The Heart's Voice (13 page)

“Better get under there,” he said, figuring that a foundation support had given way.

John Odem shivered. “Better you than me. I don’t like close spaces.” He grinned when he said it, but that was John Odem Kinder’s natural expression, so Dan figured he meant what he’d said.

“Want to sit?”

“Good idea. Let’s try the living room.”

Dan followed this time, and as John Odem made himself comfortable on the couch, he took a seat across from him in the recliner. “What’s on your mind?”

John smiled. “To the point. Okay. Well, then, Becca and Abby’ve been talking up this building-on thing, and I’m wondering how you feel about that.”

Dan looked down, flicking his fingertip against
an imaginary speck of lint on his jeaned thigh. “Be a while before I could get started.”

When he looked up again, John Odem was sitting forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “That’s not what I mean, Dan. Fact is, I figure you’re wanting to keep her.”

“I want to marry her,” Dan corrected, not much liking the way John had phrased that.

Only when John reared back did Dan remember that old saw about letting cats out of bags. Now, what had possessed him to blurt that out?

For a moment John just stared at him, and Dan imagined all that could be going through his head. He wasn’t a “whole” man. He would never be a model father—the way he kept waking the baby and other things proved that. Just that morning he’d handed over a bowl of milk and cereal to a four-year-old without so much as a warning to be careful. No wonder she’d spilled it all over her feet. He couldn’t even find a squeak in his own floor without help! No, he would never be anyone’s idea of the perfect family man, not even that of an easygoing jokester like John Odem. Dan figured he was in for some straight talk—not that John could say anything to him that he hadn’t already said to himself at one time or another. Still, he owed the older man the courtesy of hearing him out. He girded himself for an unpleasant dose of reality, but the last thing he expected, though perhaps he should have, was for John Odem to slap his thigh and go off into
gales of laughter just before hopping to his feet and breaking into a jig.

“Hoo, boy!” John said, stabbing a finger at him. “I knew it! I knew it!” He lunged forward, grabbed Dan’s hand and began pumping it enthusiastically. “I told Abby. I told her, but she said Becca said you wasn’t interested.” He flapped his lips at that, making Dan blink.

Wasn’t interested? He shifted forward in his seat. “She is the one not interested,” he enunciated carefully.

John seemed surprised, then genuinely skeptical. “Naw, that can’t be right.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then he shook his head. “No, it ain’t that.” He sat back down and shook a finger at Dan, saying, “That gal, she’s had her eye on you since the day you showed up around here again, not that she was on the lookout, mind, ’cause she’s not that sort.”

Dan disciplined a smile. “I know.”

“She’s interested,” John assured him with a nod. “What makes you think she’s not?”

Dan shrugged and rubbed his palms down his thighs. He glanced casually at the monitors affixed to his waistband, very aware that his heart was racing. “She doesn’t like leaning on me.”

“She don’t like leaning on me, neither, but I tell her that’s what family’s for.”

“Not family.”

“But you want to be.”

Dan looked down again, uneasy revealing so much of himself. Finally he just nodded, but then he had to face John. “Thought once…” He shrugged. “Yes.”

“You haven’t said anything to her, have you?” John Odem surmised.

“No.”

“Don’t you think you oughta?”

Dan looked him in the eye. “Do you?”

“Sure do.”

Dan noticed he was breathing a little more deeply. “You approve?”

“Of course I approve.” His eyes clouded, and his customary cheer bled from his face. “I’m not saying it’s an easy thing, my boy being gone, but there’s the fact. It’s about Becca and the kids now, and that little gal shouldn’t be alone.”

“Not alone,” Dan said softly, wanting John to understand that he knew and appreciated how much a part of her life he and Abby were.

John Odem flapped a hand dismissively. “Abby and me, we’re not gonna live forever, son, not in this world. We always knew God would have someone else for her, and we been praying for you even before we knew it was you, just as we prayed for Becca from the time Cody was a little lump till the day he brought her home to us.”

Dan smiled, truly moved. “Thank you, John.”

“Thank you,” John said, getting to his feet again. Dan did likewise as John Odem glanced
around him. “This is a good situation for her, for all of you. She’ll see that, too. Soon as you ask her, it’ll all come clear.”

Dan gulped. “Just ask, then?”

John shrugged, chuckling. “Course, boy—no other way I know of.”

Dan shifted his feet. “Shouldn’t I ask her father first, maybe?”

