The Heart's Voice

by Arlene James

  John pounded his shoulder. “Welcome to the family, Dan.”

  “Not yet,” Dan pointed out, smiling.

  “You will be,” John assured him. “I knew soon as she started stopping by Mrs. Buckner’s.”

  “Buckner? The one who taught fifth grade?”

  “Same,” John acknowledged with a nod of his head.

  Dan cocked his, puzzled. “Must be a hundred years old.” Why would Becca be seeing old Mrs. Buckner? he wondered.

  “She’s only eighty,” John replied, “and still sharp as a tack.” Then he waved a hand and asked, “Got any of that sweet tea?”

  Dan chuckled. “Help yourself.”

  “Think I will,” John said, moving toward the cabinet. He took down a glass, then turned to grin at Dan and said, “Flowers wouldn’t go amiss.”

  Dan smiled his thanks for the advice, wishing that his stomach hadn’t just turned to cold jelly. “See what I can do.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fearing he would be short for time, Dan dug out his darkest jeans and pressed them to a military crispness, along with a blue short-sleeved sport shirt that his mother swore was the very color of his eyes. Then he shaved and dressed, buffing his best tooled leather cowboy boots to a shine. He threaded the matching belt through the loops of his jeans, put on his good watch and faced himself in the mirror.

  You’re deaf, he told himself mentally, as he had so many times before. It had started as a necessary reminder of how his life had changed and gradually had become a test of sorts. Today it felt more like a simple statement of fact, and for the first time it was not followed by a pang of regret but by a brand-new reality check. You’re in love.

  He would not even think about whether or not the sentiment was mutual. He’d find out soon enough. It was possible, he discovered, to feel elation and terror all at once.

  Quickly he descended the stairs, kissed the kids, told them he’d see them later, dropped a grateful hand on John Odem’s shoulder and went out to the truck. He fought the urge to speed all the way to Duncan.

  Becca slipped through the front door and stopped. The house felt utterly empty. Wherever John Odem had gone with the kids, it wasn’t here. She shook her head, feeling hot and irritated. This had been the weirdest day. First Jessica had shown up at the store with the kids, igniting in her an unreasoning terror that had resulted in a belly crawl through the dirt under the house and a toe-curling kiss that she could not even think about for fear of making more of it than was truly there. Then John Odem had shown up at the store with the kids and disappeared again just as she was ready to get off work. She had no idea where they’d gone or what mysterious errand had been important enough for Dan to alter their plans for the day—or where he was now, for that matter.

  Painfully aware that she had already overreacted once that day, she was determined not to let her imagination carry her away, but she couldn’t help feeling a niggling concern that bordered on annoyance. Surely Abby knew where John had taken the kids, though she’d feigned ignorance, shrugging and telling Becca to head on home.

  “We’ll get them back to you before bedtime,” she’d said, and Becca wondered why even then she’d felt suspicious about that. Jemmy and CJ were undoubtedly safe with their grandfather. Telling herself that she just wasn’t used to having any time on her own, she resolutely closed the door, left her small handbag at the foot of the stairs and wandered into the kitchen for something cold to drink.

  She pondered whether or not to start dinner and decided to wait, though her stomach rumbled in protest, until she had some idea how many she’d be feeding. Peevishly she wondered if everyone else would eat without thought of her and leave her sitting here alone, starving, all evening. She grabbed a carrot and munched it while she poured a glass of tea, which she carried into the living room.

  Stepping out of her shoes, she curled up in the armchair and used the remote to turn on the television, flipping through the channels. Dan had satellite here, so something was always on, but she’d never really developed the TV habit and had no idea what might hold her interest. She settled on a familiar syndicated program from her childhood, but before she could really get into it, she heard Dan’s footsteps in the kitchen, accompanied by the faint rustle of paper and plastic. Sliding to the edge of her seat, she prepared to rise, but Dan appeared in the dining room just then, rubbing his hands together.

  “Hi. Getting some quiet time?”

  She twisted on the seat so that he could see her face. “Yeah. Do you know where John and the kids are?”

