The Narrow Path

by Gail Sattler

  18

  Miranda made a fist and feebly punched the center of the ball of dough with the last of her strength. Extending her lower lip, she blew out a weak breath to clear her hair out of her eyes. A puff of flour erupted in a cloud around her head, and she spoke over her shoulder to Lois. "Are you sure he's going to like this? I never realized cinnamon buns were so much work."

  "Everything that is good is worth the work."

  "Maybe. But I didn't realize the dough would fight back."She gave it one last bang to show it who was boss, then gave up. "When I make cinnamon buns at home, it's not like this."

  "How is it, then? Please do not tell me that you use baking powder instead of yeast for rising."

  "I don't know what makes them rise. I buy the kind that comes in a tube, and then you break them off where they're presliced and put them in the oven. They even come with a plastic bag of that white icing glaze stuff."

  "Mein hoat! My heart cannot take this. After you make these buns, which is my grootmutta's own recipe, you will never buy those despicable things again."

  Miranda waved her hands over the mess of open containers, their contents spread over every square inch of the countertop. "This isn't a recipe. You just had me put in a little of this and a little of that. I have no idea what we did. I can't do this. I'm destined to be forever enslaved to the Pillsbury Dough Girl."

  "Who?"

  "No one special," Miranda mumbled as she pushed the dough into a round lump, set it into the bowl, and draped a tea towel over it. "How long do we wait?"

  "We do not wait. We will soak the raisins and mix the filling."

  The doorbell rang, echoed by Fidette's shrill yapping.

  Lois peeked through the curtains. "This is strange. It is Ted.Why is he not at his office?"

  "Ted? Here? Now?" Miranda thumped down the jar of cinnamon, making even more of a mess when it erupted in a cloud, and ran for the door. Ted would never take time off work unless something was very important, or . . . some disaster had happened.

  She flung the door open so fast he stepped back, reached up to touch the brim of his hat, and blinked.

  "What's wrong?!" she blurted out.

  "Nothing is wrong. I have come to ask a favor." He removed his hat and pressed it to his chest. "May I come in?" His eyes swept her from head to toe, pausing on her arm, her shirt, then stopping at her face. "What is that on your nose?"

  Miranda brushed her nose with the back of her hand, hoping she made it better instead of worse. "Flour. And probably yeast. Lois and I are baking."

  She led him inside, but instead of leading him to the living room, she led him to the kitchen while she still could remember how much cinnamon she'd sprinkled over the raisins.

  "This is a mess. Where is Lois?"

  Miranda looked around the room and sure enough, Lois was nowhere to be seen. The corner of the counter where Lois had been mixing her cookies was also strangely clean and bare."I have no idea. She was here a minute ago."

  He studied the covered bowl in the middle of the table."I see you have dough rising. My mama made bread often, almost every day. But my mama's kitchen never looked like this. Did you do something wrong?"

  "No, I'm just not very good in the kitchen, so not everything went as smoothly as it does for Lois. I'm supposed to do the next step now, but Lois isn't here, so I guess I can't." She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. "So we might as well sit down and talk. What kind of favor do you need?"

  Ted sank down into one of the other chairs. "There are two things. I must leave on a business trip tomorrow, and I would like you to pray for this with me. It is a very important new customer who insists on talking to me immediately, in person."

  He waited, absently tapping one finger on the tabletop.

  Miranda leaned back in the chair. Aside from Sunday at church when they sat together, or church business with the rest of the board, they'd never really prayed together for anything that wasn't related to food and eating together.

  "I would be honored to pray with you. What else?"

  "If you can spare the time, I do not like to leave my car parked at the airport. I wish to ask if you can come with me, then drive my car back home and then pick me up when I return."

  Visions of the Mall of America danced through her head. She hadn't done any real shopping since she finished her Christmas shopping last November at Bellis Fair Mall, north of Seattle.She'd never been to the Mall of America. But knowing she was going to be living within a few hours of it, she'd googled it and downloaded a list of all the stores onto her phone. Until now, she'd never been able to go.

  Now she could. An unlimited shopping excursion. Two, actually, if both his departure and arrival times coincided with mall hours. She would have plenty of time to browse for a new perfect purse, which also meant a gorgeous pair of matching strappy shoes. Then she could buy the perfect summer outfit to go with them. Maybe two perfect summer outfits. Maybe more, to mix and match. And then another pair of shoes. And some sandals. Which meant a new shade of nail polish. And nail decals. It was too early for the fall clothes to be out, but the stores would all be packed with great summer fashions. She could also buy a kit and touch up the streaks in her hair. And maybe a few new sets of earrings to finish it all off.

  But she would be doing it alone. Suddenly, the shopping trip didn't feel so fun anymore.

  She turned to Ted, who was watching her strangely, probably because she was taking so long to reply. Ever-patient Ted.In his boring blue button-down shirt and semi-casual black slacks, black suspenders, and his practical black loafers. He'd left his utilitarian black hat on the rack at the door.

  Plain and functional Ted, who matched perfectly with his plain and functional community. A mental slideshow of all the people she knew in Piney Meadows, male and female, passed through her mind's eye in vivid color. Or maybe not so vivid.None of the colors of these people were bright, none were showy, and Ted was the closest to anyone who dressed in any form of the latest fashion. Sometimes, anyway.

