The Narrow Path

by Gail Sattler

  All Ted could think about was the waste of the voice of an angel. "But you told me before that you've sung duets at your church."

  "Yes. The key word there is 'duet.' That means having someone else right beside me. I also have my guitar in my hands, I'm sitting down, and all my attention is focused on the sheet of music." She hunched her shoulders and covered her face with her hands. "I don't know how I can do this, but I can't let everyone down."

  "You did fine." Better than fine. He'd never heard anyone sing like Miranda, live or on a CD.

  "I didn't do fine. I forgot the chorus, and I mixed up the words to the third verse, which shows how not fine it is because I wrote the song."

  He almost asked if there was anyone else who could play the part of Mary, but after hearing Miranda sing, there wasn't.She was perfect in every way and probably a lot like the person of Mary in Bible times.

  "During piano lessons you are teaching me how to incorporate use of theory to cover when I make a mistake or forget my notes. Can you not do the same?"

  "Right. Like I can just make up new words or change the notes and expect everyone to follow along."

  "Perhaps not. But do not worry. We will figure something out."

  "When goats fly."

  He opened his mouth to tell her that while it was true goats didn't fly, she had taught one to jump through a hoop, which had to count for something. But before he could speak, Miranda turned and walked away toward Mr. Reinhart, who was on the wrong side of the gathering of people in his group, and guided him back to where he was supposed to be.

  Ted smiled. That is the Miss Randi with an "i" that I know and love.

  Love?

  Ted felt as if he'd been poleaxed.

  It was true. Miranda was unlike any other Mennonite woman he'd ever met or ever would meet again. Bold. Vibrant.Stubborn. And the only thing she could cook properly was cinnamon buns.

  Maybe the cow standing in the middle of the railway tracks waiting for the approaching freight train was him.

  25

  Breathe. Deeply. From your diaphragm. That means from your gut. Do not suck in your waist like a girl. Like this." Ted rested his palm on his belly and inhaled, his belly moving out instead of in, as he filled himself with air.

  "But I am a girl. I can't do that."

  "I have done research on stage fright, and the first part of helping yourself is to make sure you have enough oxygen.That means to breathe properly. Let us try this again."

  He watched as she tried four times before her stomach actually expanded with her intake of air.

  "That is right. You need to breathe this way while you are singing. The next thing the book said is that it is normal to be nervous. If you try too hard to calm yourself, you will only feel worse."

  "That's true. By the time you started playing your introduction, before anyone had started watching me, I already felt like I was going to throw up."

  "It is okay to be nervous. Use the nervous energy to give yourself strength, and that will help you do a good job. The next point the book made was that most of stage fright is being afraid that you will make a mistake. The more you know your part, the less chance there is of that, so practice often and memorize everything. It should also help you to know that if you forget the words, I will have the words in front of me. You can look at me, and I will help you. The church will be dark except for the stage, but there will be lights over my music. I will move the piano so you will be able to see my face, and I will move my mouth with the words if you need help."

  "Technically, that sounds like it would work. But I won't know until we try it."

  "Another thing the book suggested was not to become too engrossed in the audience. Since you are not public speaking, you do not have to look at anyone. Focus on something that is not looking back at you. Looking at a spot on the wall is not good, because that reminds you that you are afraid. I have spoken to Elaine and Ryan, and they will make sure they have something for you to always hold in your hands, and you can focus on that if you start to become nervous."

  "If?"

  He smiled. "If. You can do this, and I am going to help you. Now let us start." He hit the button on his computer, and familiar piano music came from the speakers. Just as Miranda's cue to sing sounded, Anna walked into his office and dropped a note with a phone number on his desk.

  "I took a message since you are on your lunch break and Miranda is here. Mr. Parker from that place in Seattle called.He says it is urgent that you call him back as soon as your lunch break is over."

  "Thank you, Anna. I will do that." Because of the interruption, he hit stop. As soon as Anna returned to her desk, he poised his finger to start again, but Miranda grabbed his hand.

  "Wait! You can't do this here. Anna can hear everything we do!"

  "That is good. She is not in the room, but she can still be your audience. I have recorded your first song at home because there is no piano in my office. If you are worried about making mistakes, all I can say is that I know I have made more."

  He turned the monitor toward her, where he'd opened the document with the words to the song. "Are you ready?" He reset the sound file and hit play.

  As he knew would happen, Miranda didn't make any mistakes, compared to the dozens he'd made while recording himself playing.

  She smiled ear to ear. "You know it's different onstage."

  "Ja. That is why we are working on this now. So you will be familiar with it everywhere and the stage will be no different from anywhere else. Now let us eat. I am hungry."

  Miranda sighed and sank down into the chair. "I don't know how to thank you for this. When I arrived in town, Christmas seemed so far away, but now it feels like it's right around the corner."

