The Heart's Voice

by Arlene James

  Dan blinked, increasingly aware of the old woman’s hands as she wrung them. Worry emanated from her squat, stooped form.

  “It’s gonna rain again,” she said, and something in her face told him who she was.

  “Mrs. Schumacher?”

  She nodded dumbly. He looked to the girl. “Are you Evelyn’s daughter?”

  “Yeah. I’m Jessica.” He knew that Evelyn and her husband had died in a car crash when he was a junior in high school. Mr. Schumacher had been gone many years even then, dead of heart failure, it was said. These two were alone in the world. Dan sighed inwardly. He couldn’t refuse to help.

  “Got a car?”

  “Yeah, out front.”

  “Room for my tools?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Anything to cover the roof?”

  “John Odem gave us a tarp.”

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Go get my toolbox and some rope.” First he took Jemmy by the shoulder, looking down into her face. “Tell your mom where I’ve gone, okay?” Jem nodded. He went to get what tools he could carry.

  It was wet, dirty work. He got the tarp in place just minutes after the rain began to pour, so the Schumacher women could use their bathroom, but the interior walls would have to be replaced, and the old house sagged alarmingly at one corner, where water seeped out of a broken pipe. Already drenched to the skin, he found an opening in the crawl space and slithered under the house on his belly. The break was all the way on the other side of the house, naturally, so it took some time to reach it, and about half the way was through mud. The water leak had apparently driven out some sort of critter, an opossum or skunk judging by the “nest” that Dan came across. Unfortunately the same could not be said for the spiders, but he knocked the webs out of his way and kept going.

  He found the leak in a joint of pipe. That would be easy enough to fix. The bigger problem was the section of broken foundation beam that had caused the pipe to stress. The creosote-coated twelve-inch-square beam had broken off above ground level, leaving a jagged chunk of wood poking up and two others on the ground beside it. The beam had probably already been rotted, so the force of the storm had made the house sway enough to splinter it. If he could get that corner of the house up, the leak would stop pretty much of its own accord.

  After crawling back the way he’d come, he had to hose himself off in the yard, even with rain falling, before he could go to the house and discuss the situation with Mrs. Schumacher. She told him that she had an upright piano sitting in that corner, so Dan took off his boots, dried himself with a towel as much as possible and crept through the crowded, untidy house to shift the furniture and move that piano. Once that Herculean job was accomplished, he borrowed the jack from the trunk of their car, found a few pieces of lumber sturdy enough to serve his purpose and set about temporarily leveling the house. In order to do so, he had to remove some of the siding around the foundation and make himself a special lever with which to work the jack. Even then it took all his body weight to coax the jack into lifting that corner of the house.

  The good news was that he didn’t have to crawl the full length of the house to check the leaky pipe again. All he had to do was lie in the mud under the newly exposed corner of the house and convince the flashlight to work in the rain. After drying the joint with some rags supplied by Mrs. Schumacher, he smeared it with plumber’s putty and wrapped the area in duct tape. Weary and filthy, he once more knocked on the Schumacher door and told Jessica that he was ready to be taken home. This being without transportation was getting old fast. He promised to return as soon as the weather cleared to fix the roof, replace the broken foundation beam and put back the siding.

  Mrs. Schumacher wept and tried to offer him money, but he put her off, saying the job wasn’t finished yet, and that he’d have to check the price of certain supplies. Upon seeing the blood drain from her face, he assured her that the job probably wouldn’t cost more than a couple hundred dollars to complete and that she could pay it out a little at a time. He would not, of course, charge her for more than the supplies, and perhaps not even all of those if the cost seemed too much for her, but she didn’t have to know that.

  By the time he slogged up the steps to his own front door, he was craving a hot shower and a cold drink. He removed his boots on the porch, then stood dripping in the front foyer for a few moments, wondering how best to keep from creating a huge mess. Finally he decided to ask Becca for a towel. He peeked into the living room and saw that it was empty. So far as he could tell, no light was on in the kitchen. Everyone must be upstairs. He’d have to call out to her. At least he didn’t have to worry about waking the baby. Oddly, he had to think how to go about shouting. It felt so strange, sucking in his breath, putting back his head and forcing the word up out of his throat.

  “Bec-ca!”

  For a moment he could only wonder if he’d made himself heard, but then she was there at the top of the stairs. She said something, but he couldn’t quite make it out at that distance and figured he could let it go for a minute.

  “Towel, please.”

  She turned and disappeared into the upstairs hall. Just seconds later she was on her way down to him, a pair of folded towels stacked on her arms. “You look like a drowned rat,” she said, handing over the first one.

  “Feel like one, too,” he admitted. Smiling sheepishly, he mopped his face and moved to his chest.

  She gave him an arch look, then draped a towel over his head and began rubbing briskly at his hair. Laughing, he let her tend to him. It felt good—unfamiliar but good. Finally she whipped off the towel and stood with it tossed over one arm, her hands at her waist.

  “So what were you doing? Jem said two women came for you.”

  He nodded. “Mrs. Schumacher and her granddaughter.” He briefly explained while toweling his pants legs. When he straightened again, he found Becca shaking her head.

