The Narrow Path Read online

  Leonard reached forward to shake his hand. "How was the highway?"

  "Starting to drift and getting packed in places. More snow is coming."

  Miranda stepped back from Lois. "Another snowstorm? Oh, no!"

  Ted turned toward her. "Snowstorm?"

  Miranda extended one arm to the door. "Look at how much there is! You say there's more on the way?"

  Leonard frowned and peeked through the blinds. "Did I miss something? No, it is not snowing hard."

  Miranda also stepped forward and peeked outside. "I see at least three inches on the driveway."

  Ted cleared his throat, causing everyone to look at him, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. "In Seattle, this is considered a lot of snow."

  Without commenting, Leonard and Lois looked down at Miranda's tennis shoes. Her red tennis shoes.

  "Ach, your feet. They must be cold," Lois said as she rubbed her hands together. "Kom. Let me show you to your room and get you settled. You have had a decent supper, have you not? I know they do not feed you on the plane anymore, either, and what they call food at the airport!" She shook her head and mumbled a word Ted didn't quite hear. "Horrible. I have some Alles Tzsamma that will only take a few minutes to heat up."

  Miranda pressed one palm over her stomach as it grumbled."That would be great, thank you. I haven't eaten since lunch. I wasn't hungry at the airport, but I'm sure hungry now." She glanced at Ted, then back to Lois. "As long as it isn't any trouble."

  Lois waved one hand in the air. "Verdault nicht. For sure not.Take off your shoes and come inside. Len, take her things to her room, and I will warm up some Alles Tzsamma. Ted, would you like to stay?"

  "No, danke shoen. I must be on my way." Ted placed his hat back on his head. "I will see you again tomorrow evening at the church for the introductory session." Where the church board, the deacons, and committee leaders will all meet Miss Randi with an "i."

  Just as he started to turn toward the door, Miranda looked at him with eyes wide, like a puppy dog with a thorn in its paw.

  For a moment, his heart softened. Even though she didn't belong here, he didn't wish to see her hurt. However, less damage would be done the sooner she returned to her city life.As well, the sooner she went back, the less damage would be done to his people.

  He was only doing the right thing. When he got home, he would pray for the meeting and for wisdom for all, including Miranda. And for her to have a safe trip home.

  He took one last look at her and walked out the door.

  Miranda stood in the bedroom doorway while Len lifted her suitcase onto the bed.

  He turned around, winced slightly, then smiled when they made eye contact. "Lois says there are plenty of hangers in the closet, but if you run out, please ask. We have more." He smiled again, nodded slightly, and left the room.

  Miranda immediately sat on the bed and pulled off her wet socks. While she dug through her suitcase for a fresh pair and her slippers, she glanced over her shoulder at the room that would be hers for the upcoming year.

  It was small, but furnished in a classic, homey style.Everything was simple and comfortable—a quiet, private place to work, or the perfect spot to wind down after the day was done. The only flaw was that the room was crowded. The furniture had been squeezed tight in order to add the desk.

  As soon as her feet were covered, she walked across the room and slowly ran her fingers along the smooth edge of the dresser. Like all the furniture in the room, it was plain in design, hewn in dark wood, and styled in clean and distinct lines that were pure country classical. The simple craftsmanship displayed little ornamentation; yet instead of looking bare, everything had a warm and cozy ambiance. Lovely inlays accented the curves of the more ornate pieces, giving them a subtle beauty and emphasizing the workmanship. The accompanying chest of drawers was a perfect match, along with a headboard and footboard on the bed. A colorful quilt, which Miranda knew from the unique design had to be handmade, covered the bed.

  Although the desk wasn't from the same matched set, it had a distinct appeal as well. The simpler design made Miranda wonder if it was an antique, even though it didn't have a rolldown cover. Everything was a perfect blend of simplicity, practicality, and comfort.

  When her electric piano arrived, however, she would have a difficult time finding a place for it because it would destroy the atmosphere of the room.

