Archer's Voice (34 page)

You brought the silence,

T
he most beautiful sound I'd ever heard,

Because it was where you were
.

And now you've taken it away
.

And all the noises, all the sounds in the world
,

Aren't loud enough to pierce my broken heart
.

I l
ook up at the stars, endless and forever, and whisper,

Come back to me,

Come back to me,

Come back to me
.

Bree

The whole town gathered to honor Archer Hale.

The p
eople of Pelion, young and old, came together to show their support for the man who had been a quiet part of their community since the day he was born. His silent wound, his unnoticed isolation, now understood by all, and finally, his gentle heart and act of bravery, inspired shops to close, and those who rarely came out of their homes to join with the other citizens in the largest show of support the town had ever seen. A small, silent star, always on the outskirts, hardly noticed before, had shone so brightly, that the whole town stopped to gaze upon his brilliance, to finally open their eyes enough to welcome him as part of their small constellation.

I heard again and again that
my and Archer's story made people want to be better, to reach out to those no one else saw, to be friends to the friendless, to look at others more closely, and recognize pain when they came across it, and then to do something about it if they were able.

I walked in that cold day in February, Maggie on one arm and Norm on the other and we took our seats
as people smiled kindly at me and nodded their heads. I smiled and nodded back. This was my community now too. I was part of the constellation as well.

Outside, the rain had just begun to fall and I heard a boom of thunder in the distance. I wasn't afraid though.
When a thunderstorm comes,
I had told him,
I'll think of you, not anything other than you.
And I always did. Always.

Arch
er had gone away once before–three long months where I missed him desperately every single day. This time he was gone from me for three solid weeks before he came back. He was in a deep coma and the doctors couldn't tell me when they thought he might wake up, or if he would wake up at all. But I waited. I would always wait. And I prayed and I whispered to the heavens every night,
come back to me, come back to me, come back to me.

On another
rainy day at the end of January, just as the thunder boomed and the lightening flashed in his hospital room, he opened his eyes and looked at me. My own heart thundered in my ears, louder than that outside the window, and I'd jumped up from the chair I'd been sitting in and rushed to his side, choking out, "You're back." I picked up his hands and brought them to my lips, kissing them again and again, my tears falling onto his fingers, his knuckles, those beautiful hands that held a whole language, that allowed me to know what was in his mind and his heart. I loved those hands. I loved him. My tears continued to fall.

He'd looked at me for several minutes before he brought his hands
away from mine and signed slowly, his fingers moving stiffly,
I'm back for you.

I laughed out a strangled cry
, and put my head down on his chest and held on to him tightly as the nurses rushed into the room.

And now, the whole town waited as Archer walked toward the podium, still stiff from the bandages surrounding his torso and the surgeries he'd had to repair his internal organs.

I looked around once more. Travis stood in the back of the room, still in uniform from his shift. I caught his eye and nodded at him. He nodded back, and smiled slightly. I still wasn't sure how I felt about Travis exactly, but he deserved my respect for his own act of heroism that awful day.

It had recently come to light that the man who had found me that day, Jeffrey Perkins, had gotten hooked on heroin and had been cut off fro
m his family. He'd shown up at our family deli that night in need of money and a fix.

His dealer had given over his name as part of a plea deal to save his own skin. Apparently Jeffrey had shown up that night splattered in blood and babbling about shooting a guy in a deli.

He had started to get his act together and his father had begun to accept him back into the family fold when I had identified him in that photo lineup.

After his arrest, his father disinherited him again and he turned back to drugs.

Travis had confronted his mother. He was a good cop, with good instincts, and he recognized his mother for who she was–a vindictive woman so filled with hate and bitterness, that she would do anything to keep what she saw as rightfully hers–the town, money, respect, social standing.

He had also been there when Victoria Hale overheard me talking about Jeffrey Perkins' arrest. He put the pieces together.

What other way would a strung out heroin addict have to find me in the diner that terrible day? We had underestimated her hatred for me, the person who had, in essence, undone all that her manipulation had accomplished for her over the years.

When Travis
came to me and told me about his confrontation and her denial, a denial he didn't believe, he said he'd told her to move away, or he would bring an investigation against her. Even though he knew he didn't have enough evidence to prosecute, there was nothing left for her in Pelion except shame.

