4. Archer
CHAPTER 4
Archer
“How’d you do, angel face?” I ask my niece Ellie as she comes barreling out of the school doors.
In her hands are mine and Ryder’s boot boxes. With the help of us and our mom, she turned them into a massive diorama to accompany her book report. A book report that, much to Hunter’s dismay, was about Tinsley. However, like the doting uncles we both are, he spent every evening either helping her read, write her report, or paint, glue, and stage the little Tinsley doll inside the boot box arena with the rest of us.
Ellie idolizes her. She has posters of Tinsley on her wall, owns several dolls, has suckered all of us into buying not only the digital albums of her records but the actual CDs and vinyls as well as a record player so she could listen to them, knows the words to every single song, and has dressed up as her for the past three Halloweens. She even wormed her way into getting Ryder to buy her tickets to see Tinsley perform in Nashville last October.
“I got an A!” she yells, backpack swinging around as she runs up to me.
“An A?” I gasp, taking the project from her and lifting her up. “Well that calls for a treat, doesn’t it?”
She gives me a big nod.
“Uh-huh, you promised. Said if I got an A, you would take me for a frappé.”
“Well, if I promised.”
“You did.”
“Then what are you waiting for? We can’t get frappés if we keep standin’ here.”
Arms up in the air, she laughs, “You’re carrying me, silly goose. I can’t go nowhere.”
I smack a loud kiss on her cheek and gently correct, “Anywhere—I can’t go anywhere. ” I stand her back on the ground and click the heels of my boots together. With an exaggerated bow, I offer my hand. “Miss Eleanor Hayes, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to your chariot and from there take you on a date for frappés?”
She skips up to me and slaps her small hand into mine, spinning herself around before giggling out, “Okay,” and dragging me away to the parking lot. “But only if you let me listen to Tinsley Jacobs,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Deal,” I easily concede.
“Yay!”
Ellie and her project are buckled up in the backseat of my truck, my phone in her hands as she scrolls through her Tinsley Jacobs playlist. I’m not even fully out of the parking spot when the first strands of “Destined To Fall” begin to play.
“You know, Uncle Archer, this could be about you,” Ellie happily informs. “You have a strawberry tattoo just like the boy in the song.”
“Mmhmm,” I hum, twisting my watch over the double strawberry tattoo on the inside of my wrist.
Probably the only impulsive thing I’ve done in my life was get that tattoo.
It was a few weeks after our first date. Tinsley and I were walking the farmers’ market, shopping before going out for an afternoon on the lake. That girl had an addiction to everything strawberry and was eating an entire pint while holding my hand. I was in the middle of asking her if she wanted something from one of the stalls when she pulled out a double strawberry. The woman in the tent startled her by shouting, “Don’t!” just as she was about to bite into it.
“Double strawberries are meant to be shared. They say you’re destined to fall in love with the person with whom you share it.”
Tinsley looked up at me with those whiskey eyes of hers, and I already knew. There was no need to fall because I was already there, swimming in the heart of it all.
I scooped my arm along her hip and pulled her in close, bent down to close the foot gap between us, and stared into those eyes as I bit into the strawberry with her.
That evening, she sat beside me intermittently asking if I was sure and playing with lyrics in her journal and humming various melodies while I had a double strawberry tattooed over my pulse. When we left, I pulled her down the alleyway and, in the shadows, lifted her against the brick. With my forehead easily rested against hers, I promised that I had never been more sure of anything than the way I was about everything to do with her.
I’ve never been able to bring myself to have the tattoo removed or covered because that promise still rings true. I simply put on my watch when it’s too hot for long sleeves and call it good enough.
* * *
In town, I circle the square and maneuver the truck into one of the metered spots along the curb. I help Ellie out of the back and lift her up to feed enough quarters into the meter to last while we order and sip on our drinks before meeting Hunter at the grocery store. When I put her back down, I take her hand in mine and we cross the street.
She’s full of animation as she talks about her project and presenting it to the class, the recount of it all having had to wait while she listened to the songs on her playlist.
“Uncle Archer, look!” she self interrupts, pointing to the chalkboard sign outside of Berry Station. “They have the strawberry menu out. I’m gonna get a strawberry shortcake frappé like Tinsley Jacobs. Did you know her favorite fruit is strawberry? She loves it so much, she said she eats them all the time and even wears strawberry lip balm.
