Captured Love

by Juliana Haygert

  I dropped the knife and hugged him. “Hello, Uncle T.”

  He pulled back and looked at me. “Oh my, what a wonderful young woman you’re turning out to be. Just like all the women in this family.” He winked at his wife and she chuckled.

  It was a pity I couldn’t say he looked good too. Like Aunt Cadence, he had gained some weight and his mustache was fuller, longer, but his hairline had receded half an inch at least.

  Aunt Cadence shook her head. “Quite the charmer.”

  “As always.” I picked up the knife to keep chopping. “What are the bags for?”

  “Well,” Aunt Cadence said, “since we’re always eating here and having your mother bake cakes and cookies and even full meals for us, I bring the ingredients every now and then.”

  That was actually nice of her. I watched them for a moment: Mama cooking, and my aunt and my uncle putting the groceries inside the cabinets in the right places. They didn’t step in each other’s way or crossed arms here and there. Total synchrony. I had forgotten how much they worked well together.

  I went back to chopping vegetables until I heard the engine outside the house. The knife fell from my hand and cut my palm. I hissed and Mama ran to me.

  “Jessica,” she said, as if my name could solve everything and mend the cut. She held my wrist and pulled me to the sink. Aunt Candace and Uncle T. already hovered over us. “What happened?”

  They were used to that engine reeving. I had conditioned myself to forget it. When I heard it again, so close, I panicked.

  “I got distracted,” I lied.

  The cut was superficial, but plenty of blood had spilled on my tee, and plenty of pain made me clench my teeth and hiss some more.

  “I’m going to get antiseptic and gauze.” Mama dried her hands on a towel and left the kitchen.

  Aunt Cadence wrapped a paper towel around my hand. “Hold this until your mother comes back.”

  “I should go upstairs too.” I gestured toward my tee. “To change this.”

  I squeezed a paper towel against my palm and exited the kitchen. While upstairs, I could grab some ibuprofen too.

  The engine revved again, closer, and I jumped, almost knocking over a side table and the lamp on it.

  “Jesus Christ,” I grumbled.

  No running now. I took a deep breath and prepared myself. Be brave. Be brave. I heard the footsteps on the porch, and saw the knob turning and the door opening.

  My brother stepped into the house, Luna trailing behind him. His eyes found mine, and he stopped, one hand still on the knob, the other holding his bike keys.

  He looked the same. Tall, not too large, but he had been working out since I was a little kid. He had the same dark blue eyes I had, but the blond of his hair was a shade or two lighter than mine, and it was cut short.

  I gulped down the sad memories clogging my throat. “Hi, Jason.”

  He closed the door. “Hi.”

  “I thought you knew I was coming.”

  He took two steps toward me. “I knew. It just wasn’t easy to believe. It has been four years.”

  “Almost four years.”

  His eyes looked up and down at me, not in a creepy way, just a big brother being overprotective of his little sister. “You look beautiful.” Then his gaze fell on my palm and the bloodied paper towel. He rushed to me and cradled my hand in his. “What happened?”

  My eyes filled with tears. Almost four years without seeing or hearing each other and he reacted as he always did. He cared for me. There was only once, during one weekend, when he didn’t care about my feelings or me.

  I stepped back, pulling my hand from his. “I was helping Mama in the kitchen and cut myself. Nothing much.”

  His shoulders sagged. “I assume I’m not forgiven.”

  “You assume right.” I heard footsteps approaching the stairs and added in a whisper, “I’m only enduring you because of her.”

  “Here it is!” Mama exclaimed, coming into the living room. “Oh, I thought you were in the kitchen.” As she unwrapped the gauze and opened the antiseptic, her eyes shifted from Jason to me then back to Jason. “How was the trip?”

  He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good.” Jason turned to the stairs. “Do I have time to shower before lunch?”

  “Yes,” Mama said. “We won’t be done for another hour.”

  He nodded, patted Luna’s head, and ran up the stairs. Of course, the dog followed him.

