The Heart's Voice

Chapter Two

Dan came into the store on Friday morning, a half day for Becca. He smiled and waved as he pulled his cart from the queue, then purchased milk and eggs and a piece of salt pork for “a mess of beans,” as he said at the checkout.

“You must be missing military chow,” she teased.

“Must be,” he agreed shyly.

He turned his attention to a rack of television program guides mounted near the checkout, and Becca deliberately asked, “What sort are you having?”

He made no reply, just as she had expected, so she repeated the question once she had his attention again.

“Navy beans,” he said with a grin. “Called them something else in the Corps.”

“I prefer good old reds myself.”

He chuckled. “Red seems to be a theme with you.”

“I like red,” she admitted. “That’ll be $9.17.”

“Bet it’s a good color on you,” he said, and then ducked his head as that very shade bloomed on the ridges of his cheeks. He dug out a ten-dollar bill and plunked it on the table, mumbling, “You have a good day now.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, purposely not looking at him as she extracted his change from the cash drawer. “I’m expecting John Travolta to pick me up for lunch in his private jet.” She peeked at him to see how he’d taken that, or if he’d even heard it, but he was already making for the door with his groceries. “Hey!” she called out. “Your change!” She wasn’t the least surprised when he just kept on walking.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Abby asked, appearing from the little office blocked off across the aisle from the checkout.

Becca dropped the coins into her apron pocket. “Dan Holden just forgot his change, that’s all.”

“How much?”

“Eighty-three cents.”

“Oh, well, just give it to him next time he comes in.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Becca said with a smile.

Abby nodded and turned back into the office, where she was tabulating invoices for payment. Becca patted the small bulge in her pocket and decided that she was going to pay another call on the handsome ex-marine, and this time they were going to have an honest talk.

Dan saw the flashing light on the panel mounted on the kitchen wall. Connected to a motion detector, it signaled him whenever someone approached his front door. He’d installed the panels in his bedroom, bath and here in the kitchen, and eventually he meant to have them in every room. Originally he’d thought he wouldn’t need one in the living room, as it overlooked the porch, but little Becca Kinder’s visit a few nights earlier had shown him that he wasn’t as observant as he’d judged himself to be. He wondered how many other visitors he’d missed because he’d been too proud to admit that he might overlook what he couldn’t hear.

Rising from the chair, he left his sandwich on the table and walked down the central hall past the staircase to the front door. Upon opening the door, he didn’t know who was more surprised, Becca Kinder, who had apparently not yet knocked, or him at seeing pretty little Becca on his doorstep again, this time with a fat baby perched on one hip. It looked to be a boy.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” she said, holding out her right hand.

“What’s this?” he asked, putting out his own palm.

“The change you forgot at the store this morning.”

“Oh!”

He felt the burn of embarrassment again, and it galled him. What was it about this girl that kept him blushing like some awkward preteen? He slipped the coins into the front pocket of his jeans. Catching movement from the corner of his eye, he glanced left and spied her little girl skipping merrily across his porch, pale hair flopping. Becca was not a girl, but a woman and a mother, he reminded himself, and he’d do well to remember it. He still thought of Cody Kinder as the happy-go-lucky kid he’d once known, clomping around in a droopy cowboy hat and boots two sizes too large. Now here stood his family.

“Didn’t have to bring this,” he said, looking her in the eye. He always worried that he wouldn’t get his volume right, but she neither winced nor leaned in closer.

She shrugged, and he dropped his gaze to her mouth. It was a pretty little mouth, a perfect pink bow. “No problem. It’s on my way home. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.”

He assumed that it had to do with her house and the repairs she seemed to think she needed. “All right.”

“How’d you lose your hearing?”

He nearly dropped from shock. “How…” He stared into her wide, clear green eyes, sucked in a breath and accepted that the secret was out. “Explosion.”

She nodded matter-of-factly, no trace of pity in her expression. She was a pretty thing, with her fine, straight, light golden-blond hair cropped bluntly just above her shoulders, the bangs wisping randomly across her forehead. Those soft olive-green eyes were big and round, but not too large for her wide oval face with its pointed chin and small, tip-tilted nose. Completely devoid of cosmetics, her golden skin literally glowed, and her dusty-pink mouth truly intrigued him. She was so easy to lip-read.

“I figured it was something like that,” she said. “Mind if I ask how long ago it was?”

He shook his head, as much to clear it as in answer to her question. “About thirteen months.”

She shifted the baby on her hip. “About the same time CJ was born, then.”

What a coincidence, he thought, looking at the baby. She’d been gaining something precious while he was losing his hearing, along with life as he’d known it, his career, the future he’d envisioned for himself. Keeping his expression carefully bland, he switched his gaze back to her face.

“How did you know?”