“Someone should tell her she should come here because we have the best.” She pulls up short, yanking on my arm before she starts jumping up and down. “She could come here and meet you and you two could fall in love and then my aunt would be Tinsley Jacobs. You even have the tattoo; it would be perfect !” Her lit up face turns crestfallen as she mutters, “If only you were cool enough.”
I’m too busy laughing over Ellie's bouncing train of thought and deeming me too uncool to date her idol—if she only knew the truth, though admittedly when I was with Tinsley, not a day went by where I didn’t think it was impossible that someone so beautiful was interested in me—that I’m not paying attention to the door of Berry Station. When it starts to open, I narrowly dodge a blonde woman coming out with her eyes trained on her phone, pulling my niece safely behind me and out of the woman’s way.
Catching the door, I tell Ellie, “Close one,” then turn into the entry.
Not expecting someone else to be coming out, I bump into her. Her cold drink splashes up on us both before falling between our feet. I quickly drop down, almost bumping heads with the second woman, as she too squats to pick up the plastic cup.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, I wasn't… paying attention,” I trail off as I look up.
Fuck me. It can’t be possible. It’s as if Ellie’s day dream has conjured her out of the blue.
She has the same long, thick dark chocolate brown hair that I would twine around my fingers and use to tilt her head back before kissing her. The same warm whiskey eyes that once shined with hearts and stars when looking at me. The smallest upturn at the tip of her nose still begs to be kissed as do her Cupid bow lips that I know to be coated with a dozen layers of tinted strawberry lip balm.
I’m looking right at her and I can’t believe it.
“Archer?”
“Tinsley?”
Neither of us move to stand up. Our hands are still frozen in place where we both reached for the fallen cup, fingers touching.
My heart pounds in my chest. My vision is blurred around the corners as if maybe this is one more of a thousand dreams I’ve had about her since she left. I want to blink and clear the haze but can’t for fear of her slipping through my fingers for a second time.
This can’t be possible.
She was just in L.A. I saw the video.
Why would she be here? Why now?
“Archer,” she repeats at hardly more than a whisper.
“Are you okay?” I ask, the echo of our past not lost on me as I repeat the first words I ever said to her, right here in this very coffee shop.
A wrinkle creases her brow, and I ache to reach out and smooth it from her stunning face. I want to reacquaint myself with every curve and slope of her bone structure, cup her cheek and feel her turn into me and press her lips to the base of my palm.
I’m not in control of myself when my hand stretches to cover hers. I’m convinced this is all a dream when her fingers spread just enough to have mine falling into hers and they begin to lace together.
Time is still for a beat longer as I breathe her name and she nods back at me.
She’s real. She’s here. And in this moment, I know I would wreck myself all over again to be with her.
An ear splitting shriek shatters it all.
“Oh! My! GOD!” Ellie cries as the blonde woman who was on her phone appears and yanks Tinsley behind her. Her eyes are wild as she scans for a threat and with her body, she pushes Tinsley further into the brick siding when Hunter runs out.
“Ellie!” my brother shouts, dropping to his knees and running his hands over her head, down her shoulders and arms. “Are you okay?”
Our niece shakes him off and bounces on her toes, continuing to freak out, talking a mile a minute.
“I love you. I just did a book report about you. It’s in the truck. Do you want to see? Would you sign it? No, wait, can I have a picture? Please?”
The blonde visibly relaxes and lets go of the grip she has on Tinsley to keep her safely behind her.
Stepping out, Tinsley gives Ellie a blinding smile.
She squats down again, fixing her dress as she goes down to one knee. When she’s at eye level, she extends her hand and greets, “Hi, I’m Tinsley.”
Ellie looks at Hunter and I—hardly containing herself—and asks, “Can I?”
“It would be rude not to introduce yourself,” I answer, unable to look away from Tinsley.
My niece launches herself at her idol, bypassing a handshake and going in for a hug. I grab her hand to pull her back, but Tinsley’s already wrapping her slender arms around my niece to return the hug, laughing as she tips to the side and falls over.
Ellie pulls back for a moment, looks Tinsley over, and then squeals, going in for another before finally introducing herself.
