Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Burt had described the way two people sometimes completed each other perfectly, helping to fill the empty gaps, and that’s what Bree and Archer had been for each other. Her ability to sign had opened up his entire world. And he’d helped her overcome the loss of her father too. I didn’t know the details, but I knew that much.
And I’d attempted to get in the way of that through trickery and manipulation.
The murmurs had stopped, heads swiveling between Archer and me, waiting. Bree came up beside Archer, standing quietly by her husband’s side. As if her presence there had spoken to him in some silent way only he understood, he glanced at her, giving her a smile.
My heart picked up speed, thumping rapidly. I still had something else to say. “Our dad and his brother came to such an ugly end, on a highway, smeared with blood. You were there. You know.” I closed my eyes momentarily. Winced. My hands were shaking. The whole room had grown silent, only the sound of my whooshing blood echoing in my head. I met Archer’s eyes again. “I used to drive out there to the spot where it happened quite a bit . . . just sit on the side of the road . . . picturing a scenario where I could have intervened, stopped it somehow. I drove there today and it suddenly occurred to me that if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, really forgive me, then in some way, we will have stopped it. We will have broken the cycle. I want that for us, Archer. I want that for your sons, and for the ones, God willing, I might have someday.”
My heart continued to pound, fingers trembling as I waited. He glanced at his wife, another unspoken something moving between them and then he turned, walking toward me. When he’d stepped onto the stage, he raised his hands. None of us can go back, he said. But we’re here now. And as far as new beginnings go, it’s a pretty great place to start from. I’m all in if you are. He walked up to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, and then removing it to speak. Brothers till the end, he signed.
I let out a small choked laugh that was filled with the enormous relief I felt. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m all in.” I wrapped my arms around my brother, grasping him tightly, seeing Bree wipe a tear from her cheek, watching us from where she stood. I signaled her to join us and she walked toward the stage. The town might not forgive me, or ever trust me again. But I had my family back. They’d given me another chance, and I was going to grasp it with both hands. And now I knew, with absolute certainty, that my dad had loved me. He hadn’t thrown me away. He had never thought of me as second best or someone he hadn’t wanted. I had been loved.
But even if I hadn’t been, I was now and God, I was grateful.
Bree made it to where we stood, wrapping her arms around us both.
“Is there a reason you’re wearing”—her brow knitted as she stared at my hand on Archer’s shoulder—“a donkey thimble?”
“Oh, er, it brings back a moment,” I said, as we all stepped apart. “And I wanted that memory here tonight.” To give me strength. To remind me why I was doing this.
“That’s a nice show of family affection,” I heard someone say. “But I don’t know if he should still be chief. Have you read page forty-seven? What kind of role model is he?”
I had no argument for that.
Bree leaned toward the microphone, the murmurs beginning again, a few people still engrossed in my packet of shame, others asking questions about repercussions. Family was one thing, I heard someone say, but public service required higher standards. “We all have lists of things we’re ashamed of,” Bree said, glancing around. “Perhaps not with so many, er, addendums.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “But each of us could make one of our own. What would be on yours?” She pointed into the audience randomly. “Or yours?” She moved her finger to the left.
Apparently, assuming the question was non-rhetorical, Elmer Lunn stood up, put his hands in his pockets, hung his head, and confessed, “Sometimes when I’m bored, I go to the library and switch all the book jackets. Gives a little thrill.”
A loud, sharp inhale of breath followed. “You evil bastard!” Marie Kenney, the town librarian said, standing up and glaring hatefully at him.
The whole crowd swiveled as Clyde Chappelle stood. “I pretended to be a spirit named Alucard.”
His sister, June, came slowly to her feet, her eyes wide with disbelief. “The one we spoke to through the Ouija Board for years as kids? The one who demanded to know all of our secrets and threatened to pull us out of bed by our toes if we refused? That Alucard?”