“Little things. Abby says you were always friendly and outgoing before.” He winced at the implication. “But you don’t reply sometimes when you’re spoken to.” She grinned. “I thought you were rude.”

He closed his eyes, appalled that he wasn’t as smart as he’d assumed, then he opened them again to find that she was still speaking.

“…weren’t singing and the way you watched the pastor so intently when he was preaching. Then there were the closed captions on the TV the other night.”

He waved a hand, feeling ridiculous. Had he really believed that he could fool everyone? He’d thought that if he kept to himself and was careful he could lead something close to a normal life. Now he knew that wasn’t true, and he felt sick in a way that he hadn’t since he’d realized that he was never going to hear another sound. For some reason he felt compelled to try to explain it to her.

“It’s not obvious at first.”

“No, it’s not. Took me a while to figure it out.”

“I’m not comfortable announcing it.” He hoped he hadn’t stumbled over the word comfortable.

“I understand. And why should you if you don’t have to? How did you learn to read lips so well, by the way?”

“Training.”

“Guess that’s one good thing about the military, huh? They take care of their own.”

“That’s right. Helps that I wasn’t born this way.”

“I see. Is your deafness why you won’t work on my house?” she asked.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes.”

She bit her lip. “Okay. Well, you don’t have to worry that I’ll say anything to anybody. I mean, if that’s the way you want it.”

He forced a smile. “Thank you.”

“But since I already know about your problem, there’s really no reason why you can’t help me out, is there?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She had a point. He sighed, then hoped she hadn’t heard. It was hard to tell with her. “You better come in.”

She shook her head, glancing at her daughter, who continued skipping. The child appeared to be singing to herself. Becca hefted the boy to a more comfortable position, and he noticed how small and childlike her hands were before quickly jerking his gaze back to her face. “That’s okay. Jenny likes playing on your porch.”

He wasn’t sure about the name. “Jenny?”

“No. J-e-m-m-y. Jemmy.”

“Jemmy.” He pointed at the boy. “CJ?”

“For Cody John, after his daddy and his grandpa.”

Dan nodded his understanding. The child was huge, with fat cheeks and thighs, or his mother was very small, or both. Either way, she looked much too young to have two children.

“So will you help me fix up my house?”

She might be young, but she was persistent. Dan rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. Was this God’s will, that he work on her house? He was having a hard time figuring out what God had in store for him these days. He’d come home to Rain Dance simply because he had to go somewhere after the Marine Corps had medically retired him, and at thirty he didn’t like feeling dependent on his parents, especially with his sister, Gayla, busily planning her fall wedding. By helping out Becca Kinder he’d at least be keeping busy.

“No promises,” he finally said, “but I’ll take a look.”

She literally bounced, as excited as if she’d just won the lottery. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Holden!”

“Dan,” he corrected automatically.

She smiled. “And I’m Becca.”

“Becca,” he repeated carefully. “Not Becky?”

“Not Becky,” she confirmed, “but short for Rebecca.”

“Okay, Becca. When and where?”

She started to answer him, but then she suddenly turned away. He followed her gaze and saw that Jemmy was about to slip off the end of the porch and down between the hedges. She stopped and cast a measuring glance at her mother, then resumed skipping again. Becca smiled at him and said, “As far as how to find us, just head east straight on out of town to the second section line. Then turn back north. We’re on the left just over a mile down.”

He smiled because she hadn’t altered the speed or manner in which she normally spoke. “Two miles east. One north. On the left.”

“Right. There’s no section line road there, but you’ll see the name on the mailbox.”

“Kinder,” he surmised.

“That’s it.” She flapped a hand happily. “Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this! See you then.” As she turned to go, he realized that he’d missed something important, and without even thinking, he reached out and snagged her wrist. A jolt of heat lanced up his arm. He instantly released her.

“Sorry. Uh, when?”

Her eyes grew even rounder, and apology was suddenly written all over her face. “I turned my head. Jemmy was about to crawl off into the bushes, and I didn’t even think.”

“It’s all right.” He brought his hands to his hips, just to be sure he didn’t accidentally reach out for her again. “Tell me when.”

“Monday’s my day off, so anytime Monday would be great for me.”

He nodded. “Monday.”

She smiled, and he drew back, that smile doing strange things to his insides. He wondered if her husband was going to be there, and hoped that he was. It would be best to deal with Cody. Perhaps he should suggest it, but she was already turning away again, calling the girl to her side as she went. Dan backed up and closed the door. Then he suddenly remembered something he’d seen.

She wore her wedding ring on her right hand and no ring at all on her left. Thinking quickly, he weighed the significance of that, and then he remembered something else. One day down at the store he’d seen two women standing in front of the deli case, watching John Odem carve up a ham. One had leaned close to the other and apparently whispered something that had stuck with him. What a shame about the boy.