  “Not a clue. Hungry?”

  “Starving.” She started to get up again, but he waved her back down.

  “Stay there. I brought in Italian. That okay?”

  She tilted her head in curiosity. “Where did you get Italian food?”

  “Duncan. Watch your program. Won’t be a minute.” With that, he stepped back and pulled the pocket doors shut.

  Becca stared at those closed doors for a moment, decided that he felt he had to make up for scaring her that morning and gingerly sat back. That niggling feeling that all was not as it seemed deepened, however. She endured two more minutes of recorded laugh track before deciding that enough was enough. Aiming the remote control, she shut down the system and rose determinedly to her feet. Striding across the room, she reached for the twin doors, then paused long enough to listen for a moment before sliding them apart.

  The table had been set with summer-green place mats and napkins. A small wire basket at one end of the dark, ornate table contained soft, steaming bread sticks. Dan carried two glass goblets into the room and placed them on the table before pulling out a chair for her.

  “Sit.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously, slowly moving to position herself.

  “Thought we’d eat like adults for once,” he answered, moving away.

  He quickly returned again bearing two of his grandmother’s gold-rimmed floral china plates, which Becca had often admired in their mirrored cabinet against the far wall. Reaching across her shoulder, he set one laden plate before her. The aromas of spicy tomato sauce and tangy salad dressing set her stomach to rumbling in anticipation. He laid down the other plate and disappeared again while she was saying how good the food smelled. Seconds later he walked into the room and skirted the table to his own place. Becca’s eyes widened at the sight of the vase of hybrid roses in his hands, creamy yellow buds, the color graduating to vibrant pink at the tips of the curling petals.

  “These remind me of two favorite women.” He pulled out his chair and sat down, saying, “Grandma loved yellow roses. Mom’s favorites are hot pink. Makes these special.”

  “They’re beautiful,” Becca said. Then she looked him in the eye. “Are we celebrating?”

  He shrugged. “Why not?” He reached across the table for her hand. “Mind if I pray?”

  “Of course not.”

  He bowed his head, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Father, thank You for the reminder that this world contains as much beauty as difficulty. Troubles bring us wisdom, so thank You for them, too. My ears don’t hear sound, but my heart does. Thank You for this food and this woman. Amen.”

  He let go of her hand and picked up his fork. Truly moved, Becca stared at him until he glanced up and smiled. He lifted a piece of rotini to his mouth and hummed approval. Once again that feeling that all was utterly right with her world washed over her. What difference did it make what John Odem was up to? Her children were safe with their doting grandpa. Dan had brought her a lovely dinner. Roses adorned the table, and she was now convinced that Frank Dixon truly wanted her property in order to build a feedlot, which would in turn bring a few much-needed jobs to the area and take care of her financial worries. She looked to her plate and picked up her own fork.

  They ate in comfortable silence interrupted only by her own voice saying, “This is very good. Thank you.”

  He just nodded, smiled and went on eating. Finishing way ahead of her,
he lounged in his chair, one arm draped over the back, until she finally pushed away her plate.

  “I am stuffed,” she exclaimed, confessing, “I always eat too much when I’m really hungry.”

  He swept his gaze over her. “Doesn’t show. In fact, you ought to have dessert.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but I really shouldn’t.”

  “Doesn’t take up much room,” he insisted, rising to his feet. “Italian ice.” She rose, too, and began clearing the table, but he took the plates from her hands. “No, no. My shindig.”

  “Dan,” she said, “you don’t have to do this. I’m the one who overreacted this morning. It wasn’t your fault. You were working hard, and the time just got away from you.”

  “True. Now sit.” He used his elbow on the top of her shoulder to urge her back down into her seat. “Be right back.”

  She slowly lowered herself onto the chair seat. Something was up, but she couldn’t imagine what. Looking at those beautiful roses in that elegant vase, she felt a spark of hope kindle inside her, but she quickly squelched it, afraid to let her imagination run amok. Dan swept back into the room then with a single-footed ice cream bowl of heavy cut glass. He set it in front of her with a flourish, then instead of returning to his place, he dropped down onto the seat of the chair at the end of the table. Were they to share? Becca wondered, looking at the small, ornate bowl. She tilted her head, confused by the yellow-and-pink petals in her bowl.

