figured it was something like that,” she said. “Mind if I ask how long ago it was?”
He shook his head, as much to clear it as in answer to her question. “About thirteen months.”
She shifted the baby on her hip. “About the same time CJ was born, then.”
What a coincidence, he thought, looking at the baby. She’d been gaining something precious while he was losing his hearing, along with life as he’d known it, his career, the future he’d envisioned for himself. Keeping his expression carefully bland, he switched his gaze back to her face.
“How did you know?”
“Little things. Abby says you were always friendly and outgoing before.” He winced at the implication. “But you don’t reply sometimes when you’re spoken to.” She grinned. “I thought you were rude.”
He closed his eyes, appalled that he wasn’t as smart as he’d assumed, then he opened them again to find that she was still speaking.
“…weren’t singing and the way you watched the pastor so intently when he was preaching. Then there were the closed captions on the TV the other night.”
He waved a hand, feeling ridiculous. Had he really believed that he could fool everyone? He’d thought that if he kept to himself and was careful he could lead something close to a normal life. Now he knew that wasn’t true, and he felt sick in a way that he hadn’t since he’d realized that he was never going to hear another sound. For some reason he felt compelled to try to explain it to her.
“It’s not obvious at first.”
“No, it’s not. Took me a while to figure it out.”
“I’m not comfortable announcing it.” He hoped he hadn’t stumbled over the word comfortable.
“I understand. And why should you if you don’t have to? How did you learn to read lips so well, by the way?”
“Training.”
“Guess that’s one good thing about the military, huh? They take care of their own.”
“That’s right. Helps that I wasn’t born this way.”
“I see. Is your deafness why you won’t work on my house?” she asked.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes.”
She bit her lip. “Okay. Well, you don’t have to worry that I’ll say anything to anybody. I mean, if that’s the way you want it.”
He forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“But since I already know about your problem, there’s really no reason why you can’t help me out, is there?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She had a point. He sighed, then hoped she hadn’t heard. It was hard to tell with her. “You better come in.”
She shook her head, glancing at her daughter, who continued skipping. The child appeared to be singing to herself. Becca hefted the boy to a more comfortable position, and he noticed how small and childlike her hands were before quickly jerking his gaze back to her face. “That’s okay. Jenny likes playing on your porch.”
He wasn’t sure about the name. “Jenny?”
“No. J-e-m-m-y. Jemmy.”
“Jemmy.” He pointed at the boy. “CJ?”
“For Cody John, after his daddy and his grandpa.”
Dan nodded his understanding. The child was huge, with fat cheeks and thighs, or his mother was very small, or both. Either way, she looked much too young to have two children.
“So will you help me fix up my house?”
She might be young, but she was persistent. Dan rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. Was this God’s will, that he work on her house? He was having a hard time figuring out what God had in store for him these days. He’d come home to Rain Dance simply because he had to go somewhere after the Marine Corps had medically retired him, and at thirty he didn’t like feeling dependent on his parents, especially with his sister, Gayla, busily planning her fall wedding. By helping out Becca Kinder he’d at least be keeping busy.
“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