The Heart's Voice (12 page)

By the time they reached the dealership, Jem was in a real sulk. Dan got out of the car, glanced into the back and bent at the waist to speak to Becca through the open door. He jerked his head toward Jemmy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing a soda pop won’t cure,” Becca assured him, and Jemmy instantly brightened.

“Sounds good,” he said. “Better yet, how ’bout dinner out?”

Becca turned in her seat and looked pointedly at CJ. “We’ll have two cranky kids on our hands if we wake him early.”

Dan squatted in front of the open door and said, “Take Jem for soda, meet me later.”

Becca glanced once more at the back seat, sorely tempted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten in a real sit-down restaurant, but then she found her backbone and shook her head. “You go on. I don’t want to inflict them on any unsuspecting
diners. We’ll just pick up something on our way home and see you back there later.”

Dan bowed his head for a moment, but then he rose. Draping an arm across the top of the car, he bent to look inside. “Need money?”

“No! Abby cashed a check for me this morning.”

She could hear his fingers drumming against the roof of the car. Finally he straightened and closed the door. Becca knew a moment of regret, but she was determined to set aside all negative emotions and face the future with calm assurance—on her own, since that seemed to be what God intended. Certainly she could not allow herself to become any more dependent on Dan Holden. The poor man was already trapped by his own generosity and good intentions. She could not, in good conscience, add to or prolong the load he was shouldering. As soon as possible she would find a way to move her family out of his house. At a safe distance again, she felt sure that they could be friends. Until then, she was determined to be as little burden to him as circumstances would allow.

Dan looked at Becca with something akin to shock and hoped that it didn’t show. Weariness pulled his exasperation close to the surface, and he struggled to subdue it before speaking.

“You want me to build two rooms onto the Kinders’ house?”

Becca nodded eagerly and smoothed a sheet of
paper against the top of the kitchen table with both hands. “We’ve figured it all out. With their settlement and mine—or what’s left of it after I pay off my mortgage—we could add two rooms to Abby and John’s house. That way the kids and I would have a place to live until I sell the ranch.”

“Already do.”

“I mean a permanent place. Well, semipermanent.”

“Why move again?”

“Why not? It isn’t like we’ve got tons of stuff to cart around anymore. Besides, we’ve put you out of your own home long enough.”

“No, you have not.”

“Oh, you’re very sweet, but this isn’t a workable situation for us. Everybody wins my way. Abby and John get a bigger house without borrowing money. I can take my time selling the ranch and ought to make a nice profit eventually. Might even get a new car out of it, since I won’t have to make mortgage payments. This really is best.”

Maybe she was right, Dan thought. The past few days had been so busy that he hadn’t had time to talk to her about the future. He’d been consumed with purchasing and hauling in supplies, making repairs and promising to make repairs. Maybe it was all for the best. Maybe he was fooling himself with the idea that he could be a proper husband and father. Becca certainly seemed no more comfortable here than she had at the beginning—less so in some ways. He had the distinct impression that she went
out of her way to avoid him. Maybe she had come to understand what he didn’t want to face. He felt duty bound to point out one flaw in her plan, however.

“Jem won’t get her own bedroom.”

“She will eventually. The wait won’t kill her.”

He didn’t say that it was an unnecessary wait, that they could all just stay put right where they were from now on as far as he was concerned. Instead he nodded weary concession and finally said, “Can’t get to it for a while.”

“I know you’re busy,” she said, but she pecked at the paper with a fingertip. “When do you think?”

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Hard to say.”

Becca bit her lip. “Would you rather I tried to find someone else?”

He felt a sharp pain right in the center of his chest. “No.”

“I’ve got money now, and I’ve heard there have been some builders coming around since word got out about the storm.”

“They overcharge.”

“One of them has to be honest.”

He just looked at her, torn between hurt and anger.
Now
she would turn to somebody else? He had to find his voice and pummel it into some semblance of normalcy. “Your call, Becca,” he said and left the house, straight out the back to the bare, lonely garage apartment where he’d camped for days now.

It seemed pretty clear that Becca had changed her mind about him. Either that or the old saying about familiarity breeding contempt had proven true.

