The Heart's Voice (11 page)

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 at
tached 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.

D
an 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,
pathetic
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.”

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. Besides, 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 some
thing 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.