Stuck in the Moment

by Tracie Puckett

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  It was Thursday night, and since confiding in Mel at school on Tuesday, I’d tried to keep myself busy and not think too much about Jasper, the party, or anything involving either of the two. Luckily for me, Mel had to work each night, and Roz was up to her ears in a research paper she’d put off until three days before the deadline. Which meant, for a small chunk of time, I had a chance to breathe. And think.

  And I needed to think.

  I didn’t want to consider that my friend was right—that I’d made an uncharacteristic snap decision because I had a crush on a stranger.

  I couldn’t help but believe her, though. There was something about Jasper—something good. Something that made me trust that he wasn’t really all that bad. But despite that, he still had this innate ability to infuriate me, and even that made me curiously interested in him. I’d never liked hating someone so much.

  The sun was down, the night was dark, and the noises in our house died to a quiet lull.

  I leaned at the archway between the foyer and living room and looked on at my sleeping father. Good. He was actually sleeping tonight, and pretty heavily, if his snores were any indication. He rarely let himself relax to that point, especially since Lucy disappeared. And with one daughter gone, relaxing wasn’t an option if he wanted to keep close tabs on the other one . . . which he did. Flawlessly.

  I dropped a blanket over Dad as he slept in his chair—the same place he’d slept every night for the last two years. I planted a quick kiss on his forehead, turned off the TV, and left him to sleep in peace.

  Turning into the kitchen, I checked on the four pots of water I’d left on the stove. They were just beginning to boil, which meant they were finally hot enough to get the job done.

  I turned each of the four burners off and removed the pots from the range. Carefully, I carried each one of them through the house, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. I plugged the hole at the bottom of the tub and emptied the boiling water to make a bath. Turning the faucet, I filled the bathtub with cold water until the two extremes combined to a bearable warmth.

  It wasn’t the best solution, but it’d become the only solution.

  Dad had a daytime janitorial job down at the local gym, where he had free membership and daily access to warm water and hot showers. I didn’t have that kind of luxury, and since the water heater had gone out two months ago, Dad hadn’t made a single effort to fix it. I’d given up asking him to repair it, so boiling water for the tub was my only saving grace.

  I walked across the hall and into my bedroom to grab my pajamas off the bed, but something out the window caught my eye. Two acres back, just at the edge of the woods, the interior of The Red Barn glowed brighter than the daytime sky.

  It should’ve been dark. The doors were locked, and no one but Dad and I had a key to get in. Yet the lights were on.

  So either someone had left the lights on, or someone had broken in. Since I’d personally locked the place down for the night to ensure security, as I had every night for the last three years, I knew someone had let themselves onto the property.

  I slipped into a pair of tennis shoes and grabbed my jacket, setting off down the stairs as quietly as possible. I stopped in the kitchen for a flashlight before tiptoeing out the back door, careful not to wake my sleeping father in the other room. I jogged down the field and stopped just outside the barn to catch my breath.

  The door was cracked, just barely, so I peeked through the half-open slit and into the barn, and my eyes instantly focused on the man on the second floor.

  Jasper was up in the loft, stringing orange-colored Christmas lights along the beams.

  “You know, some people call this breaking and entering,” I said, stepping into the barn. He wasn’t surprised by my voice, and he cast a glance down at me, smiling in spite of my tone. “It’s a crime, in case you didn’t know.”

  “The door was open.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  Sutton Woods wasn’t known for many crimes, but I wouldn’t dare run the risk of letting anyone trespass or vandalize this place. I’d checked the lock only an hour ago, which made Jasper St. James a big fat liar. A cute liar, but a liar nonetheless.

  “What are you doing here, Jasper?”

  “Breathing a little light into the place,” he said, still working, keeping his hands busy as he straddled a wooden beam high in the air. He strung orange lights around the section in front of him. “I thought some extra lighting would set a nice tone for the party. You like it?”

  “The party’s eight days away, and . . . ” I rubbed my forehead.

  Did he really care about the lighting, or was he trying to distract me from the fact that he’d broken in? If that was the case, it’d almost worked. Any mention of the party was always enough to shift my focus, but not now. Not this time.

  “You’re pretty laid back for someone who’s just committed a serious crime.”

  “You gonna call the cops?”

  “I probably should,” I admitted. Despite the fact that he was Carter’s cousin, he was still a stranger—one who’d somehow gotten the impression that breaking and entering wasn’t any big deal. “What are you doing here?”

  Jasper smiled down at me. “Party prep.”

  “You’re in charge of the guest list and a cake,” I reminded him, speaking louder so that my voice would carry upward.

  I hated that he kept smiling at me. Why did he smile so much?

  “It should be brighter.”

  “What?”

  “The room,” he said, his gaze sweeping down on the open floor beneath my feet. “Overhead lighting—something simple but effective.”

  “Okay, now you’re stepping into my territory. Lighting, theme, ambiance—those are my responsibilities.” The things I knew how to do better than Jasper ever could because I’d learned from the best.

  “I’m not trying to overstep boundaries,” he said, crossing his finger over his heart. “I just . . . I had some ideas, things I wanted to try.”

  “And it never crossed your mind to run any of it by me?”

  “I’m running it by you now.”

  “After the fact,” I said, nodding to the lights. “After you’ve already taken it upon yourself to make changes.”

  “I wanted to see how it would look. You never know if you never try.”

  “And how do you feel that’s worked out for you?”

  “You seem mad again, and I don’t like that.” He studied my expression, and then he turned his eyes back on the lights he’d twisted around the beams. “But I like the way this looks, so I’m conflicted.”

  “You’re conflicted?”

  “Yeah, and with a strange sense of satisfaction. It looks good, right?”