  Ted glanced at the note on his daily desktop calendar."Twenty-five more practices." Over the span of fifteen weeks.

  Week sixteen they would do five performances, and then on Christmas Eve, she would be going home.

  Miranda gasped. "You're keeping track?"

  "Ja. That does not count the small practices you do with the small groups or soloists. That is only the full group practices."

  "That's actually a lot. I don't feel quite so nervous anymore.We've got lots of time."

  It was not enough time. Every day as he turned another page on his calendar, he felt the loss spiraling out of control.With her joining him for lunch every day at work, he often saw her twice a day, but it was no longer enough.

  "I have an idea. I would like to take you to the soda shop this evening. As it is becoming fall, there are not as many warm days and today seems to be one of the few days left to enjoy a good old-fashioned root beer float."

  "Isn't that where the young people go?"

  He forced himself to smile. That was where the young people would go on a date as one of the few allowable places that it was not necessary to take a chaperone. "Are we too old to go there?"

  She blushed as she stood, ready to leave since the lunch break was officially over. "Of course not. It'll be fun. But I was just thinking, why does so much you do have to involve food?"

  Ted grinned. "It is the Mennonite way." He rose to escort her out. "I will pick you up at six-thirty. Since it will be a warm evening, and I know you are mentally calculating the fat content, I think it would be a good idea if we walked."

  Besides, walking meant the evening would take longer.

  "Sure. Exercise is good. Now I had better leave."

  As he did every day, he escorted her through the building and into the parking lot, where he stood beside the door and watched until she jogged out of sight.

  Now if only he could figure out how to make the lunch hour longer than an hour.

  "It's snowing!" Miranda raised her arms above her head and danced in a little circle. "I see visions of sugar plums and marionettes!"

  Ted only saw visions of his snow shovel that he'd stored in the garage all summer. The snow had come a little early this year, and he didn't need his desk calendar to remind him t
hat the days were flying by. Soon Miranda would be gone. "I know you are referring to a ballet that is done at Christmastime, but what exactly is a sugar plum?"

  She dropped her hands to her side. "I didn't know either, until a few years ago when I googled it. They're those little purple sugar-coated candies that people put out at Christmastime."

  "I have not seen these candies."

  "Maybe next year I'll send you some."

  Next year. He didn't want to jump ahead to next year. He wanted this year to last as long as possible. However, with the Christmas play in full practice mode, including construction of the sets and props, and all the ladies busily sewing costumes, time was passing much too fast.

  The echo of footsteps around the corner told him that people had begun to arrive for the practice.

  "Next week it will be November and time for the full cast to start practicing twice a week."

  Miranda nodded. "I know." She pressed one hand over her stomach. "I'm starting to get nervous."

  Ted's stomach tightened too. She probably hadn't been aware of the full ramifications of what she'd just admitted, but Ted saw the potential for trouble. In the past month they had joyfully entertained much of the office staff, but they had not made much progress with Miranda's fear of singing onstage. If she was already nervous before everyone had arrived, he could only see trouble.

  Since he wasn't very good on the piano, he'd practiced more time than he had to spare so he could do as he'd promised, which was to be able to mouth the words while playing and not make a mistake. For the most part, he could, but he wasn't as good as he wanted to be.

  Soon everyone had arrived. Miranda had insisted that by this time, all singers were required to have their parts and their cues memorized so no one had a paper in their hands. So far, most were able to handle the songs, but many needed help with their cues to do the movements and actions onstage.

  The first part of the play had only the townspeople group on the stage, so Ted stayed at the side and played his guitar while Miranda played the piano. Since he was able to walk around with the guitar, he spent most of the first act onstage, directing everyone's movements. Since the next song would be Miranda's in the nativity scene, they had to trade places.Miranda waited in the wings while Ted took his place at the piano for her first set of songs.

  She did fine with her first duet with the angel as he told her that she would become pregnant with God's Son. During the song she held a blanket in her hands because this announcement was supposed to have taken place in Mary's bedchamber.Ted did notice that when she became nervous, she stroked the soft blanket like a cat. The next scene was a fast forward to a duet of her conversation with Mary's cousin Elizabeth. For this scene she held a duffle bag, because Mary would have been traveling, and she would have brought some of her personal belongings with her. Ted gritted his teeth as he watched her play with the zipper. The more nervous she got about the high notes that were coming, the more she zipped and unzipped it.He didn't know much about traveling in Bible times, but he could safely assume that the travel satchels of the day were tied with drawstrings, and did not have zippered pockets. But he wasn't going to switch bags on her and start over.

  Then came the moment he had been dreading. Mary's first solo, when she sang glory to her Lord, who had blessed her.For this, since Mary was a maidservant of humble parentage, she held a bucket and scrubbing cloth because she was there to help her cousin through the last trimester of her pregnancy.

  He played the simplified version of the introduction, let the pause hang until she sang her opening sentence, then joined in. She did fine, although he could hear a slight tremble in her voice since this was the first time she'd done the big solo without the printed words.

