The Heart's Voice. Arlene James

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      “No promises,” he finally said, “but I’ll take a look.”

      She literally bounced, as excited as if she’d just won the lottery. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Holden!”

      “Dan,” he corrected automatically.

      She smiled. “And I’m Becca.”

      “Becca,” he repeated carefully. “Not Becky?”

      “Not Becky,” she confirmed, “but short for Rebecca.”

      “Okay, Becca. When and where?”

      She started to answer him, but then she suddenly turned away. He followed her gaze and saw that Jemmy was about to slip off the end of the porch and down between the hedges. She stopped and cast a measuring glance at her mother, then resumed skipping again. Becca smiled at him and said, “As far as how to find us, just head east straight on out of town to the second section line. Then turn back north. We’re on the left just over a mile down.”

      He smiled because she hadn’t altered the speed or manner in which she normally spoke. “Two miles east. One north. On the left.”

      “Right. There’s no section line road there, but you’ll see the name on the mailbox.”

      “Kinder,” he surmised.

      “That’s it.” She flapped a hand happily. “Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this! See you then.” As she turned to go, he realized that he’d missed something important, and without even thinking, he reached out and snagged her wrist. A jolt of heat lanced up his arm. He instantly released her.

      “Sorry. Uh, when?”

      Her eyes grew even rounder, and apology was suddenly written all over her face. “I turned my head. Jemmy was about to crawl off into the bushes, and I didn’t even think.”

      “It’s all right.” He brought his hands to his hips, just to be sure he didn’t accidentally reach out for her again. “Tell me when.”

      “Monday’s my day off, so anytime Monday would be great for me.”

      He nodded. “Monday.”

      She smiled, and he drew back, that smile doing strange things to his insides. He wondered if her husband was going to be there, and hoped that he was. It would be best to deal with Cody. Perhaps he should suggest it, but she was already turning away again, calling the girl to her side as she went. Dan backed up and closed the door. Then he suddenly remembered something he’d seen.

      She wore her wedding ring on her right hand and no ring at all on her left. Thinking quickly, he weighed the significance of that, and then he remembered something else. One day down at the store he’d seen two women standing in front of the deli case, watching John Odem carve up a ham. One had leaned close to the other and apparently whispered something that had stuck with him. What a shame about the boy.

      He knew now what it meant. Cody Kinder had died. That explained why Dan hadn’t seen him around at all since his return, even why Becca had come to ask for his help. He thought of the boy he had known and felt a keen sense of loss tinged with shame. Cody had been younger than him, so they hadn’t been buddies or anything, but Dan had always liked the kid as well as his parents, who had fairly doted on their only child. And to think that all this time he’d been too busy feeling his own loss to even realize what they had suffered.

      He sighed and bowed his head.

      Okay. I get it. Lots of folks have lost lots more than me. The least I can do is help Becca Kinder with whatever repairs she’s needing. And I’ll try to be less prideful from now on, Lord. Really I will.

      For the first time in a long while a real sense of purpose filled him, and it felt good. Really good. He went back to his lunch, walking down the hall to the kitchen, completely ignorant of a loud squeak at a certain spot in the clean, highly polished hardwood floor.

      Becca couldn’t say why she looked for him to come into the store on Saturday, but she was disappointed when it didn’t happen. Ever since he’d admitted his deafness to her, she’d felt that they shared a bond along with the secret. And yet she felt torn about the secret itself. Whatever his reasons for not publicly acknowledging his lack of hearing, it served only to keep him isolated. Most people would gladly accommodate his condition, allowing him to get back into the swing of things around the community. Perhaps with him working around her house—and she couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t be—God would give her the words to say to convince him to let people know about his disadvantage.

      She didn’t see any reason to wait for Monday to speak to him, however, so on Sunday she kept an eye out, and sure enough he slipped in late and took up his customary spot on the back row. She didn’t signal to him to come up front, though there was space in the pew, but she did rush out at the first possible moment, leaving Jemmy in the care of the Kinders. With barely a nod for the pastor, she hurried through the narrow foyer and down the front steps, catching up with him beneath a big beech tree that grew near the sidewalk and overhung the dusty parking area.

      He stopped and turned when she tapped him on the shoulder. She suddenly found herself smiling like a goose.

      “What’s your hurry?”

      He glanced down at the key in his hand and said softly, “Bean casserole.”

      She waited until he looked up at her again before she said, “Guess there’s no point in inviting you to Sunday dinner, then, huh?” She’d meant to tease but realized belatedly that she was serious. At any rate, he missed the inflection.

      “Nice of you.” He shook his head apologetically. “Not a good idea.”

      “Because you’d be uncomfortable around John Odem and Abby,” she surmised.

      He seemed a little surprised by that, but then he didn’t have any way of knowing that she routinely took Sunday dinner with the Kinders. “Yes,” he said, and she had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t exactly the truth—not all of it, anyway.

      Suddenly struck by how forward she was being, she looked away. That’s when Shep Marcum stopped by to shake Dan’s hand and invite him to the men’s Sunday-school class.

      “Thank you for mentioning it, Mr. Marcum,” Dan said slowly and politely, but just a tad too loud. Then again, Shep was nearly John Odem’s age and hard of hearing. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. “I’ll think on it.”

      “You do that, son,” Shep said, clapping Dan on the shoulder. “We’d sure be glad to have you.” He glanced at Becca and winked. “Looking mighty pretty again today, Becca. That’s a right attractive dress you’re wearing.”

      Becca grinned. “Shep, it’s the same dress I wear every other Sunday, and you know it.”

      “Well, it’s still a nice one,” he said jauntily, stepping off the sidewalk.

      She laughed and slid a wry look at Dan. “He says that about the other one, too.”

      “The other one?”

      “My other Sunday dress.”

      “Ah.”

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