John shook his head. “Naw, I wouldn’t think so. Becca’s the third of eight kids, you know, and the Stoddards seem to figure she’s not much concern of theirs no more. Oh, I’m not saying they aren’t good people. You can just look at Becca and see they’ve done some things right, but there didn’t never seem to be no question of her moving back into the family fold after Cody passed. ’Sides, I doubt Becca herself would cotton to it, her being a grown woman and a mother and all. I’d just get the question past my teeth if I was you, and leave the rest to Him that knows best.” He pointed at the ceiling as he said that, and Dan nodded.

Getting the question past his teeth, as John Odem put it, seemed a daunting endeavor just then, but he was glad to know that John approved of the match.

“Glad you came,” he said to John, shaking the older man’s hand.

“Me, too,” John replied, waggling his eyebrows. “Got out of cleaning the fryer.”

Dan laughed, and John took his leave, calling a farewell to Jem, who shouted something in reply,
according to the flashing red light on the monitor. An instant later CJ’s flashed red, too. Dan sighed, shook his head and called out for her to stay put while he went after the baby. He’d grab a diaper and change the caterwauler downstairs, then he’d open a jar of something to feed the little chunk and try not to doubt the wisdom of John Odem’s advice—or think too much about what Becca might say.

J
emmy pinched her finger in the pantry door, causing a large blood blister to rise on the pad of it. She ran into the living room, slinging it wildly and bawling. Dan calmed her, looked it over and walked her back into the kitchen for a piece of ice, which was the only way he could think of to ease the sting. He’d barely applied the ice when she gasped, jerked toward the door and pointed toward the living room.

“What’s that noise?”

He looked down at the monitor. The little light was rapidly flaring red. Dropping the ice in the sink, he rushed back to the living room. CJ was sitting inside the fireplace with the folding brass screen on its side in front of him, howling like a banshee. Horrified, Dan rushed forward and snatched him up, examining him for injuries, beginning with his
head. Thankfully, he didn’t find so much as a red mark on the boy, but when he glanced at his own hand he found that it was black with soot. Groaning, he looked for something to wipe his hand on, found nothing and decided to check CJ’s back, which was black from his thighs to the crown of his head.

Dan closed his eyes, wondering what else could go wrong, which was exactly when CJ threw up all over his chest. Dan jumped back, holding the baby at arm’s length, and stared down at himself, stunned. For a moment he couldn’t think, let alone move, then he realized that a lot of bathing was going to be involved with this, and for a moment he thought he might cry. He looked at Jem, holding aloft her bloodied finger, and wondered if he was cut out for fatherhood, after all.

She scratched the back of her leg with the front of the opposite foot and calmly said, “He does that sometimes when he cries a lot.”

Dan lifted his eyebrows. “Cried a lot today.”

She nodded solemnly in agreement.

Dan sighed. “Got to clean up. You be all right?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“Just sit here, watch cartoons,” he instructed.

“Okay,” she said, “but I’m hungry and I want a snack.”

He made a face, painfully aware that he reeked. “Almost dinnertime.” How could she even think about food right now?

She made a huge show of sighing, plopping down on the floor and slumping forward dejectedly.

“Don’t open the door for anyone you don’t know,” he warned firmly.

She nodded and pressed a hand to her belly as if suffering hunger pangs. Dan rolled his eyes as he headed for the door, CJ dangling from his hands. He was sucking his fist contentedly as if throwing up had solved everything. Dan climbed the stairs and headed straight for the master bath, where he deposited the child in the deep claw-foot tub and quickly stripped off his shirt, turning it wrong side out. It was black everywhere he’d touched it. Very gingerly he removed the monitor receivers from his waistband and laid them on a shelf. Then he knelt and stripped CJ.

Quickly, one hand on the baby at all times, he ran water until it heated, then plugged the tub and let a few inches gather. Using plain old hand soap, which was the only thing he could reach, he scrubbed the kid head to toe, being extremely careful not to get any in the baby’s eyes. Then he simply laid him back in the water to rinse away the suds. In the process, he cleaned his hands. He scrubbed his chest with a soapy washcloth, then rinsed it the same way and snagged a towel off the bar behind him to dry off. CJ was trying to sit up by then, but succeeded only in flopping over onto his belly and sliding around, which he found extremely funny.

He was slippery as an eel, but Dan finally managed to get him wrapped in the towel and into his arms. He tossed his shirt and CJ’s into the tub, then carried the boy into his bedroom to diaper and dress him. Leaving CJ in his crib, he went back to rinse out their clothing, retrieve the monitors and dig a fresh shirt out of his dresser. When he returned for CJ, the boy was standing in the crib shaking the side rail like a monkey in a cage. Dan laughed, and CJ beamed at him, reaching up with both arms. Maybe he was right the first time and he could do this, after all.