  She made good progress until she got to the middle of the chorus—a part she only got the words right on about half the time. Sure enough, she started to stammer, meaning all was about to become lost.

  If she made a mistake now that caused everything to grind to a halt, he knew she would never recover. Sure enough, she looked straight at him, as her cue that she needed his help with the words.

  Instead of mouthing the words, Ted continued playing with his right hand and pointed to the bucket with his left.Fortunately she got the message and looked down. She actually smiled when she saw the bottom of the bucket, where he'd taped the words to the chorus. Unfortunately, instead of being discreet, she grasped the bucket with both hands and looked down, making it obvious that she was using a cheat sheet.

  A number of people laughed, but she kept singing and made it to the end without further trouble.

  When the action continued on the other side of the stage with the townspeople, Miranda and all those in the nativity left the stage. Miranda returned to the piano to accompany the next song.

  By the time they took their half-time water break, everyone was more than ready. While everyone else went into the kitchen, Miranda retrieved her water bottle from the top of the piano and sat beside Ted on the pew.

  "Thanks for putting the words in the bucket. That really worked."

  "You are welcome, but next time you might wish to be a little more subtle when you read."

  "I will be. I think just knowing they're there will help, and I won't need them so much."

  Before he realized what she was going to do, she leaned toward him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered as her lips brushed his skin, and then it was over.

  His heart pounded so hard he wondered if she could hear it. "If you found that so helpful, wait until you see what I am going to do for that part in the song at the stable where you always get mixed up."

  Her eyebrows arched, making it impossible for him to wait.He walked to the piano bench and sat down, then reached behind the music cradle where he'd hidden his hat. Tucked inside the black ribbon band, circling the crown, he'd stuck a sheet of paper on which he'd written in black felt pen the two sentences she always got wrong. He quickly plopped the hat on his head and turned to her. It was probably disrespectful to the hat, but it would get the job done.

  But instead of the reaction he expected, one lone tear wandered down her cheek. Slowly, she joined him on the bench and reached up to brush her fingers where the paper was nestled into the ribbon, then looked him straight in the eyes.

  "That looks ridiculous, but I know it's going to work." She sniffled. "How will I ever thank you?"

  Ted pressed his lower lip between his teeth as he wiped the tear away. "I do not know. Cinnamon buns?"

  For a brief second, her gaze settled on his lips, then back to his eyes. "Yes. Cinnamon buns are a very good idea."

  26

  What are you doing? Where are we going?"

  "It is a good day, and we need a break. We are going skating."

  "Skating? What about work?"

  Ted grabbed Miranda by the hand and led her out of his office. "Anna, I do not know if I will be back. If any important phone calls come in, please call Miranda's cell phone."

  Anna nodded, then resumed her work.

  Miranda shook her hand free of his but kept following him as he made his way to the main door. "I suppose I should give up and stop arguing with you every time you do something like this."

  Ted nearly laughed. "If you stop arguing with me, then I will know something is wrong."

  "And another thing. Whenever we go somewhere during office hours, you always tell Anna to call me if something comes up. Why don't you get your own cell phone?"

  "The only time I ever need one, I am with you, and you already have a cell phone. Why pay for another new phone? Anna will only call one, so she might as well call yours."

  "You are so cheap."

  "I am a good steward. It is the Mennonite way."

  She remained silent while they trudged through the parking lot. Ted unplugged the block heater and wound up the cord quickly, while Miranda waited behind him.

  "I didn't know you had a skating rink in Piney Meadows."

  "Ja. The careta
ker at the school has just put another layer of water on it this morning, so it will be very smooth right now."

  "School? You have a skating rink at a public school?"

  "Ja. In the summer, it is the oval race track. In the winter, it is our skating rink."

  "Wait. You mean it's outdoors?"

  "Of course it is outdoors. That is how the ice stays frozen.Where did you think it was?"

  "Never mind," she muttered as he opened the car door and held it open for her. "If this is just an outdoor rink at the school, where are we going to rent skates?"

  "I have my own skates, and I have borrowed Anna's skates for you. They are already in my car."

  He waited for Miranda to comment, but she didn't say anything in the entire five minutes it took to drive to the school.Since classes were out for winter break, the parking lot was nearly empty, and only a few people were on the rink as they pulled up.

  "I haven't been on skates since I was in sixth grade. I hope you're not expecting too much."

  "Then I will leave the hockey sticks in the car."

  "Hockey!?"

  "I am kidding. I did not expect you to skate well. But I had expected that you would have skated more recently than when you were a child. You told me about how you went sledding when you were in college. I thought you would also have been skating."

  "There's no outdoor skating in Seattle. It never gets cold enough for that. Snow usually only lasts a day or two, and it's gone. Most of the time all it does is rain. It's probably raining now."