The Heart's Voice

“Stay there,” Dan said, reaching for a short step-ladder. It made a tall but adequate stool when he sat on top of it. Becca put the baby in his chair and sat down.

Four people seated around a rectangular table in the littered kitchen made for a very crowded room, but Becca’s smile and his own satisfaction in a job progressing well overrode any awkwardness as Becca began filling plates. She piled his high, and he let her, suddenly ravenous. From pure habit he began to bow his head, then he felt a jolt as Becca took one of his hands in hers. Jemmy’s little hand slid into the other. His gaze flew to Becca. She had bent her head but lifted it again, eyes closed, as she spoke a simple grace.

“Thank You, Lord, for all Your many blessings, family, home, this delicious food and especially for Dan and all the good things he’s brought to us. We have need, Lord, and You’ve sent this fine man to help. Bless him for his willingness to share his talent.”

Dan felt a kick inside his chest. A fine man. He inclined his head and silently asked God to make him worthy of that description. When he looked up again he saw that Becca and Jemmy watched patiently. He looked at Becca and followed the seemingly natural impulse to squeeze her hand. She smiled. It was like warm sunshine bathing the cluttered, half-finished room. She pulled her hand back and began eating. Jemmy did the same, so he dug in to his own food.

“Good,” he said after swallowing.

She nodded and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before saying, “John Odem cooks a couple times a week for the deli case. Monday it was a huge ham and macaroni and cheese.”

Dan nodded. “I bought some. Real sweet.”

“Yeah, he likes that brown-sugar-cured ham.”

They concentrated on the meal for some time, then Dan noticed that Jemmy reached for one of the small yellow peppers on the butcher paper with the pickles. He shot a quick glance at Becca, who smiled and said, “She eats them all the time. John Odem again.”

Dan chuckled and watched with interest as the little girl gingerly nibbled the succulent yellow flesh. “Hot?” he asked when she met his eyes.

She shook her pale head. “Nah, na if yont ea te sees.”

“Not if you don’t eat the seeds,” he repeated carefully, realizing that she was eating around the ball of seeds inside the pepper. She nodded and kept nibbling. He felt an odd glow of pleasure. Children were often difficult to understand because they didn’t always get words right, but he’d followed Jemmy. She was smart for her age, or maybe her diminutive size made her seem younger than she was. “How old are you?” he asked.

She grinned and held up four fingers, spouting rapid-fire words, few of which he caught this time. Lost, he looked to Becca, who ducked her head to hide a smile before lifting it again to say, “Jem’s telling you that she had a party on her birthday, which is February tenth, and that you’re invited next year. It’s going to be here in our ‘newed’ house, by the way.”

“Newed?” he repeated uncertainly.

Laughter danced in her soft green eyes. “Abby told her the place was going to be ‘like new.’ So in her mind when you’re done it’ll be ‘newed.”’

He glanced at Jemmy and smiled. She beamed at him with something akin to hero worship. Just then something flew right past the end of his nose. He looked down to find a corner crust of bread on the table next to his plate. When he glanced in the direction it had come from, he noticed that both Jemmy and Becca were laughing. Even CJ, who had obviously launched the missile, judging by the white stuff oozing from his fist, was grinning broadly, showing off the few teeth he possessed.

“I’m sorry,” Becca said. “He saw me throw the napkin to get your attention earlier.”

Dan looked at the boy, and something in that little face seemed to be saying that he craved the same attention that Dan had been showing his big sister. Without even thinking about it, Dan picked up the scrap of bread and tossed it back at the boy. It was just long enough and just curved enough, incredibly, to hang on the boy’s bit of a nose. For an instant Dan couldn’t quite believe what had happened, and neither, apparently, could anyone else, but then the little imp grinned, put back his head and laughed so hard that his round little body jiggled all over. His whole being seemed to light up, even as he collapsed into the corner of the chair, laughing. The kid was so purely tickled, that crust of bread now clasped in his plump hand, that everyone was laughing, Dan included. He laughed so hard that his chest shook and tears gathered in his eyes. It almost hurt. He hadn’t laughed like this, felt this good since…so long.

He wiped his eyes and looked at the smiling faces around him. It was time to be happy again, time to stop licking his wounds and concentrate on the good in life, on the good that he himself could do.

Chapter Four

“You don’t have to keep feeding me,” he said slowly.

Becca had noticed that when he spoke carefully and precisely, his tone often lacked inflection, but when he blurted out or tossed off words, his speech was almost normal. This sounded like something he had rehearsed, at least in his mind, and she wasn’t at all surprised. They’d enjoyed several meals together in her quickly evolving kitchen, and though he often seemed pleased and relaxed, she had identified a growing unease, a certain tension developing between them.

“You have to eat,” she said, making sure he could see her face as she laid out the food. “Besides, it’s the least I can do. You’re working long hours, and you can’t be making much money on this job.”

When she thought about the material he’d used so far, she wondered if he could be making any profit, especially considering those cabinets. Even without the doors, which he said he was still building, they improved the room a thousand percent. And then there was the cookstove, which he’d said was used. She had no reason to doubt him, except that he’d pretended not to see when she’d asked where he’d gotten it. She kept wondering if his garage apartment had an empty space where the cookstove used to be, and the idea made her cringe inside. She wasn’t above a certain amount of charity, frankly, but even she had her pride.

“Don’t need money,” he said matter-of-factly, filching a potato chip from the open bag on the table. They were still eating deli food. She looked forward to the day when she could cook him a real meal.

“Everybody needs money,” she replied.

He held up four fingers, counting off the reasons he didn’t. “Medical disability. Military retirement. Inheritance. Good investments.”

“And the rent on that garage apartment?” she asked.

“Soon,” he said nonchalantly, averting his eyes.

She didn’t let him get away with that. Reaching across the side chair that stood between them, she placed a hand flat against the center of his chest. He looked down at it, then slowly lifted his gaze to her face. “You can rent an apartment without a cookstove, then?” she asked pointedly.

He blinked and chewed. She lifted an eyebrow insistently. Finally he grinned. “Got a stove same place I got yours. Used. Dealer in Duncan.”