  Of the women, no one cared that they all wore only slightly different versions of the same thing. Their only concern with what they wore was that it was clean and pressed, and that their shoes were comfortable and fit well.

  She had been shopping outside of Piney Meadows with a few of her new friends exactly once. They hadn't made it to the Mall of America. They'd gone to the factory outlet, bought what they came for, and happily returned home.They didn't care about going to the mall, where the variety of shopping and entertainment opportunities was endless.They had only cared that they were together to accomplish their goal.

  They'd had more fun yakking and giggling in the car than shopping. Naturally they'd prayed together before they left.

  Suddenly, Miranda felt very shallow. She didn't need a new purse or a closet full of clothes. Rather than flitting around the mall, jostling alone through crowds of strangers, she would be happier here, with her new friends, sewing, working on music, talking, or even cooking.

  She glanced around the kitchen. It would take nearly as long to clean up her mess as it would to drive all the way to Minneapolis. But here, in the kitchen, she would talk and laugh with Lois, which would deepen a wonderful friendship.

  Once she left Ted at the airport, she would be alone to shop.But she didn't need time to buy more clothes. She needed time with a friend.

  "If this would be too inconvenient for you, then do not worry. I will leave my car at the airport."

  Miranda smiled weakly. "It's not that. I would love to do the favor for you. Under one condition."

  "Condition?" Ted's eyes narrowed. "Does this have something to do with the mall?"

  "Yes. Before your flight, I'd love it if you would go to the mall with me to check out the aquarium. I think it would be fun, and we both need a break. And then I'll gladly take you to the airport."

  "Just the aquarium? I do not have to go shopping with you?"

  She thought of the skirts and dresses she wore to church on Sunda
y, and her limited selection of T-shirts and jeans that she wore from day to day. She'd been wearing only four pairs of shoes. Her black clogs for Sundays; her tennies for the rest of the week, which were showing more wear in two months than in the three years since she had bought them; her big, padded winter boots, which hadn't come out of the closet since the snow melted; and the red ones she'd bought on eBay, which now, in the warmer weather, she wore when it rained.

  "I don't need to do any shopping. Everything I need is right here."

  "A little to the right. Before the orange one swims away.Come on. Smile. I know you can do it."

  Ted moved over, but he didn't smile.

  Miranda took one more of what surely had been hundreds of pictures, then turned to watch the bright orange fish swim happily around its habitat, not caring that he, or anyone else, was watching every move it made.

  "I do not understand why you need me to be in so many pictures. You know what I look like."

  "I don't have that many. Quit being such a spoilsport."

  "I am not being a spoilsport. I simply do not like my picture being taken."

  She lowered the camera. "Am I going to have this problem during the Christmas presentation? You're not the only one who feels that way, are you?"

  "No, I am not." No one in their community except Brian liked being photographed.

  She shoved her camera into her pocket, then pulled out her phone and started typing a message into it. "Then I'll have to be sure to make an announcement before each performance that no pictures are allowed until the end. We don't want anyone to be distracted and nervous."

  "You made me promise not to talk about the Christmas play today."

  "Oops. But this isn't really talking about it." She dropped the phone back into her purse, retrieved her camera, and handed it to him. "Can you take a few of me looking at that fish that looks like a rock over there? I need to be in at least a few to prove I was here."

  "Will no one trust you and take you at your word?"

  "It's a joke. Come on, let's keep going. You don't want to miss your flight."

  He took her picture as requested, then stepped back on the moving walkway, which transported people through the tunneled section of the aquarium at a speed slow enough for people to enjoy the fish, but fast enough to keep the flow of people orderly.

  Miranda had barely joined him when she took her camera, then stepped off the walkway again, arched her back, pointed the camera up, and started taking more pictures. Ted couldn't help himself. He also stepped onto the nonmoving section, pulled the camera Brian had loaned him out of his pocket, and took a picture of Miranda taking pictures. He didn't know what was more enjoyable to watch—the fish, or Miranda. Although he had to admit that the unique construction of the aquarium with all the varieties of fish was as fascinating as the website had promised.

  "I caught you. You're taking pictures too."

  "Not so many." He pressed the button on the display screen to discover that he had taken many more pictures than he thought. Not that he would admit it to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miranda take a picture of him fiddling with Brian's camera.

  "You know what?" she piped up. "We need a couple of pictures of us together."

  Before he could agree or disagree, Miranda interrupted an elderly couple and began to show them how to work her camera.

  "Is this necessary?" he grumbled while positioning himself in front of a fish that looked interesting; the sign identified it as a stingray. Miranda hustled toward him while the lady aimed the camera, preparing for the best angle.

  The woman waved one hand in the air. "Step closer so I can also get the shark behind you."

  Without warning, Miranda pressed herself against his side, slipped her arm around his waist, and squeezed. The top of her head brushed the brim of his hat, setting it crooked. Not wanting to look foolish, Ted righted his hat with one hand while he slipped his other around her waist.

  "Smile, both of you," the woman singsonged.