Now, with Victoria's departure and w
ith the absence of an executor to the trust, Archer inherited the will and land of the Hale family a year before his twenty-fifth birthday.

Travis looked haggard, unshaven, and almost numb, like he wasn't sleeping. He had had his own career in trying to manipulate lives. But after all, he had learned from the best. Deep down though, I didn't think that Travis wanted anyone to come to any real harm. His mother was a different story. I got the impression that seeing her for who she really was, and what she was capable of
doing, had changed him in some dramatic way. There was a deep sadness in his eyes and he'd delivered the information to me in a monotone and then left me to my grief once again as I waited in the hospital for Archer to come back to me.

A hush fell over the auditorium as Archer walked toward the short set of stairs.

Norm, standing off to the side, signed,
Knock 'em dead,
and raised his chin at him, his expression serious. A look of surprise washed over Archer's face and then he nodded at him. I bit down on my lip, holding back a sob.

Mrs. Aherne, the town librarian
, who had checked out hundreds of books to Archer over the last four years on subjects from masonry to sign language, but had never once asked him a single question, or tried to engage him in any way, signed,
We're all behind you, Archer
. Tears were shimmering in her eyes and the look on her face told me she wished she had done better. Archer smiled at her and nodded, signing back,
Thank you.

As he took the stage and stood behind the podium, he nodded at the int
erpreter, standing to his right, a man he had hired to help him when he needed to address the town as a whole, on occasions such as this one.

Archer began to move his hands and the interpreter began speaking.
My eyes only held Archer though, watching as his hands flew, so graceful and sure in their movements. My heart soared with pride.

Thank you all for coming,
he said, pausing and looking around.
The land this town is on has been in my family for a long, long time, and I intend to run it as each Hale has run it before me–with the knowledge and belief that each person who lives here matters, that each of you get a vote on what happens and doesn't happen in Pelion.
He looked around pointedly at all the faces in the crowd before continuing.
After all, Pelion is not the land it sits on, but the people who walk its streets and run its shops and live and love in its homes.
He paused again.
I think you'll find me an agreeable landlord, and I've been told I'm a good listener.
The crowd laughed lightly, and Archer looked shy for a second, looking down before continuing.
There will be a vote tonight about the development slated for this town and I know some of you are very passionate about getting to that. But I'd like everyone to know that if ever in the future, any of you have any concerns or suggestions, my door will always be open.

The crowd kept watching him, smiling and nodding with approval, finding other eyes and nodding at them as well.

Finally, Archer looked out at the crowd and the gentle, quiet murmurings ceased completely as his eyes found mine. I smiled at him encouragingly, but he just kept gazing at me for a few seconds before bringing his hands up again.

I'm here for you.
I'm here
because
of you. I'm here because you saw me, not just with your eyes, but with your heart. I'm here because you wanted to know what I had to say and because you were right… everyone
does
need friends.
I laughed softly, swiping a tear off of my cheek. Archer kept gazing at me, his eyes filled with love.

I'm here because
of you
, he said,
and I'll always be here because of you.

I heaved out a big breath, tears running unabashedly down my cheeks now. Archer smiled gently at me and then looked back around at the crowd.

Thank you again for being here, for your support. I look forward to getting to know you all a lot better,
he finished.

A single clap started in the back of the room, and then several more joined in until the whole room was clapping and whistling, and Archer grinned, and looked down shyly once more, and I shed a few more tears, laughing through them now. A few people stood up and more followed until the entire audience was standing and clapping vigorously for him.

And as he smiled around at the crowd, his eyes landed on mine again, and he raised his hands and signed,
I Bree you
, and I laughed and signed,
I Archer you. God, I Archer you so much.

And then he shook hands with the interpreter and stepped down off the podium and I moved out of my seat, Maggie squeezing my hand as I walked by h
er. I walked toward him, single minded, and when we reached each other, despite the bandages under his shirt, he swept me up in his arms and swung me around as he laughed silently against my lips, those golden brown eyes filled with warmth, with love.

And I thought to myself, Archer Hale's voice was one of the most beautiful things in the
whole wide world.

Five years later

I watched my wife swing lazily in our hammock, one foot dragging lightly on the grass as she moved back and forth under the summer sunshine. She twirled a lock of her golden brown hair around one delicate finger, her other hand
flipping the pages of the paperback that was propped up on her swollen belly.

