The Cousins(44)

“Why?” I ask, and then remember his conversation with Rob from earlier. My cover was already blown. “Did someone recognize you?”

Uncle Archer grimaces. “Fred Baxter, of all damn people. He was our family doctor when I was a kid, and he has dementia now. I ran into him in Mugg’s Pharmacy last week. He was by himself, looking lost, and I figured he’d given his nurse the slip. I offered to help him find her, and he said, ‘No thank you, Archer. I could use some time alone.’?” Uncle Archer shakes his head. “Here I am thinking the guy can’t even find the door, and he’s the only person on the entire island to see through the Chaz Jones facade. He asked me where I was staying, and I…I was so rattled that I actually told him.”

“Well, he might’ve forgotten,” I say consolingly. “We’ve met him. He does that a lot.”

“You met Dr. Baxter?” Archer asks, just as Jonah says, “Does he, though?”

I look between them, but Jonah doesn’t say anything else, so I answer my uncle. “Mostly we met his granddaughter, but he was…there.” And then I shut up, because there’s no way I’m heading down the rabbit hole of sharing Hazel’s ugly rumors.



Uncle Archer looks nonplussed. “Okay, well…whether Fred Baxter remembers seeing me or not, once I tell Mother the truth, my time here is up.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, looking suddenly exhausted. “You guys probably think I’m out of my mind. Maybe I am. But I really did mean well.”

My phone buzzes then. I pull it out of my pocket automatically and without much interest, but my eyes widen when I see the name on my screen. Thomas: What’s up?

I almost laugh. How much time do you have, Thomas? And why is he getting in touch now, after two weeks of silence?

But I know why; it’s because I stopped thinking about him.

Thomas has a sixth sense about stuff like that. For years, I’ve showered him with attention while getting scraps in return, and the only time that dynamic has ever shifted is when I pulled back. Even unconsciously. Like sophomore year, when he wasn’t going to take me to the spring dance because “dances are boring,” until I got partnered with a new boy in biology and couldn’t help noticing what a nice, deep brown his eyes were. I never even mentioned the boy’s name, but Thomas could tell I wasn’t as fixated on him as usual. And suddenly, we were going to the dance as if he’d been planning it all along.

Because Thomas only really pays attention when the adoration he thinks he deserves starts to fade. Just like…

Oh God. When it hits me I want to throw up. Not only out of disgust with myself for putting up with him for so long, but because it never occurred to me until right now that I’ve basically been dating the Ashland High version of my father.



Milly’s elbow digs into my side again, bringing me back to the present. “Are you okay with that, Aubrey?” she asks.

I blink around the room. Everyone is looking at me except Uncle Archer. He’s slumped against the sofa cushions, as though whatever burst of energy carried him through the conversation has deserted him. “With what?” I ask.

“We’re going to sleep on this and talk more tomorrow,” Milly says.

“I’m just—” Uncle Archer gestures unsteadily with one hand, knocking a pile of envelopes from the end table beside him onto the floor. “Damn it. What are those?” he asks as I crouch down to gather them up.

“Your mail,” Rob says, showing the first hint of impatience all night. “In the exact same place I put it every time I bring it by.”

“Eh, it’s all junk anyway,” Uncle Archer mutters. “Dear Occupant, blah blah.”

I shuffle the mail in my hand. “You got a letter,” I say, holding out an envelope with Archer Story written neatly across the front. There’s no stamp or address, as though someone simply slipped it into the mailbox.

“I did?” Uncle Archer takes it with a bemused expression and opens the flap. “Who the hell would send me a letter? No one even knows I’m here, except…” He pulls out a single sheet of paper, the crease between his eyes deepening as he reads. “This is—I don’t understand this.”

“What is it?” I pluck the paper from his unresisting hand and turn it over. I scan the brief lines, then meet my uncle’s eyes. His confusion mirrors my own as I say, “I guess he remembered after all.”



“Who?” Milly asks. “Remembered what?”

I raise my eyebrows at Uncle Archer in a silent question, and when he nods, I read the note out loud.

Archer,





I have not been able to rest easy since seeing you the other day.





There are things I should have told you long ago.





And I fear my time is running short.





Would you be so good as to meet with me?





Yours,





Fred Baxter





“Hey, Matt, it’s Allison. So, Independence Day is playing at Gull Cove Cinema, and I was thinking about going next weekend. Can’t get enough of those alien invasions. Let me know if you want to come with? You can call me here, or whatever. Okay, talk to you later. Bye.”