The Narrow Path Read online

  Miranda raised her hand to the window and wiped away the fog. The snow was coming down heavier now than it had been when they first drove out of the airport. She'd never seen anything like it, and just looking at it made her even colder.

  As Ted drove, he lifted one hand from the steering wheel and grasped the top of the collar of his coat. He fanned it a few times and blew out his breath.

  "I am stopping the car," he said as he checked the rearview mirror.

  Miranda opened her mouth to ask him why, but he braked so hard she lurched against the seatbelt and lost her breath.The center lane where most traffic drove was clear, but the falling snow was beginning to accumulate on the outside lane, and the shoulder was covered. Instead of pulling over onto the shoulder, Ted aimed the car so only one tire went into the snow; half of the car blocked the lane—a danger if anyone were to come up behind them. The second the car stopped, he clicked off his seatbelt with one hand, pushed the door open with the other, and bolted out.

  "What's wrong? Should I—" Before she could finish her sentence, he'd shucked off his coat, thrown it in the back seat, and was again in the driver's seat, fastening his seatbelt.

  In two seconds, the car had resumed motion. He eased it into the center of the driving lane and quickly picked up speed. As soon as they were back at the posted speed limit, he shifted into fifth gear and reached over to turn the heat on full blast.

  "I needed to do that quickly before someone came up behind us. Now you will be able to get fully warm."

  She stared at Ted, barely able to believe what he'd just done.She would never have pulled that maneuver on the I-5 at home, but then, this highway only had two lanes in each direction, not five, and nowhere near the same volume of traffic. Also, it was getting dark, and they were the only car on that stretch of road, at least for a couple of minutes. He'd removed his coat so efficiently that she suspected this wasn't the first time.

  Automatically, she raised her hands to the vent, now blasting out hot air instead of merely blowing warm.

  "Thank you. I think . . ." her voice trailed off as he turned to look at her, probably gauging her reaction.

  "Ja? What is it?" he muttered as he straightened his hat, then returned his attention to the road in front of him.

  Her thoughts froze as numb as her toes. She stared at his profile, taking in the whole picture of him, now that he'd removed his bulky coat.

  The hat was the reason he had been the first person she had looked at in the crowd when she got off the plane. She'd never seen one like it, at least not in person. Made of solid black felt, completely unadorned, with a wide unrolled brim, it looked like hats she'd seen in some of the books at her church—the books about Mennonite history that her father had given her to read to learn about her heritage.

  And the accent. Ja. Not yes, or yeah. Not only did he speak with a bit of an inflection to his words, he enunciated every word clearly. The more he spoke, the more prominent his accent. From the first moment she had heard him speak, she'd been intrigued and charmed by it.

  Without his coat, he looked like he'd been pulled right off the pages of the book that was now packed in the bottom of a box in her closet. Like his coat, the rest of his clothes were just as basic. He wore a plain cotton button-down blue shirt, and his pants were loose and made for comfort to the point that he used suspenders to hold them up. Plain suspenders. No lettering proclaiming his favorite rock band. No Harley Davidson or other motorcycle logo. Just plain black suspenders.

  "I'll be fine now." Miranda turned her head as if she were watching the passing scenery.

  Before she boarded the plane, she'd had a long talk with her father. They had both had a gut feeling that aside from being a small town, Piney Meadows would be a place quite different from what they were used to in Seattle. During the interview process, Pastor Jake had overemphasized traditional values and strong family ethics. Since their own church felt strongly about those same things, neither Miranda nor her father understood why Pastor Jake had been so emphatic about it. They'd simply agreed, yet they both felt something neither of them could define. If Ted was a typical member of the church . . .

  Miranda cleared her throat. "Well," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Tell me all about your town and Piney Meadows Full Gospel Mennonite Church."

  For the first time since she'd met him, Ted smiled.

