The Heart's Voice

by Arlene James

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jemmy pinched her finger in the pantry door, causing a large blood blister to rise on the pad of it. She ran into the living room, slinging it wildly and bawling. Dan calmed her, looked it over and walked her back into the kitchen for a piece of ice, which was the only way he could think of to ease the sting. He’d barely applied the ice when she gasped, jerked toward the door and pointed toward the living room.

  “What’s that noise?”

  He looked down at the monitor. The little light was rapidly flaring red. Dropping the ice in the sink, he rushed back to the living room. CJ was sitting inside the fireplace with the folding brass screen on its side in front of him, howling like a banshee. Horrified, Dan rushed forward and snatched him up, examining him for injuries, beginning with his head. Thankfully, he didn’t find so much as a red mark on the boy, but when he glanced at his own hand he found that it was black with soot. Groaning, he looked for something to wipe his hand on, found nothing and decided to check CJ’s back, which was black from his thighs to the crown of his head.

  Dan closed his eyes, wondering what else could go wrong, which was exactly when CJ threw up all over his chest. Dan jumped back, holding the baby at arm’s length, and stared down at himself, stunned. For a moment he couldn’t think, let alone move, then he realized that a lot of bathing was going to be involved with this, and for a moment he thought he might cry. He looked at Jem, holding aloft her bloodied finger, and wondered if he was cut out for fatherhood, after all.

  She scratched the back of her leg with the front of the opposite foot and calmly said, “He does that sometimes when he cries a lot.”

  Dan lifted his eyebrows. “Cried a lot today.”

  She nodded solemnly in agreement.

  Dan sighed. “Got to clean up. You be all right?”

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Just sit here, watch cartoons,” he instructed.

  “Okay,” she said, “but I’m hungry and I want a snack.”

  He made a face, painfully aware that he reeked. “Almost dinnertime.” How could she even think about food right now?

  She made a huge show of sighing, plopping down on the floor and slumping forward dejectedly.

  “Don’t open the door for anyone you don’t know,” he warned firmly.

  She nodded and pressed a hand to her belly as if suffering hunger pangs. Dan rolled his eyes as he headed for the door, CJ dangling from his hands. He was sucking his fist contentedly as if throwing up had solved everything. Dan climbed the stairs and headed straight for the master bath, where he deposited the child in the deep claw-foot tub and quickly stripped off his shirt, turning it wrong side out. It was black everywhere he’d touched it. Very gingerly he removed the monitor receivers from his waistband and laid them on a shelf. Then he knelt and stripped CJ.

  Quickly, one hand on the baby at all times, he ran water until it heated, then plugged the tub and let a few inches gather. Using plain old hand soap, which was the only thing he could reach, he scrubbed the kid head to toe, being extremely careful not to get any in the baby’s eyes. Then he simply laid him back in the water to rinse away the suds. In the process, he cleaned his hands. He scrubbed his chest with a soapy washcloth, then rinsed it the same way and snagged a towel off the bar behind him to dry off. CJ was trying to sit up by then, but succeeded only in flopping over onto his belly and sliding around, which he found extremely funny.

  He was slippery as an eel, but Dan finally managed to get him wrapped in the towel and into his arms. He tossed his shirt and CJ’s into the tub, then carried the boy into his bedroom to diaper and dress him. Leaving CJ in his crib, he went back to rinse out their clothing, retrieve the monitors and dig a fresh shirt out of his dresser. When he returned for CJ, the boy was standing in the crib shaking the side rail like a monkey in a cage. Dan laughed, and CJ beamed at him, reaching up with both arms. Maybe he was right the first time and he could do this, after all.

  Clean and dry, he carried the boy down the stairs, wondering if he shouldn’t rustle up something for Jemmy to eat. It really was getting close to dinnertime, but she was a growing girl, after all. He walked into the living room, musing that he needed to get a fixed screen for that fireplace if he could find one at this time of year, and opened his mouth to ask Jem how she felt about an apple. His blood ran cold when he saw a strange man sitting on his couch.