  “These are rose petals.”

  “Ice underneath.”

  She fought the impulse to lift a hand to his brow to test it for fever. “What’re you doing?”

  “Trust me,” he said, handing her a spoon. “Go on.”

  Her heart began to race as she carefully, delicately brushed back the velvety petals with the tip of the spoon until the light caught something in the bottom of the bowl—not ice but gold.

  “Oh, no.”

  The spoon clattered to the table, and with trembling fingers she divided the petals and pushed them apart. Two rows of tiny gold beads formed the band, widening in the middle to create a setting for a large, square-cut stone. Simple, elegant, unique. Definitely an engagement ring—with a very large diamond. She clapped her hands to her cheeks.

  “Oh, no!”

  She immediately turned to Dan, aware that he was frowning but not quite registering that fact. She was too busy dealing with a host of others. One, from sheer habit and long practice, naturally rose to the fore.

  “Please tell me that’s not a real diamond!”

  “Think I’d give you a fake?” he asked incredulously.

  She clapped her hands to her cheeks again. “Oh, no!”

  “You don’t like it.”

  “It’s beautiful! But you can’t—”

  Suddenly he sat forward, circled her wrists with his long, strong fingers and tugged her hands away from her face. “Becca, I can be a good husband and father.”

  “I know that. That’s not the point.”

  “What is?”

  “It’s too big!”

  “What?”

  “It costs too much money!” she shouted.

  He shook his head as if he hadn’t understood a word, and released her. “What does?”

  She poked a finger at the crystal bowl, on the verge of tears. “A diamond like that!”

  His mouth fell open, and he rolled his eyes. “You won’t marry me because the diamond’s too big?”

  “No! Yes! I mean…” Oh, what was wrong with her? She shook her head. This was not the important part. The important part was “Why?”

  “Why?” he echoed uncertainly. “Why do I want to marry you?”

  A tear sneaked out of the corner of her eye. She reached up a hand to deal with it, saying very clearly, “You’re a natural-born hero, Daniel Holden, but you can’t rescue the whole world.”

  “Not trying to.” He caught her hands again and pressed them together, palm to palm, with his own. “Becca,” he said earnestly, “God took my hearing to get me here to you.”

  Her chin began to wobble. “To rescue us from the storm, you mean?”

  “To rescue me.” He clasped his hands around hers. “I was so busy I couldn’t hear God saying I wasn’t doing what He wanted. He had to make me really listen. Understand?”

  She had to ponder it a moment, but then she nodded. “I think so.” Pulling her hands away, she wiped both cheeks. “But that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to marry me.”

  “Becca,” he said, “I can’t imagine my life without you and the kids. I don’t want to.”

  The sobs caught her by surprise, and she wasn’t sure what they came from—relief, joy, stubborn fear. Maybe all of it. Her heart felt so full suddenly that it seemed about to burst. The look of dismay on Dan’s face just made her cry all the harder.

  “Don’t. Please, Becca, be happy. Forget everything else. I just want you to be happy. You deserve it. Sweetest, dearest, most beautiful woman on earth.”

  She laughed and sobbed and found herself horribly mute when she most wanted, needed to tell him what she was feeling. Suddenly she knew just how to do it. Her hands stumbled through the gestures. Once, twice. The third time he slipped off his chair onto his knees and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I know,” he said. “I love you, too. Love you so much.”

  She laughed and sniffed and laughed until he pulled back, smoothing her hair away from her face with his big, warm, protective hands. “Where did you learn?”

  She tried to tell him, but her voice broke. She spelled it out with her fingers. B-u-c-k-n-e-r.

  He smiled. “So that’s what that was about.”

  She nodded and gasped and held on to him by his shirt, her hands grasping the fabric at his sides. He sat back on his heels and quickly signed something. All she got was “you” and “me.”