  Silently, Mama cleaned my palm with the paper towel, sprayed the antiseptic on the cut, and wrapped a thin layer of gauze around my hand.

  When she was done, she held my hand. “I don’t know all of the details of what happened, but I know Jason is not guilty and you shouldn’t be mad at him for so long.”

  I got free from her hold. “Like you said, you don’t know all the details.”

  “Honey, look at your father and what’s happening to him. It was so sudden. We never know what tomorrow may bring. I don’t want to see my son and daughter avoiding each other for the rest of my days.”

  I closed my eyes. “Please, Mama, don’t …” Another bike engine roared from the street, and I jumped again. “Jesus Christ.”

  “It’s just Luke and Lindsey,” Mama said, before turning and walking into the kitchen.

  A couple of seconds later, Lindsey entered through the front door. “Hi! What happened to your hand?”

  I waved with the bandaged hand so she would see it was nothing. “A small cut.” She closed the door behind her. “Where’s Luke?”

  “Oh, he’s forbidden to come here, so he dropped me off and is on his way to Sophie’s house.”

  Great. Well, good that he was doing as I asked and staying away, but I felt bad for keeping him from the family. I was the one interrupting their routine. I was the outsider. And knowing this fact hurt more than I would ever admit. After all, leaving had been my choice.

  Lindsey looped her arm through mine, a casual smile on her pretty face as if this Saturday was a regular Saturday in her life. “The smell is delicious. Let’s see what’s for lunch.”

  ***

  Lunch was odd, to say the least. Everyone was careful with what he or she said or did. Especially Jason. I could see Mama dying to ask details of the bike show, but she didn’t. Because of me.

  All of this shit, all the awkwardness, all of the stilled politeness was because of me, because they were afraid of what I would do.

  Afterward, Mama served tea at the back porch table.

  “It’s nice that you’ve been helping your mother with all the baking stuff,” Aunt Cadence said, adding sugar to her tea.

  “Yes, but I’m not nearly as good as her.” I sat on the swing beside Lindsey. “And it’s not something I can say I enjoy doing.”

  “Better than having nothing to do,” Lindsey said. “School has been out for only a couple of weeks, and I’m already bored. I am thinking about getting a job this summer. Part time, of course.”

  Aunt Cadence raised her teacup to her daughter. “That is a great idea.”

  “I’m thinking about getting a job too,” I said. “Anyone have someplace to recommend?”

  “Architecture, right?” Uncle T. asked and I nodded. “A good friend of mine works at a civil engineering company. They always hire interns for the summer. Would that work for you?”

  I sat straighter, interested. “Probably. It depends on the level of civil engineering. Buildings, bridges, skyscrapers?”

  Uncle T. shook his head, snorting. “They are small and old-fashioned. Their main income is from subdivisions, apartments, stores, and small malls.” He scratched his mustache. “Do you know those programs used to draw the plans nowadays?”

  I almost snorted. Software like Rhino and AutoCAD were a requirement in the first year of the architecture program. As everything else, architecture was moving alongside technology. “Yes.”

  “They are always complaining about those,” Uncle T. said. “I’m gonna call him first thing Monday morning.
As soon as I have an answer, I’ll let you know.”

  I smiled. “Great.”

  If my uncle got this gig for me, I wouldn’t be home sulking all the time, because, shit, I was tired of sulking.

  Feeling a little less frustrated, I stood and took the empty teacups back inside. I put them inside the dishwasher, and Jason entered the kitchen carrying saucers and the cookie bowl.

  My body tensed.

  Careful with his gestures and his stares, he approached and handed me the saucers.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking them from him. He leaned on the counter beside me and crossed his arms. I tried to ignore him while I put the saucers inside the dishwasher, but having a guy over six feet looming at my side, a guy who I was mad at, wasn’t something I could call comfortable. I turned to him. “What?”

  “Jess, I know you hav—” He stopped talking when his cell phone beeped. He picked it up, and even I knew who the message was from when he glanced at the screen then back at me, his eyes concerned. “I gotta …” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. I knew who it was. “Sorry.”