He knew now what it meant. Cody Kinder had died. That explained why Dan hadn’t seen him around at all since his return, even why Becca had come to ask for his help. He thought of the boy he had known and felt a keen sense of loss tinged with shame. Cody had been younger than him, so they hadn’t been buddies or anything, but Dan had always liked the kid as well as his parents, who had fairly doted on their only child. And to think that all this time he’d been too busy feeling his own loss to even realize what they had suffered.

He sighed and bowed his head.

Okay. I get it. Lots of folks have lost lots more than me. The least I can do is help Becca Kinder with whatever repairs she’s needing. And I’ll try to be less prideful from now on, Lord. Really I will.

For the first time in a long while a real sense of purpose filled him, and it felt good. Really good. He went back to his lunch, walking down the hall to the kitchen, completely ignorant of a loud squeak at a certain spot in the clean, highly polished hardwood floor.

Becca couldn’t say why she looked for him to come into the store on Saturday, but she was disappointed when it didn’t happen. Ever since he’d admitted his deafness to her, she’d felt that they shared a bond along with the secret. And yet she felt torn about the secret itself. Whatever his reasons for not publicly acknowledging his lack of hearing, it served only to keep him isolated. Most people would gladly accommodate his condition, allowing him to get back into the swing of things around the community. Perhaps with him working around her house—and she couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t be—God would give her the words to say to convince him to let people know about his disadvantage.

She didn’t see any reason to wait for Monday to speak to him, however, so on Sunday she kept an eye out, and sure enough he slipped in late and took up his customary spot on the back row. She didn’t signal to him to come up front, though there was space in the pew, but she did rush out at the first possible moment, leaving Jemmy in the care of the Kinders. With barely a nod for the pastor, she hurried through the narrow foyer and down the front steps, catching up with him beneath a big beech tree that grew near the sidewalk and overhung the dusty parking area.

He stopped and turned when she tapped him on the shoulder. She suddenly found herself smiling like a goose.

“What’s your hurry?”

He glanced down at the key in his hand and said softly, “Bean casserole.”

She waited until he looked up at her again before she said, “Guess there’s no point in inviting you to Sunday dinner, then, huh?” She’d meant to tease but realized belatedly that she was serious. At any rate, he missed the inflection.

“Nice of you.” He shook his head apologetically. “Not a good idea.”

“Because you’d be uncomfortable around John Odem and Abby,” she surmised.

He seemed a little surprised by that, but then he didn’t have any way of knowing that she routinely took Sunday dinner with the Kinders. “Yes,” he said, and she had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t exactly the truth—not all of it, anyway.

Suddenly struck by how forward she was being, she looked away. That’s when Shep Marcum stopped by to shake Dan’s hand and invite him to the men’s Sunday-school class.

“Thank you for mentioning it, Mr. Marcum,” Dan said slowly and politely, but just a tad too loud. Then again, Shep was nearly John Odem’s age and hard of hearing. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. “I’ll think on it.”

“You do that, son,” Shep said, clapping Dan on the shoulder. “We’d sure be glad to have you.” He glanced at Becca and winked. “Looking mighty pretty again today, Becca. That’s a right attractive dress you’re wearing.”

Becca grinned. “Shep, it’s the same dress I wear every other Sunday, and you know it.”

“Well, it’s still a nice one,” he said jauntily, stepping off the sidewalk.

She laughed and slid a wry look at Dan. “He says that about the other one, too.”

“The other one?”

“My other Sunday dress.”

“Ah.”

He looked down at his feet, missing the greeting called out by the Platters—not that he’d have caught it, anyway. Becca nudged his toe with hers, and when he looked up said softly, “Wave at Bill Platter and his wife. To your left.”

Dan looked that way and lifted an arm in greeting before turning back to Becca. “Thanks. He coming over?”

“Nope. Heading for the car. They always go to her mother’s in Waurika on Sunday.”

Dan nodded, keeping his gaze glued to her face. “Graduated high school with Bill.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “He looks older than you.”

“He is. Held back, dropped out for a while.”

“Is that so? Then you’ll be surprised to hear that he’s a big man around here now. Pretty well-heeled. Owns an insurance agency in Duncan.”

His mouth quirked at the word hear, but she didn’t apologize, sensing that would compound the mistake. “Surprised he’s living in Rain Dance, then.”

“How come? You’re living in Rain Dance now.”

He looked away, mumbling, “Inherited my house.”

She stood silently until he glanced her way again. “Is that the only reason you came home, because you inherited your grandmother’s house?”

He turned away as if he hadn’t understood her, but then he turned back again and looked her in the eye. “Not sure. It is home.”

She smiled. “Yeah. I feel the same way. I couldn’t think of living anywhere else after Cody died.”

He asked gently, “Not long ago?”

“Twenty-one months,” she told him. “Just after I found out I was pregnant with CJ.”

His eyes widened. “Must’ve been tough.”

