Arlene James - The Heart's Voice

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.”

He looked down at his feet, missing the greeting called out by the Platters—not that he’d have caught it, anyway. Becca nudged his toe with hers, and when he looked up said softly, “Wave at Bill Platter and his wife. To your left.”

Dan looked that way and lifted an arm in greeting before turning back to Becca. “Thanks. He coming over?”

“Nope. Heading for the car. They always go to her mother’s in Waurika on Sunday.”

Dan nodded, keeping his gaze glued to her face. “Graduated high school with Bill.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “He looks older than you.”

“He is. Held back, dropped out for a while.”

“Is that so? Then you’ll be surprised to hear that he’s a big man around here now. Pretty well-heeled. Owns an insurance agency in Duncan.”

His mouth quirked at the word hear, but she didn’t apologize, sensing that would compound the mistake. “Surprised he’s living in Rain Dance, then.”

“How come? You’re living in Rain Dance now.”

He looked away, mumbling, “Inherited my house.”

She stood silently until he glanced her way again. “Is that the only reason you came home, because you inherited your grandmother’s house?”

He turned away as if he hadn’t understood her, but then he turned back again and looked her in the eye. “Not sure. It is home.”

She smiled. “Yeah. I feel the same way. I couldn’t think of living anywhere else after Cody died.”

He asked gently, “Not long ago?”

“Twenty-one months,” she told him. “Just after I found out I was pregnant with CJ.”

His eyes widened. “Must’ve been tough.”

She nodded. “But we’re managing. I’m even finally going to get my house fixed up.”

He chuckled and tossed his keys lightly, signaling his intention to take his leave. “We’ll see. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoed, adding, “Look left again and acknowledge Effie Bishop.”

Dan turned his head and smiled at the elderly woman, calling out in that same careful, measured way, “Good to see you again, Miss Effie.” He looked back at Becca as he moved into the parking area and mouthed the words “Thanks. Again.”

She smiled, waved and went in search of her family, marveling at how he handled himself. No one who didn’t know him well would realize his predicament, at least not with her acting as his ears. She found a strange satisfaction in that, one she didn’t much want to ponder.

Dan brought his white pickup truck to a halt behind Becca’s old car and studied the sight before him. He shook his head and killed the engine, automatically pulling the keys. The truck was spanking new, with fewer than two hundred miles on it. He’d ordered it specially equipped as soon as he’d made the decision to move back to Rain Dance, but it had never seemed so plush or shiny as it did now, sitting in front of Becca Kinder’s shabby little house.

The house didn’t need repairs, he realized with dismay—it needed demolishing. The roof line was uneven, the shingles a patchwork of colors and type. Over the low porch it sagged dangerously, and he saw that one of the support poles had sunk through the rotted wood and past the untreated joist to the ground. The house itself was built atop a foundation of cement blocks placed about two feet apart, so the floor probably rolled like an ocean inside. Besides that, every inch of wood siding needed scraping and painting. Windowsills were buckled. The damage was such that he could tell she’d been living like this for a long time, and that knowledge pricked him, though he supposed that he should’ve expected it.

Despite running the only grocery store in town, the Kinders had always been poor as church mice. None of them, Cody included, had ever seemed to mind. Dan remembered his grandfather saying that John Odem was a good man who had no head for business, that he gave credit to everyone who asked and probably collected only a fraction of what was owed him. That apparently still held true, and while Dan admired the generosity and pleasantness of the Kinders, he couldn’t help feeling a little irritated on behalf of Becca and the kids. No wonder she’d pressed him for help.

He got out of the truck and walked across the dirt yard to the porch, noting as he stepped up onto it that the floorboards were warped and broken. The whole thing would have to be replaced. The patched screen door opened and Becca stepped out, looking freshly scrubbed and smiling a happy welcome.

“It’s nearly ten. I was getting worried you wouldn’t show till after lunch.”

“Your morning off,” he pointed out. “Thought you might sleep in.”

She waved that away. “I’m a morning person, always up with the dawn.” She hugged herself. “I love it when the world’s still and quiet, like I’m the only person awake anywhere.”

He smiled, not because he identified—for him the world was always still and quiet, and he missed the bustle and racket of it keenly—but because she never bothered to police her speech with him. Becca was just Becca. Period. He liked that, admired it. In a funny way he was even grateful for it. She made him feel…normal. Whole. He reminded himself that he was neither.

“Come on in,” she said before leading the way inside.

He followed with some trepidation and found himself standing in a living room that couldn’t have been more than ten feet square. Poorly furnished with an old sofa, a small bookcase, a battered coffee table, a cheap floor lamp and a small television set on a wire stand so rickety that it leaned to one side, the place was shabby but spotless and cheerful.