Claire’s walk did not last long. She had only taken about thirty steps when Archer stopped her by grabbing her hand.
"We can go back home now, they are gone."
Raising her eyes, Claire looked cautiously at her oldest brother. She had been burned by too many relatives to trust easily. "Are you sure?"
Archer nodded. "They are gone. Our grandparents would not stay in this place for more than thirty minutes. They wrinkle their noses at the smell of the sea and seafood. When they drive past people they once knew, they sneer and mock them with their eyes. Grandma pauses for a moment to mention how tiring her old life here was and what uncle Alden has accomplished that year. Grandpa talks about some church project while brushing his tie or cufflinks."
"So, they are like Delia." Claire smiled lightly. "Sure enough every family has their rotten apple."
Archer took her hand, taking Claire by surprise. She didn’t pull her hand back, allowing him to walk her back to her house. The walkway was mostly deserted. One or two joggers could be seen every other minute. The neighborhood was a quiet one. Most excitement around there came from Wilder.
"Do you plan to go back?" Archer suddenly asked, breaking the silence. "Legally, you have a claim to Alden and Heimi’s company. Much as I dislike everything our grandparents said, they are right. You will lose your old life if you choose to stay here."
He pulled her to the side as an older woman walked by with two pet geese on leashes. Claire waited for the woman’s shadow to vanish before responding.
"I have washed my hands of my old life." Her eyes drifted into a faraway haze, shimmering with the weight of memories from her birthday. She was back in that moment when the people she called friends applauded as her boyfriend kissed and proposed to another woman. They had betrayed her. To keep such friends close after such an incident was to open the door to more betrayals.
Archer left her to linger in her thoughts until they reached Claire’s house. Then, he made her stop and for no reason, gave her a hug.
Claire was startled. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been hugged by a brother. The hug was not enough for Archer; he patted her back lightly.
"Little sis, please don’t go back." He said, with a nervous plea in his voice.
Claire blinked a few times. Her mind started organizing all the logical reasons why he wanted her to stay. In the end, it came down to one question. Was this an emotional based plea or a value related one.
To her surprise, Archer provided an answer as if he could read her mind. "I hope you choose us because you look like you are in need of many hugs and we want to hug you."
Claire chortled. A chain that had started coiling around her heart shattered. "Archer, I can’t make sense of that statement."
Archer let go of her. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Not everything has to make sense when it comes to your loved ones. Don’t measure our words and actions all the time. It’s okay for you to hesitate. It’s okay for you to keep a small distance between us. It’s okay for you to keep secrets from us. But it’s not okay for you to reject our affection."
"When did I reject it?" Claire muttered.
Archer thought of the way she would eat politely around them, as if afraid of what they would think of her table manners. How she would choose the farthest chair in the room or the one across from them, like she was afraid to sit next to them.
She always found a logical reason to sit far away. Usually, her excuse was related to the lighting, but he knew better.
He took a deep breath and changed the subject, worried that Claire would think he was putting pressure on her. "I brought you a gift."
Claire raised her brows. Her mind started cataloging the gifts presumed value in comparison to Archer’s earning capabilities. He worked as a supervisor at construction sites. In the past, she had dealt with construction supervisors on different projects for the company.
If she was not wrong, he earned between 5,500 to 7000 dollars monthly.
She was thinking of his rent and other expenditures when he opened the door of his car and pulled out an unwrapped gift. It was two pairs of bib overalls similar to what most fishermen wore.
All of them were a scary bright orange, with black straps.
Claire looked at Archer curiously. This orange was so bright, like a reflective vest. Under the cover of the dark, they shone so brightly.
She looked at Archer who was grinning like he had just won the lottery. Her brother pulled out another gift from the car. It was a pair of orange boots so shiny they looked freshly waxed.
Just when she thought gift giving was over, Archer pulled out a floppy orange hat that was so wide it could double as a bird’s nest!
"I heard you were seriously entering the fishing industry," he announced, puffing his chest as if he had solved all of her problems. "As your oldest brother, I don’t approve. You are pregnant and this kind of work can be tiring. The smell of fish might also bother you. But we just became family. You came to us as an adult with her own plans and thoughts. I cannot stop you, so I am choosing to support you. I got you the starter kit.’
Claire blinked at the pile of orange fabric. "Two pairs of bib overalls. Why two?"
"Emergencies," he said proudly. "One for when you are fishing and one for when you are drying the first pair. I would have bought more but Joan told me to make sure that you like this offensive orange first."
Joan was Archer’s soon to be wife who Claire suddenly thought was acceptable. If she could talk her brother out of such ridiculous purchases, she could manage the family finances.
She could also manage her brother’s wardrobe. Why did he ever think this bright orange was acceptable?
"The boots and overalls are waterproof," Archer clarified. "The hat is to protect you from the sun. If you need anything else, just tell me." He ruffled her hair gently. "Your big brother will cover you financially as much as he can until you get back on your feet."
Just like that, Claire suddenly found the orange less repulsive.