Fierce male pride filled me as I gazed at my Bree, the woman who loved me and our children to the very edges of her heart.

Our three year old twin boys, Connor and Charlie, romped in the grass nearby, spinning themselves around until they got dizzy, their laughter spilling joyously out of their mouths as they fell on the grass in fits of giggles. Boys.

We had named them after our fathers, the men who had loved us so fiercely, that when faced with life-threatening danger, their only thought had been to save us. I understood that. After all, I was a father now too.

I walked slowly to Bree and when she saw me, she turned her book over on her belly and laid her head back and smiled dreamily at me.
You're home.

I squatted down at the side of the hammock and signed,
The meeting wrapped up quickly.

I had been at the bank
negotiating the purchase of a piece of land that was just outside the town limits as of now. It'd gone well.

The town had voted down the expansion plans that Victoria Hale had been putting in place five years ago when I took over the land. But
as it turned out, the residents weren't against expansion or bringing in a little more business, they were just against the particular type that Tori Hale had in mind. So when I proposed opening up several Bed and Breakfasts, all with the quaint, historic feel the town had always loved, the residents overwhelmingly voted yes.

The fourth one would go up on the land that I had just purchased this morning.

The town was thriving, business was booming, and as it turned out, I was a pretty good businessman.
Who knew?
I had asked Bree one night, smiling when the first vote had come back in support of my plan.

"I knew," she said quietly. "I knew." And she had. She had told me my voice mattered, and her love had made me believe it might be true. And sometimes, that's all it takes–one person who's willing to listen to your heart, to the sound no one else has
ever tried to hear.

I plucked a dandelion full of fluff out of the grass
beside me and smiled as I offered it to Bree. She tilted her head and her eyes warmed as she took it from my fingers and whispered, "All my wishes have already come true." She glanced at our boys and said, "This one is for them." She blew softly and the fluff danced into the air and was carried up to the summer sky.

My eyes met hers again and
I put my hand on her belly, feeling our baby move beneath it.

It's a boy, you know,
she said, smiling.

Probably.
I grinned.
I think that's all us Hale men make. You okay with that?

She smiled softly.
Yeah, perfectly okay,
she said, and then added,
As long as there's only one in there, I'm okay if it's a goat.
She laughed, looking over at the little duo still spinning on the grass, the ones who hadn't stopped moving since the day they came into the world. Little rabble rousers.

I laughed silently and then clapped my hands three times, getting their attention.
Their little heads sprung up and they started yelling, "Daddy, Daddy!" while simultaneously signing the word.

They ran to me and I let them believe they knocked me over, going down on
my back on the grass as they tackled me, laughing again, the beautiful sound ringing out through our property.

I sat up
, bringing the boys with me.
Which one of you men is going to help me with the construction today?

Me! Me!
They both signed together.

Okay, good. We've got a lot of work to do if we're going to finish this addition by the time your little brother or sister comes.
I put my hand out to them and they put their little dimpled hands on top of mine, looking up into my eyes seriously.

I took my hand away and signed,
Brothers 'til the end,
and they signed along just after me, looking solemn, serious.

That's right,
I said.
The most important pact there is.

Perhaps someday I'd have more of a relationship with my own brother. It had gotten better since I'd taken over the town and he'd become the Chief of Police,
and even I knew that Travis loved his nephews, but we still had a ways to go.

My boys
nodded their little heads, their golden brown eyes large in their faces–the two identical faces that looked just like my own. Even I couldn't deny it.

"Okay, you boys run inside. I'll be in to make you lunch while your daddy gets his tools," Bree said, sitting up in the hammock, laughing at herself when she fell backwards, unable to pull her weighted body up.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her into my arms, kissing her lips and falling in love with her, just like I still did a thousand times a day.

That evening four years ago in the Pelion church when Bree had walked down the
candlelit aisle toward me on Norm's arm, taking my breath away, I had vowed that I'd love her forever, only her, and I meant it to the depths of my soul.

And even now, even with all
of life's craziness and noise, even with my own job and Bree's thriving catering business, each night before I fall asleep, I make it a point to turn to my wife and silently say,
Only you, only ever you.
And her love slips quietly around me, holding me, anchoring me, reminding me that the loudest words are the ones we live.