  Lois appeared in the doorway. "Your supper will be a few minutes longer. Would you like to see more of the house until it is ready?"

  Miranda nodded. "Yes, I'd like that. Your home is charming."

  Lois's cheeks darkened, and she smiled nervously. "Before I show you the living room, I know where you will be spending most of your time."

  Lois led her into a small family room, but instead of a television and video game center being the main attraction, it was a piano: a square, brown rosewood grand piano. If Miranda remembered correctly, square pianos dated back prior to 1880.She was almost afraid to touch it. It was probably worth more than her car.

  "This is incredible," Miranda said as she approached the piano. Her hand shook as she lightly played a B7 chord, resolving it into E. The rich, harp-like sound resounded all the way to her soul.

  "It was Lois's grootmutta's piano, and her grootmutta's before her. It has been in the family for many generations."

  Miranda did the mental math. For this to be Lois's grandmother's grandmother's piano meant the beautiful instrument could well date back to 1880.

  "I've seen pictures, but I've never touched one of these before," Miranda murmured. She ran through a few basic chord progressions, without sitting down on the handembroidered seat cushion, clearly as antique as the piano. As the notes soared, she imagined a lady from Lois's family playing this antique piano—dressed the same as Lois was now, in a long, dull-colored, loose-fitted, ankle-length dress. In her own home, Lois didn't wear a prayer covering, but like the pastor's wife, she probably did when she went out.

  "My electric piano will never sound like this." Or feel like it, either. Playing her electric piano would never be the same, regardless of its weighted keys or how she set the sound. The keys on this piano were slightly yellowed, meaning they were real ivory, something else she had never touched.

  Lois stepped beside her. "It will be a joy to hear you play. I miss the sound of music in the house."

  Len slipped one arm around his wife's waist. "Kathleen said she would give you lessons. One day, you could make music just like your mama used to."

  "Kathleen has no time for such things. She already does so much."

  Miranda stepped back from the piano, her mind reeling from the thought of being able to play on such a fine instrument every day. "I teach piano lessons to a few members of my congregation. I'd love to give you lessons as a small way to thank you for opening your home to me."

  Lois raised one hand to her throat. "Do you mean you have given up your students to come here? That must have been so difficult. And such a sacrifice."

  Miranda shook her head. The wonders of technology allowed her to keep her treasured students, still do her job, and keep in touch with her friends. "It was no sacrifice. I'm going to continue their lessons on schedule over the Internet."

  Len frowned. "I am sorry, but we do not have a computer."

  Somehow, she knew he would say that. "That's okay. I'll just set up a remote connection and use my laptop. Would you mind if I arranged for an Internet hookup? I don't know what's available to this area, or the best price—dialup, cable modem, or DSL."

  Both Len and Lois looked at her as if she had spoken in a foreign language. To them, she probably had. But saying it made her suspect that their phone was still on the old hardwired system. Being so, she wasn't going to run wires through their house.

  "Don't worry. I can probably do it from the church. I've exchanged email with Pastor Jake, so I know he has a computer and an Internet connection. I'll ask him what kind of setup he's got when I see him t
omorrow."

  Lois raised one hand toward the door. "Ja. That is tomorrow.For now, the Alles Tzsamma should be ready."

  In reply, Miranda's stomach grumbled. She didn't know whose face turned redder, hers or Lois's. "That would be wonderful. I don't remember the last time I've had Alles Tzsamma."

  Not many people in her church still made the traditional Mennonite dishes on a regular basis. They usually required too much preparation time, and everyone had a job. After fighting the Seattle rush-hour traffic, the last thing on anyone's mind, including hers, was spending hours in the kitchen preparing a meal. Once a year the church's social committee held a traditional potluck dinner, and Miranda always brought the same thing—farmer sausage bought from the deli on her way home.

  As they approached the kitchen, a timer dinged—the bell of an oven timer. Not the electronic tone of a microwave.