  He walked into the living room, already pressing the phone to his ear.

  Damn it.

  I would never have peace here.

  Chapter Six

  Jessica

  “I couldn’t believe my luck when Turner called yesterday,” said Alan, the civil engineer my uncle told me about. He stood behind my chair, peeking at the monitor as I copied the hand-drawn plan into the software line-by-line. “I didn’t come back to the office until late in the afternoon; otherwise, I would have returned his call immediately. My drafter quit two weeks ago, and we haven’t found anyone to replace him yet. We hired an intern, but he started college last semester and doesn’t know much.”

  “You know I live in Cleveland and am returning home in the fall.”

  He nodded, adjusting his squared eyes over his long face. “I know, I know, but at least now I have more time to find another drafter.”

  “True.”

  “Okay.” He stood straighter. “I’m gonna leave you to work. Any doubts or questions, I’ll be in my office.”

  He turned, smoothed his tie, weaved through the desks spread around the large room, and disappeared inside his office.

  I was left alone with my thoughts.

  The room was like a big architecture school studio. Several drawing desks and high stools, a few computers, and a strong coffee scent. If it weren’t for the stare of the other workers, I would feel right at home.

  I didn’t want to gaze back, but they had to be staring for a reason. Maybe they knew my father. Maybe they had witnessed the incident. I didn’t remember who was there, other than my family members and a few friends. I had been too wound up to pay attention to anything else.

  I shook my head and focused on the drawing beside me.

  Jesus Christ, how could they still plan everything on paper? Like Uncle T. said, they really were old-fashioned. The good thing was that they were so desperate for a drafter that I was able to negotiate reduced hours, and quite a nice pay for a summer job. And to think I was considering doing this for free! I just wanted to do something and get out of the house.

  Which the girls tried to do last Saturday night.

  Rachel and Sophie appeared on our front door at seven in the evening, dressed to kill and determined to take me with them. But I wouldn’t budge. I wouldn’t go out this summer. I didn’t want to have any opportunity to encounter Ryan anywhere.

  On Monday, while running early morning, my thoughts turned to him again. It was enough to spoil my mood. Brightening my day a little, Uncle T. called in the afternoon to tell me Alan was interested in my work and wanted to see me first thing Tuesday morning.

  I borrowed Aunt Cadence’s old Camry, and I came into the office wearing my black legging-style slacks, black pumps, and a fitted white shirt, a little makeup, and jewelry, with my leather portfolio under my arm, and regretted it as soon as everyone turned to look at me.

  Everyone wore jeans, tee shirts, flats or sneakers. One guy wore a screaming yellow cap, and one woman hadn’t brushed her hair, I was sure. Alan hadn’t been much better, with thick glasses, a crumpled shirt that didn’t match his tie, worn jeans, and super worn shoes.

  Ugh, at least I knew what to do, and I was quite good at it.

  Three thirty came too fast, but not fast enough.

  “Jessica,” Alan called me from his office door.

  I shut down the project I was working on, pulled my purse over my shoulder, and walked to his office with all eyes on me. I couldn’t say I liked this part of the job.

  I stepped inside and halted near the door. “Yes?”

  Alan juggled between a telephone, a pen, and the computer’s mouse. “A client just called, saying he’s coming to see his project, and I was supposed to stop by the new Habitat for Humanity site on the other side of town.”

  “Habitat for Humanity?”

  “Yes, I’m sponsoring a dozen houses there and need to drop this—” He pointed to a thick binder. “—there and pick up the report from last week.” What did that have to do with me? I looked at him expectantly for about a minute. “The others are busy until five. Could you please drop this there and pick up the report for me?”

  Oh, come on. First day on the job and already asking favors? “Sure.”

  “As soon as you get on site, you’ll see the office, which is actually a trailer, to your right. The supervisor should be there. I’ll call and let him know you’re the one coming instead of me.”