  Her breath caught. The smile changed him. His eyes sparkled, and he was downright handsome in a country boy sort of way. Pastor Jake hadn't told her how old Ted was, but she guessed him to be a year or two older than herself, which put him at about twenty-six.

  "I have lived here all my life, as did my parents before me.It is a small community, made of both townspeople and those who live on the nearby farms."

  Miranda was content to listen to Ted recap some of the history of the town as they drove, including a few amusing stories of some of the residents and descriptions of the countryside that, unlike Seattle, experienced four distinct seasons.

  When they passed the town's welcome sign, Miranda couldn't help but compare it to something she would see on television as a caricature of a hick town. There was probably a main street, but she couldn't see even a hint of a tall building and she had a feeling the reason wasn't just because it was so dark.In contrast to her neighborhood in Seattle, houses here were large and spaced well apart on large lots. Most had detached garages, something she never saw in Seattle, and rarely saw in the suburbs, except in the older neighborhoods. The town was small enough that not only did the population number show on the sign, it looked like it had recently been changed.

  This was a town that wasn't likely to have a Walmart. Ever.

  "Where are we going?" Miranda asked, wondering what time everyone went to bed in a town like this.

  Ted checked his watch. "We are going to the church. I would like you to meet Pastor Jake."

  Miranda looked around the neighborhood as they turned off the main road. The covering of snow gave everything such a pure and pristine feel. Yet, in addition to the quaintness, she had the impression that in the summertime, some of these yards would hold a goat or a chicken or two.

  As they drove past the darkened houses, not one of them showed the glow of a television through the window. "Are you sure it's not too late? Everyone seems to be settled in for the night."

  "No. He will be there. Pastor Jake is always at the church late on Thursday evenings. I am sure that he is anxious to meet you."

  Just as Ted had promised, the church was well lit when he stopped the car on the street. "Are you sure he's here? I don't see a car."

  "The lights are on. He is here. As I do, Pastor Jake has a car, but he walks to church. He only will drive the car when someone needs a ride."

  When Ted opened his door, an icy blast of wind pierced the haven of his small car. He visibly shivered and quickly reached into the backseat for his coat. He moved so fast he was almost a blur as he hopped outside, slipped his arms into the sleeves, and wrapped the coat around himself without fastening the buttons. "Kom. Come. Let us go inside."

  Ted guided her up the stairs without speaking. Slogging through the ankle-deep snow, she was even more grateful that he'd given her the chance to change from her best dress shoes to her tennis shoes. Even though snow spilled over the sides and stuck to her socks, it was better than freezing her exposed toes.

  At the door, he sidestepped ahead of her to open it, bowing his head slightly as she walked past him. Once inside, Miranda compared Ted's church to what she'd read about. It was just like the history books. Beside the doors were two sides of a community coatrack—one side for women and the other side for men, complete with pegs for the men's hats. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ted remove his hat and hang it on one of the pegs, but he didn't remove his coat.

  Taking one step further, she looked up. The foyer's ceiling, made from old wood, had been stained deep and rich. Pillars of the same wood stood proudly throughout the large space.The room was elegan
t and beautiful, but at the same time warm and comfortable. Stepping closer to one of the pillars, she saw words carved into it, as well as an intricate carving of a shepherd and a few sheep.

  "The Lord is my shepherd," she read, running her hands over the words as she spoke them. "This is magnificent. Where did your church get this?"

  "One of our founding fathers carved all the pillars to be ready for the original construction."

  "Wow," she murmured as she again tilted her head to study the ceiling more carefully.

  With the foyer displaying such craftsmanship, Miranda's heart quickened at the thought of what artistry proclaiming the glory of God would be in the center of His house. "I can hardly wait to see your sanctuary."

  "But—"

  Ted raised one finger in the air, but Miranda didn't wait for him. She continued forward and pulled open a set of closed double doors. Sighing, he followed her into the looming blackness, and she heard the sweep of his hand against the wall. A click sounded, and one light came on at the front.

