by Gail Sattler
Instead of being allowed to calm down in the privacy of his living room, he heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.
She'd followed him.
Ted hunched his shoulders.
He stood, raising his palms toward Miranda as she rounded the corner. "Do not say anything," he snapped. "I admit I was not gracious. I apologize, but I still will not eat what you have cooked."
"Not gracious?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Now there's an understatement."
Ted's stomach tightened in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. In fact, he had completely lost his appetite. He waited for her to say more, but for once she had nothing to say.
He flexed his fingers, then rammed one hand into his pocket. "I think it is best that we miss the piano lesson. I will just take you home."
"I would rather walk than get in the car with you," she hissed back.
Rather than say something he would surely regret, Ted glared at her while she glared back at him.
But while she glared, something changed. She tipped her head to one side. Her face softened, and she held one elbow and cupped her chin in her hand. "This is so not like you. You were fine at lunch. What happened today?"
Ted straightened his back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nothing."
She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. "Then did anyone who works for you complain about their part in the play?"
"No."
She raised her eyebrows. "But . . . ?"
"But nothing. Everyone is very pleased with the way it is going."
"But you're not."
"You are aware of how I feel."
Again a silence hung between them, but it wasn't long enough and she started talking again. "We agreed to meet in the middle. I still think it would be a more interesting plotline if we had the contrast between the nativity people and regular city type people."
"I do not want contrast or a plot. We need relevance with our community, which means to have my people portrayed as they really are."
"You got your way. Besides, that's not the issue here. I think you should at least give the Chinese food a try and if you don't like it, then I'll make you something else."
"I do not want something else. I want to be left alone so I may pray."
Her mouth opened, but for once no words came out. She glanced around his empty living room, stepped beside him, then slowly sat next to him on the couch. "You look like you could use a friend right now."
Automatically, Ted turned his head to look down the hallway toward the kitchen.
"Not Brian," she said, as if she were reading his mind. "Me.I'd like to pray with you."
He gave up and turned back. He'd learned the hard way it was pointless to oppose her, regardless of how he felt.
She raised her hand as if she was going to pat his knee but then retracted it and folded her hands primly in her lap. "What were you going to pray about?"
He stared out the window. Despite the late time, the sky was still bright. "I had not decided."
"Then let's start with why you're so cranky."
"I am not 'cranky.' "
She chuckled. "Oh, but you are. Let's go back and find out why. Did you and Brian have an argument in the car?"
He turned and looked at her face as he recalled his conversation with Brian. "No. We did not argue." Every week, more people in town seemed to think that he was courting Miranda, when nothing could be further from the facts. He didn't know when the talk started, but he suspected it was when Tante Odelle invited Miranda for Easter dinner and people assumed he had been the one who had sought her.
It was Brian that everyone should now be talking about— Brian was courting Sarah, who obviously cared for Brian the same way he cared for her. Ted suspected that soon they would be married.
Which meant that besides the elderly widowers, that would leave him as the oldest man in their church who was not married.
Miranda waited for him to elaborate, but those were thoughts he did not care to share.
"Okay. . . . What about before that? Did something happen at work that set you off?"
He'd been busy at work, but no worse than any other day."The truck was late, but I was assured that the order would be delivered on time."
She stared into his eyes, no doubt waiting for him to say more. He was annoyed, but not angry that the truck had been late. It had only meant that that he'd been late for supper, which, as it turned out, he wasn't going to eat anyway.
"Then if it wasn't business, did something personal set you off this afternoon?"
"No."
"Aha!" Miranda raised one finger in the air. "You were too quick to answer. What happened?"
The words of Rachel's mother's phone call repeated in his head. "Nothing happened. I received an invitation for supper today, and I turned it down."
"Why?"
He turned away. He could have said that he told Mrs.Reinhart he'd declined because Thursday was the day for his piano lesson, and Miranda wouldn't have known any better.But that would not be the truth.
He turned back to her, looking directly at her as he spoke, not breaking eye contact. "I am tired of being invited for dinner when they are only looking at me as a good husband for Rachel."
Miranda blinked. "Don't you like Rachel?"
He maintained eye contact. "She does not particularly like me."
Miranda's eyes widened. "Oh . . . I'm so sorry . . ."
"Do not be sorry." Ted looked at her, looking expectantly at him. He bowed his head. "I do not know why I am telling you this."
She reached over and patted his knee, which made him flinch. He raised his head to look up at her.
"I'm a PK. You wouldn't believe what people tell me."
"PK?"
"Pastor's Kid. It gives me an 'understanding' gene. It's true.Also, being a girl, people tell me more than if I had been a boy."
Ted stared blankly at her. He couldn't imagine men opening their hearts to her, but in the time she had been here, he'd seen all the young ladies do exactly that, with the exception of Rachel.
"Tell me about Rachel, and how you feel about her."
He pictured Rachel as she was the last time he saw her, which was at church on Sunday, sitting with her parents."Rachel is a wonderful young lady. She is smart and a hard worker and an excellent cook. She loves the Lord and she is good with children."