  “You can’t help playing the hero, can you?”

  “Huh? Just a temporary fix.”

  Becca folded her arms. “Who’s going to do the real work?”

  “Me. Can’t afford to hire anyone.”

  Becca flapped her arms, and the towel with it. “There. You see. Abby told me you were going to do their work, too.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  “So you can’t fix the whole world, Dan. Much as you might like to, you just can’t fix the whole world.” With that she dropped the towel, whirled and stomped quickly up the stairs.

  Dan stood there, his mouth agape, as swamped now by confusion as he had been by mud and rain earlier. He couldn’t imagine what was going on with Becca. She was a Christian woman, as generous as she could be. Surely she didn’t expect less from him. It must be the stress of her situation. She hadn’t wanted to go to work today and leave the children, but it seemed to Dan that they were handling their new circumstances better than she was in some ways. He’d just have to be patient with her, he supposed.

  With that in mind, he draped the towel he was using around his neck, then moved forward and picked up the other one from the floor before beginning to climb the stairs. He went straight to his bedroom and across it to the bath, but the instant he stepped through the open bathroom door, he realized that Becca was already in the room. Quickly he ducked his head.

  “Oops. Sorry.” Before he could even back out the door, however, she had hold of him, her fingers curled around his forearm. He looked up uncertainly.

  “It’s for you, silly.”

  Frowning, he glanced around the room and saw the water running in the shower. “Oh. Thanks.”

  “By the time you gather up some clean clothes, it ought to be hot.”

  “Right. Great.”

  She shooed at him impatiently. “Go on. Get your things. When you’re done, I’ll wash what you’re wearing.”

  Backing out into the bedroom, he said, “I can.” He didn’t want to put her to any trouble.

  She rolled her eyes, following him. “Fine.
”

  He turned toward the dresser, and when he turned back again, she was gone, having pulled the bedroom door closed behind her. She was in a strange mood. Dan scratched an ear, realized that he was itching all over and headed for the shower.

  Becca stood at the kitchen sink, her back to the door, and gulped down tears. A maudlin feeling of helplessness enveloped her. She brushed impatiently at her damp cheeks and told herself that she was being an idiot. Of course Dan would go to help the Schumachers, just as he’d help Abby and John Odem and anyone else who needed it. Even her. She knew that she must not make the mistake of thinking that made her special. Dan was a talented, generous, caring man. Why that should make her cry, she didn’t know.

  She had plenty to cry about, of course. The storm had taken her home, the one place she could call her own, and she just didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t even have as much insurance on her house as Dan had on his truck. She’d never be able to rebuild with what she had coming, at least according to what her agent had told Abby, who’d notified the company of Becca’s claim, since Dan didn’t have a telephone. She wouldn’t know for certain until the adjuster came, and she didn’t know when that might be. Maybe God would work a miracle in the meantime. For now, everyone was okay.

  As comfortable as Dan’s house was, though, and as happy as the children seemed here, this was not their home, and she couldn’t think of it as such. But she couldn’t think what else to do, either. Somehow she had to find a way to provide her family with a home of their own, but she didn’t have a clue how to do it. She’d just have to put her faith in God, rack her brain and be patient until He showed her the way.

  Her insides still felt shaky, which was why she hadn’t gone to work today. She just didn’t trust herself to handle the stress right now, and Abby insisted that she and John had everything under control. Thankfully, tomorrow was a day of rest and worship. She’d feel more centered if she could just get to church, focus on something greater than her problems. Monday was soon enough to begin searching for solutions to her problems.

  Meanwhile, thanks to Dan Holden she and her babies were safe. They had a roof over their heads, food to eat and clothing to wear. She was going to put these worries, these fears, behind her and simply gather her strength. God would continue to provide, and she would continue to be properly grateful, instead of wishing and hoping and making more of this situation than either Dan or God intended.

  She knew how to do this, after all. She’d suffered loss and disappointment before, and she had always survived by trusting God. Feeling calmer, she squared her shoulders and went to tend her children.

  When Dan emerged from the bedroom, clean, dry and freshly garbed, he was glad to find that Becca’s strange mood seemed to have lifted. She smiled warmly at him as he walked into the living room, and asked what he had in mind for supper. Truth was, he hadn’t had time to think of it, so he just shrugged. That was when she looked to the foyer and announced, “There’s someone at the door.”

  Dan looked through the window, spotted an unfamiliar vehicle parked out front and turned back into the entry area. He opened the door to find the insurance adjuster on his porch, looking damp but satisfied.

  “Come in,” Dan invited, but Alan Hampton shook his head.

  “I’ll just leave this and go.” He offered Dan a sheet of paper, saying, “It’s a total loss. Soon as the weather dries up a little, we’ll send someone out to haul off the wreckage.”

  Dan looked down at the form. A check was attached to the bottom. The amount was just about what he’d expected. “Thanks,” he said. “Stay to supper?”

  “That’s kind, but no. I need to get back, and it’s a long drive.”

  Dan nodded, folded the paper and offered his hand. “Appreciate your promptness.”

  “What I’m paid for,” Hampton said, shaking Dan’s hand. “Give my best to your wife.”

