Archer's Voice

Another pair of golden brown eyes found mine as Travis pushed Archer out of his way, but not very hard. "We're not brothers. We're cousins," he said, looking at me like I was crazy.

I shook my head, my eyes trained on Archer who wasn't looking at me. "I'm sorry, Archer," I said. "I didn't mean to blurt it out. I'm sorry," I whispered. "I wish I could take it back."

"What the f**k is this?" Travis asked.

"Let's go!" Tori Hale screeched to Travis. "He's an animal!" she spit out, pointing at Archer. "They're crazy, both of them. I won't listen to a second more of this nonsense." She attempted to pull on Travis's arm, but he shook her off easily.

He looked at her closely, something seeming to register in his eyes, some understanding seeming to occur.

"Well, that kind of thing is easily enough proven with a simple blood test," Travis said evenly, his eyes looking into his mother's. Tori blanched and turned her head. Travis watched her.

"Oh, Jesus," he said. "It's true. You knew."

"I don't know any such thing!" she said, but her voice sounded hysterical.

"I thought so," another voice came from the crowd and I swiveled my head to see Mandy Wright walking toward us. "The minute I saw your eyes looking up at me from your mama's arms, I thought so. Those are Connor Hale's eyes–your daddy's eyes," Mandy whispered, her gaze focused on Archer. I closed my eyes, more tears falling down my cheeks.

Oh God.

"That's it!" Tori shouted. "If you're not leaving, I am. That's my husband you're talking about! And of all days to tarnish his memory–you all should be ashamed of yourselves." She pointed a red polished, bony finger at each of us individually, that same icy glare on her face. And with that, she turned and pushed her way through the crowd.

I looked at Travis briefly, but then my eyes moved back to Archer. Archer looked at me once, then at Travis and Mandy and finally at the crowd, all eyes trained on us. Panic swept his expression and I realized that people were gaping at him, whispering. My heart lurched and I took a step toward him, but he took a step back, his eyes moving through the crowd again.

"Archer," I said, reaching for him. He turned and started pushing to get through the mostly still crowd of people. I stopped, dropping my hand to my side and hanging my head.

"Bree?" Travis said and I glared at him.

"Don't," I said through gritted teeth. Then I turned away from him and ran back to the diner. Maggie was standing at the door.

"Go after him, honey," she said gently, putting her hand on my shoulder. She'd obviously seen the whole thing. The whole town had.

I shook my head. "He needs time to himself," I said. I wasn't sure how I knew that. I just did.

"Okay," Maggie said, "well, go home at least. It's dead today anyway."

I nodded my head. "Thank you, Maggie."

"Of course, honey."

"I'm going to go out the back. My car's in the alley so I can get out without running into blocked-off streets."

Maggie nodded, sympathy shining from her kind eyes. "If you need anything at all, you call me," she said. I conjured up a small smile.

"I will."

I drove home like a homing pigeon, not even remembering the drive once I got there. I dragged myself into my cottage and collapsed on the couch and when Phoebe jumped up on my lap and started licking my face, the tears began to fall. How had everything gotten so messed up in the course of a couple days?

I felt like Archer was a ticking time bomb, ready to blow at any minute. I wanted to help him through it, but I wasn't sure how. I felt helpless, unequipped. I wiped the tears away and sat there for a while longer, trying to come up with a solution.

Maybe we needed to get away from this town–just throw our stuff in my car and drive away somewhere new. God, that sounded familiar. Wasn’t that exactly the idea Connor Hale had had too? And look how that turned out. Not well.

And anyway, how would that make Archer feel? He was already struggling with the fact that he didn't feel like a real man. How would it make him feel when I got a job somewhere new and he sat around in some apartment all day? At least here he had his land, his projects, his house, his lake…

Although now, I'd probably ruined it for him. My face crumbled with the guilt that washed over me. It'd taken him so long to feel comfortable enough to leave his house and now he was going to feel like hiding on his property again–worried that people would be whispering and staring at him, judging his disability, making him feel less-than.

