The Heart's Voice

by Arlene James

  Becca hadn’t even thought about her mortgage payments. Somehow, with the house gone, they hadn’t seemed relevant any longer, but the mortgage more properly pertained to the land than the house. Now Flozelle was telling her that she wouldn’t have to worry about making payments for a while. Then again, the balance due would take more than half of the expected settlement. Still, it was a generous gesture.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Reed.”

  “You’ll be receiving formal notification,” the woman told her, “so do remember to have your mail forwarded.”

  Another matter that Becca hadn’t even considered. “I’ll do that, ma’am. Thank you again.” She would have everything sent to Abby’s.

  Flozelle tilted her head, wreathed in iron-gray braids, and asked kindly, “Have you thought what you’ll do now? The bank might be willing to loan you an increased amount of principal if you should choose to use your insurance settlement as a down payment on a new domicile, but it wouldn’t be much more than you’re carrying now, say forty thousand. That could buy a nice mobile home, though given your recent experience you might not want to go that route.”

  Mobile homes, while economical, were notorious magnets for tornadoes. Ironically, Becca and Cody had actually considered one before Jemmy was born, but had decided against it for that very reason. It might be the best course for her now, though.

  “I’ll have to think and pray on it, ma’am, but I do appreciate you bringing it up.”

  To her surprise, Flozelle reached out and patted her hand. “I’m a woman alone in the world, Mrs. Kinder. I try to be sensitive to those in my own boat.” She swept a politely speculative gaze over Dan and turned away.

  Becca breathed her first real sigh of relief since Dan had closed that cellar door on the raging storm. Never had she been so glad to have attended a church service. All the niggling doubts and worries of the past two days seemed to dwindle away, and she could only marvel.

  “Good news?” he asked, steering her toward the exit.

  Very good news, she mused, nodding. Her faith had not been misplaced. God was already giving her direction, options. Thought and prayer would surely reveal the best course in due time. In the meanwhile, she had only to remember that God, not Dan Holden, would ultimately work out everything.

  They joined the Kinders and the children on the sidewalk out front and headed for the car. Jemmy begged to go by her grandparents’ house to check on her turtle. Since John Odem wanted to change his clothes anyway, it was decided that he would drop off everyone else at Dan’s and take Jem with him to the Kinder house. He would return as quickly as possible with a pair of more comfortable shoes for Abby and her favorite apron.

  At the house, Dan escorted Abby to the kitchen and turned her loose with orders to make herself at home, then he went out back to the apartment over the garage to change into casual clothes, having moved most of his things the previous evening. Becca changed, too, and stripped CJ to his diaper and shirt. Before hurrying back downstairs, she laid out play clothes for Jem. Abby was already at a loss when Becca walked into the kitchen with CJ on her hip.

  “Doesn’t that boy have a good cast-iron skillet? I can’t fry up a proper mess of squash in that flimsy thing.” She pointed to the offending aluminum equivalent on the counter.

  “We haven’t been frying much,” Becca said, meaning any. Her mother-in-law was old school when it came to cooking technique, but Becca herself preferred a healthier mode of general food preparation. “Do you want to just boil the squash, or should I go ask?”

  “Do you mind running out back to ask him? John’s been talking about fried squash all week, and there’s plenty in the refrigerator here.”

  Becca handed CJ to his grandmother, figuring she could move faster without his added weight to haul around. “I’ll be right back.” She moved quickly through the utility/mud room and out to the garage and then up the steep staircase that led to the apartment. She knocked on the door, realized how foolish that was and tried the knob. The door parted from the frame, and she stuck her head inside to look around.

  The living area was small but adequate, with a window that looked out over the backyard. A bar had been built between the kitchen and the living room, giving the place an open feel. As of yet it didn’t have a top on it, and there were no cabinets at all. She stood there pondering the significance of that until Dan came out of a short hallway that obviously led to the single bedroom and bath. He was pulling a T-shirt over his head, and as he tugged the tail down, he stopped in his tracks.

  “Becca.”

  She pointed at the kitchen. “Where are the cabinets?”