He wanted to hit something. Instead he went to sit on the too-small bed with his head in his hands, finally rising to bathe and change. He couldn’t sit across the table from Becca and the kids, pretending that they were going to be a real family soon. Telling himself that he owed her nothing, he got back into the truck and went in search of a lonely dinner. A drive-through was out of the question, of course, so he went into a fast-food restaurant in Waurika and picked up a chicken sandwich and fries, which he ate parked on the shore of the lake northwest of town, trying not to think of the dreams he’d been spinning since the storm.

The house was dark when he returned. He climbed the stairs to the garage apartment, pulled off his boots and fell into bed otherwise fully clothed, sick at heart. The next morning, Friday, he left without looking in on Becca and the kids. Nor did he stop in the house that evening or the next. Instead he worked, daylight to dark, ate elsewhere and generally kept himself busy and apart. It was the loneliest time of his life. The silence had never been so empty.

D
an backed the long truck out of the garage and down the driveway to the street, where he parked it and got out again. He’d been debating with himself all morning whether or not he should offer Becca and the kids a ride to church. John Odem might well be on his way over here to pick them up, or she might be planning to walk. It was only a few blocks, after all, but the weather had warmed up considerably, and without a stroller, Becca would have to carry CJ. Having had some experience at that, Dan didn’t think it a wise choice. So he found himself climbing the steps to his own porch and knocking on his own door like some stranger.

Jem opened the door, wearing the same dress she’d worn the previous Sunday, but this time her mother had caught up her fine, pale hair into a neat
ponytail and tied it with a scarf in a big floppy bow. He recognized the scarf as one that Abby often wore. To his gratification, Jem’s face lit up. She hurled herself at him, throwing both arms around his legs. He could feel her talking and felt a pang because she’d forgotten already that he couldn’t hear. He gave her a rub between her shoulders, something more than a pat, less than a hug, and then gently set her back, turning her little face up in one hand. Mercy, she looked so like Becca.

“Where’s your mama?”

She turned and pointed up the stairs, speaking again, and then she ran up them as fast as her little legs would carry her. Dan stayed where he was, no longer feeling comfortable in his own house. After a few minutes Jem appeared again, this time with the diaper bag in tow. A second later Becca stepped into view, CJ on her hip. About halfway down the stairs she looked up, one hand on the railing, and said, “I didn’t think to tell Abby to come for us.”

Jemmy jumped the last few steps and landed at his feet in a flurry of skirts and thumping diaper bag. He reached down for the bag, and Jem came right up into his hands herself. Swinging her up into his arms seemed the only reasonable thing to do. How slight she felt, settling against him.

Becca stepped down into the foyer and looked up at him. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. I was afraid we’d have to walk.”

He cleared his throat and tried to modulate his
tone. He hadn’t spoken much in the past few days. “Been busy.”

Her brow furrowed. “I see.”

He stepped aside and let Becca open the door. As he followed her across the porch and down the steps, Jem laid her little cheek against his and wound her arm tightly about his neck and throat. He felt his heart cracking open.

“What’s Dan doing back there?” Abby whispered, and Becca turned her head to find him parked in his old place on the back pew.

She wanted to cry. He had pulled so far back from them that at times he seemed like little more than a memory. She really hadn’t even expected him to offer them a ride to church this morning, but he was too thoughtful not to. He’d drawn some pretty firm boundaries lately, nonetheless. It seemed that he was taking back his life from the Kinder clan, and she certainly couldn’t blame him for that. God knew that he’d gone more than the extra mile for them already.

He’d helped Jem down out of the big, four-door truck, but as they’d walked toward the church building he had fallen behind, once more separating himself from them. Jem didn’t understand. That had become obvious over the past few days, and Becca couldn’t find a way to explain it to her except to say that Dan was used to being by himself most of
the time. Becca did understand, but it still made her want to cry.

She looked at Abby and said, “Maybe he’s more comfortable in the back.”

“I want to sit in back,” Jemmy complained.

“You’re a Kinder,” Becca said softly but firmly. “This is where the Kinders sit. Now, hush up. Service is starting.”

Jemmy folded her arms mutinously, but she kept quiet until after the service. “Dan’s leaving,” she pointed out stridently as they crowded into the aisle. “I wanna go with Dan.” Thankfully his back was turned and he couldn’t hear, or rather, see her.

“Dan’s busy,” Becca told her. “He has things to do today. We’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s and stay out of his hair.”

Jem started a whine, but Becca didn’t scold her. She knew just how Jem felt.