After a few minutes, I got up wearily and took Phoebe out and then returned inside and took a shower, my mind still turning over what had happened at the parade. I needed to go to him and apologize. I hadn't meant to blurt out the secret he hadn't wanted told. But I had. And now he was the one who was going to have to live with the consequences if there were any.

I pulled on some warm clothes, unable to shake the chill that felt like it went down to my bones, and dried my hair slowly.

I laid down on my bed and let the sadness wash over me again. I was weak and I couldn't see any optimism in the situation, other than the fact that I loved Archer desperately. I thought maybe it was because I was so insanely tired. Maybe I just needed to rest for a few minutes…

I opened my eyes what I thought was a few minutes later and glanced at the clock. Oh God, I had slept for two hours. I bolted up and smoothed my hair back.

I needed to go to Archer. He would be wondering why I hadn't come directly to him. He had turned away from me… but I had given him a few hours time. Hopefully, he was in a better place now. God, please don't be angry with me, I thought, as I got in my car and started the engine.

A few minutes later, I was walking through his gate and down to his house. I knocked and turned the knob and utter silence greeted me, the twilight outside the window just barely lighting the room in front of me.

"Archer?" I called, an ominous feeling rushing through my body. I shook it off and called again, "Archer?" Nothing.

It was then that I saw the letter propped up on the table behind the couch with my name written on it.

With shaking hands, I picked it up and unfolded it, fear enveloping my body.

Bree,

Don't blame yourself–what happened at the parade today wasn't your fault. It was mine, all mine.

I'm leaving, Bree. I'm taking my uncle's truck. I don't know where I'm going yet, but I need to go somewhere. I need to figure things out, and maybe even learn a little bit more about who I can be in the world–if I can be anyone at all. The very thought of it is filling me with fear, but staying here–feeling the things I'm feeling– seems like the more terrifying alternative. I know that's hard to understand. I don't even fully understand it myself.

I thought I lost you twice, and just the possibility destroyed me. Do you know what I did when you were just a few minutes late and I heard the ambulances going toward your house? I threw up on my lawn and then I took off running to you. It scared me to death. And the thing is, there's always going to be something–not just an ambulance, but the day you're late coming home from work, or the guy who flirts with you, or… a million different scenarios I can't even fathom right now. There's always going to be something that threatens to take you away from me, even if it's something small, and even if it's only in my own mind. And eventually, that's going to be the thing that destroys us. I'll start hurting you because you won't be able to fix me–you'll never be able to reassure me enough. You'll just end up resenting me because you'll constantly have to carry the weight for both of us. I can't let that happen. I asked you not to let me destroy what we have together, but I don't think I'm capable of doing anything else.

Last night, after you fell asleep, I couldn't stop thinking about the story you told me about the embroidery pictures your mom used to make. And I've been thinking about that today, too–and I want to believe so badly that what you said is true–that something beautiful can come from all the ugliness and mess–from all the pain, from all the things that have made me who I am. I want to see what's on the other side. But I think in order to do that, I need to be the one to turn it around. I need to be the one to take those steps. I need to be the one to understand how it all comes together, how it all makes sense–what my own picture looks like.

I'm not asking you to wait for me–I'd never be that selfish. But please don't hate me. I never, ever want to hurt you, but I'm no good to you. I'm no good to anyone right now, and I need to learn if maybe I can be.

Please understand. Please know that I love you. Please forgive me.

Archer

My hands were shaking like leaves now and tears were coursing down my cheeks. I let out a sob and dropped the letter, bringing my hand to my mouth.

Sitting under the letter was a set of keys, his phone, and a receipt for dog boarding for an open-ended amount of time. I let out another sob and fell down on the couch–the same couch where Archer had rocked me on his lap after saving me from his uncle's trap, the same couch where he had kissed me for the very first time. I sobbed into the pillow, wanting him back, wanting to hear his footsteps coming through the door behind me so desperately, I felt the longing in every cell of my body. But the house remained silent around me, broken only by the sounds of my choking sobs.

