He walked through the door of his house and again emerged with the same pad and pen in his hands.

After a minute, he held the pad up: I DIDN'T TELL YOU I WAS DEAF.

I paused. "No, you didn't," I said softly. "But you can't speak?"

He looked at me and then brought the pad up and wrote for half a minute and then turned it toward me: I CAN SPEAK. I JUST LIKE TO SHOW OFF MY NICE PENMANSHIP.

I stared at the words, digesting them, furrowing my brow and then looked up at his face. "Is that you being funny?" I asked, still frowning.

He raised his brows.

"Right," I said, tilting my head. "Well, you might want to work on that."

We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds, when he sighed heavily, brought the pad of paper up again and wrote: IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE YOU WANT?.

I looked up at him. "I know sign language," I said. "I could teach you. I mean, you wouldn't get to show off your penmanship, haha, but it's a quicker way to communicate." I smiled, hopeful, trying to make him smile too. Did he smile? Was he even capable?

He stared at me for several beats before he placed the pad and pen down gently on the ground next to him, straightened up, brought his hands up and signed, I already know sign language.

I startled slightly, and a lump came to my throat. No one had signed to me for over six months and it brought my dad, the feel of my dad's presence, front and center.

"Oh," I breathed out, using my voice because Phoebe was in my arms. "Right. You must have talked to your uncle that way."

He frowned, probably wondering how I knew about his uncle at all, but he didn't ask. Finally, he signed, No.

I blinked at him, and after a minute cleared my throat. "No?" I asked.

No, he repeated.

Silence again.

I exhaled. "Well, I know it sounds kind of stupid, but I thought maybe we could be... friends." I shrugged, letting out an uncomfortable laugh.

Archer narrowed his eyes again but just looked at me, not even writing anything down.

I looked between him and the pad, but when it became clear that he wasn't going to "say" anything, I whispered, "Everyone needs friends." Everyone needs friends? Really, Bree? Good grief, you sound pathetic.

He kept looking at me.

I sighed, feeling embarrassed again, but also disappointed. "Okay, well suit yourself, I guess. I'll just go now." Truly, why was I disappointed? Travis had been rightthis guy just didn't respond to niceties.

He stared at me unmoving, his deep, whiskey-colored eyes flaring as I began to back away. I wanted to move all that shaggy hair out of his face and get rid of the facial hair so I could really see what he looked like. He really did seem to have a nice face under all the shaggy scruff.

I sighed heavily. "Okay. Well, then, I guess I'll be on my way..." Just shut up already, Bree and GO. Clearly this person wants nothing to do with you.

I felt his eyes following me as I turned and walked up the driveway and out his gate, this time shutting it firmly behind me. I leaned against it for a minute, scratching absently under Phoebe's chin, wondering what was wrong with me. What had been the point of all that? Why hadn't I just gotten my damn dog and left?

"Damn dog," I said to Phoebe, scratching her more. She licked at my face, ruffing lightly. I laughed and kissed her back.

As I got on my bike and started riding away, I heard the chopping begin again.

CHAPTER 6.

Archer 7 years old, May Where was I?

I felt like I was swimming upwards in the pool at the YMCA, the top of the water miles and miles away. Noises started up in my ears and there was a pain in my neck, almost like a really bad sore throat that was both on the inside and the outside. I tried to remember how I'd gotten hurt, but only shadows moved around my head. I pushed them away.

Where was I?

Mama? I wanted my mama.

I felt the tears, hot and heavy, leak out of my closed eyes, down my cheeks. I tried not to cry. Strong men shouldn't cry. Strong men should protect others, like my uncle Connor. Only he had cried. He had cried so hard, yelling up at the sky and falling to his knees right there on the pavement.

Oh no. Oh no. Don't think about that.

I tried to move my body, but it felt like someone had tied weights to my arms and legs, even my fingers and toes. I thought I might be moving just a little, but I wasn't sure.

I heard a woman's voice say, "Shhh, he's waking up. Let him do it slowly. Let him do it himself."

Mama, mama. Please be here too. Please be okay. Please don't be lying on the side of the road.

More warm tears slipped out of my eyes.

My entire body suddenly felt like hot pins and needles were being stuck in my skin. I tried to yell for help but I didn't even think I parted my lips. Oh God, the pain seemed to be waking up everywhere, like a monster coming alive in the dark under my bed.