Clean and dry, he carried the boy down the stairs, wondering if he shouldn’t rustle up something for Jemmy to eat. It really was getting close to dinnertime, but she was a growing girl, after all. He walked into the living room, musing that he needed to get a fixed screen for that fireplace if he could find one at this time of year, and opened his mouth to ask Jem how she felt about an apple. His blood ran cold when he saw a strange man sitting on his couch.

“Jem!”

She popped up from the chair, snagging his attention. “Danny,” she began. At least, he thought she was calling him Danny; at the moment he was both too relieved and too angry to care.

“I told you, don’t open the door!”

She blinked and shrank back. “But I know Mr. Dixon.”

Dan shifted CJ to his hip, aware that his heart was still beating at double time. It was true that he’d told her not to open the door
for anyone she didn’t know,
but he’d meant her mother or grandparents. Seeing her stricken face now, he swallowed and turned to the stranger.

“Dixon?”

The man rose to his full height. He was a large, bluff, handsome man somewhere in his fifties, a rancher by the look of him and the pale straw cowboy hat resting on its crown on the sofa cushion. He put out his hand, pale gray eyes twinkling. “Call me Frank,” he said.

“Dan Holden.” They shook hands briefly. To Dan’s surprise, CJ reached for the other man.

Frank Dixon patted the boy on the head, winked at Jemmy and said, “We’re old friends. I’m Becca’s neighbor. Own the section to the north of her place.”

Dan frowned, still not sure what to make of a fellow who would just waltz into another man’s house and make himself to home. “Uh-huh.”

Frank Dixon hooked his thumbs in his belt and said, “I’m sure sorry about the storm. Broke my heart when I stopped by there and saw nothing but the foundation of the house still standing. Sure wiped her out.”

Dan nodded. “Yes.”

“Thank God she and the children made it through unscathed.” He shook his head. “It’s a pity
what that little gal’s been through. Anything I can do for her? Anything at all? I saw the car was mangled. I could loan her one of my trucks. Wouldn’t be any bother.”

“Nice of you.”

“I’d sure do that and more for sweet Becca.”

Dan frowned. The use of another vehicle would be convenient, and he had no right to turn down the offer on Becca’s behalf, but he couldn’t quite stomach the idea of Dixon stepping in at the eleventh hour, so to speak.

“We’re getting by just fine for now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Dixon rocked back on his heels, lips pursed. “I was told that she might be interested in selling her acreage. Thought I might sound you out about it.”

Dan felt his heart thump in his chest. Seemed as if Dixon thought Dan might have more claim on Becca than he really did, and here was his chance to foster that idea, but he couldn’t take it that far. “Becca’s land,” he finally said. “Speak to her.”

“I see.” He looked down at his toes, and Dan missed what he said next. He tapped the big man on the shoulder. When he looked up, Dan motioned with his hand that he would have to speak face-to-face. Before he could say that, however, Jemmy stepped close to his side, wrapped her arm around his leg and spoke. Dan knew by the expression on Dixon’s face that she was telling him about his
deafness. Dixon looked up quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right. I read lips.”

“Very well, apparently.”

“Well enough.”

Frank Dixon smiled. “You wouldn’t remember me, but I knew your daddy when he was principal out at Jefferson Elementary.”

“Not surprised.”

The big cowboy rocked back on his heels. “I suppose Becca’s down at the store?”

Dan glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Might be.”

Dixon pursed his lips. “Would you tell her I came by? I hate to see her sell up after all she’s done to hang on, but I’d give her a fair price.”

Dan made a quick decision. Frank Dixon struck him as a friendly, well-meaning—if a little too familiar—fellow, and Becca was wanting to sell. He tried not to weigh his own personal interests against that. “Sit, wait a spell. Could be on her way home now.”

The big man smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.” He lowered himself onto the couch once more.

Dan took the chair that Jem had vacated, aware that he owed her an apology. He hadn’t meant to shout at her, and the whole thing was his own fault, but she had to know that it wasn’t safe to open the door without him or another adult present, not even in Rain Dance. They could have that talk later. He
might as well start mending his fences in the meantime, he figured, so he looked at Jem and patted his knee. She happily scrambled up to his lap next to CJ, and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. They traded a smile before he turned back to their company.

“So, Frank,” he said, “you a rancher?”

Dixon nodded and launched into a recitation of the stock he was raising. He was still talking about Angus crossbreeds when Jem alerted Dan to Becca’s presence. She came into the room carrying grocery sacks and saying, “I brought home supper.” But then she stopped in her tracks. “Frank.”

