The Heart's Voice (2 page)

Becca ducked her head. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“Maybe you ought to call on him, John,” Abby suggested, crowding her family out into the aisle.

“Sure thing,” John Odem agreed. “I’ll go soon as that side of beef is delivered in the morning. Then you can do the butchering.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Abby retorted.

“Why not?” John Odem asked innocently. “I figure it’s time for some thumb soup.”

“What’s thumb soup?” Jemmy wanted to know.

“That’s what we’ll be having for supper once Grandma lops off her thumb with my butcher knife.”

“Ewwww!” Jemmy exclaimed, wrinkling her nose.

“Stop that, John Odem Kinder,” Abby scolded with mock severity. “We’ll be having no disgusting soups, sugar,” she assured her granddaughter, “because I’m not doing any butchering.”

“You two are going to put this child off her feed for a month,” Becca said reprovingly. “Honey, no one makes soup out of thumbs. Grandpa’s just joshing you.”

“Grandpa!” Jemmy scolded, sounding for all the world just like her grandmother.

John Odem laughed delightedly. When they drew even with the pastor, however, he did ask about Dan Holden.

“Anybody talk to that Holden boy since he came home, Pastor?”

The middle-aged preacher shook his head. “Not for lack of trying, John. He doesn’t seem to have a phone. Shep Marcum and I have stopped by the
house a few times, but no one ever came to the door. He seems to be keeping pretty busy.”

“He seems to be keeping to himself,” Abby commented, and the pastor nodded.

“That, too.”

Becca bit her lip, mulling over this information. It seemed that Dan Holden didn’t want to have anything do with anyone around Rain Dance, but if that were so, then why had he come back here?

The puzzle of Dan Holden just wouldn’t leave Becca alone. She lay in her bed that night trying to decide what it was she’d seen in his eyes that disturbed her so, but try as she might, she couldn’t come up with a solid explanation. Her first guess was loneliness, but why would a lonely man hold everyone at bay, avoiding conversation? Did his past hide something dark that he feared others would discover, something that shamed him? Maybe it was something that had forced him out of the Marine Corps, but what?

Maybe he was AWOL, absent from the military without leave.

No, that didn’t make any sense. He would be plenty easy to find in a little town like Rain Dance, especially since he had family connections to the community. Besides, a Christian man with a guilty conscience would be compelled to make things right, and she felt in her heart of hearts that Dan was a true Christian. She’d seen the tears standing
in his eyes when the pastor had described the suffering of Christ as He’d willingly paid the sin debt for all of humanity, witnessed the quiet intensity of his emotion as he’d listened to the dramatic reading of Scripture, watched his silent joy as the Resurrection was proclaimed. Yes, Dan believed. It was obvious. So why, then, did he bolt like a scalded hound whenever anyone tried to connect with him?

Maybe it was just her. Maybe she was the one he didn’t want to have anything to do with, and he really had been busy when the others had come to call. It was a lowering thought, and one she felt compelled to put to the test on Tuesday next.

She stayed late to close the store on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so John Odem and Abby could have their dinner together at a decent hour, and it had become the family custom for the kids to eat with their grandparents and on occasion stay overnight. This was just such an occasion, so Becca found herself driving alone about eight-thirty in the evening past the Holden place on her way out of town. As she drew close to the house, she naturally glanced toward it.

Dan Holden’s profile appeared in an open living-room window. He was sitting in a big, comfy chair watching a large television screen. The way he sat there, so very still, hands resting on the wide rolled arms of the chair, had a lonely feel about it, and something inside Becca said, “Stop.”

She shivered, as if God Himself had tapped her on the shoulder, and before she could even think to do it, her foot had moved from the gas pedal to the brake. She sat there for a moment, the engine of her battered old car rumbling in competition with a cricket calling for his mate. Then with a sigh she yielded to her initial impulse and turned the vehicle into Dan Holden’s drive. She parked and got out, leaving the keys in the ignition as usual. Reluctantly she let her tired feet take her along the hedged walkway to the front steps and then up those steps to the broad, sheltered porch. From this angle, the light of the TV flickered against the windowpane, but now only that persistent cricket could be heard.