"But?"
"I do not wish to marry Rachel. Yet she wishes to marry me, which is clear every time her mama invites me for dinner."
"Do you feel guilty about that? It's okay if you don't feel the same way, as long as you haven't been letting her think that you like her when you don't."
"The only place I see her is during church with the rest of the congregation." Or when he accepted a dinner invitation, which had stopped when he figured out Rachel and her mama's primary motives. Only now, it had started up again.But Rachel still didn't feel any different about him, nor did he feel different about her.
Miranda shook her head. "Have you been encouraging her to think that you like her in a special way?"
"No. But she does not think of me in that special way either.Yet she has made it very clear that she wishes to be married to me." He sighed and swept his hand in the air, in the direction of the book he'd been reading, still open and face down on the coffee table, where he'd left it last night. "In my spare time, you can see that I read mystery novels."
"Yes. You've got some good ones in your library. I've read a number of them. I see you've already got Dead Reckoning by Ronie Kendig. A friend told me it's really good."
"I have not read it yet. But it is next in my pile. Like many others, the back cover summary hints that the principal characters will fall in love when the crisis is solved. God's word also speaks specifically of the love between a husband and his wife.I witnessed this special love between my mama and papa." He paused, waiting for a sudden tightness in his throat to clear.His mama and papa loved each other so much that neither would leave
the burning house without finding the other, and they died together. "This is what I want for my own life. I desire a wife who will love me in the same special way I will love her. If that does not happen, as God's word directs, I will remain unmarried."
Miranda's voice lowered in volume, her words coming soft and gentle. "That's what most people want. It's the way marriage is supposed to be."
"But I have been unable to find this. Rachel wants to marry me because she looks upon me as a good provider, and because I am reasonably intelligent and in good health, I will be able to produce healthy and intelligent children. I believe in God as the ultimate authority in marriage, and I will be faithful until death. Likewise, Rachel possesses all the qualities of an ideal wife, so marrying her would not be a hardship. She talks to me with respect and does her best to win my favor, including offering me an endless supply of good food. Today Rachel and her mama had prepared stuffed meat loaf and yams for supper, with shoo-fly pie."
"Then you came home instead."
"Yes. To be offered something that looked and smelled like what I used to shovel out to my grootmutta and grootfoda pigs."
Miranda cringed. "Ouch."
"I am sorry, but I have never seen anything like that in a kitchen."
From the kitchen, the sound of Sarah and Brian's laughter echoed down the hall.
Ted's jaw tightened.
Miranda sighed. "Sarah has asked me if I will help sew her wedding dress. She thinks it won't be long, and Brian will ask her to marry him."
"I do not think it will be long, either." He turned to Miranda and looked into her face. Rachel's mama had not been subtle in reminding him that he should accept Rachel's invitations before she stopped inviting him. She very bluntly pointed out that regardless of how everyone assumed he felt about Miranda, at the end of the year she would leave and take all her city ways with her. Then it would be too late. Rachel would have another man courting her, she probably would accept, and it would be too late for him.
The reminder did nothing to change his feelings toward Rachel, or any of the other ladies who had wanted to attract his attention with the ultimate goal of marriage for the same reasons. "Is something wrong with me, that the only reason a young lady wishes to be married to me is that I will be a good provider?"
"I don't know if I'm such a good person to ask that. Things are different here than what I'm used to. Still, being motivated to hold down a good job and being dependable are important things, no matter where you live. Money and financial issues are a major cause of divorce. But since you asked . . ." She tipped her head to study him. "It's not like your uncle's business is a Fortune 500 company, but you're doing pretty well, considering the cost of living out here compared to paying a lease on a high-rise condominium near downtown Seattle.You're stable and your faith is rock solid, and that's always good too. How tall are you? I'm five foot seven, so I'm guessing you're about five foot ten? So as far as being tall, dark, and handsome, you're not tall, but you're reasonably good looking, I guess. Considering you work in an office, I doubt you have washboard abs. You also look a little washed out after a long winter. Maybe you need to spend some time in the sun. I've noticed you've put on a few pounds around the middle lately.So you're not exactly a stud muffin, but you have a kind spirit, and you're a nice guy."
That was it? Nice guy? Who had a few recent pounds around his middle? Ted sucked in his stomach. "I did ask for your honest opinion. I suppose I should thank you for keeping me humble."
Her cheeks turned pink. "Don't take it wrong. If you were filthy rich and drop-dead gorgeous, then you'd be out of reach for the average nice Christian girl who's honestly looking for an average, nice Christian guy. If you had an accounting job downtown and drove a nice little gas-economy hybrid, you'd be just the kind of man I'd look for. If I was looking."
"When you do start looking, I hope you plan on improving your cooking skills."
Her eyes flashed. "If I have to change things about myself in order to impress someone, then they won't be getting the real me." She made a sound halfway between a sniff and a snort."Maybe that's why I'm still single too."
"I thought Lois told me you have a young man waiting for you when you get home." Not that he'd asked, but she'd told him anyway.