  “Jem!”

  She popped up from the chair, snagging his attention. “Danny,” she began. At least, he thought she was calling him Danny; at the moment he was both too relieved and too angry to care.

  “I told you, don’t open the door!”

  She blinked and shrank back. “But I know Mr. Dixon.”

  Dan shifted CJ to his hip, aware that his heart was still beating at double time. It was true that he’d told her not to open the door for anyone she didn’t know, but he’d meant her mother or grandparents. Seeing her stricken face now, he swallowed and turned to the stranger.

  “Dixon?”

  The man rose to his full height. He was a large, bluff, handsome man somewhere in his fifties, a rancher by the look of him and the pale straw cowboy hat resting on its crown on the sofa cushion. He put out his hand, pale gray eyes twinkling. “Call me Frank,” he said.

  “Dan Holden.” They shook hands briefly. To Dan’s surprise, CJ reached for the other man.

  Frank Dixon patted the boy on the head, winked at Jemmy and said, “We’re old friends. I’m Becca’s neighbor. Own the section to the north of her place.”

  Dan frowned, still not sure what to make of a fellow who would just waltz into another man’s house and make himself to home. “Uh-huh.”

  Frank Dixon hooked his thumbs in his belt and said, “I’m sure sorry about the storm. Broke my heart when I stopped by there and saw nothing but the foundation of the house still standing. Sure wiped her out.”

  Dan nodded. “Yes.”

  “Thank God she and the children made it through unscathed.” He shook his head. “It’s a pity what that little gal’s been through. Anything I can do for her? Anything at all? I saw the car was mangled. I could loan her one of my trucks. Wouldn’t be any bother.”

  “Nice of you.”

  “I’d sure do that and more for sweet Becca.”

  Dan frowned. The use of another vehicle would be convenient, and he had no right to turn down the offer on Becca’s behalf, but he couldn’t quite stomach the idea of Dixon stepping in at the eleventh hour, so to speak.

  “We’re getting by just fine for now.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Dixon rocked back on his heels, lips pursed. “I was told that she might be interested in selling her acreage. Thought I might sound you out about it.”

  Dan felt his heart thump in his chest. Seemed as if Dixon thought Dan might have more claim on Becca than he really did, and here was his chance to foster that idea, but he couldn’t take it that far. “Becca’s land,” he finally said. “Speak to her.”

  “I see.” He looked down at his toes, and Dan missed what he said next. He tapped the big man on the shoulder. When he looked up, Dan motioned with his hand that he would have to speak face-to-face. Before he could say that, however, Jemmy stepped close to his side, wrapped her arm around his leg and spoke. Dan knew by the expression on Dixon’s face that she was telling him about his deafness. Dixon looked up quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right. I read lips.”

  “Very well, apparently.”

  “Well enough.”

  Frank Dixon smiled. “You wouldn’t remember me, but I knew your daddy when he was principal out at Jefferson Elementary.”

  “Not surprised.”

  The big cowboy rocked back on his heels. “I suppose Becca’s down at the store?”

  Dan glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Might be.”

  Dixon pursed his lips. “Would you tell her I came by? I hate to see her sell up after all she’s done to hang on, but I’d give her a fair pric
e.”

  Dan made a quick decision. Frank Dixon struck him as a friendly, well-meaning—if a little too familiar—fellow, and Becca was wanting to sell. He tried not to weigh his own personal interests against that. “Sit, wait a spell. Could be on her way home now.”

  The big man smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.” He lowered himself onto the couch once more.

  Dan took the chair that Jem had vacated, aware that he owed her an apology. He hadn’t meant to shout at her, and the whole thing was his own fault, but she had to know that it wasn’t safe to open the door without him or another adult present, not even in Rain Dance. They could have that talk later. He might as well start mending his fences in the meantime, he figured, so he looked at Jem and patted his knee. She happily scrambled up to his lap next to CJ, and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. They traded a smile before he turned back to their company.