Becca knocked on the door. She thought its berry-red paint made a very pretty display with the pristine white of the siding, new grass-green roof and black shutters. She waited, but the contrary man couldn’t be bothered to answer his door.

She tried again, her irritation growing. No response. Well, that took the proverbial cake. The man obviously didn’t want or need a friend. It must have been a perverse imp who had compelled her to stop, but this time she was going to let Dan Holden know that his rudeness had been noted and marked. In a rare fit of pique she moved to stand directly in front of the window, which she pecked insistently with the tip of one forefinger before turning to stomp across the porch and down the steps
on her way back to her car. Her feet had barely hit the paved walk when that red door finally opened.

“Who’s there?”

For an instant she considered giving him a dose of his own medicine, just stomping off into the night without another word, but that was not Becca’s way.

“It’s me,” she said, somewhat grudgingly. “Becca Kinder. I was just—”

The porch light suddenly blazed. “Mrs. Kinder,” he said, surprise evident in his voice. “Is that you?”

Becca frowned. “I just told you so, didn’t I?”

“Come up here into the light,” he dictated, stepping out onto the porch, “and tell me what I can do for you.” His voice had a stilted, uneven quality to it, as if he wasn’t quite sure what tone to use.

Sorry that she’d come at all, Becca climbed the trio of steps again, realizing that she had no idea what she’d meant to say to him in the first place. An honest response was always the best one, so she licked her lips and said, “I was hoping you might be interested in working on my house now.”

He cocked his head, as if he found something odd about that. “Sorry. Not possible.”

“But you’ve done such fine work on this place,” Becca heard herself arguing.

“Thank you,” he said with a small smile. “Now I’m doing the garage apartment out back. Might rent it out.”

Becca nodded, disappointed all over again. At least he had an excuse to offer this time. That was progress. Of a sort. “I see. Well, if that doesn’t pan out and you find yourself needing work…”

He shook his head. “I’m keeping busy.”

That was something with which she could certainly identify. “Just not enough hours in the day, are there?”

“Suppose not.”

She searched for something else to say and finally gestured toward the western end of the south-facing house. “You ought to hang a swing over there.”

He glanced at the end of the porch and back again. “Think so?”

“And paint it red,” she added.

He rubbed his chin, smiling so brightly that she felt a kick in her chest. “Just might do that.”

She felt positively warm all of a sudden, and the thought occurred to her that he was a downright likable man when he wasn’t being standoffish. “You know what else would be pretty?” she asked, basking in that male smile. He shook his head. “Two big white pots right here on either side of the steps, just spilling over with flowers, geraniums maybe, red to match the swing.”

“My grandma used to keep flowerpots there.”

“Well, there you go,” Becca said.

He nodded. “I’ll look into it sometime.”

“Maybe when you’re finished with that garage apartment.”

“Maybe,” he said, making it sound like two words instead of one.

Completely out of topics for discussion now, Becca glanced at the window looking into his living room. “You’re missing your program,” she finally offered lamely, “and morning comes early for me, so I’d best be going.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Holden.” She turned to go, but then a fresh thought hit her. “You know, there’s a Bible study on Wednesday evenings that you might want—” She broke off. He’d already retreated and was closing the door. She brought her hands to her hips. There he went again! The man had practically locked up while she was still talking.

From the corner of her eye she caught sight of him moving back into the living room and reclaiming his seat in the chair. Must be some mighty interesting TV program he was watching. Curious, she stepped to one side and looked at the set. A commercial was playing, but she did note one interesting thing. The television seemed to be displaying closed captions, the words spelling out across the bottom of the screen. She was too far away to read them, and it could have been a disclaimer of some sort for the commercial, but she left wondering if she might not have discovered the clue to Dan Holden’s odd behavior.

D
an 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.”