Archer's Voice
Page 4

"Wow," I said, frowning, "that's so sad."
"Yeah," Liza chimed in, "because, have you seen the body on him? Of course, runs in the genes. If he wasn't so anti-social, I'd do him."
Melanie rolled her eyes and I put my hand up to my lips so coffee wouldn't spew out of my mouth.
"Please, you hooker," Melanie said, "you'd do him anyway, if he'd look your way once."
Liza considered that for a second and then shook her head. "I doubt he'd even know what to do with that body of his. A true shame." Melanie rolled her eyes again and then glanced up at the clock above the order window.
"Oh darn, we gotta go or we're gonna be late." She took out her wallet and called to Maggie, "I'm leaving the bill on the counter, Mags."
"Thanks, hon," Maggie called back as she walked quickly by, holding two plates.
Melanie scribbled something down on a napkin and handed it to me. "Here's our number," she said. "We're planning a girl's night on the other side of the lake soon. Maybe you'd like to come with us?"
I took the napkin. "Oh, okay, well, maybe." I smiled. I scribbled my number down on a napkin and handed her mine as well. "Thanks so much. That's really nice of you." I was surprised by how much my mood was boosted after talking to the two girls my age. Maybe that's what I need, I thought, to remember that I was a person with friends and a life before tragedy struck. It was so easy to feel like my whole existence began and ended that terrible day. But that wasn't true. I needed to remind myself of that as much as possible.
Of course, my friends back home had tried to get me to go out a few times in the months following my dad's death, but I just hadn't been up for it. Maybe going out with people who weren't so acquainted with my tragedy would be better–after all, wasn't that what this road trip was about? A temporary escape? The hope that a new place would bring new healing? And then I would have the strength to face my life again.
Liza and Melanie walked quickly out the door, calling and waving to a few other people sitting in the restaurant. After a minute, Maggie set my plate down in front of me.
As I ate, I considered what they had said about the guy named Archer Hale. It made sense now–he was deaf. I wondered why that hadn't already occurred to me. That's why he hadn't spoken. Obviously, he could read lips. And I had completely insulted him when I made the comment about him saying something. That's why his face had fallen and he had walked away like that. I cringed inwardly. "Nice one, Bree," I said quietly as I bit off a piece of toast.
I'd make it a point to apologize next time I saw him. I wondered if he knew sign language. I'd let him know I could speak it if he wanted to talk to me. I knew it well. My dad had been deaf.
Something about Archer Hale intrigued me–something I couldn't put my finger on. Something that went beyond the fact that he couldn't hear or speak and that I was intimately acquainted with that particular disability. I pondered it for a minute, but couldn't come up with an answer.
I finished my meal and Maggie waved me off when I asked for my check. "Employee's eat for free," she called, refilling coffee down the counter from me. "Come back in anytime after two to fill out the paperwork."
I grinned at her. "Okay," I said. "See you this afternoon." I left a tip on the counter and headed out the door. Not bad, I thought. Only in town one day and I've got a home, a job, and a sort of friend in my neighbor, Anne, and maybe in Melanie and Liza too. There was an extra spring in my step as I walked to my car.
CHAPTER 4
Bree
I started work at Norm's Diner early the next morning. Norm himself worked the kitchen and was mostly grumpy and grumbly, and he didn't talk to me much, but I saw him shoot Maggie looks that could only be described as adoring. I suspected that he was really just a big softie–he didn't scare me. I also knew I was a good waitress and that Maggie's stress-level had dropped significantly an hour after I started, and so I figured I had an in with Norm right off the bat.
The diner was bustling, the work straightforward, and the locals who ate there pleasant. I couldn't complain, and the first couple of days went by quickly and smoothly.
On Wednesday after I got off work, I drove home, showered, changed and pulled on my swimsuit and a pair of jean shorts and a white tank top, intending on going down to the lake and doing a little exploring. I put Phoebe's leash on her and locked up behind me.