After a few minutes of just breathing, just coming closer and closer to what I could feel was the surface, I opened my eyelids, squinting because there was a bright light right above me.

"Turn down the light, Meredith," I heard to my left.

I opened my eyes again, letting them get used to the light and saw an older nurse with short, blond hair looking down at me.

I opened my lips. "Mama" I tried to say, but nothing came out.

"Shhh," the nurse said, "don't try to talk, honey. You were in an accident. You're in the hospital, Archer, and we're taking real good care of you, okay? My name is Jenny and that's Meredith." She smiled sadly and pointed to a younger nurse behind her, checking something on the machine next to my bed.

I nodded my head. Where was my mama? More tears fell down my cheeks.

"Okay, good boy," Jenny said. "Your uncle Nathan is right outside. Let me go get him. He'll be real happy you're awake."

I lay there staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes before the door opened and shut and Uncle Nate was looking down into my face.

"Welcome back, little soldier," he said. His eyes had red all around them and he looked like he hadn't showered in a while. But Uncle Nate always looked a little weird in some way or another. Some days he had his shirt inside out, others he was wearing two different shoes. I thought it was funny. He told me that it was because his brain was so busy working on more important stuff, he didn't have time to think about whether his clothes were put on right. I thought that was a good answer. Plus, he slipped me good stuff like candy and ten-dollar bills. He told me to start a stash somewhere no one could find my money. He said I'd thank him later and gave me a wink like I'd know what "later" was when it came.

I opened my mouth again, but Jenny and Uncle Nate both shook their heads and Jenny reached for something on the table next to her. She turned around with a pad and a pencil and handed it to me.

I took it from her and brought it up, writing one word: MAMA?.

Jenny's eyes moved away from that word and Uncle Nate looked down at his feet. Right in that moment, the whole accident came screaming back into my brainpictures and words pounding through my mind so that I slammed my head back on the pillow and clamped my teeth together.

I opened my mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed, but the room remained silent.

CHAPTER 7.

Bree On Saturday as I was clocking out at the diner, a number came up on my phone that I didn't recognize.

"Hello," I answered.

"Hey, Bree? This is Melanie. We met in the diner last week?"

"Oh, hi!" I said, waving bye to Maggie as I walked toward the door. "Yes, of course I remember you."

Maggie smiled and waved back.

"Oh good!" she said. "Well I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time, but me and Liza are going out tonight, and we wanted to see if you'd like to join us."

I stepped outside into the muggy afternoon sunshine and started walking toward my car. I remembered my thought about trying to be a normal girl again, do normal girl stuff. "Um, well, yeah, okay, that sounds good. Sure, I'd love to."

"Okay, great! We'll pick you up. Nine okay?"

"Yeah, that's good. I'll be ready." I gave her my address and she knew right where it was, and so we said goodbye and hung up.

Just as I was putting the key in my lock, I noticed a group of boys about ten or twelve years old on the other side of the street, laughing uproariously. The bigger of the boys was pushing a smaller kid who was wearing glasses and had an arm full of books. As the big kid gave the smaller boy a particularly hard shove, the boy lurched forward, his books scattering on the sidewalk. The other boys laughed some more and walked off, one of them calling behind him, "Nice one, freak!" Even from across the street, I could see the embarrassment that washed over the small boy's face right before he squatted down to pick up his books.

Little jerks. God, I hated bullies.

I headed across the street to help the boy.

When I got there, he looked up at me cautiously, his chin quivering slightly. I noticed that he had a light scar where he must have had surgery to fix a cleft palate. "Hey," I said quietly, smiling a small smile at him and bending down to help him pick up the books. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, his eyes darting to me and then away as his cheeks colored.

"You're a reader, huh?" I asked, tilting my head toward the books.

He nodded, still looking shy.

I looked at the title in my hand. "Harry Potter... hmm. This is a good one. Do you know why I like this one so much?"

His eyes found mine and he shook his head no, but didn't look away.

"Because it's about an underdog who no one at all believed inthis funny looking kid in glasses who lived under his aunt and uncle's stairs. But guess what? He ends up doing some pretty cool stuff despite everything he has going against him. There's nothing better than watching someone no one expects to win, come out ahead, don't you think?"

The little boy's eyes grew wide and he nodded his head.