  Just as she had imagined, wooden pews lined the slightly triangular room, layered in levels as the entire floor sloped toward the front where a small, bare stage held a wooden podium. Behind it, high on the wall, hung a large cross made of the same wood. The plainness of the room focused all attention on the cross, making a vivid statement. Even though the building had to be more than seventy-five years old, considering the shape of the room and the choice of materials for the wall covering, she suspected the acoustics were excellent.

  "This is outstanding. Majestic, yet simple."

  "It meets our needs. Let me introduce you to Pastor Jake."He stepped back, allowing her to exit the room before he flipped off the light switch and pulled the door shut behind him.

  She hadn't taken more than a couple of steps when a middleaged man wearing a suit about ten years out of date stepped out of one of the rooms leading into the foyer. Beneath the suit jacket, he wore suspenders too.

  "Miranda Klassen, please meet Pastor Jake Loewen."

  Miranda approached him. "Pastor," she said, and extended one hand.

  Pastor Jake's face froze with an expression similar to that of Ted when he had first seen her at the airport. He blinked a few times, and his eyes met hers. Slowly, he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Gradually, he extended his hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Klassen."

  "Please, call me Randi."

  "With an 'i,' " Ted piped up beside her.

  Pastor Jake's grip tightened.

  Out of the corner of her eye, a movement caught her attention.A woman walked out of the pastor's office. It didn't surprise Miranda that this woman was dressed the same as the elderly lady on the plane, the one who wore a prayer kapp. It made Miranda wonder if that lady was a member of this church and community; perhaps she should have spoken to her.

  Pastor Jake released her hand and smiled. "Miranda Klassen, this is my wife, Kathleen Loewen."

  Miranda forced herself to breathe normally as she took in everything she'd seen in the last few hours. Nothing had been like she thought it would be. Her head spun as she combined images from her history book with what surrounded her now.The quaint neighborhood. The old building. The clothes. Like Little House on the Prairie—with cars.

  Miranda smiled graciously. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs.Loewen."

  Mrs. Loewen smiled and nodded briefly. "And I am very pleased to meet you. Did you have a nice flight?"

  Miranda nodded. She'd had a nice flight. But suddenly she was unsure of the landing.

  "You are looking tired."

  Not as much tired as overwhelmed. She'd been so excited at the thought of putting together a project like they'd discussed over the phone while not under her father's wing. Not that she wanted credit or glory, but even Jesus felt the sting of not being taken seriously in His own hometown. Here, she had thought she could spread her wings and fly like an eagle. Instead, she felt like a colorful parrot among sparrows—a parrot that had just had its wings clipped. But God loved each and every sparrow, exactly the same as parrots. She sucked in a deep breath.

  "Yes, I am a little tired, and—I have to admit this isn't exactly what I'd expected."

  Ted's eyebrows arched, and he crossed his arms over his chest."Really?" The deep tone of his voice bordered on sarcasm.

  The pastor narrowed his eyes and glared at Ted for a moment before he turned back to her and scanned her from head to toe.

  Miranda tried not to cringe at the inspection. She had worn her best jeans and her favorite T-shirt for the flight, but she had a feeling that her choice hadn't been the right one for this mission. And it was a mission.

  She had come to help this church with their Christmas program because they lacked the resources and had sought experienced help. She had composed and directed three musical Christmas dramas for her father's church, and every one of them had met with tremendous response, both from established members and newcomers.

  That was why she was here. Even though she didn't have much in common with this lifestyle, she and these people did share one thing—the thing that counted the most. She was a Mennonite too.

  Pastor Jake cleared his throat. "Are you having second thoughts?"

  Ted stepped closer. "I will not go to work tomorrow and take you back to the airport."

  Miranda stood tall, making eye contact first with Ted, then with Pastor Jake. Suppressing a shiver from the cold of the melting snow that soaked her socks, she tucked her purse under her arm, reached up, untied the ribbon in her hair, and stuffed it in her pocket.