As I was leaving my house, Anne called to me from her yard where she was watering the rosebushes. I walked over to her smiling.
"How are you settling in?" she asked me, setting her watering can down and walking over to her fence where I was standing.
"Good! I've been meaning to come over and thank you for letting me know about the position at the diner. I got it and I'm waitressing there."
"Oh that's great! Maggie's a gem. Don't let Norm scare you off–he's all bark and no bite."
I laughed. "I figured that out pretty quickly." I winked. "No, it's been good. I was just going to drive down the road and check out the lake a little bit."
"Oh, good. The docks don't make for a very good walk right here–of course, you probably figured that out. If you go down to Briar Road, you can follow the signs to the small beach." She gave me brief directions and then added, "If you want it, I have a bike that I don't use anymore. With my arthritis, I just can't grip the handlebars so that I feel safe. But it's practically new and it even has a basket for your dog." She looked down at the little dog in question. "Hi there. What's your name?" She smiled down at Phoebe and Phoebe chuffed happily, dancing around a bit.
"Say hi, Phoebe." I smiled.
"What a cute girl you are," Anne said, bending down slightly to let Phoebe lick her hand.
She stood up and said, "The bike is in my spare bedroom. Would you like to see it?"
I paused. "Are you sure? I mean, I would love to ride a bike down to the lake rather than take my car."
"Yes, yes," she waved me toward her as she started to walk to her house. "I would love to see it put to use. I used to pick blueberries up that way. They grow wild. Bring a couple bags and you can put them in the bike basket when you're done. Do you bake?"
"Um," I said, following her in to her cottage, "I used to. I haven't in a while."
She glanced back at me. "Well, maybe the blueberries will inspire you to pick up an apron again." She smiled as she opened a door right off the main room.
Her cottage was casually decorated with well-used, slipcovered furniture and lots of knick knacks and framed photos. The smell of dried eucalyptus hung in the air. It immediately felt comforting and happy.
"Here we go," Anne said, wheeling a bike out of the room she had entered seconds before. I couldn't help grinning. It was one of those old-fashioned bikes with a big basket on the front.
"Oh my goodness! It's fabulous. Are you sure you want me using this?"
"Nothing would make me happier, dear. In fact, if it works for you, you keep it."
I smiled at her, wheeling it out onto her porch. "Thank you so much. This is so kind of you. I really… thank you."
She came out behind me and helped me lift it down the stairs. "My pleasure. It makes me happy to know it's being used and enjoyed."
I smiled again, admiring it, when something occurred to me. "Oh! Can I ask you a question? I ran into someone in town, and someone else I met mentioned that he lives at the end of Briar Road. Archer Hale? Do you know him?"
Anne frowned, looking thoughtful at the same time. "Yes, I know of him anyway. You'll actually be passing right by his land on your way to the small beach. You can't miss it–it's really the only property on that stretch of road." She looked thoughtful for a second. "Yes, Archer Hale… I remember him as a sweet little boy. Doesn't talk now though. Suppose it's because he doesn't hear."
I tilted my head. "Do you know what happened to him exactly?"
She paused. "There was a big car crash outside of town right about the time my Bill got his diagnosis. Suppose I didn't pay quite as much attention to the details as the rest of the town did–just grieved along with them. But what I do know, is that Archer's parents and his uncle, Connor Hale, the owner of the town and the Chief of Police, died that day, and that whatever afflicts Archer happened in that accident. Hmm, now let me think…" She paused. "He went to live with his other uncle, Nathan Hale. But he died three or four years ago–some kind of cancer from what I recall." She looked past me, staring into space for a couple seconds. "Some in town say he isn't right in the head, Archer, I mean. But I don't know about that. Might just be them passing off his uncle's personality onto him. My younger sister went to school with Nathan Hale and he never was quite right. Wicked smart, but always slightly strange. And when he came home from the army, he was even more… different."
