Free The Heart's Voice by Arlene James Page B

his father sitting at a child-sized table, pretending to drink tea from toy cups while his sister babbled imaginary conversations with her dolls, and his heart squeezed. Setting Jemmy on her feet, he said, “Had breakfast,” and quickly turned back to the truck.
    How Jemmy took that or what Becca might have said to her once his back was turned, he couldn’t know and wouldn’t think about. Some distance was needed here, and yet he hadn’t been able to think about anything else this morning except seeing Becca and the kids again. Just looking at Becca, all clean and fresh, made regret clench in his gut. He shouldn’t have come today, but it was too late to make excuses and go.
    Grimly determined to be strong in this, Dan hauled his tools into the house and set to work. He had cabinet doors to install, a floor to scrape and a full box of inexpensive self-stick vinyl tile to lay down before he could say that the kitchen was finished and get at that porch. He got busy, as near blind to the goings-on around him as he could make himself and still get the work done. It was easy to tune out, really, with no sound to distract him and the precise placement of hinges and handles to absorb him. He worked steadily but swiftly, step bylogical step, measuring, marking, drilling, placing, setting, tightening until every screw in every hinge on every door was in its proper place.
    The cabinets looked fine, 1,000 percent improvement if he did say so himself, but the work was nowhere near being finished. He went down on his knees and began scraping the ancient linoleum away from the floorboards with a spackling trowel, which he’d sharpened for the job. When he felt something touch the sole of his boot he warily moved into a crouch, pulling one foot up beneath him, and looked over his shoulder.
    Becca was standing barefoot among a scattering of screws from a box he’d left on the seat of a chair he’d pulled away from the table to serve as a kind of workbench. In her arms she held baby CJ, red faced and wailing as she pried screws out of his fists. Realizing at once that the one-inch screws were small enough to be swallowed, Dan shot to his feet.
    “He okay? Any in his mouth?”
    Becca jostled the crying baby while using her thumb to force his chin down and get a look inside his mouth. She turned a calm face to Dan. “No, I don’t think he’d gotten that far with them.”
    But he could have. The hair rose on the back of Dan’s neck. That baby could have swallowed a whole box of screws. And Dan would’ve had to stumble over him to even know. Incredibly, he watched her apologize.
    “He shouldn’t have been in here. Jem spilled her cereal and I was distracted with…”
    Dan turned away. He knew it was rude, but he just couldn’t bear to let her apologize for his failings. Another man would have heard the child there. This only reinforced his resolve to keep his distance.
    Disappointment hit him, as profound and deep as on the day he’d finally understood that he was never going to hear again. On that day he’d sat through an awkward consultation with his doctor conducted almost entirely in writing, then he’d gone quietly into his hospital room and sobbed, only to look up and find that a nurse had entered without his knowledge. That had seemed the crowning humiliation and a harbinger of what his life was going to be like from that point on. Turning his back on that embarrassed nurse had been his only option that day. Getting away from Becca was all he could think to do now.
    “Done for the day,” he announced, and started gathering up his gear. He dumped what he could into his portable toolbox, slapped the drill case under his arm, grabbed the flat metal squaring tool and headed for the door. Becca caught him by the arm as he passed her. Her small hand fit perfectly into the bend of his elbow and sent heat radiating up and into his chest. He forced himself to look at her face, seeing distress—and understanding. Hefelt bare,