  The kitchen table was set for one, with a beautiful china plate and a knife and fork that matched. Miranda sat down in the chair.

  Lois transferred the food from a metal tray to the plate, set it before Miranda, then politely stood back to allow her to give thanks in private.

  Miranda's prayers were heartfelt, but quick. She openly savored every bite. "This is delicious. Thank you so much. I have a feeling that I'm going to gain weight while I'm here, and it will be worth it."

  Lois smiled. "It is not healthy to be so skinny as the girls in the magazines. For those girls to do that to themselves, this is wrong."

  Miranda noticed that while Lois wasn't anywhere near skinny, for a woman old enough to be Miranda's mother, she wasn't chunky, either. She smiled at Lois.

  "Fortunately, I have a good metabolism. I don't have to starve myself to keep my weight down." Her father told her that her mother used to be the same way. "I just don't want you to go to a lot of trouble for me. Please cook exactly the same things as if I wasn't here, and I insist that you let me help, including doing the dishes." Unfortunately, that meant doing them by hand because Miranda didn't see a dishwasher anywhere."Housework too. I don't want to be a burden. I want to do my share."

  Although now that it had been said, Miranda hoped her share of vacuuming the carpets meant exactly that—vacuuming— not hauling rugs outside and beating them by hand.

  "Ach, but not. You have so much work to do for our church.But if you insist, then I think the dishes will be a good thing for you to do."

  "Great." Finished eating, Miranda stood, automatically turning toward the cupboard beside the sink, where the dishwasher should have been and wasn't. "Then I'm going to start by washing my plate."

  Lois removed it from her hand. "Do not be wasting water for one plate. This will be fine to sit in the sink until morning.Now go finish unpacking your suitcase, and then we can talk for a while before bed. It is getting late. You must be tired."

  Although the time change traveling eastward had been in her favor, she was tired. However, the reason was probably more stress-related than time-related. "Yes, it's been a long day. Thanks."

  Before Miranda continued putting her things away, she pulled out her cell phone and sent her father a text message to ask him to start recording CSI every week, because along with no microwave or dishwasher, the Toews didn't own a television either.

  She flipped off the phone and then back on again to send another text message to remind her father to buy a big pile of blank DVDs or a new external hard drive to store a year's worth until she could watch them all—in order.

  As she turned the phone off again, Miranda stood in one spot, staring at the now-black touchscreen. When she got on the plane this morning, she thought she was stepping into a dream—a dream that was part of God's ministry. She had never looked forward to anything so much in her life, including her university graduation.

  The decision to move to a small town, even for a short year, had been difficult because she loved the busy city life.She worked in a high-rise office tower in downtown Seattle that looked over Puget Sound and the Pacific Ocean. In Piney Meadows, the tallest building she'd seen stood three stories. It probably didn't even have enough elevation to look out over the nearest farm.

  Miranda squeezed shut her eyes. She was here, and she intended to honor her promise—one she had made to the pastor, the church board, and most importantly, to God—that she would put together everything they needed to celebrate Christmas and their seventy-fifth anniversary. This church wanted to reach out in ministry to everyone within driving distance, which was why they had brought her here.

  At least this wasn't a commune with horses and buggies.Unless the horses had all frozen to death, forcing residents to buy cars. She shuddered at the thought.

  She looked into the open closet, which now contained about half of the clothes she had brought, then stared blankly into her half-empty suitcase. She had packed only her favorite items and a few basic staples. Nothing resembled anything close to what she knew the ladies here wore every day. She owned a few skirts, but all were fitted and none hung lower than her knees. She had brought only one with her.

  While she was here she wanted to fit in, but in doing so, she didn't want to lose herself. She hated neutral colors. She hated boring monotones even worse. Everything she owned was bright, cheery, and colorful. Her favorite color was red. Except for her tennis shoes, every pair of shoes she had brought had at least three-inch heels.

  Miranda covered her face with her hands and peeked out between her fingers. It wasn't all bad. She had been picked up in a car, and she'd been hired over the Internet.