They drove home with Abby and John Odem. The Kinder house had never seemed so small and cramped to Becca before, especially in the kitchen when Abby asked if something had “gone wrong” between her and Dan.

“Of course not,” she answered briskly. “Dan’s a good, good friend, and he has a right to his space. He’s used to being alone, you know, and this has been a really busy time for him.”

Abby nodded her understanding at that, but Becca saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She would not let Abby see her own.

Dan knew something was wrong when he saw that Abby was still in her bathrobe. The sedan pulling up in front of the house on a Tuesday morning was not an unusual sight, really, but seeing Abby get out from behind the wheel in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers was a definite tip-off that this was not a routine visit. Dan braked the truck to a halt short of the street and put the transmission in Park. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, debating the wisdom of getting involved. In the end he closed his eyes and asked God what he should do. Then he killed the engine, got out of the truck and walked up to the front door.

This time he didn’t knock; he just opened up and strode into the foyer. Becca sat on the stairs, her head in her hands. Abby stood at the bottom, one arm folded across her middle, the other hand cupping her chin.

“What’s wrong?”

Becca looked up, and Abby turned. She spread both hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Stella’s son came by the house early this morning to let us know that she had a stroke last night.”

Dan couldn’t be sure of the name. Names were always difficult. “Stella?”

Abby nodded, and her gaze traveled to Becca, whom he belatedly realized was speaking. He caught the last words.

“Around the corner from Abby, and she’s my baby-sitter.”

He digested that. “Stella lives around the corner from Abby.” Becca nodded. “She’s your baby-sitter.” Another nod. He looked at Abby. “How is she?”

Abby pressed her hands together. “They think she’ll be okay, but it’s going to take time, and she’s past seventy, so even if she eventually comes home again, she probably won’t be able to see to the kids.”

Becca rose. “I’ll just have to take them to the store with me. We were planning on it eventually, anyway.”

Abby said something to her, remembered that she was excluding him and turned to repeat herself. “We don’t have anything ready. How are we going to corral them? John always intended to put together a play space for them, but there hasn’t been time.” She looked to Becca, saying, “You’ll just have to stay home, sugar, today at least.” Becca nodded miserably, and Abby added, “Now, don’t you worry. We’ll manage without you, and your salary will be the same.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Becca protested. “You can’t pay me for work I don’t do.”

“You need the salary,” Abby argued.

Dan missed the first part of Becca’s reply. “Until I find someone else to watch over the kids,” she went on. “I’m more worried about you and John carrying the full load without me.”

“I can do it.” Dan didn’t even realize that he’d
spoken aloud until they both looked at him with something akin to shock on their faces. For an instant he desperately wished that he could take the words back, but then he realized that it was the only sensible solution. He could take care of the kids; he knew he could. “The monitors,” he said, as if that explained everything, and to his mind it did. He could clip one to each of their shirts and carry the others himself. That way he’d know if Jem was calling out to him or if the baby had awakened from a nap. He could manage, surely.

“Don’t you have a job going somewhere?” Abby asked.

He shrugged. “Put it off a day or two.” Becca seemed to be mulling it over. “I can, Becca,” he insisted in what he hoped was a soft, sincere tone.

She flipped a hand dismissively. “Oh, I know that.” Her brow wrinkled. “I just hate to take advantage of you, Dan—I mean, more than I already have.” She tossed up her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Seems like no matter how hard I try to stand on my own, I just wind up leaning on you.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, feeling something warm spread inside his chest. Becca dropped her gaze, but she was smiling wanly. He realized Abby was speaking.

“A temporary solution, anyhow.”

“Will you call Claude Benton?” he asked her. He looked at Becca and added, “Roof’s in the dry so it won’t leak. It’ll wait.” Becca nodded her un
derstanding. He jerked his chin toward the door, saying, “Put away the truck.” He’d started to turn for the door when something else occurred to him. “Jessie Schumacher,” he said. Jessie would be a good baby-sitter for the summer, part-time, anyway. He’d been around her enough to know that she was responsible and caring. “Good girl,” he told Becca, “despite…” He swirled a finger around his head. Becca chuckled.

“They all wear their hair like that now.”

He shrugged, smiling just because she’d laughed.

“I’ll give her a call, see if we can work something out.”

“Here,” he said, pointing at the floor. “Not there.”

