Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Once he was feeling better, Jasper did his best to adapt to his new single lifestyle.
The day to day wasn’t much different—Ryan still wasn’t around.
But while there was a relief in knowing the hardest conversations were behind him and he could finally move forward with his life, it was scary, too.
There were big changes on the horizon and he found himself wishing for stability.
Walking through the theme park now, he looked for that stability by checking the same things he always had.
The carousel still turned, barely. The shingles on the ticket booth still flapped in the wind, the structure still leaned ever so slightly to the left.
The map by the entrance was still faded from twenty summers of sun.
Nothing had changed, and right now, that’s what he needed.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have confidence in his decision.
Yes, his illness had worn him down, made him wish he could beg Ryan to take care of him like he always did.
But then Ryan stopped by, offering his loud opinions about contractors, attempting to bait Stevie, telling her Jasper didn’t know anything, demanding she take his money, and his desire for that faded.
But that still didn’t mean it was easy all the time. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he felt minor pangs of guilt when he thought of the sad tone of Ryan’s voice, the sad goodbye he gave the hens, and the sad way his feet carried him to his car.
It was terribly conflicting.
Moving on was still the right choice. He knew that deep down, but he wasn’t a monster.
His one major life complaint was evergreen—the constant, medium-level strain of knowing his dilapidated park may be too far gone to save, not unlike other things in his life.
“I thought we were going out to lunch,” Stevie huffed, breathing strained as they walked up the steep hill leading to the heart of the park. “It has become very clear that you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie. Well, I didn’t totally lie. We can get lunch on the way home.”
She tripped over a rock before kicking it into a rotten piece of fencing. “Woof, look at this trail. Look at that fence.”
“Okay, well, yeah. I’m here to try to do some repairs. You’re here to keep me company and administer first aid when I inevitably hurt myself trying to fix that,” he said, pointing at a lopsided gate that had fallen off one of its hinges, then moved to point at the rotten fence. “And that, I guess.”
“Why me?” she whined.
“Because you’re a nurse. You know how to fix people.”
“I work in the operating room. It’s a little different than first aid.”
Jasper waved her off. “You’ll be fine.”
“Or you could just be careful,” she said. “How about I go to the office for a bit and meet you back here in thirty minutes? I don’t want to be here too long.”
“Fine,” Jasper said. “But if you don’t see me by then, call me. If I don’t answer, I’m probably dead.”
Stevie laughed and kept walking, leaving Jasper at the busted gate.
He put his hands on his hips and stared at the broken hinge, then glanced down at the toolbox he’d brought along.
It was new, since all the tools they usually used belonged to Ryan.
It seemed to have everything he needed, so he crouched by the gate to get to work.
Twenty minutes later, reality had settled in.
“Ouch, shit,” he hissed, shaking out his hand. His hammer had slipped again, finding the same swollen thumb it had already landed on twice, now puffy, tender, and always in the way, like the inside of a bitten cheek.
He sat down and cringed when he realized he’d sat in something gross—bird poop, ice cream, or something else he couldn’t identify and was choosing not to try.
This park, if he was honest, exhausted him.
Every rusted hinge, every broken gate, every invoice reminded him there was never enough money to get ahead, and never enough time to make it all work.
But being exhausted wasn’t the same thing as giving up.
Jasper loved the park and the memories he had of growing up there, spending time with his long-deceased uncle and working his first ever job.
But there was so much to do and so much to fix, the anxiety that came along with the park’s existence overwhelmed him.
Even his favorite parts now caused more stress than they did joy, because he felt like he’d failed.
Actually, he didn’t just feel that way—he had failed. His uncle trusted him to take care of this piece of their family’s history, and he’d let everyone down. The demise of his relationship could be blamed on someone else, at least partly. This was all on him.
Most distressing for Jasper was the carousel, ancient and beautiful, now barely limping along after years of fading utility.
In his non-expert opinion, it was months from breaking down completely.
It devastated him, as the carousel was partially built by his uncle, and the ride-on animals had been touched up year after year by Jasper himself, just to keep his uncle’s memory alive.
He’d done his best to keep it going, but it was an expensive machine, and one Jasper knew very little about.