  Against his will, Ted smiled for the camera, only because he knew Miranda was grinning cheerfully. The woman took a few pictures, then returned the camera. "Are you two newlyweds?"

  Ted opened his mouth, but no words came out. After being confronted by Rachel's mama, he'd briefly projected what it would be like being married to Rachel. But he'd never considered what it would be like being married to Miranda.

  He couldn't imagine it. One thing, he would probably starve. But it would be interesting, and they would never lack for conversation, even if most of it would be one-sided.

  Beside him, Miranda giggled. "No. We're not. It's kind of funny you should ask that."

  He looked sideways to Miranda, who hadn't left his side.Suddenly, the concept wasn't so funny.

  She flipped through the three pictures the woman had taken. "Do you know that these are the only pictures I have of the two of us together?" She flipped back to the last picture and held the camera up for him to see.

  Ted glanced briefly at the display, then he locked his attention onto her face. The color of Miranda's eyes was pretty from a distance, but up close the mixture of shades of green was fascinating.More than interesting, her eyes were warm and kind, eyes that hid nothing—a mirror to her soul. Her nose was a little too long to be called cute, but it suited her because she was too intelligent and efficient to be thought of in any way that could be related to anything childish.

  His gaze lowered to her lips, which were not too full, not too narrow, but perfect. He'd seen those lips do many things, from tightening in frustration when they disagreed on yet another facet of the Christmas production, to laughing heartily when Fidette pulled a stunt that Lois allowed her to get away with.

  Right now, her lips were slightly parted, almost expectantly, while she waited for him to say something.

  Watching her as she watched him, his heart beat a little faster. Miranda was a beautiful woman, inside and out.

  If he wanted to, he could kiss her. They were standing so close he would barely have to move, and no one around them would notice. The few people nearby were busy watching the fish, not other people.

  "Ted? Is something wrong? Do I have something on my nose?"

  Ted raised his hand to straighten his hat and stepped back while she wiped the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.

  "No. Your nose is fine." Your lips are fine. Everything about you is fine. Very fine.

  What wasn't fine was him. This was neither the time nor the place to think about such things.

  Actually, there was never a time or place to think such things about Miranda. She had none of the qualities he needed to look for in a potential wife. Even if she did, she was leaving after Christmas.

  She took one more swipe at her nose. "Are you feeling okay? Maybe nervous about your flight?"

  "I am not nervous about flying. I just do not like to leave home." He checked his watch. "Which is a reminder that we cannot be late. Even though you showed me how to get my boarding pass online, I still must be there at the right time."

  "Of course."

  He followed her through the rest of the exhibits, and he didn't complain when she asked another stranger to take their picture together, this time with Brian's camera.

  While he was gone, he would buy a camera for himself.

  After they left the aquarium, most of the drive to the airport was in silence as she flipped through hundreds of pictures on her camera, oohing and aahing at the ones she considered the best. Every time he stopped at a red light, she treated him to a fast replay of her recent favorites.

  According to plan, Ted drove to the departure area instead of going to the parking lot as he usually did. When he found a place to stop, he tried to get out of the car and hurry around to the passenger side to open Miranda's door. But as usual, she was out and had the door closed by the time he'd rounded the car. She waited on the curb while he removed his suitcase from the trunk and closed the lid.

  "Thank you for doing this. The journ
ey through the aquarium was also fun. I have never done anything like that before except when I am on a trip, and the people I visit take me out.Why do you have one hand behind your back?"

  When she brought her hand to the front of her, she held a small bag. "I made these for you. For before your flight."

  He accepted the bag and looked inside. "Cinnamon buns.Thank you. Is this what you were baking yesterday?"

  Miranda nodded quickly. "Yes. I wanted to have them finished to take to you at lunchtime, but they took longer to make than I thought. You can't take them through security, but you can find a nice quiet corner and eat them after you check your suitcase."

  "Did you make these for me?"

  "Yes. I hope you like them."

  He stared down into the bag and inhaled deeply as the sweet aroma wafted up at him. She'd even iced them with the white glaze he liked so much. He closed the bag so they wouldn't become dry before he had a chance to eat them, and looked at Miranda.

  "Why did you do this?"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "Because Lois said you liked cinnamon buns. You were so down the other day, I thought you could use a pick-me-up. They're not exactly Cinnabons, but they're pretty good."

  Words failed him. No one besides his mama had ever cooked a special treat to please him rather than impress him.

  Miranda glanced up at the sign, then back to him. "You should probably go check in. We don't want to cause a traffic jam. Cars are only supposed to stop here for a few minutes."

  The thick smell of exhaust drifted around them as traffic crawled past. Another car pulled up behind his and cut the engine. Trunks slammed and people milled about toting suitcases and parcels.

  He didn't want to go.

  In front of them, near the curb, a couple leaned toward each other to exchange a farewell kiss before one of them began a journey.

  Ted lowered his head so the brim of his hat shielded his eyes.He didn't want to intrude on this couple's private moment, but their image as they were about to be separated burned into his mind. Unless he was forced to make another business trip, in six months he would be back here doing this same thing, except it would be Miranda who was leaving.