The Heart's Voice Page 5

  “Don’t need money,” he said matter-of-factly, filching a potato chip from the open bag on the table. They were still eating deli food. She looked forward to the day when she could cook him a real meal.

  “Everybody needs money,” she replied.

  He held up four fingers, counting off the reasons he didn’t. “Medical disability. Military retirement. Inheritance. Good investments.”

  “And the rent on that garage apartment?” she asked.

  “Soon,” he said nonchalantly, averting his eyes.

  She didn’t let him get away with that. Reaching across the side chair that stood between them, she placed a hand flat against the center of his chest. He looked down at it, then slowly lifted his gaze to her face. “You can rent an apartment without a cookstove, then?” she asked pointedly.

  He blinked and chewed. She lifted an eyebrow insistently. Finally he grinned. “Got a stove same place I got yours. Used. Dealer in Duncan.”

  She narrowed her eyes, thinking that he’d worded his reply rather oddly. “It’s not the same one, then?” He shook his head. “You swear?”

  His mouth quirked. “Never swear. Much. When I hit my thumb with a hammer, maybe.” She laughed, and he grinned. “Not the same,” he promised. “Honest.”

  She couldn’t help noticing that his eyes crinkled in a most attractive way at the outside corners when he smiled, and for the first time she was truly glad that he couldn’t hear the husky tone her voice had acquired. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you, Dan—no more than I can help, anyway.”

  “I understand.”

  “I know you do. You’re just such a blessing to us, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

  He shook his head. “I am blessed. You work hard.” He poked a thumb at his chest. “I get checks in the mail.”

  “You deserve those checks,” she told him, looking up into his chiseled face. He was a handsome man, with those blue eyes, and a good one, too. That much had become very obvious.

  CJ banged on the metal high-chair tray, but she ignored his bid for Dan’s attention, keeping it all for herself.

  “Maybe I do work a lot,” she said, “but it’s because I have to, and it’s nothing compared to what you do out of the kindness of your heart.” She thought of the clean white kitchen walls, the glass light fixture snugged against the stain-free ceiling, the door and the window where the compact air unit would soon be installed, the butter-yellow cabinets and mottled-gold countertop set with a white enamel double sink. After hanging the cabinet doors and connecting the stove to the propane, he was going to add shelves around the refrigerator and build a new cellar entrance set flat into the floor, since she needed the cellar space for additional storage and the floor space for the dining table. He intended to install new cellar steps, too, as well as strip, seal and paint the kitchen floorboards. After that he’d rip off the porch and build her a new one that she and the kids could actually enjoy. It was almost too much, and she felt tears gather in her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He needed a shave, and the delicate rasp of sandy whiskers lightly abraded her lips. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to kiss a man’s rough cheek.

  Suddenly he whirled away and moved to the back door, but then he paused and looked over his shoulder. She couldn’t read what crowded into those blue eyes. “Welcome,” he mumbled, and slipped outside.

  A moment later she heard the water running from the spigot in back of the house and looked ruefully at her new kitchen sink with its shiny faucet. Her fingers wandered up to touch her lips, and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss Dan Holden on the lips, to be kissed by him.

  A vague guilt pricked her. Was she being disloyal to Cody and the Kinders by thinking of Dan as more than an answer to prayer? Maybe she was more selfish and needy than she realized. She marveled at how much God loved people. For no reason she could understand He loved her enough to let her stumble across Cody, to bring her here to Rain Dance and the Kinders, to give her two healthy children and meet every one of her true needs. He’d even shown her joy and peace in the midst of heartbreak and loss. Was it asking too much, wanting too much to wonder if the pleasure that she found in Dan’s quiet company might be more than fleeting?

  Could God mean Dan Holden for her?

  She was almost afraid to think it. But somehow she was more afraid not to.