  “So, Frank,” he said, “you a rancher?”

  Dixon nodded and launched into a recitation of the stock he was raising. He was still talking about Angus crossbreeds when Jem alerted Dan to Becca’s presence. She came into the room carrying grocery sacks and saying, “I brought home supper.” But then she stopped in her tracks. “Frank.”

  The sacks were quickly deposited on the end table, and in short order she and Frank Dixon were hugging each other. Dan felt his heart drop like a stone. Apparently Dixon was plenty familiar. Even when Becca broke away, she was still smiling at and talking to Dixon.

  All Dan caught was, “So good to see you.” Then she turned to the children.

  Jemmy jumped off his lap and threw herself into her mother’s arms. After hugging her, Becca swept up CJ and kissed him, still talking to Dixon. She never even spoke to Dan. In fact, she turned her back on him in order to continue speaking to Frank Dixon.

  Face and throat burning, he got up and made himself scarce, gathering in the grocery bags and carrying them into the kitchen. So much for getting that certain question past his teeth. At the moment his teeth were clamped so tightly that he couldn’t have gotten a whisper through them.

  It was a double-edged sword, Becca thought. On one hand, it cut through all her problems. With the money Frank was willing to pay her for her quarter section of land, she could replace her car and get about making a home for herself and her children. On the other hand, it meant the end of dreams—first that which she and Cody had struggled so hard to fulfill and also the one she had been so tempted to believe in since she’d first asked Dan Holden for his help. Perhaps that was as it should be. A dream without God’s will in it was as insubstantial as a puff of smoke and about as worthwhile. Still, she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel some trepidation and disappointment. She had some suspicions about Frank’s sincerity.

  She put that aside as best she could, reasoning that this was proof of God’s intention. Why, only that morning John Odem had warned her that it could take months, years even, to find a buyer for her property. Yet that very afternoon Frank had walked in with a generous offer. She really should have called the Dixons right after the storm. Instead she’d sat around feeling sorry for herself and making Dan feel responsible for rescuing her.

  Poor Dan.

  CJ on her hip, she walked into the kitchen. While she’d talked with Frank, Dan had put away the groceries, set out the carry-in and gotten down plates.

  “Sounds like you’ve had a hard day,” she said. Then she shook her head and waited patiently for him to look up and notice her.

  “Your friend gone?”

  Dan’s voice was strangely stilted and without inflection sometimes, but at others it sounded raw with emotion. She figured the emotion that she was hearing now had to do with the day he’d had rather than with Frank, but she was happy enough to discuss the latter.

  “I should have thought to call Frank and Iola.”

  “What?”

  She said it again slowly. His face puckered up.

  “I-o-la?”

  “Iola Dixon, Frank’s wife.”

  Dan’s face went oddly blank. “Married, is he?”

  “Well, sure. Their son and Cody were best friends. I think Frank is the one who put cowboying into Cody’s head.”

  “That a fact?”

  “Um-hm. The Dixons have always been good to us. He bought all my stock after Cody’s death, and he doesn’t even raise horses. He’s always sworn he sold them at profit, though.”

  “Now he’s offering to buy your land.”

  She nodded. “I can’t help wondering if he really needs the land or if he’s just being nice.” She shifted CJ on her hip. “He says he’s thinking about building a feedlot.”

  For a long moment Dan said nothing, then, “Could bring in jobs.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that.” She bit her lip. If Frank was serious, she wouldn’t be the only one to profit from his generosity.

  “So?” Dan asked.

  “Am I going to take his offer? Most likely. Unless…” She shrugged.

  “Don’t like being rescued,” he concluded.

  “It’s not that,” she told him honestly. “I just don’t want to take advantage.”

  He smiled and shook his head, advising, “No rush. Pray on it.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that.”

  He nodded at the containers in the center of the table. “Smells good.”

  “Barbecue,” she told him, “and we better get to eating it.”

  She turned to call Jemmy, and he pulled the tray off the high chair for CJ. In half a minute they were seated around the table and filling their plates. They talked over the meal about the day he’d had. She couldn’t help smiling sympathetically when he told her about CJ. She’d already had the story from Jem.