  "No, I'm not having second thoughts. I just need to buy a new jacket and a good pair of boots, and I'm ready."

  3

  Ted hoisted Miranda's heavy suitcase out of the trunk and set it on the ground behind him.

  He couldn't believe she was staying, with Pastor Jake's blessing.Although he knew Pastor Jake and his wife would be long in prayer about it, probably at this very moment.

  For tonight, anyway, she was here. Tomorrow, she was required to attend a church board meeting, so that would probably change her mind, as well as the pastor's.

  "Since the sidewalk is not shoveled, I will carry this for you; it is not possible to pull it through the snow."

  "Thank you. I know it's pretty heavy. I had to take out one of my books at the check-in counter so I didn't have to pay extra."

  He handed her the backpack that had been her second piece of checked luggage and waited while she tucked her umbrella and book in the outside pockets.

  She slipped on the straps, then slung the laptop satchel over one shoulder, and picked up her purse. "I'm ready."

  Ted nodded as he lifted the heavy suitcase and began walking the length of the sidewalk. "When Sarah's grootmutta flies, she always packs too much as well."

  His bad mood lightened slightly, thinking of Gretta's homemade wassermelone pokel that she'd tried to take on her last trip. He couldn't believe she had taken a glass jar containing liquid into the security line. Before the TSA threw it out, he'd recovered it, planning to take it home. But it had been a long day, and he was hungry. Using a plastic fork from the airport's food court, he had nibbled the watermelon pickles in the car on the way home. After eating the whole jar like a heathen he suffered from a stomachache, but every bite had been worth it.

  Ted set the suitcase beside the front door and pushed his fist into the muscle he'd overworked. A shadow came over Miranda's face as she watched him.

  "I'm so sorry. It's heavy because I had to bring some work with me. I'm on a tight deadline at the office."

  "You have a job? I thought you were the worship leader at your church."

  "Yes, I am. I'm also the church treasurer. But I also have a day job. I think any of the other accountants could have done these reconciliations, but the client wanted me or they threatened to leave. So I ended up agreeing to work part-time and do everything remotely until my return."

  Ted clenched his teeth. His friend, Wil
liam, was the accountant for his onkel's company. It was more than a mere job. Being an accountant was a career, one he doubted Miranda would quit when the day came for her to be married. The church board didn't know she was chasing a career instead of preparing herself for a family of her own. They only knew she was a pastor's daughter, who happened to be a talented musician and composer.

  He looked at her again—frazzled, chemically treated hair, bright red lipstick, city-woman jeans, insane shoes. The more he discovered about her, the worse it became. She was not a match for his people, or their congregation.

  He had no doubt that the rest of the church board would feel the same way as he did. They would have her back on the plane before she had finished unpacking.

  Just as he raised his finger to push the doorbell, barking echoed from inside. "Leonard and Lois are anxious to meet you, as is their dog."

  "I hope they didn't go to a lot of trouble."

  He paused, his finger poised in midair. Of course they had. Leonard and Lois Toews had been the first ones to raise their hands at the committee meeting when they discussed where Miranda would live for the year she stayed with their congregation.

  "Leonard and Lois truly have the gift of hospitality. They also have an empty room since their daughter got married, and a piano."

  Ted pushed the button. The door opened before the ring finished playing. Leonard stood in the doorway, Lois slightly behind him, both smiling brightly.

  It was too bad that when the shock hit them, they were going to be so disappointed, especially Lois. Lois anticipated their visitor would want to do many of the things she had done with her daughter. However, instead of joining the ladies' sewing groups, Miranda would spend most of her time working on the computer she had brought with her.

  If she stayed. Which she wasn't.

  Ted guided Miranda inside. Once she crossed the threshold, he hauled her suitcase in, closed the door behind him, removed his hat, and reached to the side to hang it on the rack. By the time he turned around, Lois and Miranda were already hugging each other, not waiting for him to introduce them properly.