  The Toews owned a dog, but from what she had seen, she wouldn't be surprised if some of the people nearby might have a pet goat. That wasn't bad, either. She had always loved to play with the goats at the petting zoo when she was a child.

  The men's clothing was as boring as the women's, but she had to admit Ted sure looked good in that hat.

  Miranda sucked in a deep breath, hung up the rest of her clothes, and piled her paperwork on the desk.

  She could do this. She would do this.

  Miranda set the suitcase and empty backpack in the back of the closet and closed the door. At the same time as she let go of the door handle, a kettle whistled from down the hall.Tea was on the way. She forced herself to feel some enthusiasm.She had a feeling it was going to be a long time before her next visit to Starbucks.

  Lois had filled the teapot with water and dipped a teabag in as Miranda arrived in the kitchen.

  Miranda lowered herself into the chair and wrapped her hands around an empty mug. "Your little dog is so cute. I've always wanted a dog, but Daddy and I have a lot of people visiting, so we can't take the chance that someone will be allergic."

  Lois nodded. "Ja, Fidette is a good little dog, but sometimes she is too friendly. We do not encourage it, no, but often she sneaks onto the bed at night, so I am glad you like dogs." Slowly, Lois poured the tea, looking down as she spoke. "Tomorrow will be your first time to meet our church board."

  Miranda swallowed hard. She hoped she could meet their expectations. Since this was not what she had expected, it could be reasonably assumed that she was not what they expected, either. "Yes. Now that I'm here, I'm not sure I'm ready."

  She vowed that just as soon as she retired to her bedroom, she would first thank God for a safe and uneventful flight, and then she would pray for wisdom not to put her foot in her mouth until she learned more about these people. She also would pray about being a better listener than speaker, a trait that had never been her greatest strength.

  "Still, the person you will be spending the most time with will be Ted, since he is our worship leader. He is a hard worker.He will help you very much."

  "I know he plays guitar. He told me on the way here from the airport."

  Lois chuckled softly. "Poor Ted. He does not like going to the airport. Pastor Jake said he would be the best one to pick you up because he visits the cities so often."

  "Yes, he did seem to know his way around the airport."

  "Having you here is
such an answer to prayer," Lois said."Ted had already started working on this program, but he is so busy, and he became frustrated looking for the right music.When your portfolio arrived, after seeing the photos of what you have done and listening to the tapes you had sent, we knew that this surely was God's timing. When you replied so quickly, we knew this was surely His will."

  Miranda nearly choked on her tea. "Ted had already started? I didn't know that."

  "Ja. But the project is too much for him. When we voted to bring you here, he graciously stepped down."

  The delicious supper she'd eaten suddenly sat like a cardboard lump in the pit of her stomach. The same thing had happened to her once before, and it was an experience she would never forget. She had been chosen to compose the background music for a university function. A week later, after she'd had it half completed, they told her that they had reconsidered and given the honor to the professor's niece. It still stung, even after so much time had passed. Only now, years later, could she think of Sally without hating her—at least most of the time.

  Now she was doing the same thing to someone else.

  "I was thinking that he doesn't seem to like me very much.Now I know why."

  Lois waved one hand in the air. "That is not so. Ted is a good man; you must get to know him."

  Miranda stared into the bottom of her empty cup. She had a feeling that was a task easier said than done.

  4

  Ted sat stiffly in his chair at the boardroom table, trying to appear relaxed even though his mind whirled faster than Tante Odelle's spinning wheel. He'd participated in the initial planning meeting for the church's combined Christmas and anniversary celebration, but under different circumstances from today.

  In the three years he'd served as worship leader, he had proven himself in his abilities and strengths. Without fail, he had successfully put together all the music for every worship event, whether Sunday services or larger celebrations. But for this one, because of some initial difficulties, the deacons and church board declared Miranda Klassen an answer to prayer.He'd prayed about it, too, but Miss Randi with an "i" was not the answer he'd received.