  “I’m not very good yet,” she told him. “You have to say it.”

  He went more slowly this time, speaking as he signed. “Will you marry me?”

  She covered her trembling mouth with one hand and nodded decisively. Beaming, he reached into the bowl and scooped out the ring, which he then slid onto her finger, saying, “Don’t like it, we’ll exchange it.”

  “I love it, but can we afford it?” she asked anxiously.

  Dan chuckled and got to his feet, pulling her up and clasping his hands in the small of her back. “Not rich, but well fixed. I can give us a good life, Becca.”

  She bit her lip and looked at the ring, her hand resting lightly against his chest. “Come to think of it, I’m going to have some money, too. Frank’s serious about the feedlot, you know.”

  “There you go. All that worry, you don’t even need rescuing.”

  She blinked at him in shock. “That’s right!” Why hadn’t she realized it before? God had taken care of everything, as always, even her own stupid fears. “I’ve been an awful fool,” she managed to say, glad he couldn’t hear the screeching whine of her voice.

  “No. No, no. Crisis confuses everything. I was confused, too, for long time.” He smiled wryly. “Then this morning you came to rescue me, and I finally heard.”

  Her pulse quickened. “What did you hear?”

  He cupped her face in his hands and smiled down into her eyes. “Your heart speaking to mine.”

  She slid her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth and strength and rightness of his embrace. “I’ll marry you, Dan Holden,” she whispered, “and thank God every day for you.” She knew that he heard, just not with his ears.

  “A real wedding,” Dan insisted later, sitting on the sofa next to her, his arms looped about her shoulders. He couldn’t stop grinning, couldn’t stop marveling, couldn’t stop touching her, loving her. He smiled as she considered, watching the cogs turning in her mind. Sweet Becca, she just couldn’t seem to stop counting pennies, but then she did.

  “I’d like that, too. I didn’t have it with Cody, didn’t think it was important, and e
ven if I had, my folks couldn’t have provided cupcakes, let alone wedding cake. Besides, he had to be in Calgary in two days. I’d like a church wedding this time, the last time.”

  The last time. Dan liked that.

  “Nothing fancy,” he said, “but with my folks and yours, if they’ll come.” He felt strong, certain. Whole. Funny how that had nothing at all to do with physical perfection.

  “I’m not sure they will,” Becca was saying, “but we’ll invite them.”

  “Okay. When?”

  She shrugged. “As soon as we can work it out. I want to talk to Abby and John. And Jemmy.”

  He nodded. “Better see how the kids take to it first, huh?”

  Becca cut him a look. “Oh, they’ll ‘take to it,’ all right. Trust me on that.”

  “CJ’s little,” Dan mused. “Don’t figure he’ll mind. Jem might be little confused, but she’ll be okay eventually.”

  “Eventually,” Becca echoed. It almost seemed like a question. She shifted around on the couch to face him more fully, drawing up one leg. “You don’t read lips as well as you think you do, hotshot.”

  He frowned, targeting his concentration. “How’s that?”

  Her lips twitched. “Jemmy decided some time ago that you are her father.”

  “What?” He couldn’t have gotten that right.

  “You think she’s been calling you Danny, don’t you?”

  His brows drew together. She had been calling him Danny. Unless… His eyes widened. “Daddy?”

  “Yep.” His jaw dropped, and Becca just grinned. “We’ve been around and around about it, but she’s one stubborn little girl.”

  “Daddy,” Dan whispered. He’d thought he’d never be anyone’s daddy, and then he was without even realizing it. He had to duck his head, the tears catching him unawares. Becca slipped her hand into his, and he heard it again.

  “I love you. Just as you are.”

  He got to his feet, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go.”

  He wanted to hear Jem call him “Daddy” and John Odem call him “son” and Becca tell them all that she loved him and trusted him enough to be his bride. He wanted to hear Abby’s delight and CJ’s sweet confusion and silly bids for attention. He could already hear Cody whispering that he should take care of them, make them his own.