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. Those soft olive-green eyes were big and round, but not too large for her wide oval face with its pointed chin and small, tip-tilted nose. Completely devoid of cosmetics, her golden skin literally glowed, and her dusty-pink mouth truly intrigued him. She was so easy to lip-read.
“I 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 theimplication. “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