He found one he was happy with and handed it to me. The flatter, the better, he said. Now throw it sort of like a Frisbee, so that the flat side of it glances off the surface of the water.

I nodded and lined up my shot. I threw it and watched as it skated over the surface once and then came up and hit the water again. I whooped and Archer smiled.

He picked up another small stone and hucked it at the lake. It hit the surface and skipped… and skipped… and skipped about twenty times. "Show off," I muttered.

I looked over at his amused face. You're good at everything you do, aren't you? I asked, cocking my head to the side and squinting at him.

He looked thoughtful for a few seconds before signing, Yes.

I laughed. He shrugged.

After a minute I asked, Your uncle homeschooled you?

He glanced at me. Yes.

He must have been smart.

He thought about that for a second. He was. Mostly with math and anything science-related. His mind would wander, but he taught me what I needed to know.

I nodded, remembering Anne telling me that Nathan Hale was always smart in school. Before I came out here, I asked about you in town, I said, feeling slightly shy.

Archer looked over at me and frowned slightly. Why?

I tilted my head and considered that. After the first time we met… something drew me to you. I bit my lip. I wanted to know you. My cheeks heated.

Archer stared at me for a second as if he was trying to figure something out. Then he picked up another flat stone and threw it at the water, making it skip so many times that my eyes lost it before it ever stopped.

I shook my head slowly. If they only knew.

He turned fully toward me. If who only knew what?

Everyone in town. Some of them think you're not right in the head, you know. I laughed softly. It's laughable really.

He shrugged again and picked up a stick and threw it to Kitty who was coming toward us on the shore.

Why do you let them think that?

He let out a breath and stared at the lake for a few seconds before turning to me. Just easier that way.

I studied him and then sighed. I don't like it.

It's been this way for a long time, Bree, it's fine. It works for everyone involved.

I didn't understand it exactly, but I could see the tense lines of his body as we talked about the town and so I backed off, wanting him to feel comfortable with me again.

So, what else can you teach me? I asked, teasingly, changing the subject.

He raised an eyebrow and looked into my eyes. My stomach clenched and a strange flock of butterflies took flight underneath my ribs. What can you teach me? he asked.

I shook my head slightly, tapping my pointer finger on my lips. I could probably teach you a thing or two.

Oh yeah? What? His eyes flared very slightly, but then he looked away.

I swallowed. "Um," I whispered, but then continued in sign so that he would have to look back at me. I used to be a really good cook. I wasn't sure why I said it. I didn't really have any intention of cooking for anyone, or teaching anyone to cook. But in that moment, it was the first thing that came to my mind, and I wanted to fill the strange awkwardness that had lapsed between us.

You want to teach me how to cook?

I nodded my head very slowly. I mean, if that's not one of the many things you've already mastered.

He smiled. I still wasn't used to getting them, and this one made my heart speed up just a little bit. They were like a rare gift that he gave out. I snatched it up and stored it somewhere inside of me.

I'd like that, he said after a minute.

I nodded, smiling, and he gifted me with another smile back.

We walked along the lake shore for another hour, finding rocks and skipping them in the water until I could get mine to skip three times.

When I got home later, I realized that I hadn't had such a good day for a really long time.

* * *

The next day, I packed up some sandwiches at the diner, drove home, showered and changed, put Phoebe in the bike basket, and rode out to Archer's again. Despite the fact that I was the one showing up at his house and initiating our time together, I felt like he was putting in effort as well, just by allowing me to visit him.

So, Archer, I said, If your uncle didn't know sign language, how did you speak to him?

We were on his lawn, Kitty and the pups lying on a blanket with us, the puppy's fat little bodies waddling around, getting lost in their blindness before their mama nuzzled them back to her.

Phoebe was lying nearby too. She was mildly curious about the puppies, but didn't pay them much attention.

Archer looked up at me from where he was lying, his head propped up on his hand. He sat up slowly so that he could use his hands.

I didn't do much speaking. He shrugged. I wrote it down if it was important. Otherwise, I just listened.

I regarded him silently for a minute, wishing I could see his expression better–but it was hidden under all the un-groomed hair. How did you learn sign language? I finally asked quietly.

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."