The Heart's Voice. Arlene James
He’d bet his bottom dollar that this place didn’t have a lick of insulation.
“Of course, I’ll be wanting cabinets,” she was saying. “Nothing fancy, you understand. They don’t even have to have doors.”
He’d never build her cabinets without doors, but he just nodded.
“And I would love it if we could replace that nailed-over back door,” she went on. “I don’t like not having more than one exit, you know?”
“For safety,” he said, and she smiled.
“Now, this is the most important part,” she said, reaching over to place her hand flat against the rough boards covering the outside wall. “There’s a window under here, too, and I’ve always figured it would be the perfect place for an air conditioner. Some summer nights it’s just so hot out here that my babies can’t sleep.”
His mind was racing. How in heaven’s name had they survived an Oklahoma summer without air-conditioning? It meant 220 wiring, though. No doubt the whole place would have to be rewired. He wondered if this old house even had a fuse box. He tried to pay attention to what she was saying even as his brain whirred with what was needed: insulation, wiring, window, door, light fixtures, probably plumbing. Plasterboard and cabinets were way down the line. He made himself concentrate on the movement of her mouth and was stunned to read what it formed next.
“Two thousand dollars isn’t a lot, I know, but I can get together more as we go along. It ought to make us a good start, don’t you think?”
Sensing her hope and her eagerness, he couldn’t make himself say what was on the tip of his tongue. He told himself ruefully that before he’d lost his hearing and become unsure of his own speech, he’d probably have blurted out that a measly two thousand wouldn’t get this one room into really livable shape. Now he just covered his dismay with a nod and asked to see the rest of the house, explaining carefully that he needed to see what was behind certain walls.
She led him on a full house tour, which didn’t take long, even with the baby attached to her hip. He wondered if she was going to survive this child’s infancy with a straight spine, since she seemed able to walk only at an awkward angle while lugging the great brick.
Her bedroom was in the same pitiful shape as the rest of the place, but the tiny bath and second bedroom had been added to the house sometime in the past few years and were structurally sound, at least. Unlike the papered walls in her room, he couldn’t see daylight through cracks. No wonder she wanted drywall in the rest of the house.
When they reached the second bedroom she put the baby down for a nap in a wobbly old crib squeezed into the corner next to the low, cotlike thing apparently used by the little girl, judging by the ruffly pink spread. The baby wailed, his chubby face screwing up and turning dark red, but Becca just bent low and kissed him, patting his belly until he calmed and rolled onto his side. The child was still awake when she led Dan from the room, but if he kicked up additional fuss, Dan couldn’t tell and she didn’t let on.
Back in the living room, he sat down to talk over what was going to happen next. Dan felt a distinct catch in his chest as he began to marshal his thoughts. She had so little. If he told her what this place really needed, she’d no doubt be upset, but would still want to do what little could be done with the funds she possessed. He decided that, though he couldn’t lie to her, she didn’t have to be overwhelmed with all of it at once. Besides, he could save her some real money by simply using what he had on hand, like the base cabinets he’d pulled out of the garage apartment. He’d thought them too old-fashioned to use, but they were solid and about the right size. Originally he’d intended to recycle the wood, but, stripped and refinished, the cabinets would make a welcome addition to her kitchen, especially if he dressed them up with doors that he could build in his shop out back of the house. She need not know that they were used—or free. And he certainly didn’t have to tell her that he would take no profit on this job. That was his business, after all.
Jemmy crawled up into Becca’s lap as she waited patiently for him to speak, and he figured it was polite to at least smile at the child. She brightened noticeably when he did so.
“You’re right,” he told Becca, switching his gaze to her face. “Start in the kitchen.”
She closed her eyes with obvious relief. “Then you’ll do it? You’ll take the job?”
He nodded, waiting until she opened her eyes again to speak, realizing a heartbeat later that he need not do so. She could hear, for pity’s sake. “I will make a plan for you to approve.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said, still smiling. “Just do what you think best.”
“Best to have a plan,” he said, and she shrugged.
He rose. “Get my tape. Make some measurements.”
She hugged the little girl and bowed her head to say something to her. Jemmy looked up, delight and wonder in her eyes, and clapped her hands. Then suddenly she came off her mother’s lap, zipped across the small space that separated him from them and was suddenly standing on his feet, her arms wrapped around his legs in a childish hug. He could feel her breath on his jeaned thigh, the movement of her lips but he was too stunned to comprehend even that she was speaking until she glanced back at her mother and then turned her face up.
He caught the words nice man and Mr. Dan. He looked helplessly at her mom, but Becca just sat there smiling. With a lump the size of his fist in his throat he couldn’t have spoken even if he’d known what to say, so after a moment he gently dislodged the child and went straight out the door. Only as he was looking through the toolbox fixed to the bed of his truck did he once again regain his composure.
He took the plan to the store for Becca to see. It was a scaled-back, highly simplified version of the one he’d worked on almost nonstop for the past thirty hours. Hand drawn on simple white notebook paper, it was really nothing more than a floor plan of her kitchen with the cabinets, door and window set in place. He’d listed the work to be done, but it was only a brief overview and included such uninformative items as Basic Wall Preparation, Electrical Upgrade and Plumbing Adjustment, along with Door Installation and Cabinet Installation.
As he’d expected, she cared only about the final result, asking, “What color will the cabinets be?”
“Your choice. Paint or stain?”
She had to think about it, but then she shook her head. “Whichever is cheapest.”
He shrugged.
“Which is simplest, then?”
“Paint.”
She grinned. “I like yellow.”
He chuckled. “Exact color later.”
“When can you start?” was her only other question.
He checked his watch. If he could get to the building supply outlet in Lawton today, he could start work in the morning. “Tomorrow.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, and tears filled her eyes. Alarm shot through him.
“It’ll take a while,” he warned, but she shook her head happily.
“I don’t care. It’ll be started. You know what they say. Once begun, sooner finished.”
She turned to the cash register and opened the drawer. Extracting an envelope, she turned back to him, then carefully placed it in his hands. He knew what it was even before he thumbed back the flap. She’d just handed him her life’s savings in cash. Humbled, he quickly decided against trying to return it. Instead, he’d earn the trust she had just placed in him.
He left her a copy of the plan and drove straight to Lawton, some seventy-five miles distant. Surprisingly, he found a number of good sales, so the two thousand dollars bought him just about everything he’d need to get her kitchen into decent shape. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one with a plan. He decided to let God worry about everything else.