  Jasper’s smile was goofier the longer he studied the product of his hard work, and he seemed sincerely happy with the way the lighting changed the space. He didn’t appear bothered at all that he’d committed a crime to carry out his plan, nor that I was growing more impatient with him for taking over areas he’d had no right to take over.

  “Tell me you don’t like it,” he said, begging for approval.

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s exemplary.”

  “Exemp—” I shook my head. “Exemplary?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “You’re one weird dude, you know that?”

  “That’s supposed to be an insult?”

  “It’s not a compliment.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, scooting back over to the loft. “Normal would’ve been the real insult.”

  “You’d rather I call you weird than normal?”

  “A million times over, kid.” He climbed down the ladder to the ground. Standing just a few feet away from me, he smacked his hands together to wipe off the dust. “The world needs a little more weird, don’t you think?”

  I didn’t answer. Jasper walked over to a black duffel bag sitting in the corner near the door.
He knelt to zip it before picking it up. Standing upright again, he turned to me.

  “I took care of the invitations.”

  “Already? It’s only been three days. How?”

  “I took the list you gave me. I went back to Cedar Lake, checked a few mailboxes, stole a few envelopes—”

  “That’s a federal crime!”

  “It was nothing.”

  “You could go to prison!”

  “Calm down; it’s a joke.”

  “Well, it’s not funny.”

  “Wrong again,” he said, shaking his head, but his lips were still smiling. He was amused—as if he enjoyed how easily he got under my skin.

  “So did you really get the invitations squared away?”

  “Yes, I paid a visit to each of the guests on your list,” he said. “I took them a dessert and my deepest regrets.”

  “I’m sorry, you what?”

  “You can’t show up empty-handed. Not when you have bad news. I knocked on a few doors, explained that the party had been canceled and the invitations were sent by mistake, left a pie, and went on my way.”

  “Left a pie?”

  “Pie fit the tone. Cake is more celebratory.”

  I smirked. “You’re so weird.”

  “I work at a bakery. I teach baking classes on the weekend. I like to bake.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” I said, trying to get a better read on him. Why would he drive so far to go home and cancel the guest list, only to turn around and come all the way back to Sutton Woods? It was a four-hour drive roundtrip. “Why are you back?”

  “I took some time off work. I’m going to stay until the party.”

  “Why?”

  “Being here reminded me how much I miss my family. I haven’t seen them much in the last year, and it seemed like there was no better time than now. Besides, I do have a birthday party to supervise and all.”

  “Supervise? Nope, sorry. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

  “Yeah, but I am older,” he teased.

  “And I’m more experienced,” I said, ignoring his playful attempt. “Jasper, I was planning weddings before you bought your first Easy-Bake Oven. Parties are kinda my thing. The guest list is yours. I’m sure you’ll bake one helluva cake, and the lights look great, yes. But you’re not going to come in here and take over.”

  He studied me harder, despite the fact that I glared at him, warning him not to push me on this. The longer the silence stretched on, the more awkward the moments felt.

  “You’re right. I overstepped.” He nodded. “I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted,” I said, glancing around the barn.

  I had to admit that it looked amazing. It hadn’t glowed like that in years—so long ago that I couldn’t even recall the last time someone had strung lights over those beams. No doubt it had been Mom. She seemed to do everything back then . . .

  If Jasper hadn’t done it tonight, I don’t know that I would’ve had enough courage to step in her shoes and make that climb to the loft before Carter’s party next Friday. It was the one detail she’d always taken complete control of; try as I might, she wouldn’t dare let me help if it meant risking my safety. Your little feet belong safely on the ground, she’d say. Going up there now meant breaking the promise that I would never climb that ladder unsupervised. And while it’d been years since I’d made that promise to her, I couldn’t help thinking she’d still say I was too little, even at seventeen, if for no other reason than to ensure my well-being.

  I would probably never make that climb—to see the lower level of the barn from the loft that spanned the length of the building. I envied Jasper for that. With Dad’s plans to flatten The Red Barn in only a couple of weeks, I couldn’t imagine I’d ever find it in myself to push past the sad memories and see my mother’s world from a completely different angle.

  Soon it would all be gone anyway, so what did it really matter? I had to start letting go. If not now, when?

  Dad made a thousand excuses that ranged from “wasting space” to “one gust of wind away from blowing down,” none of which were true. The truth was a lot simpler: he’d had all he could take. The mere sight of the barn was too painful for him to bear, and there wasn’t a window off the backside of our house that didn’t look right onto the place that housed so many years of happy memories. Memories he couldn’t cope with. I’d often wondered if he’d reasoned with himself that no barn meant no memories, and no memories meant no pain.

  But it didn’t work that way, and I wasn’t convinced he’d realize it before it was too late.

  A tear slipped down my cheek.

  “Are you okay?” Jasper asked, taking a step forward. I turned my head and quickly wiped the tear. “Ally?”

  “You should go,” I said, nodding to the door. “I’ll lock up.”

  “No.” He took a step closer to me again, his arms open to offer an embrace I didn’t want. I held up a hand.

  “Please go,” I said, and he stopped. His arms fell, and he stared at me for one long minute, waiting for something more, but I only left him with silence. As he readjusted the bag on his shoulder and turned for the door, I stood taller. “Jasper?”

  “Yeah?” He whipped around.

  “I know this may look like a blank canvas to you, and I’m glad you felt inspired. But this isn’t a playground, and you’re not welcome to use it as one. If you break into my mother’s barn again, I’ll make sure you don’t live to bake another pie. Are we clear?”

  The edge of his lip curved into a small smile, and he nodded.

  “Crystal. Good night, Ally.”