She shrugged her shoulders. "At first he was, but we've been e-mailing and we do the occasional live chat. We agreed it wouldn't work, and we're going to be just friends."
"You split up with your fiancé over the computer?"
Her eyebrows knotted. "We weren't really engaged. When I left Seattle, Bradley asked if I'd think about marrying him when I got back. It wasn't the most romantic proposal in the universe, and that should have been my first hint that it wasn't right. We've been almost like best friends ever since we started kindergarten, and while we're probably the most compatible people you could ever imagine, there's much more to a satisfying marriage than companionship. There's got to be sparks."She stood. "You know, I've been feeling guilty about telling Bradley that, but talking to you today has helped. I think this is probably the same thing as you and Rachel. I'm sure you're compatible, but that doesn't mean you're necessarily the right marriage partners. You're doing the right thing. And now I know that I am too."
Ted stood as well. He didn't feel any better, but at least he was sure he had done the right thing by declining Rachel's offer—even if he did remain single for the rest of his life."Thank you. It appears that your PK gene is effective." As he spoke, his stomach rumbled. He made a nervous laugh. "I think I am starting to feel hungry after all. Perhaps I can try what you have made, since you say it is so healthy."
He started to follow her back to the kitchen, but suddenly she stopped and spun around. He skidded to a halt, just short of bumping into her. Not backing up to allow more space between them, standing nearly toe to toe, she tilted her head and looked up at him. "You know what? I think I'll do as you say and throw it in the compost bin after all. I know it won't be the most balanced supper in the world, but how about if I make us some French toast?"
"French toast? I did not know that toast could be prepared in different languages."
She giggled. "Trust me." She reached between them and patted his tummy as she spoke. "You're going to love this. It's fried in butter, and coated in sweet syrup."
All Ted could do was stare at her hand, which had now stilled. Her red nail polish contrasted like a stoplight against the light brown of his shirt as it rested on his stomach. He felt the shape of each of her fingers, almost burning him through his shirt.
He should have backed away. He shouldn't have allowed her to touch him. But he didn't want to lose the contact. He didn't care if it was foolish or foolhardy. Instead of stepping back, he reached forward and slowly put his arms around her almost like a hug, but without drawing her in. He didn't know if his ego would shatter if she pulled away at this moment, but something in him needed a confirmation.
In slow motion, her hand slid from his stomach, around his side, and to his back. She shifted slightly forward and turned her head so her cheek rested against his throat. Both her hands pressed into his shoulder blades. He sucked in his breath at the sensation when she leaned into him and held him tight.
His arms tightened around her, holding her solidly and warmly against his chest. He wasn't that much taller, so he turned his head slightly to rest his cheek at her temple.
He'd held Miranda once before, but he wasn't prepared for the rush of feelings holding her like this evoked. Standing instead of sitting, the warmth of her pressed against him from his knees to his nose. His heart beat faster than it should have, and he couldn't remember ever feeling so cherished as he felt now.
If he wanted to, and he did want to, all he had to do was turn his head slightly and lower his chin just a little, and he could kiss Miranda right now, making the moment perfect.
Miranda squirmed slightly, pressing herself more firmly into him. "Rachel's an idiot," she mumbled into his shoulder.
Ted's heart stopped
, then picked up in double time. He had no feelings for Rachel, and if how he felt now was the way a man was to feel when he properly embraced his lady, then he never would have feelings for Rachel.
But neither could he ever have feelings for Miranda, despite how she felt in his arms. Not only did she come from the cities, in just a little over six months, she would be gone.
A scraping sound from the kitchen indicated the movement of chairs being pushed away from the table.
He released Miranda and stepped back just as Brian and Sarah turned the corner in the hallway, a smile on Brian's face."You would not believe this, my friend, but what Miranda has cooked was very tasty, even without meat. We did leave some for you, but I am afraid that it is not very much."
Miranda's cheeks flushed, and when she spoke, she focused on the light from the kitchen instead of Ted or Brian. "That's okay. I'm going to teach Ted how to make French toast."
"Teach me?" He almost protested, but keeping busy was probably a wise idea. He had a lot to think about.
"Yes. Then I'd like to do your piano lesson. Except today I'm going to teach you a basic version of one of the songs for the Christmas play. I can't find another piano player, but I need to help the vocalists with their difficult parts, if you wouldn't mind."
"Not at all."
He nodded as Brian and Sarah passed by them into the living room, and continued into the kitchen with Miranda.
He should not have touched her.
He should not have embraced her, regardless of having a weak moment. This was how the devil used good things to tempt God's people. The reason he wanted to kiss her could only be wrong. They shared nothing similar except a liking for the same kind of books.
Even if he did something stupid and began to care for her as more than a partner in ministry, that would be foolish. He could never marry Miss Miranda. As Rachel's mama had so rightly reminded him, Miranda would go home to her city life and her city friends after Christmas.
Besides, already everyone was watching him and talking about everything he did with Miranda. He could make no mistakes, nor show any signs of impropriety. What had just happened could never happen again.