I frowned up at her. "And they still sent a little boy to live with him?"
"Oh well, I suppose he presented okay to the county. And anyway, far as I know, he was the only family that boy had left." She went quiet again for a minute. "Haven't talked about the original Hale boys in years now. But they sure did always cause a stir. Hmm." She was quiet again for a few beats. "Now that I think about it, it really is a sad situation with the younger Hale boy. Sometimes in small towns, people who have been around forever sort of… become part of the backdrop, I guess. In the town's attempt to move past the tragedy, Archer might have just gotten lost in the mix. Such a shame."
Anne lapsed into silence again, seeming to be lost in the past and I thought I'd better be off.
"Hmm, well," I smiled, "thanks again for the directions. I'll stop by later."
Anne brightened and seemed to snap back to the present. "Yes, that would be nice. Have a lovely day!" She smiled and turned back around and grabbed the watering can she had sat down on her porch as I wheeled the bike through her front gate.
I put Phoebe in the basket and as I got on the bike and pedaled slowly toward the entrance of Briar Road, I thought about what Anne had told me about the Hale brothers, and about Archer Hale. It didn't seem like anyone knew the exact story of what had happened to Archer–or they had forgotten the details? I knew what it was like to lose both your parents, not in one fell swoop though. How would you even begin to deal with something like that? Did your mind allow you to process one loss at a time–wouldn't you go crazy with grief if that much of it inundated your heart at once? Some days I felt like I was barely holding on to my emotions from moment to moment. I supposed that we all coped in our different ways–pain and healing as individual as the people who experienced them.
The sight of what must be his property snapped me out of my own thoughts. There was a high fence surrounding it, the tops of trees too numerous and too thick to see anything beyond the high structure. I craned my neck to see how far the fence went, but it was hard to tell from the road, and there were woods on either side. My eyes returned to the front of the fence where I could see a latch, but it was closed.
I wasn't sure why I stood there, just looking at it and listening to the mosquitos buzz. But after a few minutes, Phoebe barked softly, and I continued to head down the road to the beach access where Anne had directed me.
I spent a few hours down at the lakeshore, swimming and sunning myself. Phoebe lay on a corner of my towel in the shade, sleeping contentedly. It was a hot August day, but the breeze off of the lake and the shade of the trees behind the shore made it comfortable. There were a few people further down the small beach area, but it was mostly deserted. I figured that that was because this side of the lake was only used by locals. I lay back on the towel I had brought and looked up at the tips of the swaying trees and the patches of bright blue sky, listening to the lapping water. After a few minutes, I closed my eyes, just intending to rest, but instead fell asleep.
I dreamed of my dad. Only this time, he hadn't died right away. He crawled into the kitchen just in time to see the man dart out the back door.
"You're alive!" I said, beginning to sit up off the floor where the man had left me.
He nodded, a gentle smile on his face.
"You're okay?" I asked haltingly, fearful.
"Yes," he said and I startled for my dad had never used his voice, only his hands.
"You can speak," I whispered.
"Yes," he said again, laughing slightly. "Of course." But it was then that I noticed that his lips weren't moving.
"I want you back, dad," I said, my eyes tearing up. "I miss you so much."
His face went serious and it looked like the distance between us was increasing even though neither of us had moved. "I'm so sorry you can't have us both, Little Bee," he said, using my nickname.
"Both?" I whispered, confused, watching the distance between us grow even more.
Suddenly, he was gone and I was alone. I was crying, and my eyes were closed, but I could feel a presence standing over me.
I startled awake, warm tears coursing down my cheeks, the very edges of the dream fading into mist. As I lay there trying to gather my emotions, I swore I heard the sound of someone moving away, through the woods behind me.
**********
I got into the diner early the next morning. Despite sleeping well, I had had a particularly bad flashback that morning, and I was having trouble shaking the melancholy that still clung to me.