Archer's Voice
Page 34

He had smiled at me and said simply, I guess if it wasn't beautiful, the tragedy ultimately wouldn't be sad.
But then he had lapsed into more silence, seeming almost embarrassed around me. I tried to bring him out of it by joking with him and acting completely normal, but he was still slightly withdrawn even when I'd kissed him goodbye that evening, gathered Phoebe up and gone home to unpack and get ready for the next day. It would take a day or two for him to feel better, I supposed.
Over the next several days, he did return to his more normal self, the only difference I could still see, was that there was a deep intensity to his lovemaking that hadn't been there before. It was almost as if he was trying to meld us into one person when we connected. He was almost rough in his passion. I didn't mind it, in fact, I found all sides of Archer's bedroom personalities to my liking. But I couldn't explain the change exactly, and I longed for him to open up to me and tell me what he was feeling. When I asked him though, he just shrugged and smiled and told me that he'd missed me while I was gone and was trying to make up for lost time. I didn't buy it, but as always, Archer Hale came around when he was good and ready and not a moment before. I had learned quickly–push and get nowhere, wait and hope that he trusted me enough to open up sooner rather than later in his own quiet way. I thought it had something to do with the fact that he liked to understand his own emotions before he shared them with me, and he didn't know exactly where he was at the moment.
**********
Four days after I'd returned home from Ohio, I knocked on Anne's door and she answered still in her bathrobe. "Oh, Bree, dear!" she exclaimed, holding her door open. "You'll have to excuse me. I'm having a lazy day–I've been so tired for the last week." She shook her head. "Sucks getting old, I'll tell you."
I grinned and stepped inside her warm, inviting home. As always, the comforting smell of eucalyptus scented the air. "You? Old?" I shook my head. "Not hardly."
She laughed and winked at me. "You're a good fibber, but I feel as old as the hills today. Maybe I'm coming down with something." She shook her head and gestured to her couch for me to take a seat. I handed her the small, boxed pie that I had brought. "I made you an apple pie," I said. "I've been baking a little bit and really enjoying it."
"Oh! Lovely. And baking again–that's wonderful." She accepted the pie, smiling. "I'll have this later with my tea. Speaking of which, would you like a cup?"
I shook my head and took a few steps to the couch and sat down. "No, I can actually only stay a minute. I'm meeting Archer and we're going to some caves he told me about."
Anne nodded and set the pie box on the coffee table and took a seat on the smaller love seat to the left of the couch. "Pelion Caverns. You'll like them. There are waterfalls–lovely. I went there a couple times with Bill."
"They sound beautiful."
"They are, and the drive will be beautiful, too, now that the leaves are changing."
I smiled. "It should be a nice day. We need one," I said, breathing out.
Anne was quiet for a beat. "Did Archer mention that I visited him while you were in Ohio?"
"No," I said, surprised. "You did?"
She nodded. "That boy has been on my mind ever since you first asked about his father and his uncles. I should have visited him years ago." She sighed and shook her head slightly. "I brought him some muffins–used the last of the blueberries I had frozen." She waved her hand, dismissing her own comment. "Anyway, he looked… wary at first and can't say I blame him, but I chattered a bit and he came around–even invited me into his house. I had no idea the land was that lovely. I told him so and he seemed to take pride in that."
I nodded, wanting to tear up for some reason. "He works hard."
"Yes, he does." She studied me for a minute. "I told him a few things I remembered about Alyssa, his mother, and he liked that too."
I tilted my head, wanting her to go on.
"I talked about you and he liked that best of all–I could see it in his expression." Anne smiled gently. "The way Archer looked when I mentioned your name, oh, Bree, dear–I've never seen someone's heart so clearly right on their sleeve." Her eyes warmed. "It reminded me of the way Bill used to look at me sometimes." She smiled again and so did I, my heart rate picking up.
"He loves you, dear."