“That would be best,” Abby agreed. “Old lady Schumacher still has everything she’s ever owned. I mean, every cereal box, and it’s all right there in her little house.”

“Pretty much,” he agreed, smiling. The old gal was eccentric, but she was a dear. Still, he wouldn’t want to think about Jem and CJ careening around her tiny, crammed place. Here they’d have room to play. Becca was looking concerned, so he said, “Jess can’t do it, we’ll find someone else.”

She nodded at that and he went out, feeling better than he had in a while, though it probably wasn’t acceptable for him to find pleasure in her difficulty. Still, it was nice to be needed. It was especially nice to be needed by Becca and her kids.

Jem slipped off the edge of her chair to her feet, abandoning the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that he’d just trimmed for the second time. He brought his hands to his hips, about to ask what she thought she was doing now, but before he could form the first word she was out the door and off down the central hall. Exasperated, he started after her.

It had been an eventful morning, with Jem spilling her cereal on her feet and him repeatedly waking the baby, first by accidentally bumping into the wall that CJ’s room shared with Jem’s while he was helping her change her soggy shoes and socks, and then by closing the door too loudly after putting the little character down for a nap. In the interim CJ had been fussy and demanding, so much so that Jemmy had once stood in front of Dan with her hands over her ears as he’d cradled the howling baby and announced, “You’re lucky you can’t hear!”

He watched now as she swerved toward the wall, brushing it with her sleeve, and headed on toward the door. Must have company, he mused, recalling that he’d seen her perform that particular veering maneuver before and always right about the same place. Curious. He hurried down the hall to the foyer, getting there just as Jem pulled open the door. She did a little hop, and John Odem swung
her up into his arms as he stepped over the threshold.

“What’s this here?” he asked, flicking a finger at the pink monitor clipped to the front of her shirt. It was a little heavy, but Dan was going to look into getting her a belt.

Whatever she said in reply to John Odem’s question made John smile, but then most things did. He winked at Dan.

“Belled the cat, eh?”

“Sort of.”

John nodded and said, “Thought I’d better check on y’all. Need anything?”

Dan glanced at the blue receiver clipped to his waistband, relieved to see the tiny light on top blinking green, and shook his head. “Learning secrets of pb and j.”

“Ah.” John Odem poked a finger into Jemmy’s ribs knowingly. “Gotta trim every speck of brown crust off and slice it diagonally so it makes two equal triangles.”

“She measures,” Dan confirmed, lifting an eyebrow at Jemmy, who giggled and spoke to John Odem. He glanced at Dan in surprise.

“Buddy the turtle has a rabbit?”

Dan grinned. “Found it in his pen this morning.”

“Eating clovers,” Jem confirmed.

“Set it loose,” Dan said significantly, and Jemmy nodded importantly.

“You can’t get pet rabbits from wild. You got to
buy
them, so we’re gonna get one from Duncan, aren’t we, Dan?”

“If Mama says okay.”

John Odem sent him a doubtful look about that, but Dan just shrugged. He’d had to do some fast talking at the time. Besides, he didn’t figure Becca had
all
the say. He could keep a pet if he wanted to, which he’d have to do if she absolutely put her foot down about it. In the meantime, Jem would be happy with a furry little bunny to nuzzle. He could see it now, soft and white, with a tiny pink nose. He was counting heavily on the cute factor to win Becca over.

John Odem looked at Jem. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

Dan realized then that John Odem hadn’t stopped by just to check on them. He obviously had something on his mind, something he didn’t want to say in front of his granddaughter. Dan felt a moment’s unease, but he said nothing as John set Jemmy on her feet and she ran back down the hallway toward the kitchen. When she came to that spot, she swerved again.

“What’s that?” he asked John Odem. “A kid thing, some game?”

“Naw, she’s just avoiding the squeak.”

“Squeak?”

“In the floor.”

Dan brought his hands to his hips again. “There’s a squeak in my floor?”

John chuckled. “Loud one.”

“Where?”

They walked forward, Dan going first, until they came to the place where Jem always veered close to the wall. He stepped aside, and John Odem moved past him to demonstrate. He set one foot dead center of the hardwood floor and rocked forward, putting his weight on it. Dan motioned him aside and placed his own foot right where John’s had been. As he shifted his weight onto it, he felt a pronounced give in the planking.