I taught myself.
I tilted my head, taking a bite of the pastrami sandwich in my hand. Archer had polished his sandwich off in about thirty seconds flat, eating most of it, but sharing pieces of pastrami with Kitty. I put the sandwich down. How? From a book?
He nodded. Yeah.
Do you have a computer?
He looked up at me, frowning slightly. No.
Do you have electricity?
He looked at me with amusement. Yes, I have electricity, Bree. Doesn't everyone?
I chose not to enlighten him to the fact that he kind of came off as someone who didn't necessarily have any modern conveniences. I tilted my head. Do you have a television? I asked after a minute.
He shook his head. No, I have books.
I nodded, considering the man in front of me. And all these projects that you do–stonework, gardening–you just teach them to yourself?
He shrugged. Anyone can learn to do anything if they have the time. I have the time.
I nodded, picking a piece of meat out of the side of my sandwich and chewing it for a second before asking, How did you get all the stones for the driveway and the patio?
Some I collected around the lake, some I bought in town at the garden shop.
And how did you get them back here?
I carried them, he said, looking at me like it was a crazy question.
So you don't drive? I asked. You walk everywhere?
Yes, he answered, shrugging.
Okay, enough with the twenty questions, he said. What about you? What are you doing in Pelion?
I studied him for a second before answering, his golden brown eyes trained on me, waiting for what I was going to say. I'm sort of on a road trip–I started, but then I stopped. No, you know what? I ran away, I said. My dad… passed away and… some other stuff happened that I had a hard time handling, and I freaked out and I ran away. I sighed. That's the truth of it. I'm not sure why I just told you that, but that's the truth of it.
He studied me for a little longer than I was comfortable with, feeling exposed, so I looked away. When I saw his hands move in my peripheral vision, I looked back at him. Is it working? He asked.
"Is what working?" I whispered.
Running away, he said. Is it helping?
I stared at him. Mostly, no, I finally answered.
He nodded, staring at me thoughtfully before looking away.
I was glad he didn't try to come up with something encouraging to say. Sometimes an understanding silence was better than a bunch of meaningless words.
I looked around the immaculate yard, to the small house, compact but well kept. I wanted to ask him how he had the money to live out here, but I didn't think that was polite. He probably lived off of some insurance policy his uncle had left him… or maybe his parents. God, he had had so many losses.
So Archer, I finally said, moving the conversation in another direction, that cooking lesson I mentioned… Are you free this Saturday? Your place. Five o'clock? I raised an eyebrow.
He smiled slightly. I don't know. I'll have to check with my social secretary.
I snorted. You being funny?
He raised an eyebrow.
Better, I said.
He smiled bigger. Thank you, I've been working on it.
I laughed. His eyes twinkled and moved to my mouth. Those butterflies took flight again and we both looked away.
After a little bit, I gathered up my stuff and my little dog, said goodbye to Archer, and started walking up the driveway.
When I got to the gate, I paused, looking back at the small house behind me. It suddenly occurred to me that Archer Hale had taught himself an entire language, but hadn't had a single person to talk to.
Until me.
**********
The next day, as I was carrying a reuben with a side of fries to Cal Tremblay and a BLT with a side of potato salad to Stuart Purcell at table three, the bell rung over the door and I looked up to see Travis walking in wearing his uniform. He smiled big at me and gestured to the counter, asking if I was working it. I smiled and nodded, saying quietly, "Be right there."
I delivered the food in my hands, refilled their waters and then walked back behind the counter where Travis was now sitting.
"Hey," I greeted him, smiling. "How are you?" I held up the coffee pot and raised my brows questioningly.
"Please," he said to the coffee and I started pouring. "I've been trying to call you," he said. "Are you avoiding me?"
"Avoiding–oh crap! I ran out of minutes. Damn." I put my palm to my forehead. "Sorry, I have one of those pay-as-you-go phones, and I rarely use it."
He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't there any family back home that you keep in touch with?"
I shook my head. "A few friends, but my dad passed away six months ago and… no, there's really not."
"Jesus, I'm sorry, Bree," he said, concern filling his expression.
I waved it away. I refused to get emotional at work. "It's okay. I'm okay." I was mostly okay, sometimes okay. Better these days.
He studied me for a second. "Well, the reason I was calling you was to see if you'd like to do that dinner we talked about?"
I leaned my hip against the counter and smiled at him. "So you tracked me down when I didn't answer my phone?"
He grinned. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a high level, spy-caliber track down operation."
I laughed, but his wording reminded me of Archer and for some strange reason, something like guilt fluttered in my gut. What was that about? I had no idea. Our friendship was blossoming, but he was still closed off in many respects. I understood it I guessed, and it made me so mad that the whole dang town ignored him, when in fact, he was this incredibly smart, gentle man who as far as I could tell, had never done anything wrong to anyone. It wasn't fair.