Archer's Voice

by Mia Sheridan

  A car door slammed outside, snapping me back to the here and now. I was standing in front of the running shower, water puddling on the floor where the curtain was open. Vomit rushed up my throat and I turned just in time to make it to the bowl where I heaved up bile. I sat there gasping and shaking for several minutes, trying to get a hold of my body. The tears threatened to come, but I wouldn't let them. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted backwards from one hundred. When I made it to one, I took another deep breath and stumbled to my feet, grabbing a towel to mop up the growing puddle in front of the open shower.

  I stripped off my clothes and stepped under the warm spray, leaning my head back and closing my eyes, trying to relax and come back to the present, trying to get the shaking under control.

  "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," I chanted, swallowing down the emotion, the guilt, my body still trembling slightly. I would be okay. I knew that, but it always took a little while to shake the feeling of being back there, in that place, in that moment of utter grief and terror, and then sometimes several hours before the sadness left me, but never completely.

  Every morning the flashback came, and every evening I felt stronger again. Each dawn I had hope that this new day would be the one that would set me free, and that I would make it through without having to endure the pain of being chained in grief to the night that would forever separate now from then.

  I stepped out of the shower and dried off. Looking at myself in the mirror, I thought I looked better than I did most mornings. Despite the fact that the flashbacks hadn't ended here, I had slept well, which I hadn't done much of over the past six months, and felt a sense of contentment that I attributed to the lake outside my window. What was more peaceful than the sound of water lapping gently on a sandy shore? Surely some of that would seep into my soul, or at the very least, help me get some much-needed sleep.

  I went back to my bedroom and pulled on a pair of khaki shorts and a black button-up shirt with cap sleeves. I was planning on going into the diner in town that Anne had mentioned and wanted to look presentable since I'd be asking about the–hopefully still available–job. I was running low on money. I needed one as quickly as possible.

  I blew my hair dry and left it down and then put on a minimum of makeup. I pulled on my black sandals and was out the door, the warm, morning air caressing my skin as I stepped outside and locked up.

  Ten minutes later, I was pulling up to the curb outside of Norm's. It looked like a classic, small town diner. I looked in the big, glass window and saw that it was already half full on a Monday morning at eight a.m. The Help Wanted sign was still in the window. Yes!

  I opened the door and the smell of coffee and bacon greeted me, the sounds of chatter and soft laughter coming from the booths and tables.

  I walked toward the front and took a seat at the counter, next to two young women in cutoff jean shorts and tank tops–obviously not part of those stopping in for breakfast on their way to the office.

  As I took a seat on the rotating, red, vinyl covered stool, the woman now sitting next to me looked at me and smiled.

  "Good morning," I said and smiled back.

  "Good morning!" she said.

  I picked up the menu in front of me and a waitress, an older woman with short gray hair, standing at the kitchen window, looked over her shoulder at me and said, "I'll be right with you, honey." She looked harried as she flipped through her order pad. The place was only half full, but she was obviously alone and having trouble keeping up. Morning crowds were always looking for rush service so they could make it to work on time.

  "No rush," I said.

  A few minutes later when she had delivered a couple meals and came up to me, she said distractedly, "Coffee?"

  "Please. And you look slammed–I'll make it easy on you and have the number three–just as it comes."

  "Bless you, honey." She laughed. "You must have experience waitressing."

  "Actually," I smiled and handed her the menu, "I do, and I know this isn't a good time, but I saw the Help Wanted sign in the window."

  "Seriously?" she said, "When can you start?"

  I laughed. "As soon as possible. I can come back later to fill out an application or–"

  "No need. You have waitressing experience, you need a job, you're hired. Come back later to fill out the necessary paperwork, but Norm's my husband. I have the authority to hire another waitress and I just hired you." She held out her hand. "Maggie Jansen, by the way."

  I grinned at her. "Bree Prescott. Thank you so much!"

  "You're the one who just made my morning better," she called as she went down the counter to refill the other coffee cups.

  Well, that was the easiest interview I'd ever had.

  "New in town?" the young woman next to me asked.

  I turned to her, smiling. "Yes, just moved here yesterday, actually."

  "Well, welcome to Pelion. I'm Melanie Scholl and this is my sister, Liza." The girl on the right of her leaned forward and extended her hand.

  I shook it, saying, "Really nice to meet you."

  I noticed the bathing suit ties sticking out of the back of their tank tops and said, "Are you vacationing here?"

  "Oh no," Melanie laughed, "we work on the other shore. We're lifeguards for the next couple weeks while the tourists are here and then we go back to work at our family's pizza parlor during the winter."

  I nodded, sipping my coffee. I thought they looked about my age, Liza most likely the younger one. They looked similar with their reddish brown hair and the same large, blue eyes.

  "If you have any questions about this town, you just ask us," Liza said. "We make it our business to know all the dirt." She winked. "We can tell you who to date, too, and who to avoid. We've pretty much run through them all in both towns–we're a wealth of information."

  I laughed. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind. I'm really glad I met you girls." I started to turn forward when something occurred to me. "Hey, actually, I have a question about someone. I dropped some stuff in the pharmacy parking lot last night and a young man stopped to help me. Tall, lean, good build, but… I don't know, he didn't say a word… and he had this long beard–"

  "Archer Hale," Melanie broke in. "I'm shocked he stopped to help you though. He doesn't usually pay anyone any attention." She paused. "And no one usually pays him any attention either, I guess."

  "Well, I don't know if he had too much of a choice," I said. "My stuff literally rolled right in front of his feet."

  Melanie shrugged. "Still unusual. Trust me. Anyway, I think he's deaf. That's why he doesn't speak. He was in some kind of accident when he was a kid. We were just five and six when it happened, right outside town, on the highway. His parents were killed, and the town Police Chief, his uncle. That's when he lost his hearing, I guess. He lives at the end of Briar Road–he used to live with his other uncle who home-schooled him, but that uncle died a couple years back and now he lives by himself out there. He never even used to come into town until his uncle died. Now we see him every once in a while. He's a total loner though."

  "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 s
aid. "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 ha
d 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.