She nodded. “But we’re managing. I’m even finally going to get my house fixed up.”

He chuckled and tossed his keys lightly, signaling his intention to take his leave. “We’ll see. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoed, adding, “Look left again and acknowledge Effie Bishop.”

Dan turned his head and smiled at the elderly woman, calling out in that same careful, measured way, “Good to see you again, Miss Effie.” He looked back at Becca as he moved into the parking area and mouthed the words “Thanks. Again.”

She smiled, waved and went in search of her family, marveling at how he handled himself. No one who didn’t know him well would realize his predicament, at least not with her acting as his ears. She found a strange satisfaction in that, one she didn’t much want to ponder.

Dan brought his white pickup truck to a halt behind Becca’s old car and studied the sight before him. He shook his head and killed the engine, automatically pulling the keys. The truck was spanking new, with fewer than two hundred miles on it. He’d ordered it specially equipped as soon as he’d made the decision to move back to Rain Dance, but it had never seemed so plush or shiny as it did now, sitting in front of Becca Kinder’s shabby little house.

The house didn’t need repairs, he realized with dismay—it needed demolishing. The roof line was uneven, the shingles a patchwork of colors and type. Over the low porch it sagged dangerously, and he saw that one of the support poles had sunk through the rotted wood and past the untreated joist to the ground. The house itself was built atop a foundation of cement blocks placed about two feet apart, so the floor probably rolled like an ocean inside. Besides that, every inch of wood siding needed scraping and painting. Windowsills were buckled. The damage was such that he could tell she’d been living like this for a long time, and that knowledge pricked him, though he supposed that he should’ve expected it.

Despite running the only grocery store in town, the Kinders had always been poor as church mice. None of them, Cody included, had ever seemed to mind. Dan remembered his grandfather saying that John Odem was a good man who had no head for business, that he gave credit to everyone who asked and probably collected only a fraction of what was owed him. That apparently still held true, and while Dan admired the generosity and pleasantness of the Kinders, he couldn’t help feeling a little irritated on behalf of Becca and the kids. No wonder she’d pressed him for help.

He got out of the truck and walked across the dirt yard to the porch, noting as he stepped up onto it that the floorboards were warped and broken. The whole thing would have to be replaced. The patched screen door opened and Becca stepped out, looking freshly scrubbed and smiling a happy welcome.

“It’s nearly ten. I was getting worried you wouldn’t show till after lunch.”

“Your morning off,” he pointed out. “Thought you might sleep in.”

She waved that away. “I’m a morning person, always up with the dawn.” She hugged herself. “I love it when the world’s still and quiet, like I’m the only person awake anywhere.”

He smiled, not because he identified—for him the world was always still and quiet, and he missed the bustle and racket of it keenly—but because she never bothered to police her speech with him. Becca was just Becca. Period. He liked that, admired it. In a funny way he was even grateful for it. She made him feel…normal. Whole. He reminded himself that he was neither.

“Come on in,” she said before leading the way inside.

He followed with some trepidation and found himself standing in a living room that couldn’t have been more than ten feet square. Poorly furnished with an old sofa, a small bookcase, a battered coffee table, a cheap floor lamp and a small television set on a wire stand so rickety that it leaned to one side, the place was shabby but spotless and cheerful.

Becca had obviously made a valiant effort. A colorful quilt covered the ratty sofa. Bright yellow ruffled curtains fluttered in the morning breeze. An oval, braided rag rug covered a significant portion of the torn linoleum floor, and sparkling beads had been glued around the edge of the yellowed lamp shade. The bookcase bulged with neatly stacked rows of paperback novels, children’s storybooks and Bible study materials. Best of all were the framed photos hung artistically on the wall, so many that they almost obscured the faded, old-fashioned wallpaper, along with a homemade shadow box of dried flowers and a variety of in-expert coloring-book pages pinned up at Jemmy-height. Jemmy sat on the floor industriously working on another while watching cartoons.

Becca waved him into another room. He glimpsed a sunny bedroom as he walked past an open doorway, then came to stand in the disaster that was her kitchen.

It looked like something straight out of the thirties, with a tired old propane stove, a tiny ancient refrigerator, peeling wallpaper that exposed its rough backing, a shallow tin sink and virtually no cabinets. The only work surface was an old table that obviously functioned as eating space and stood over the slanted entry of an old root cellar. A pair of unfinished shelves comprised the only storage, and a single naked lightbulb provided the only illumination, since the window and possibly a door had been boarded over. To top it all off, the baby sat in a rusty high chair in the very middle of the floor, naked except for a diaper, his hair, face and chest smeared and sticky. With one hand he clutched the remains of a banana while rhythmically banging a spoon on the metal tray with the other. When Dan caught his eye, the filthy little cherub offered him the piece of mushy banana. Dan pretended not to notice and quickly diverted his attention.