“I’m Eleanor, but everyone calls me Ellie because Eleanor is my Gigi. Though I don't know why, because Daddy and my uncles just call her Mom so it shouldn’t be confusing.”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah,” Ellie confirms. “Everyone says I look just like him. We have the same green eyes and dark hair but I don’t know if that’s nice because doesn't that mean they think I look like a boy?”
Tinsley goes to reply but Ellie keeps on talking.
“It’s okay though, he’s a really good daddy. He took me to your concert in Nashville and sang all your songs with me and even carried me for most of the show so I could see around all the tall people because he’s basically a giant.”
“He sounds like he’s an incredible dad,” Tinsley agrees. “You’re very lucky to have him.”
“Yeah, I am. He loves me a lot. He bought me a horse for my birthday last year and I named him Reckless after my favorite song.”
“Your favorite song?” Tinsley marvels. “You know, I have a song called ‘Reckless.’”
“I KNOW!” Ellie shrieks. “That’s where I got his name! It’s my favoritest favorite ever! I almost forgot! I always said if I ever met you, I would ask what your favorite song is. So what’s your favorite song? By you, I mean. What’s your favorite song you’ve written?”
Tinsley scrunches up her lips and cants her head to the side, exaggerating her pondering.
“There’s so many…”
“And they all sound the exact same,” Hunter mutters, grunting when I slam my elbow into his side.
She briefly looks up at me then back at Ellie. “‘Unravel Me.’”
“ He says I’m not allowed to listen to that song,” Ellie accuses, glaring at me.
“I think that’s a good idea. It’s a little more grown up.”
And by a little, she means a lot. In “Unravel Me,” Tinsley sings about clothes on the floor, fingers in her hair, kisses rolling like rain drops down her body, and being wrapped in the gifted promise of forever. It’s the one song on Summer Haze I never saw her write. The final track on the album and the end of our summer together. Every other song culminates into that night.
The song is soft and sensual. Almost a whisper in how she sings it, the music stripped down to the barest essentials. The beat is almost like a heart, steady at first but slowly increasing until it's racing to crescendo. Then finally it slows down and fades out, her voice haunted and broken on the final words.
“Unravel Me,” is about the night we lost our virginity. The night I lost her.
Of all Tinsley’s songs, it’s also my favorite. It also hurts the most to listen to. Yet I’ve done it everyday since it was released.
The blonde with her, the same one I now realize was in the video Boone showed me, places her hand on Tinsley’s shoulder, drawing her gaze up to her. Something passes between the two of them, and just as quickly as I think I catch it, it’s gone and Tinsley’s attention is right back on Ellie, making my niece’s entire life as she continues to talk with her as if every word out of her mouth is the most important thing she’s ever heard.
Finally after peppering Tinsley with probably a hundred questions, all of which she patiently answered, Ellie asks again, “Can we take a picture?”
She straightens the white, ruffled dress that flirts with the middle of her thighs—the hem stained from where her drink splashed—and further indulges my niece. “I would absolutely love that,” she says, lowering a knee down so she remains balanced and on Ellie’s level.
Hunter and I both take our phones out, and after we take several pictures each, Ellie asks about Tinsley signing her project too.
Tinsley holds her hand out and excitedly answers, “Of course; lead the way!”
I go to follow them and Hunter, but the blonde stops me.
“Archer, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Briar Davenport. Tinsley’s manager and best friend,” she informs. “I’m sure I don’t have to say this considering in ten years nothing has come up about your time together, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.
“Those pictures aren’t to be sold or her location leaked. She’s on vacation and specifically chose this… town—” she almost chokes on the word, “—because of its remote location and the belief that the people here would leave her be.
“You’re not going to make that into a problem for her, are you?”
I try not to take offense. I know she’s not only doing her job and looking out for her friend. Hell, if anyone in this world needed peace just to be, it’s Tinsley. But to remind me not to say anything is laughable. And I do just that, the sound sharp, short, and not at all humorous.
“In case it slipped your attention, Miss Davenport, I’m not the one out there singin’ about the night my ex and I lost our virginity. As for the people of Berry Falls, you’ll find she’s right; they can be very discreet. This whole town knows me and my family and by extension that I once dated Tinsley. And yet as you said, nothing has ever come out about it. Nothing she hasn’t put out for the world to hear, that is. So you don’t have to worry about them, and you definitely don’t have to worry about me. I don’t kiss and tell.”