  “In the shop downstairs,” he said, sucking in his already flat belly in order to tuck in his shirt. “Haven’t finished them yet.”

  “You didn’t put them in my house?”

  He froze, but then he shook his head, and his hands finished their work. Face oddly impassive, he said, “The old ones. They were in my way.”

  She nodded, even more aware than ever how pitiful she must seem to him. Even his uninhabited garage apartment would have nicer cabinets than her house would’ve had. Maybe that was for the best, all things considered. “They’re kindling now.”

  “Candles?” he asked, face screwed up.

  “Kindling,” she enunciated crisply.

  “They are. You’re not,” he pointed out.

  “True.”

  He smiled and changed the subject. “Need something?”

  “Oh. A cast-iron skillet. Abby wants to fry up some squash.”

  “Cabinet over the fridge. Hard to reach. I’ll get it.”

  “You must not use it much,” she observed, careful to keep her face in view as they turned to leave together.

  “Not much.”

  “Healthier ways of cooking,” she said as they went down the stairs side by side.

  He nodded and added, “Good corn bread pan.”

  Once they reached the kitchen, he pulled down the skillet, then Abby sent him on his way, insisting that she would cook. When John Odem and Jemmy returned, they had the turtle with them, Jemmy insisting that the poor thing was lonely and scared since its “house” had been destroyed by the storm, too. To her way of thinking, it was only right that it come to live with them at Dan’s now. Dan just smiled and said he’d build it a proper pen. Becca couldn’t let her daughter think that this arrangement was permanent, however.

  “Sweetie, you understand that we’re only staying in Dan’s house temporarily, don’t you?”

  Jem screwed up her face much as Dan had done earlier. “What’s temohairly?”

  “It means only for a little while,” Becca explained. Jemmy’s mouth took on a mulish set, so Becca made it clear. “We will not be staying here for long.”

  “But we don’t got a house no more,” Jem pointed out.

  “We’ll get another one,” Becca assured her.

  “With my own room?” Jemmy asked doubtfully, her preference for staying put obvious.

  All Becca could say to that was, “We’ll see,” but she realized that the likelihood of providing more than she had before was slim. Still, her family would be best served by removing themselves from Dan’s house as quickly as possible. Newly resolved, she promised herself that her time of grief and shock was at an end. It was time to move forward.

  “Your truck’s ready,” Becca told Dan, hanging up the telephone in the tiny office of Kinder’s Grocery. “Let’s go get it.”

  Dan smiled. Having his own transportation again would undoubtedly make things easier for him. He’d certainly been anxious about it, popping in and out of the store all day—between giving estimates and making critical repairs for folks hit hard by the storm—to see if the dealer had called.

  His “to do” list was getting longer and longer, much of it on hold until he had the proper transportation. Becca had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him to slow down. She’d had her say on that subject Saturday, even though it really wasn’t any of her business. Besi
des, it was undoubtedly better if they both stayed too busy to get in each other’s way. She couldn’t help getting a chill when she thought about him crawling around on rooftops and under old houses by himself, though. What if he should fall or become trapped? He couldn’t hear if a beam was about to give way and go crashing down. She shook off the concern.

  “I’ll ask Abby if I can borrow her car,” she told him, swinging out of the office to go in search of her mother-in-law. She returned minutes later with the keys and both kids. Abby couldn’t be expected to watch the children and the store at the same time, and since Monday was a regular day off for Becca, the normal baby-sitter wasn’t available.

  They loaded up and set out. Dan was so anxious that he kept rubbing his hands together in anticipation. It was difficult to drive and converse, so she contented herself with an understanding smile. She hated being without wheels, too. That was something else for which she’d have to find a solution, since she’d carried only liability on her old junker.

  CJ dropped off to sleep fairly quickly, it being his nap time. Jemmy amused herself with a book for a time, but then she began to whine about being bored and thirsty. Since she was in the back seat, Dan didn’t realize that any problem existed, and Becca kept it that way, turning her head toward the window whenever she reasoned with or scolded her daughter.

  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.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dan 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 o
pened 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.