  Becca said a quick prayer as she twisted in her seat. She’d kept an eagle eye out for Dan Holden all morning, and through the tall, narrow church window she’d just glimpsed his lean form striding up the path toward the building. Her heart sped up, and she told herself sternly not to be a fool. She’d seen the man almost every day for the better part of two weeks now, ever since he’d started work on her house, and today would be no different. Except somehow it was.

  They were great friends now, maybe even more. Or maybe they could be. She wasn’t sure, frankly, though she’d prayed and prayed about it. Lately she’d wanted very much to talk to Abby about her feelings for Dan, but she hadn’t dared. For one thing, Abby was her mother-in-law. For another, she didn’t feel free to discuss a certain issue with Abby or anyone else. Dan’s deafness was his business, after all.

  Dan appeared in the doorway from the vestibule, and Becca bounced up to her feet, motioning for him to come forward and join her. He glanced around uncertainly, but then he started down the aisle, right past the place where he usually sat. She plopped down again and briefly closed her eyes with a mixture of relief and excitement before turning up a smile for him as he slipped into place beside her. Abby and John Odem leaned forward to offer their own smiles, which Dan returned with nods. Jemmy, however, fairly shouted, “Hello, Mr. Dan!” just as the organ started playing. Dan didn’t see.

  Becca nudged his knee with hers, mouthed Jemmy’s name and gave her hand a little wave. Dan instantly looked at Jemmy, smiled and waved as the congregation rose to its feet. Becca opened the hymnal to the correct page. Then, mindful of his desire not to broadcast his disability, she moved it sideways so it would look as if they were sharing. His gaze dropped on her before shying away, even as his hand rose to help support the heavy book.

  Standing shoulder to shoulder with him—well, shoulder to forearm—Becca quickly found her place, using the tip of her forefinger to locate the word with which she picked up the lyrics. Quite without thinking, she followed the words with her fingertip for several seconds as she sang, before two realizations hit her simultaneously. One, Dan was tapping his toe in time to the music. Perhaps he couldn’t actually hear the sound of it, but he could feel the beat. And two, he was following the words to the song as she sang them by following the progress of her fingertip.

  A feeling of deep satisfaction crept over her. It wasn’t much of a service, really, nothing at all on the scale of what he was doing for her. Dan could read the words to any song for himself at any time, while she could never in a dozen years do what he had done to her house. But by helping him to follow along in time to the music, she felt that she was helping him join in somehow—not with the singing, but maybe with the praising. And wasn’t that the most important part? Or was she searching for something that didn’t truly exist, assigning more significance to a simple courtesy than was warranted?

  They went through the remainder of the service much as they had at Easter. Dan took his cues from those around him and paid particular attention to every word the pastor said, but this time Becca realized that he couldn’t really catch each and every word, for often the pastor turned his head or looked down at his text or distorted words for emphasis. Becca began to realize how confined Dan’s world had become, and she tried to think of ways in which she might help him. She could record the sermon and then repeat back every word to Dan in some private place, or she could write it all out for him to read at his leisure. That seemed to limit his participation in the experience, but those were the best ideas she had at the moment. She decided to discus
s the possibilities with him.

  After the service, Becca kept pace with Dan until they were out of the foyer. Then she grabbed his arm and tugged him down a hallway, explaining, “I have to get CJ.”

  He blinked at her, a question in his eyes. It was the long way around to the nursery.

  “I want to ask you something.”

  He nodded and kept his gaze on her face as they hurried along the narrow corridor. She glanced around to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard and said, “You’re missing words during the sermon. Pastor doesn’t know to keep his head up when he’s speaking.”

  “Like you do,” Dan said with a smile.

  “I could help you fill in the blanks,” she said, coming to a stop. Quickly she told him her idea for recording the sermon and speaking it back to him or writing it all out. He bowed his head, and she just hated it because she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but then he looked up again, and his smile and the blue of his eyes felt very soft.

  “Becca,” he said slowly, “I get enough of the sermon to fill in the blanks for myself.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t have to find ways to pay me back.”

  “I’m not.” She bit her lip. “Okay, maybe I am, but I just want to help.”

