Archer's Voice - Sheridan Mia - Страница 8
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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.
I dove into the morning rush, keeping my head down and my mind occupied with the business of taking orders, delivering food, and refilling coffee. By nine when the diner started to empty out, I was feeling better, lighter.
I was re-stocking the condiments at the counter when the door to the diner opened and a young man in a police uniform walked in. He removed his hat and ran his hand through his short, wavy brown hair before he nodded over at Maggie, who smiled back at him and called out, "Trav."
His gaze moved to me as he walked toward the counter and our eyes locked for a portion of a second. His face lit up with a smile, his straight, white teeth flashing as he took a seat in front of me. "Well, you must be the reason that Maggie's got a smile on her face this morning," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Travis Hale."
Oh, another Hale. I smiled back, taking his hand. "Hi Travis. Bree Prescott."
He sat down, bringing his long legs under the counter. "Good to meet you, Bree. What brings you to Pelion?"
I chose my words carefully, not wanting to come off as some kind of weird nomad. Although, I supposed that was sort of what I was at the moment if I had decided to be completely truthful. "Well, Travis, I recently graduated college and decided to take sort of a freedom road-trip." I smiled. "Ended up here in your pretty little town."
He grinned. "Exploring while you can." He said. "I like it. Wish I had done more of that myself."
I smiled back, handing him a menu just as Maggie came up behind me. She grabbed the menu and tossed it under the counter. "Travis Hale must have that thing memorized by now," she said, winking at me. "Been coming in here since his mother had to sit him in a booster seat to reach the table. Speaking of your mother, how is she?"
He smiled. "Oh, she's fine. You know, she keeps busy, never lacking for a social circle. Plus, she's extra busy with all the town expansion plans."
Maggie's lips pursed, but she said, "Well, you tell her I said hi," and smiled kindly.
"Will do," Travis said, turning back to me.
"So your last name is Hale," I said. "You must be related to Archer Hale."
Travis's brows furrowed slightly and he looked confused for a small beat. "Archer? Yeah, he's my cousin. You know him?"
"Oh, no," I said, shaking my head. "I ran into him in town a few days ago and I asked about him… he was a little…"
"Weird?" Travis finished.
"Different," I corrected, considering. I waved my hand. "I've only met a few people and he was one of them so… I mean, not that I actually met him per se, but…" I grabbed the coffee pot off the machine and held it up to him questioningly. He nodded and I started to pour him a cup.
"Hard to meet someone who doesn't speak," Travis said. He looked thoughtful for a second. "I've tried with him over the years, but he just doesn't respond to niceties. He's in a world of his own. Sorry he was part of your welcome wagon. Anyway, good to have you here." He smiled, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Thanks," I said. "So you're a Pelion police officer?" I asked, stating the obvious, but just making conversation.
"Yup," he said.
"On track to become the Chief of Police," Maggie interrupted, "just like his daddy before him." She winked, walking by on her way back to the table next to the counter that we used for breaks.
Travis raised his eyebrows and smiled. "We'll see," he said, but he didn't look doubtful.
I just smiled at him, and he smiled up at me. I didn't mention that Anne had told me about his father, whom I assumed was Connor Hale. I thought it might sound weird if he knew that I had already asked about his family. Or at least, about the gist of the tragedy that had happened to them.
"Where are you staying?" he asked.
"Oh, right on the lake," I answered. "Rockwell Lane."
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