The sacks were quickly deposited on the end table, and in short order she and Frank Dixon were hugging each other. Dan felt his heart drop like a stone. Apparently Dixon was plenty familiar. Even when Becca broke away, she was still smiling at and talking to Dixon.

All Dan caught was, “So good to see you.” Then she turned to the children.

Jemmy jumped off his lap and threw herself into her mother’s arms. After hugging her, Becca swept up CJ and kissed him, still talking to Dixon. She never even spoke to Dan. In fact, she turned her back on him in order to continue speaking to Frank Dixon.

Face and throat burning, he got up and made himself scarce, gathering in the grocery bags and carrying them into the kitchen. So much for getting
that certain question past his teeth. At the moment his teeth were clamped so tightly that he couldn’t have gotten a whisper through them.

It was a double-edged sword, Becca thought. On one hand, it cut through all her problems. With the money Frank was willing to pay her for her quarter section of land, she could replace her car and get about making a home for herself and her children. On the other hand, it meant the end of dreams—first that which she and Cody had struggled so hard to fulfill and also the one she had been so tempted to believe in since she’d first asked Dan Holden for his help. Perhaps that was as it should be. A dream without God’s will in it was as insubstantial as a puff of smoke and about as worthwhile. Still, she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel some trepidation and disappointment. She had some suspicions about Frank’s sincerity.

She put that aside as best she could, reasoning that this was proof of God’s intention. Why, only that morning John Odem had warned her that it could take months, years even, to find a buyer for her property. Yet that very afternoon Frank had walked in with a generous offer. She really should have called the Dixons right after the storm. Instead she’d sat around feeling sorry for herself and making Dan feel responsible for rescuing her.

Poor Dan.

CJ on her hip, she walked into the kitchen. While
she’d talked with Frank, Dan had put away the groceries, set out the carry-in and gotten down plates.

“Sounds like you’ve had a hard day,” she said. Then she shook her head and waited patiently for him to look up and notice her.

“Your friend gone?”

Dan’s voice was strangely stilted and without inflection sometimes, but at others it sounded raw with emotion. She figured the emotion that she was hearing now had to do with the day he’d had rather than with Frank, but she was happy enough to discuss the latter.

“I should have thought to call Frank and Iola.”

“What?”

She said it again slowly. His face puckered up.

“I-o-la?”

“Iola Dixon, Frank’s wife.”

Dan’s face went oddly blank. “Married, is he?”

“Well, sure. Their son and Cody were best friends. I think Frank is the one who put cowboying into Cody’s head.”

“That a fact?”

“Um-hm. The Dixons have always been good to us. He bought all my stock after Cody’s death, and he doesn’t even raise horses. He’s always sworn he sold them at profit, though.”

“Now he’s offering to buy your land.”

She nodded. “I can’t help wondering if he really needs the land or if he’s just being nice.” She
shifted CJ on her hip. “He says he’s thinking about building a feedlot.”

For a long moment Dan said nothing, then, “Could bring in jobs.”

“Hadn’t thought of that.” She bit her lip. If Frank was serious, she wouldn’t be the only one to profit from his generosity.

“So?” Dan asked.

“Am I going to take his offer? Most likely. Unless…” She shrugged.

“Don’t like being rescued,” he concluded.

“It’s not that,” she told him honestly. “I just don’t want to take advantage.”

He smiled and shook his head, advising, “No rush. Pray on it.”

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

He nodded at the containers in the center of the table. “Smells good.”

“Barbecue,” she told him, “and we better get to eating it.”

She turned to call Jemmy, and he pulled the tray off the high chair for CJ. In half a minute they were seated around the table and filling their plates. They talked over the meal about the day he’d had. She couldn’t help smiling sympathetically when he told her about CJ. She’d already had the story from Jem.

“The first time he did that to me,” she told Dan, “I thought sure he had a terrible disease. That reflux thing or some such. Turns out Cody used to
do it, too. Sorry you had to get nailed. I should’ve warned you.”

Dan smiled ruefully. “Know better next time.” He nodded at Jem, saying, “Caught her finger.” He made it sound like a confession.

“I heard about that,” Becca said, glancing at her daughter knowingly. “What I haven’t heard yet is what she was doing that she wasn’t supposed to be when it happened.”

Jemmy tucked in her chin. “Just getting something to eat.”

Becca looked at Dan, eyes laughing. “Always eating lately. Must be gearing up to grow.” She looked at Jemmy. “Next time you ask first.”