I nodded my head, looking down at my hands. "Yes, I love him too." I bit my lip. "Unfortunately for Archer, I think love is pretty complicated."
She smiled a sad smile. "I figure, now that I know what I know about the life he's led, giving his love to you feels filled with risk."
I nodded, my eyes filling with tears now. I told her about what happened when I returned from Ohio and she listened with heartbreak on her face. "What should I do, Anne?" I asked, when I was done.
"I think the best thing you can do for Archer–" she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes taking on a startled expression and her hand coming to her chest.
"Anne!" I said, jumping up and going to her. She was gasping now and had fallen back on the couch. "Oh my God! Anne!" I grabbed my phone out of the pocket of my sweatshirt and hit 911, my hands shaking.
I told the operator the address and that I thought my neighbor was having a heart attack, and the girl on the line assured me the ambulance was on its way.
I returned to Anne's side, reassuring her again and again that help was on its way. She continued to clutch her chest, but her eyes were focused on me, and I thought she was understanding what I was telling her.
Oh God! I thought. What if I hadn't been here?
The ambulance shrieked down our small street ten long minutes later and tears streamed down my face as I watched them work on Anne as she lay on her couch. I took long, shaky breaths, trying to get my own heart rate under control. "Is she going to be okay?" I asked the tech when they brought a stretcher in to transport her. She had an oxygen mask on and looked slightly better already, some color returning to her cheeks.
"It looks good," he said. "She's conscious and we got to her in time."
"Okay," I nodded my head, wrapping my arms around my body. "She doesn't have any family. Should I meet her at the hospital?"
"You're welcome to ride in the ambulance with her."
"Oh! Okay. Yes, please, if I can," I said, following them outside and closing Anne's door behind us.
As I moved toward the ambulance, I glanced to my right and saw Archer running toward me, a look that I could only describe as wild, on his face. My heart plunged into my feet. Oh God, he had run here–he must have heard the ambulance sirens all the way from his house. I walked quickly toward him. He came to an immediate halt when he saw me, not moving closer, his eyes wide and staring, his fists clenched. I jogged the last couple yards to him and said, "Archer! Anne had a heart attack! She's okay, I think, but I'm going to ride to the hospital with her. It's okay. Everything is okay. I'm okay."
He put his hands up on top of his head and gritted his teeth, looking like he was struggling mightily to rein something in. He walked in a slow circle and then turned toward me, nodding his head once, that wild look still in his eyes, but not his expression. His expression suddenly looked strangely blank.
"I'll come straight to you when I know she's going to be okay," I said. I glanced back and the back wheels of the stretcher were just disappearing inside the ambulance. I walked backwards. "I'll take a cab straight to you."
Archer nodded, still expressionless, and then turned without saying a word and walked away from me.
I only hesitated a second before jogging to the ambulance and hopping in just before they closed the doors.
**********
I stayed at the hospital until I knew for sure that Anne was going to be okay. When the doctor finally came out to tell me that she was stable, he said that she was sleeping, but that he'd told her I was there. They had also called a sister whose number Anne had given them when they first brought her in, and she'd be to Pelion in the morning. That made me feel a lot better and when I finally called a taxi, I felt like a weight had lifted.
I was worried about Archer though. I had texted him when I first got to the hospital and then again when the doctor came out to speak to me, but he had never responded. I was anxious to get to him.
I bit my lip as the taxi made the thirty-minute drive to my cottage. I had told Archer I'd come straight to him, but I wanted to pick Phoebe up before going to his house. Surely he had calmed down by now. He knew I was fine, even if the initial scare had done a number on him. Why he wasn't answering his phone, I wasn't sure though, and it sat heavy in my gut.
I paid the driver and hopped out, rushing into my cottage and calling to Phoebe who came running, her nails clicking on my hardwood floor.
I pulled up to Archer's gate a few minutes later and let myself and Phoebe in. We walked to Archer's door and I knocked softly before opening it and putting Phoebe down. It had just started to drizzle outside, gray clouds darkening the sky.