  He smiled. “You have. I needed to know I could still help someone.”

  She gaped at him. “Are you kidding? Why, if I had one tenth of the skills you do, I—”

  “Wouldn’t need me,” he said, cradling her cheek with his palm. “I wouldn’t have a friend.” He grinned. “Not one who’d share her songbook.”

  Even as a warm glow suffused her, she whispered, “You’d have more friends if you’d just let everyone know—” He dropped his hand and looked away, effectively cutting her off. She realized only after he did that they were no longer alone. Two women were walking toward them, Amanda Cox and Jane Robertson, both Sunday-school teachers with classrooms on this hall. Becca tossed them a wave and headed for the nursery, Dan at her side.

  When the nursery worker handed CJ over the half door, he surprised everyone by making a grab for Dan, who grappled awkwardly with him until CJ got an arm around his neck. Becca felt warmth flush into her cheeks.

  “Come here, you,” she said, reaching for her son. “Dan doesn’t want to lug you around.”

  But CJ drew back from his mother. Dan hefted him in his arms as if getting a feel for his weight, and said, “I’ll carry him.”

  “He’s heavy,” Becca warned needlessly.

  “Like lead,” Dan agreed, looking at the boy, who grinned at him around the finger in his mouth.

  Embarrassed by her son’s grab for Dan’s attention, Becca took the diaper bag and hurried through the church to the front lawn, where Abby and John Odem waited with Jemmy. The friends with whom they’d been chatting broke off and moved away as Becca and Dan approached with the baby.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Becca said. She slung the straps of the diaper bag over one shoulder and reached for CJ. “I’ll take him now.”

  But Dan moved toward John Odem, saying to Becca, “He’s too heavy for you.”

  John took the boy and parked him on a hip, quipping, “You’re a little mountain, aren’t you, boy?”

  Abby was laughing. “You won’t believe it, but Cody was the same way. His age caught up with his size at about six.”

  Dan nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am,” meaning he hadn’t really caught what she’d been saying. “You folks have a nice day,” he added just a little too loud as he prepared to take his leave of them.

  “Wait a minute, Dan,” Abby said just as he turned away, and Becca quickly reached out to snag him by the arm. He glanced at her, then turned back to Abby as she said, “Why don’t you join us for dinner today? I’ve got a pot roast in the oven. It ought to be ready about the time I get the bread made.”

  “Yeah, and nanner pudding,” John Odem added, using Jemmy’s word for banana. Dan was staring at Abby and didn’t even know John had spoken.

  Jemmy saw an opportunity to draw even with her brother on the attention scale and started hopping up and down pleading, “Please. Please. Please.”

  Dan looked at her and then at Becca, who was holding her breath. Suddenly he nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  Becca’s smile broke free, even as she worried how he was going to pull this off. She wouldn’t have him embarrassed or shamed for the world. Abby busily started directing everybody.

  “John, get these kids in their car seats. Becca, you show Dan the way over. Jemmy, don’t you step foot in the parking lot without holding your grandpa’s hand.” As she herded John and the kids toward their car, she said over her shoulder, “Dan, we could use some ice. That freezer in front of the store isn’t locked.”

  “Come on,” Becca said quietly, making certain he could see her face even as she moved to his side. “We have to stop by the store for a bag of ice.”

  He nodded and dug out his keys with one hand. The other just sort of naturally cupped Becca’s elbow. She waved at a few folks as he handed her up into the passenger side of the truck, then took a look at the inside of the vehicle as he walked around to the driver’s door. She noticed at once that the radio had been replaced by a flat black screen with tiny domed lights placed at intervals around its perimeter.

  He settled behind the wheel, inserted the key into the ignition switch and began buckling his seat belt. Becca tapped his forearm, pointed to the black screen and asked, “What’s this?”

  “Global satellite positioning system,” he said, starting up the engine so the thing would come on.

  “That’s like a moving map, isn’t it?” she said, buckling her own belt.