  He gave me the directions and the binder, and I left the office feeling used. But I couldn’t complain. I had nothing else to do or occupy my day, and keeping my mind out of messes was my objective.

  The drive was a short one and I found the place easily. A dirt path led inside the site. To the right, the trailer, to the left the construction. Many men and women worked under the scalding sun on eight houses with walls and roofs, eight other houses that had only half of the framework, and eight with only the concrete slab. By the looks of it, the lot could hold many more houses.

  I parked the car behind the trailer and walked with my pumps on the unpaved ground. Damn it. I loved these pumps, and I would spend at least a half hour trying to get all the dirt off them.

  With the binder in hand, I entered the trailer, and other than a messy table, three worn chairs, a file cabinet, and a coffee machine, I found no one.

  Oh, this was getting better and better.

  Cursing under my breath, I looked out the small window and saw no one who looked like a supervisor. Not that it meant anything. The supervisor could be inside one of the houses, but I wasn’t going to walk around in my pumps. I wasn’t that picky. I had done plenty of walks through construction sites during my two years in architecture school, but I had worn jeans and flats.

  I rested the binder on the desk and thought about what to do about the report Alan would be waiting for. I didn’t want to rummage through someone else’s stuff, so I had to sit down and wait for the supervisor to come in. If he came in.

  Instead, a hand-drawn plan hanging from one of the walls caught my attention. It was a map of the site, showing the locations of the houses already erected and the ones to come, and beside it, a plan of the house. Simple and small, but with the essentials. In the end, the site would have about fifty houses. All sponsored by Alan’s office.

  The door opened, and I turned around to greet the supervisor, but I froze when the man entered and halted, staring at me.

  A man, really, because he had grown and changed in the last four years.

  A white tank shirt hugged his muscles, and his tight dark jeans hung low, just enough to see the color of the boxers under it. Black. Tattoos ran up his arms, hiding under his shirt. New tattoos. His fists clenched; the muscles of his biceps and shoulders flexed and popped. A black bandana held his longer dark hair back. His chiseled jaw tensed, his full lips pursed, his brows knitted together over those alluring hazel eyes. His skin
was tanned, as if he spent a long time under the sun.

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Hey.”

  I was speechless. For several reasons. The odds of finding him here. And he was still, if not more, hot and roughly handsome.

  His eyes swept me from head to toe and back. “What are you doing here?”

  Heat crawled up my cheeks. “I’m looking for the supervisor.”

  “He’s busy.” He walked forward and I found myself retreating. Averting his eyes, he grabbed a clipboard from the desk. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  Without another look, Ryan walked out of the trailer. What was he doing here? I fought the urge to spy on him through the window and lost. With his free hand, he pulled the bandana off his hair as long, rapid strides took him to one of the first houses, the ones with roofs.

  He disappeared inside, and I sank into a chair, finally able to breathe since he had entered the trailer. Oh. My. God. What had I done to deserve such punishment? I was able to avoid my cousin and my brother, but not him? My life was one big circus, and I was a clown in the middle of the ring, with no idea how to entertain the public.

  No, not in the middle of the ring. In the middle of Main Square with everyone staring at me, at us, just like the day I left town and never looked back.

  “Jess, wait,” Ryan yelled as I darted away. “Please, Jess, wait. Let me explain.”

  I had never run so fast in my life.

  A door opened and I jumped up, a little confused for a second, but then I remembered where I was and why.

  “You’re Jessica?” a man asked, stepping in. He looked around thirty, with his skin dark from the sun, his blond hair cut short, and his dark eyes tired.

  “Yes. How do you know my name?”

  “Ryan told me. I’m Noah, the supervisor.” He extended his hand, but looked down at it, covered with dust and concrete, and pulled it back. His eyes, though, remained on me, examining me. If I had a jacket, now would be the time to pull it over me. “What can I do for you?”

  “Alan sent me. I’m here to drop this off—” I pointed to the binder on the desk. “—and to pick up the report from last week.”