Archer's house was dark except for a standing lamp that was on in the corner of the living room. Archer was sitting in a chair in the opposite corner. At first I didn't see him and so when I did, I startled and brought my hand to my chest, laughing out slightly. His expression was somber, hooded. I went to him immediately and kneeled down in front of him, putting my head on his lap and sighing.
After a few seconds when I realized he was going to remain still, I looked up at him questioningly.
How's Anne? he asked.
I brought my hands up. She's going to be fine. Her sister will be here in the morning. I sighed. I'm so sorry that whole episode scared you. I didn't want to leave you there, but I didn't want to leave Anne alone either.
Archer brought his hands up. I understand, he said, his eyes still shuttered.
I nodded, biting my lip. Are you okay? What are you sitting here thinking about?
He was quiet for so long that I thought he wasn't going to answer me, when he finally brought his hands up and signed, That day.
I tilted my head. That day? I asked, confused.
The day I was shot, my uncle came to take me and my mom away from my dad.
My eyes widened, but I didn't say a word, just watched him and waited for him to continue.
My dad was at a bar… supposedly busy for a while. He paused, looking off behind me for a second before his eyes found me again. He hadn't always been like he was at the end. He'd been fun, full of charm when he wanted to be. But then he started drinking and things went downhill from there. He'd slap my mom, accuse her of things he was the one doing.
Either way though, my mom only loved one man and that was my uncle Connor. I knew it, my dad knew it, the whole town knew it. And the truth of it was, I loved him more too.
He was silent again for a minute, staring past me. Finally, he continued.
And so when he came for us that day and I learned that I was his son, not Marcus Hale's son, I was happy. I was elated.
He looked down at me, regarding me with little emotion, as if he was deep inside himself, hidden. My uncle shot me, Bree. Marcus Hale shot me. I don't know if he meant to or if the gun just went off when I ran toward him in anger. But either way, he shot me and this is what it did. He brought his hand up to his throat, running it over the scar.
Then he gestured his hand to indicate all of him. This is what it did.
My heart sank. "Oh, Archer," I breathed out. He continued to look down at me. He seemed almost numb.
"What happened to them? To your mom?" I asked, blinking up at him and swallowing down the lump that was threatening to choke me.
He paused for only a second. Marcus had hit our car from behind in his attempt to run us off the road. Our car flipped. My mom was killed in the accident. He closed his eyes for a minute, pausing, and then opened them and continued. After Marcus shot me, there was a standoff between him and Connor in the road. He lapsed into silence again for a minute, his eyes looking like deep, amber pools of sorrow. They shot each other, Bree. Right there on the highway, under a blue springtime sky, they shot each other.
I felt weak with horror.
Archer went on. Tori showed up and then I vaguely remember another car coming along a minute after that. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital.
A sob moved up my throat, but I swallowed it down. All these years, I shook my head, unable to grasp the torment he must have experienced, you've lived with that all these years–all by yourself. Oh, Archer. I sucked in a huge breath, attempting to keep hold of my own emotion.
He looked down at me, emotion finally flashing in his own eyes before it moved away again.
I scooted closer to him and gripped his t-shirt as I laid my head against his stomach, tears running silently down my face as I whispered again and again, "I'm so sorry." I didn't know what else to say in response to the weight of the horror a little boy had held.
But I finally understood the depth of his pain, of his trauma, of the burden he carried with him. And I understood why Victoria Hale hated him. She hadn't just sought to take his voice, she had sought to take his confidence, his self-worth, his identity. Because Archer was the embodiment of the fact that her husband loved another woman more deeply than he had ever loved her, and that he had given that woman not only his heart, but his first born son. And that son had the ability to take everything from her.
I continued to hold Archer.
After what seemed like a long time, I leaned back. You own the land this town is on. You're Connor's oldest son.