His brow furrowed. Do you want to tell me about it?
I fell back on the sofa and breathed out. I hadn't talked about that night with anyone, except the police detectives on the case. Not a single person. Not even my best friends. They only knew that my dad had been shot by a robber and that I had witnessed it, but not the rest, not everything. But for some reason, I felt safe talking about it now. I felt safe with Archer. And there was something about telling the story with my hands that was comforting to me.
We were just about to close that night, I started. The guy who usually worked the front counter at our deli had already left and my dad was there doing some bookkeeping. I was in the back baking bread for the next day. I heard the door chime and it took me a minute to wash my hands and dry them off. Once I did, and I went to the kitchen door, I could see through the small window that there was a man holding a gun on my dad. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I continued.
My dad saw me in his peripheral vision and he kept signing, 'hide.' The man was screaming at him to give him money. My dad couldn't hear him, though, and so he didn't respond. I took a deep breath as Archer watched me with those eyes that never missed a thing, taking in my words, his silent support giving me the strength to continue.
Before I even had time to process what was happening, the gun went off. I paused again, picturing that moment in my mind and then shaking my head slightly, bringing myself back to the present–back to Archer's compassionate eyes.
I found out later that it hit my dad in his heart. He died instantly. Fat tears fell out of my eyes. How could I have more tears? I took another calming breath.
I tried to hide in the kitchen, but I was in shock and I stumbled and fell and he must have heard me. He came in after me and, I shivered at the memory before continuing, his eyes were bloodshot, dilated, he was shaky… He was obviously on something. I paused, biting my lip. But he looked at me in this way and I knew what he was going to do. I knew. I looked up at Archer and he was sitting so still, his eyes boring into mine. I took another deep breath.
He made me undress and he… started tracing my face with his gun, each feature. Then he moved down to my breasts. He told me he was going to… violate me with the gun. I was so terrified. I closed my eyes briefly and looked to the side, away from Archer. I felt his fingers on my chin and he turned my face back to him, and something about that gesture felt so loving that I breathed out a small, choked sob. It felt like he was telling me that I didn't need to be ashamed, didn't need to turn away from him. My eyes met his again.
He almost raped me, but before he did, we both heard the sirens–and they were getting closer. He ran. He ran out the back door into the storm. I closed my eyes for a second and then opened them again. I hate storms now–the thunder, the lightening. It brings me right back there. I took another deep, shaky breath. I had just told all of what happened that night, and I had survived.
Bree, Archer started, but he didn't seem to know how to go on. I didn't need him to though. Just my name held so lovingly in his hands made my heart feel lighter.
Archer's eyes moved over my face before he asked, That's why you left? That's why you drove here?
I shook my head.After my dad was murdered, I found out that he had let his life insurance policy lapse. He had let a lot of things slide while I was away at college. I wasn't really surprised. My dad, he was the salt of the earth, the kindest man you'd ever want to meet, but he was about as disorganized as they come. I let out a small laugh on an exhale.
I looked at Archer and his eyes encouraged me to continue. There was something about the way he was looking at me–an understanding in his eyes that calmed me, strengthened me.
When I found out I would have to sell the deli to pay for all the funeral expenses, and the other bills associated with the business, I just… went numb, I guess. It didn't take long before I got an offer on the business, but it hurt so badly to sign the paperwork, that I could hardly breathe. I shook my head again, not wanting to return to that day, even in my mind. It was like losing another piece of my dad. He had owned that deli all my life–I had practically grown up there.
Archer took my hand in his for a brief second and then let it go, saying, I'm sorry. I had heard those words before, but looking at him in that moment, I knew that they had never held as much weight as they did when Archer spoke them.
Did they arrest the man who killed your father?
I shook my head. No. The police told me that the guy who shot my dad had most likely been a strung-out junkie who didn't even remember his crime the next day. I paused for a minute, thinking. Something had never felt quite right about that… but the police were the experts. Still, I sometimes found myself looking over my shoulder even when I didn't immediately recognize that I was doing it.
Archer nodded, furrowing his brow. I drank him in, feeling lighter, like I had shed something I didn't realize I had been carrying. I smiled a small smile at him. Way to ruin your cooking lesson, huh?
Archer paused and then smiled back at me, his straight teeth flashing. I noticed now that one of his bottom teeth was slightly crooked and something about that made me love his smile even more. I wasn't even sure why–maybe it was just one of those perfect imperfections. He had a crease in each cheek, not dimples exactly, just the way his cheek muscles moved when he smiled. I stared at those creases as if they were twin unicorns that he'd been hiding from me under his beard. Magical. My eyes moved down and lingered on his mouth for a second. When my eyes finally moved to his, his widened slightly before he looked away.
I went and got your bike and your coolers while you were sleeping, he said. I put everything in my refrigerator. I think it's fine. It was on ice.
Thank you, I said. So rain check on the cooking lesson? I laughed, putting my palm on my forehead and groaning slightly. I mean, if you'll let me back on your property again?
He smiled at me, not saying anything for several minutes. Finally, he lifted his hands. I'd like that. And I promise not to string you up from a tree next time.
I laughed. Okay, deal?
He grinned, the beauty of it knocking me on my ass, and then said, Yeah, deal.
I kept grinning at him like a loon. Who the hell knew that this day would turn out with me laughing? Not the girl who had been caught in a trap and strung up in the woods and lost her mind in front of the beautiful (as it turned out), silent man.
I sobered when he swallowed and my eyes moved to the scar at the base of his throat. I reached out to touch it gingerly and Archer shrunk back, but then stilled. I looked up into his eyes and let my fingertips very gently graze the injured skin.
"What happened to you?" I whispered, my hand still at his throat.
He swallowed again, his eyes moving over my face, looking as if he was trying to decide whether he was going to answer me or not. Finally, he lifted his hands and said, I was shot. When I was seven. I was shot.