Her cheeks burned. She raised her palms in the air toward him. "Don't get up. I'm fine. I was just trying to figure out what it is that smells so very good. Or should I say, zehr gut?" She grinned. "For sure, it ain't sandwiches."

  Ted's eyes opened wide. "Your accent, it is very bad."

  "You may or may not find it surprising that it's not the first time someone's said that to me."

  He sank back down into his chair, smiling. "I have brought Yum Zetti. It is Elena and Mary's lunch special today. They gave me a slow cooker and told me to plug it in as soon as I arrived in my office. They said it would continue to cook and be ready for lunch time." He checked his wristwatch. "Which is in ten minutes. How did you get here? I was going to get you as soon as I finished my phone call."

  "It's a beautiful sunny day outside, so I walked." As she spoke, she approached the slow cooker. Beside it were two plates, cutlery, and a scoop. The condensation on the glass lid prevented her from seeing exactly what was inside, but the closer she got, the better it smelled. "There seems to be a lot in here. Way more than the two of us are going to eat for one meal.I think we should divide this in half and save half for tomorrow."She gently lifted the lid, allowing the steam to escape, then peeked inside, confirming her suspicions. She turned to make eye contact with him. "You do have a microwave here, don't you? I know most people don't have one in their homes, but I would think it's different in a place of business."