I stood up and so did he. As I handed him the books I had collected, I said, "Keep up the reading. Girls love it." I winked at him and his face broke into a huge grin, beaming at me. I smiled back and turned to walk away when I noticed Archer Hale standing in a doorway just a few stores away, watching us, an intense, unreadable expression on his face. I smiled at him, tilting my head, and something seemed to pass between us again. I blinked and Archer looked away, turning to walk down the street. He looked back at me once as he moved away, but when I caught his eye, he immediately turned again and kept walking.

I stood there for a couple seconds, watching Archer walk in one direction, and then turned my head to see the little boy walking in the opposite direction. I huffed out a breath and turned around and walked back across the street to my car.

I stopped at the local nursery on the way out of downtown and picked up some flowers and soil and a couple plastic planters.

When I got home, I changed into shorts and a t-shirt and spent a couple hours re-potting the flowers, placing them on my porch and doing a general yard clean-up, including weeding and sweeping off the front stairs. One of them was loose, and getting looser, but I was a disaster when it came to home improvement projects. I'd have to call George Connick.

When I stood back to admire all my work, I couldn't help smiling at my little cottage. It was adorable.

I went inside and took a long shower, scrubbing the dirt from under my nails and shaving everywhere. Then I turned on the small radio that was in the cottage and listened to a local music station and took some extra time doing my hair, drying it, and curling it with a curling iron so that it was long and wavy. I put on my make-up carefully and then lotioned my legs up so that they would look nice in my stretch knit, dark silver dress with the scoop back. It was casual yet sexy and I hoped it would work for where we were going tonight. I made it even slightly more casual with my slip on black sandals.

The last time I had worn this dress was a graduation party my dorm threw. I had drunk my fair share of keg beer, laughed with the other girls on my floor, and made out with a guy I had always thought was cute, but hadn't spoken to until that night. He wasn't a very good kisser, but I was just drunk enough not to care.

As I stood there remembering, thinking about the girl I was, I missed her. I missed my old self. I hadn't been a girl unmarked by tragedy. I wasn't naive to the ways of the world. I knew that you weren't guaranteed anything and that life wasn't always fair. But my father and I had survived the tragedy of my mother's illness together and we were strong. I had never once considered that he would be snatched from me in an instant, in a senseless moment that left me alone and reeling. And that I wouldn't get to say goodbye.

Perhaps this road trip that I was on wasn't the answer I had hoped it was. It hadn't really been a conscious choice though.

Everything in Ohio had reminded me of my dad, my grief, my fear and my loneliness. Several numb months after that night, I had packed a small suitcase, put Phoebe in her dog carrier, got in my car and drove off. It felt like the only option. The sadness was suffocating, claustrophobic. I needed to escape.

I forced myself to snap out of it before I sunk too far down into fear and melancholy. It was Saturday night, the weekend. And on the weekend, normal girls went out with their girlfriends and had some fun. I deserved a little bit of that, didn't I... didn't I?

Melanie and Liza pulled up in front of my cottage a few minutes after nine and when I saw their headlights, I went outside, locking up behind me.

The door to the small Honda swung open and Justin Timberlake blared out, breaking the silence of the night.

I grinned as I pulled the back door open and got in to Melanie and Liza saying warmly, "Hey!"

"You look hot!" Liza offered, looking back over her shoulder as Melanie pulled away.

"Thanks," I smiled. "You too!" They were both wearing skirts and tank tops and I felt relieved that I had chosen a similar outfit.

As we drove the thirty minutes to the other side of the lake, we chatted casually about my job at the diner and how I liked Pelion so far, and Melanie and Liza told me a little bit about their summer life-guarding.

We pulled up in front of a bar called The Bitter End Lakeside Saloon, a small, wooden structure by the side of the road with a parking lot out front. As we got out of Melanie's car, I could see that the front was decorated with fishing poles, lobster cages, boating signs, tackle boxes, and other things lake related.

We walked inside to the smell of beer and popcorn, the sounds of laughter, loud talk, and pool balls hitting each other. The bar looked a lot bigger on the inside than the outside had indicated. It felt simultaneously dive-like and trendy, with more fishing items and signs adorning the walls.

We showed our ID's to the bouncer and took a seat at a table by the bar. By the time we got our first round of drinks, there was already a line forming at the door.