  He nodded and ran a finger around the lights, saying, “These let me know when there’s a loud noise and where it’s coming from.”

  “Like a siren or car horn.”

  “Like that,” he confirmed.

  “Cool.”

  He put the transmission in gear, looked over his shoulder and backed the truck out of the space. Within seconds Becca saw that conversation would be difficult. He was a very attentive driver, which meant that he had to keep looking around him all the time, alert for what he couldn’t hear and the alarm wouldn’t recognize as important.

  When he pulled up in front of the store, she unbuckled her belt and hopped out of the truck to hurry over to the freezer positioned next to the store entrance. She extracted an eight-pound bag of ice, carried it back to the truck and placed it on the floorboard before climbing in herself. As she was buckling her safety belt again, Dan asked, “Is that always open?”

  “Sure.”

  “Anybody could take ice,” he pointed out.

  Becca shrugged. “Most folks will tell you next time they’re in the store.”

  “Not all.”

  She shrugged again. He shook his head and drove the truck across the small parking lot to the street. “Turn left,” she instructed. Realizing he couldn’t have seen her, she reached across the wide bench seat, tapped his shoulder and pointed left.

  He turned left. At the stop sign she pointed left again. He chuckled. “I know the way. Lived on this street.”

  “Oh.”

  Abby must have known that. So why had she told Becca to show him the way to the house? Her interest in Dan must be more obvious than she’d realized. Becca sat back and thought about Abby. It must hurt her mother-in-law to know that Becca was forming an interest in another man. Yet she’d invited Dan to Sunday dinner. Becca wondered what she’d ever done to deserve the Kinders and all the good things they’d brought into her life.

  When Dan pulled the truck to the side of the street in front of the small, modest Kinder house, Becca started to get out, but he stopped her.

  “You didn’t tell them,” he said, and she knew that he was referring to his deafness.

  “Of course not.” She picked up the bag of ice from between her feet. “But don’t worry, I’ll help you stay on top of the conversation. You’ll ha
ve to stay close to me, though.”

  He looked at her, smiled and took the ice from her, saying, “Thanks.”

  Feeling some trepidation at the task ahead, she got out of the truck and joined him on the buckled sidewalk. Together they moved across the grass to the concrete steps that led up to the stoop and the door. With one last smile of encouragement, Becca opened the door and ushered him inside. The small, crowded living room was dark and cool. Becca quickly snapped on a lamp.

  Abby appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing an apron over her Sunday dress. “Come on in,” she said, disappearing again. “John’s changing the kids’ clothes.” Becca knew that she ought to help John get the children out of their Sunday clothes, but she dared not leave Dan on his own. He followed her into the kitchen, carrying the bag of ice.

  “Where do you want this?” he asked.

  Standing in front of the small, high table where she did most of her kitchen work, Abby stirred buttermilk into the depression she’d made in a bowl of flour and other dry ingredients as she answered him. “Just put it in the sink there, hon.”

  Becca pointed to the sink, but Dan didn’t even look at her, let alone budge. Instead he just stood there holding the bag of ice by the end with one hand. Then he said, a little too loud, “You’ll have to look at me when you speak to me, ma’am.”

  Abby did look at him then, obviously surprised, but no more so than Becca when he calmly announced, “I can’t understand you if I can’t see your mouth move. I’m deaf, Mrs. Kinder.”

  Becca clapped a hand over her heart, which had just given a decided lurch. Abby dropped the spoon into the bowl with a clatter.

  “Oh, my soul!”

  Dan looked down, then carried the ice to the counter and laid it gently in the sink, demonstrating that he had gotten Becca’s message after all. Tears gathered in her eyes. He had obviously already made the decision to go public with his problem when he’d accepted Abby’s invitation. Becca wanted to let him know how proud she was of him, and the only way she could think to do it without making a complete idiot of herself was with a touch. Slipping her hand into his, she briefly squeezed and retreated, but not before getting a quick squeeze back.