Free The Heart's Voice by Arlene James

to fear his upper denture would fall out. Then John smacked his knee and began to laugh. The old man howled until tears ran in rivulets down his craggy face.
    It certainly wasn’t the sort of reaction Dan had expected, but it all began to make sense when Becca said, “There’s a whoopee cushion under the seat pad of your chair.”
    A whoopee cushion. Dan rolled onto one thigh and thrust a hand beneath the pad tied to the chair, extracting a small, collapsed bladder with a nozzle on one end. John Odem went off again, and this time Dan joined him.
    Abby rose from her seat and snatched the thing from Dan’s hand, her face red with embarrassment. She took the carving knife to it, sawed right through the rubber, and as she worked she lambasted poor old John Odem. Dan could see her jaw working but not what she was saying. Whatever it was, John took it all in stride, laughing at himself as easily as he’d laugh at anyone else.
    The situation was pretty darn funny, and laughter, it turned out, seasoned a meal to perfection.
     
    Dan shook his head regretfully, looking down at the easy chair John had invited him to take after turning on a basketball game on the TV. “Put me right to sleep,” he explained. Catching the wave of Abby’s hand from the corner of his eye, he turned to her.
    “We don’t mind if you take a little nap, Dan.”
    He smiled. “You ought not, after all that good food.” He patted his middle.
    “Well, then, stay and take a snooze,” Abby insisted.
    “Have to go, but thank you.” He walked across the room and kissed her cheek, explaining, “I talk to Mom on Sunday. She’ll worry if I’m late.”
    Abby nodded and patted his shoulder. “You go on then, son, but you come back again real soon.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She turned and spoke to Becca, who ducked her head and moved to open the front door for him. He wasn’t certain what had been said until they stepped out onto the stoop and she pulled the door shut.
    “I was told to show you out.” He smiled his understanding. She tilted her head to one side. “Can I ask you something?” He nodded. “How do you ‘talk’ to your mom?”
    “E-mail. Chat online.”
    “Oh. Of course. So you don’t have a phone, but you do have a phone line.”
    “For the computer and security system. For emergencies.”
    “That’s good.”
    He wrinkled his nose and admitted, “My parents worry.”
    She smiled. “I understand.”
    “I know.” He swept his gaze over her face and said simply, “Thank you.”
    Her eyes held his for a long time before they slid away. “It wasn’t as hard to tell Abby and John as you thought it would be, was it?”
    “No.” Now that it was out in the open, he found that he was glad.
    She wrapped her arms around herself as if suddenly chilled, and he felt the impulse to put his own arm around her, pull her close to his side. He looked away to gather himself, but her clean scent lingered. When he looked back, Becca asked, “Will I see you tomorrow?”
    He hadn’t worked the past Monday, figuring she needed some peace and quiet on her day off. Besides—and it was the oddest thing—as comfortable as her company often was, she made him uneasy, too.
    “Summer’s coming,” she pointed out when he hesitated. She didn’t have to say that the heat would make her and the kids miserable and the outside work unbearable for him.
    He didn’t hesitate any longer. “I’ll be there.”
    She brightened. “Good.”
    He saluted her with a little wave and went down the steps, pausing at the bottom to remove his keysfrom his pocket. It had been a lovely afternoon—relaxed, funny, companionable. He’d felt a part of something again, more at home than with his own family, who tried to hide their pain at his loss with well-meaning smiles.
    Feeling a tug on his pant leg, he looked down to find Jemmy at his knee. She’d gone outside to tend her turtle the instant she’d been excused from the dinner table, but had apparently made her way