Chapter 49 Ivan
Six weeks after Jay's first AA meeting, I'm standing on the front porch watching the road like my life depends on it. My stomach is in knots. I've been up since dawn, unable to sleep, running through every possible scenario in my head.
What if Jay changes his mind halfway here and turns back? What if Rosalyn doesn't like him? What if the kids scare him off? What if this whole thing is a terrible mistake?
Then I hear the motorcycle before I see it.
The sound starts as a distant rumble, low and growing, getting louder as it gets closer.
My heart kicks up, pounding against my ribs.
Then Jay rounds the corner on his bike, the morning light catching the chrome and making it shine.
He pulls into the driveway smoothly and cuts the engine, and for a moment he just sits there, staring at the house.
I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands grip the handlebars just a little too tight. I'm down the porch steps and rushing to him before he can take off his helmet.
"You made it," I say, grinning like an absolute idiot, unable to contain the joy. "You actually came to see me."
"Two hours and twelve minutes," Jay says, pulling off the helmet with shaking hands. He runs a hand through his flattened hair, trying to fix it. "Traffic wasn't bad once I got out of Macon. The highway was pretty clear."
"How was the ride?"
"Terrifying on the interstate." He swings his leg over the bike and stands, stretching his back, rolling his shoulders. "But I'm more scared now that I'm here. What if they hate me? What if I say the wrong thing or do something stupid?"
"Trust me, they're not going to hate you."
"What if Rosalyn takes one look at me and decides I'm not good enough for you? Because she'd be right, you know. She'd be completely right."
"Hey." I step closer and take his face in both my hands, making him look at me. "None of that. No more of that crazy talk. You're working through the plan. That already proves everything to me."
He takes a shaky breath, his dark eyes searching mine. "Okay, I can do this."
"You absolutely can." I kiss him quickly, tasting his nervousness, then force myself to step back. "Come on in. They're waiting inside. Mitchell got called into a job today, but everyone else is here. Rosalyn's been cooking since six this morning."
"She didn't have to do that. I told you I didn't want to be any trouble."
"You're not trouble. You're important. There's a huge difference. I think Rosalyn wants to impress you too."
Rosalyn is in the kitchen when we come through the front door, wiping her hands on a dish towel, the smell of something delicious filling the entire house.
She looks up as we enter, and I watch her take in Jay for the first time—the worn leather jacket that's seen better days, the motorcycle boots, the dark eyes that are trying hard to hide his anxiety.
I can see her cataloging every detail the way she does with everyone new. The way he stands slightly behind me like he's using me as a shield. The way his hands keep fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket. The way he can't quite meet her eyes directly.
"Rosalyn, this is Jay," I say. "Jay, this is Rosalyn. My foster mom. The woman who took me in."
Rosalyn crosses the kitchen slowly and extends her hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Jay. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."
"Thank you for having me, ma'am." Jay shakes her hand, being almost painfully polite. "Ivan talks about you all the time. About you and Mitchell and the kids. It's all he talks about, honestly."
"All good things, I hope." She smiles back at him.
"Nothing but. He says you make the best food in Georgia and that you never once made him feel like he was a burden. I want to personally thank you for that. For taking care of him when nobody else would."
Rosalyn's expression softens. "You're very welcome. He made it easy." She releases his hand. "Are you hungry? I was just about to start lunch. I made a ton of food. Finally meeting you is a special occasion."
"I don't want to be any trouble. I can wait. I'm fine."
"It's no trouble at all. I made extra specifically for you." She turns to me. "Ivan, why don't you introduce Jay to the kids while I cook? They've been asking about him all morning. Destiny asked me three times if he was here yet."
"They've been talking about me?" Jay asks.
"You're all Ivan talks about," Rosalyn says simply. "Of course, they're curious about the person who makes their big brother so happy."
Caleb finds us first. He comes barreling down the hallway at full speed the moment he hears me, his dinosaur book clutched under one arm. He stops short when he sees Jay standing beside me, his eyes going wide.
"Is that him?" Caleb asks breathlessly, practically vibrating with excitement. "Is that your friend Jay? The one with the loud motorcycle?"
"That's him," I confirm, smiling. "Jay, this is Caleb. He's six years old, and he knows more about dinosaurs than anyone you'll ever meet."