Jasper’s favorite memories of the carousel weren’t even from when the park was busy and packed full of people enjoying the magic, when he and his sister would race to get the best animals.
His favorite memories were from quieter days, when his uncle would unlock the gates just for him and let him ride alone.
The lights would flicker on one by one, the music would start, he’d sit on the back of a Pegasus, and everything would be perfect.
He’d helped his uncle fix up the wooden animals countless times, asking why he didn’t just replace them.
Uncle Cliff had told him that was the thing about precious things—they didn’t stop being important or valued just because they needed someone to maintain them.
They just need someone to think they’re worth the effort.
It took a while before Jasper understood what that meant, and these days, it had taken on new meaning.
When Jasper looked up from his poor, smashed thumb, Stevie was bouncing down the path, smiling. He smiled back, puzzled, since her earlier mood had been one of annoyance. At him.
“What are you so happy about?” he asked.
“I just realized what day it is. Beni and I are going to Australia in one month! One month, baby!”
“Oh yeah! I forgot, sorry. I’ve been wrapped up in my own stuff. I’m excited for you guys, it’s about time.”
“First joint vacation away from the kids. I can’t wait. Plus, I heard Nina is very excited to spend two and a half weeks with her super fun guncles.”
Jasper froze. Stevie did, too.
“Shit.”
Stevie rubbed her forehead. “Yeah, shit. God, Jasper, I didn’t even think about it.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. We’re going to have to see each other the rest of our lives, right? Weddings, funerals… other stuff, probably.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s true. But you could stay at my house with both kids, if that would be better?”
“No,” Jasper said. “Last time I spoke to your very reasonable daughter, who reminded me she’s almost seventeen and could totally stay at home for two and a half weeks without any adults, by the way, she told me she and Nina were excited about helping with the chickens and everything.”
Stevie laughed. “Sounds like Winnie.”
Jasper’s phone lit up with a text. It was Ryan, of course.
He was still texting him exactly once per day to check in.
Jasper replied when he saw them, sometimes feeling it would be preferable if he’d texted incessantly, giving Jasper an excuse to block his number or at least cuss him out for being annoying.
But instead, they either were helpful reminders, like telling Jasper it was time to switch out their mechanical toothbrush heads, or sweet little notes, like a photo of two slugs eating a single leaf with Ryan and Jasper scribbled across the top of the screen.
“More slugs?” Stevie asked, her face sympathetic—to Ryan, not Jasper.
“This time it’s two trees that look like they’re holding hands,” Jasper said, sighing.
His initial reaction was to find it sweet and sad, but that was quickly replaced with a flash of irritation.
It took Jasper leaving for Ryan to pay this much attention to him and to compare them to mollusks sharing a meal.
Unlike Ryan, Jasper didn’t have the ability to overlook such things.
“It is interesting though, I wonder how they grew like that.” He squinted at the photo before turning the phone to show Stevie.
“Trees holding hands,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest. “God.”
“Stop. Maybe he should have sent a photo of himself holding hands with a title belt, since that reflects our relationship much more accurately than this… arborous display of affection.”
Stevie snorted. “Poetic.”
Jasper smiled, then started packing up his tools, giving up on the gate for the day. Stevie had a clipboard in her hand and was scribbling notes on the paper she’d brought from her trip to the office.
“Hey, change of topic…”
“What’s up?” he asked.
“This is that list we put together of all the work needed around here. And I know you’ve been living large with no husband and freedom from the park, but I think it’s time to focus and finish getting bids on all this stuff.”
“What, do you think I’ve been off gallivanting with dozens of young men the past few weeks? I haven’t. In fact, what would you say if I told you I already hired a contractor to manage all that work?”
“I would say I don’t believe you. I’d also wonder how on earth you chose anyone from that pile of names you had. What do you know about contractors?”
“Plenty.”
Stevie sighed. “Fine. So, who’d you hire, then?”
“His name is Logan.”
“The guy from the blue estimate? That Ryan looked at when he was at the house?”
“I guess so,” Jasper said. “I went with him because he can start sooner than everyone else. It was either that or spend twice as much.”