CHAPTER 31

Bree

The days dragged by. My heart felt like it had cracked open and lay heavy in my chest, and the tears constantly threatened. I missed him so badly that most days I felt like I was underwater–looking at the world around me and wondering why I couldn't connect, why everyone and everything was cloudy and distant, inaccessible.

I worried too–what was he doing? Where was he sleeping? How was he communicating with those he needed to communicate with? Was he scared? I tried to turn that off as it was one of the reasons he'd left. He felt like less of a man because he depended on me for so much in the outside world. He hadn't said that exactly, but I knew it was true. He didn't want to feel like I was his mother, but rather that he was my equal, my protector, the one I depended on sometimes.

I understood. It still broke my heart that leaving me was his solution to that problem. Would he come back? When? And when and if he did, would he still love me?

I didn't know. But I'd wait. I'd wait forever if I had to. I had told him I'd never leave him and I wouldn't. I'd be here when he got back.

I worked, I visited Anne who was recovering quickly, I walked along the lake, I kept Archer's house clean and dusted, and I missed him. My days inched along, one rolling blankly into the next.

The town had gossiped fervently for a while and from what I had caught wind of, once it was revealed, no one was too surprised that Archer was Connor's son too. People speculated about whether Archer would come back and demand to take what was rightfully his, or whether he would come back at all. But I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted him.

Surprisingly, after the day of the parade, there had been radio silence from Victoria Hale. I thought distantly that maybe that should be worrisome–she didn't seem like the type of woman to lie down quietly and accept losing–but I was hurting too badly to do anything active about it. Perhaps she just believed that Archer was no threat to her. And maybe he wasn't. My heart ached.

Travis tried to talk to me several times after the day of the parade, but I was short with him and, thankfully, he didn't push it. I didn't hate him, but he had missed so many opportunities to be a better person when it came to Archer. Instead he'd chosen to belittle someone who was already struggling in so many ways. I'd never have any respect for him. He was Archer's brother in name only.

Fall turned to winter. The vibrantly colored leaves withered and fell off the trees, the temperature dropped dramatically, and the lake froze over.

One day in late November, several weeks after Archer had left, Maggie came up to me where I was restocking behind the counter and put her hand on my shoulder. "You planning on going home for Thanksgiving, Bree honey?"

I stood up and shook my head. "No. I'm staying here."

Maggie looked at me sadly. "Honey, if he comes back while you're gone, I'll call you."

I shook my head more vehemently. "No, I need to be here if he comes back."

"Okay, honey, okay," she'd said. "Well, then you're coming to our house for Thanksgiving. Our daughter and her family will be in town. And Anne and her sister are coming over too. We'll have a real nice time."

I smiled at Maggie. "Okay, Maggie. Thank you."

"Good," she'd smiled, but somehow she still looked sad.

Norm sat down with me at the break table later that day when we were closing up and all the customers had gone, a piece of my pumpkin pie in front of him and took a big bite. "You make the best pumpkin pie I've ever had," he said, and I started crying right there at the break table because I knew that that was Norm's way of telling me he loved me.

"I love you, too!" I sobbed out and Norm stood up, scowling. "Aw geez. Maggie!" he called, "Bree needs you."

Perhaps I was slightly over-emotional.

**********

November rolled into December and Pelion got its first light snowfall. It blanketed everything, casting a magical feel to the town, making it feel even more old-fashioned, like one of those Thomas Kinkade paintings.

December second was Archer's birthday. I took that day off and spent it in front of the fire at his house, reading Ethan Frome. It wasn't the best choice–he was right, it was the most depressing book ever written. But it was his day, and I wanted to feel close to him. "Happy Birthday, Archer," I whispered that night, making my own wish. Come back to me.