  “The first time he did that to me,” she told Dan, “I thought sure he had a terrible disease. That reflux thing or some such. Turns out Cody used to do it, too. Sorry you had to get nailed. I should’ve warned you.”

  Dan smiled ruefully. “Know better next time.” He nodded at Jem, saying, “Caught her finger.” He made it sound like a confession.

  “I heard about that,” Becca said, glancing at her daughter knowingly. “What I haven’t heard yet is what she was doing that she wasn’t supposed to be when it happened.”

  Jemmy tucked in her chin. “Just getting something to eat.”

  Becca looked at Dan, eyes laughing. “Always eating lately. Must be gearing up to grow.” She looked at Jemmy. “Next time you ask first.”

  “I asked,” she insisted, skewing her gaze sideways.

  Becca laid down her fork. “But did you ask so Dan could see you?”

  “No-o-o.”

  “I didn’t think so, and see what’s come of it?”

  Jemmy bowed her head. “I’m sorry.” Becca lifted her chin with her hand and instructed her with a look to repeat herself to Dan. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  Becca gasped and dropped her hand as if she’d been burned. She shot a look at Dan.

  He looked positively stricken. “If I could hear,” he said softly, “wouldn’t have happened.”

  If he could hear, Becca thought to herself, she’d be digging a hole to disappear into right now. It wasn’t the first time Dan had failed to pick up on something, and she couldn’t say she was sorry. She glared at Jemmy, kept her head turned and whispered fiercely, “Don’t you say that again, young lady.”

  Jemmy folded her arms mutinously. Quickly Becca turned to Dan, engaging him more to keep his attention diverted from Jem than anything else.

  “This isn’t about you,” she said crisply. “It’s about her strange notions.”

  At that Jemmy leaned sideways and hissed, “I don’t want a dead daddy no more.”

  Becca sat frozen for a full five seconds. Time itself seemed to stand still. Finally she turned slightly and took her daughter’s face in her hands. “It’s not fair, Jem,” she said softly. “You can’t just pick a daddy and claim him.” Jem wrenched her eyes around to look at Dan out of their corners, such longing there that Becca c
ould have wept. “He’s been good to us. We’d be bad friends to press him for more, honey.”

  Jem gulped and nodded. Becca released her, and both subsided into their chairs. After a deep breath, Becca faced Dan once more. His brow was wrinkled with confusion. She cleared her throat and said, “It’s got nothing to do with your lack of hearing. She’d have found some way around the rules, wouldn’t you, Jem?”

  Jemmy looked at Dan with big hangdog eyes and softly confessed, “I’d of asked real soft ’stead of a-hind your back.”

  Dan grinned. “That’s honest. Apology accepted. Sorry about your finger.”

  “That’s okay,” she piped up, staring at her fingertip. “I like it.” She held it up for all to see and announced, “I’m polka-dotted!”

  Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere lightened a bit. Becca changed the subject to Jessica Schumacher. Jessie could give them only mornings because she’d taken a part-time job helping the school librarian move and reorganize the high school library in order to make room for an array of computers.

  “We can manage with that,” Dan said.

  “Are you sure? I really don’t—”

  “Want to take advantage,” he finished for her. He looked at the kids and smiled. “We’ll be fine.”

  “I’m going to ask around for permanent help,” she promised. “Somebody will turn up. They always do.”

  “Somebody has,” he told her quietly, and bent his head over his meal, effectively putting an end to the discussion.

  Chapter Fourteen

  John Odem showed up just after lunch the next day. Dan was clearing up the dishes, and he turned around to find John in the doorway. He almost started, but he’d turned around so many times lately to find Jem shadowing him that he was beginning to get used to finding himself with company.

  “Got anything cold to drink?” John asked, grinning ear to ear.

  Dan nodded toward the refrigerator and reached up to pull down a tumbler from a cabinet. “Ice tea.”