  Dan opened his mouth to correct that assumption, but the fellow was already turning away, and he didn’t see any point in calling him back on account of a harmless error. He supposed it was a natural mistake. Thinking back, he realized that he had never properly introduced her because she had been the one to answer the door. Now that he considered it, they hadn’t even actually said that it was her and the kids he’d gone out in the storm to warn. Shaking his head, he turned back into the house—and found Becca standing at the foot of the stairs. Obviously she had heard. He could think of no other reason for the ashen look of her face.

  “Should’ve set him straight,” Dan said.

  Her gaze slid away. “Don’t suppose it matters.”

  He nodded. She said something, but he didn’t catch it, since she was turning toward the kitchen. He wondered for a moment if he should go after her, tell her that he hadn’t bothered to correct Alan Hampton’s supposition because he liked the idea of her being his wife, but he knew that it wouldn’t be wise just then. She needed time to come to terms with her situation first. Jemmy appeared to ask if she could watch TV, and he went to turn on the set, reminding himself to be patient.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dan put a pork loin in the slow cooker early the next morning and insisted that the Kinders would take Sunday dinner at his house, since parts of Abby’s kitchen were still drying out from the storm. Abby agreed on the condition that she be allowed to prepare the rest of the meal. Becca bit her lip to keep from saying that she’d been looking forward to some “normal time” at the home of her in-laws and went along with the plan, but she couldn’t help feeling peevish as Dan handed her down into the back seat of Abby and John Odem’s old car for the ride to church.

  “He’s mighty fond of that slow cooker,” she grumbled.

  “You say something?” Dan asked, cramming in next her. The kids’ car seats took up almost all of the space, so he lifted his arm across her shoulders in order to make more room.

  She shook her head, telling herself that his being deaf did have some advantages. Then she felt contrition. Losing his hearing was obviously the worst thing that had ever happened to Dan, and she wouldn’t take one full moment’s pleasure in it. Of course, if he hadn’t suffered that loss, he wouldn’t have come back here to Rain Dance to live. He’d be off making the world a safer place with the marines, and she’d never have met him, leaving her world a much more dangerous situation than she might have imagined. Funny how God worked things sometimes. She wished she knew what He was working out for her and the kids just now.

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” she whispered, scolding herself.

  Dan lifted his hand to cup her chin and angle her face toward his. “What?” His voice was a little too loud, given their proximity and the intimate tone of it. She was sitting on one thigh, practically in his lap, and their lips were very near to touching. She dropped her eyelids, shuttering her gaze.

  “Talking to myself.”

  He took his hand away, saying teasingly, “Better watch that.”

  She knew that he was telling her that he could read her lips even when her words were inaudible, and she felt a fresh stab of guilt. How could she think or speak unkindly of him when he had been so good to her? Suddenly overwhelmed by the confusion of her own emotions, she felt the prick of tears. Silently, as if attuned to her every thought and feeling, Dan brought his arm down around her and folded her close. She turned her face into the hollow of his shoulder and thought desperately, Oh, God, please don’t let me fall in love with him now.

  It hit her then that she had finally come to the root of her problem. The house was gone and, yes, that was cause for immediate concern, but what she feared most just now was that during this trying time her heart would run away with her better judgment. After all, she’d practically thrown herself at the man not long ago, and he’d made it plain that he didn’t think he could or should be a father and husband. That hadn’t stopped him from being a generous, caring friend, a sanctuary from the aftermath of the storm. Hero was not too strong a word for Dan Holden. On the other hand, pa
thetic pretty well described her at the moment.

  Becca blinked away the tears, lifted her head and put as much space between them as she could manage within the cramped confines. By the time they reached the church, she felt bruised but more in control. During the service she managed to ignore Dan and concentrate on worship. It was balm to her troubled soul, and when her name was read, along with others in need after the storm, and special prayers were offered, outward calm finally began to transform into inner peace.

  God had not forgotten her. Security rested always in Him, not in buildings or money or even other people. Solutions could be found for every problem. Patience and acceptance were possible; surely contentment could not be too far behind them.

  After church, people stopped her to ask how they might help, but she asked only for prayer, and then was amazed to find that one petition that she hadn’t even thought to offer up had already been answered. Flozelle Reed was a tall, thin widow nearing sixty who resembled a schoolmarm out of some old Western more than the banker she was, but she had been second vice president of the State Agricultural Bank for nearly twenty years. She was not a formal member of the church, but she often showed up for one reason or another. This morning her purpose seemed to be nothing less than lightening Becca’s load of worries, though Becca couldn’t know that at first.

  “I understand your house was destroyed, Mrs. Kinder,” Flozelle said, standing in the aisle in front of Becca with a patent leather handbag dangling from one thin arm.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” Becca admitted, aware of Dan at her elbow taking in every word.

  “Your insurance won’t cover the loss.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “We didn’t require more coverage because the mortgage is small compared to the value of the land.”

  “I believe you explained that to me after my husband passed, Mrs. Reed.”

  Flozelle nodded with apparent satisfaction. “It is, however, more than enough to pay off your mortgage, and State Agricultural is prepared to suspend interest and payments until you receive settlement.”