"Ivan says you have a motorcycle," Caleb says, completely skipping past any normal greeting or introduction. "Is it outside right now? Can I see it? Is it really loud? Can you turn it on so I can hear it?"
Jay glances at me, uncertain, and I nod encouragingly. "Sure, buddy. You want to come look at it?"
"Yeah!" Caleb grabs Jay's hand without any hesitation, the way kids do when they've already decided you're safe.
He starts dragging Jay toward the front door.
"Does it go really fast? How fast can it go?
Is it louder than Ivan's truck? Ivan's truck is really loud but Rosalyn says that's because it needs a new muffler and Ivan keeps saying he'll fix it but he never does. "
I follow them outside, standing on the porch, watching Jay crouch down beside the motorcycle to show Caleb the engine.
He's patient in a way I didn't expect, answering every rapid-fire question, letting Caleb touch the chrome carefully, explaining what each part does in simple terms a six-year-old can understand.
"This is the engine," Jay says, pointing. "That's where all the power comes from. And this is the exhaust pipe. That's what makes it loud."
"Can I sit on it?" Caleb asks, his eyes huge.
"If it's okay with Ivan." Jay looks up at me questioningly.
"It's fine. Just be careful and don't fall off."
Jay lifts Caleb onto the seat with gentle hands. Caleb's feet dangle nowhere near the ground, but he's grinning wide.
"This is cool," Caleb breathes reverently, running his small hands over the handlebars. "When I grow up, I want a motorcycle exactly like this one. The same color and everything."
"Maybe when you're older," Jay tells him. "You have to learn to ride a bicycle first. That's the rule."
"I already know how to ride a bicycle! Ivan taught me last summer. I can do it without training wheels and everything."
"Then you're already halfway there, buddy."
The twins appear on the porch then, watching with identical expressions of cautious curiosity. Diana has her arms crossed over her chest, sizing Jay up. Destiny is leaning against the railing, pretending not to be interested but watching everything.
"Girls, come meet Jay," I call out.
They approach slowly, carefully, Diana slightly ahead of her sister.
"Hi," Diana says when they reach the driveway. "So, you're the one Ivan drives to see. The one he talks about constantly."
"That's me," Jay says, straightening up from beside the motorcycle, suddenly looking nervous again.
"He talks about you a lot," Destiny adds, not moving from her spot. "Like, a lot a lot. It's kind of annoying actually."
"Destiny," I warn, but Jay just laughs.
"I hope it's not all boring stuff. That would be embarrassing."
"He says you're really good at fixing things," Diana says, studying him with those sharp eyes. "Like engines and motorcycles and stuff like that."
"I'm okay at it. I know my way around an engine."
"Our lawnmower is broken," Destiny says suddenly. "It won't start no matter what. Mitchell tried to fix it but he just made it worse. He said a bad word and kicked it and now it's just sitting in the garage."
"Destiny!" Diana elbows her sister hard. "You can't say things like that!"
"What? It's true. He did kick it. Rosalyn got mad at him."
Jay looks at me, a question in his eyes, and I shrug helplessly. "It's been broken for two weeks now. We've been paying the neighbor kid ten bucks to mow the lawn."
"I could take a look at it," Jay offers carefully. "If that's okay with you. If you want me to."
"You don't have to do that," I say quickly. "You came here to visit, not to work on our stuff."
"I don't mind at all. I like having something to do with my hands. Makes me less nervous." He turns to the twins. "You want to show me where it is?"
The girls lead him around to the garage, Caleb trailing behind still chattering enthusiastically about the motorcycle and dinosaurs in the same breath. I hang back and watch as Jay opens the garage door, crouches down beside the old push mower, and starts examining it with those capable hands.
Within five minutes, he's got the housing off and is poking at the carburetor. Within ten, he's found the problem—a clogged fuel line and a fouled spark plug. He explains what he's doing to the kids as he works, showing them the dirty parts, letting them hand him tools from Mitchell's toolbox.
"This is the spark plug," he says, holding up the grimy piece of metal so they can all see it. "See how black and crusty it is? That means it's not firing right. It's supposed to be clean. When we put a new one in, the engine should start up just fine."
"Where do we get a new one?" Caleb asks, peering closely at the dirty plug.
"I bet Mitchell has a spare here somewhere," I reply, digging through the tool room. "Hold on a second."
I find one and hand it to Jay. The kids watch as he installs the new spark plug as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.