LITMIR.BIZ

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doesn’t pan out and you find yourself needing work…”

      He shook his head. “I’m keeping busy.”

      That was something with which she could certainly identify. “Just not enough hours in the day, are there?”

      “Suppose not.”

      She searched for something else to say and finally gestured toward the western end of the south-facing house. “You ought to hang a swing over there.”

      He glanced at the end of the porch and back again. “Think so?”

      “And paint it red,” she added.

      He rubbed his chin, smiling so brightly that she felt a kick in her chest. “Just might do that.”

      She felt positively warm all of a sudden, and the thought occurred to her that he was a downright likable man when he wasn’t being standoffish. “You know what else would be pretty?” she asked, basking in that male smile. He shook his head. “Two big white pots right here on either side of the steps, just spilling over with flowers, geraniums maybe, red to match the swing.”

      “My grandma used to keep flowerpots there.”

      “Well, there you go,” Becca said.

      He nodded. “I’ll look into it sometime.”

      “Maybe when you’re finished with that garage apartment.”

      “Maybe,” he said, making it sound like two words instead of one.

      Completely out of topics for discussion now, Becca glanced at the window looking into his living room. “You’re missing your program,” she finally offered lamely, “and morning comes early for me, so I’d best be going.”

      “Good night.”

      “Good night, Mr. Holden.” She turned to go, but then a fresh thought hit her. “You know, there’s a Bible study on Wednesday evenings that you might want—” She broke off. He’d already retreated and was closing the door. She brought her hands to her hips. There he went again! The man had practically locked up while she was still talking.

      From the corner of her eye she caught sight of him moving back into the living room and reclaiming his seat in the chair. Must be some mighty interesting TV program he was watching. Curious, she stepped to one side and looked at the set. A commercial was playing, but she did note one interesting thing. The television seemed to be displaying closed captions, the words spelling out across the bottom of the screen. She was too far away to read them, and it could have been a disclaimer of some sort for the commercial, but she left wondering if she might not have discovered the clue to Dan Holden’s odd behavior.

      Chapter Two

      Dan came into the store on Friday morning, a half day for Becca. He smiled and waved as he pulled his cart from the queue, then purchased milk and eggs and a piece of salt pork for “a mess of beans,” as he said at the checkout.

      “You must be missing military chow,” she teased.

      “Must be,” he agreed shyly.

      He turned his attention to a rack of television program guides mounted near the checkout, and Becca deliberately asked, “What sort are you having?”

      He made no reply, just as she had expected, so she repeated the question once she had his attention again.

      “Navy beans,” he said with a grin. “Called them something else in the Corps.”

      “I prefer good old reds myself.”

      He chuckled. “Red seems to be a theme with you.”

      “I like red,” she admitted. “That’ll be $9.17.”

      “Bet it’s a good color on you,” he said, and then ducked his head as that very shade bloomed on the ridges of his cheeks. He dug out a ten-dollar bill and plunked it on the table, mumbling, “You have a good day now.”

      “Oh, I will,” she said, purposely not looking at him as she extracted his change from the cash drawer. “I’m expecting John Travolta to pick me up for lunch in his private jet.” She peeked at him to see how he’d taken that, or if he’d even heard it, but he was already making for the door with his groceries. “Hey!” she called out. “Your change!” She wasn’t the least surprised when he just kept on walking.

      “What’s the matter, honey?” Abby asked, appearing from the little office blocked off across the aisle from the checkout.

      Becca dropped the coins into her apron pocket. “Dan Holden just forgot his change, that’s all.”

      “How much?”

      “Eighty-three cents.”

      “Oh, well, just give it to him next time he comes in.”

      “I’ll take care of it,” Becca said with a smile.

      Abby nodded and turned back into the office, where she was tabulating invoices for payment. Becca patted the small bulge in her pocket and decided that she was going to pay another call on the handsome ex-marine, and this time they were going to have an honest talk.

      Dan saw the flashing light on the panel mounted on the kitchen wall. Connected to a motion detector, it signaled him whenever someone approached his front door. He’d installed the panels in his bedroom, bath and here in the kitchen, and eventually he meant to have them in every room. Originally he’d thought he wouldn’t need one in the living room, as it overlooked the porch, but little Becca Kinder’s visit a few nights earlier had shown him that he wasn’t as observant as he’d judged himself to be. He wondered how many other visitors he’d missed because he’d been too proud to admit that he might overlook what he couldn’t hear.

      Rising from the chair, he left his sandwich on the table and walked down the central hall past the staircase to the front door. Upon opening the door, he didn’t know who was more surprised, Becca Kinder, who had apparently not yet knocked, or him at seeing pretty little Becca on his doorstep again, this time with a fat baby perched on one hip. It looked to be a boy.

      “Hi.”

      “Hi, yourself,” she said, holding out her right hand.

      “What’s this?” he asked, putting out his own palm.

      “The change you forgot at the store this morning.”

      “Oh!”

      He felt the burn of embarrassment again, and it galled him. What was it about this girl that kept him blushing like some awkward preteen? He slipped the coins into the front pocket of his jeans. Catching movement from the corner of his eye, he glanced left and spied her little girl skipping merrily across his porch, pale hair flopping. Becca was not a girl, but a woman and a mother, he reminded himself, and he’d do well to remember it. He still thought of Cody Kinder as the happy-go-lucky kid he’d once known, clomping around in a droopy cowboy hat and boots two sizes too large. Now here stood his family.

      “Didn’t have to bring this,” he said, looking her in the eye. He always worried that he wouldn’t get his volume right, but she neither winced nor leaned in closer.

      She shrugged, and he dropped his gaze to her mouth. It was a pretty little mouth, a perfect pink bow. “No problem. It’s on my way home. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.”

      He assumed that it had to do with her house and the repairs she seemed to think she needed. “All right.”

      “How’d you lose your hearing?”

      He nearly dropped from shock. “How…” He stared into her wide, clear green eyes, sucked in a breath and accepted that the secret was out. “Explosion.”

      She nodded matter-of-factly, no trace of pity in her expression. She was a pretty thing, with her fine, straight, light golden-blond hair cropped bluntly just above her shoulders, the bangs wisping randomly across her forehead.

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