"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.
"Okay," Jay says, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Moment of truth. Want to do the honors?"
He shows Diana how to pull the starter cord. On the third pull, the mower roars to life, sputtering at first then evening out.
"You fixed it!" Caleb shouts, jumping up and down with excitement. "You made it work!"
"It was just a couple small things," Jay says, but he's smiling proudly at the kids. "Sometimes the simple problems look more complicated than they are."
I glance up and see Rosalyn standing in the doorway of the garage, watching quietly. Her expression is thoughtful. When she catches my eye, she nods once slowly and goes back inside without saying anything.
Lunch is chaos in the best possible way. The table is crowded and loud with the kids fighting over who gets to sit next to Jay. They talk over each other constantly, trying to tell Jay stories, tugging on his sleeve, competing for his attention.
The girls talk his ears off, telling him about school and their teachers. About their friends and their enemies. About the time Caleb accidentally let a frog loose in the house and Rosalyn screamed so loud the neighbors actually called to check if someone was being murdered. About Destiny's plan to be the first person to live on Mars. About Diana's straight-A report card.
Jay listens to all of it with genuine attention, asking follow-up questions, laughing in the right places. He's quieter than the rest of us, more reserved and careful. But he's present. Engaged. Every time Caleb tugs insistently on his sleeve or Destiny interrupts with a correction to whatever story Diana is telling, he gives them his complete attention like they're the most important people in the world.
Under the table, his knee presses against mine. I press back, trying to tell him without words that he's doing great.
After lunch, Rosalyn stands up and starts gathering plates. "Jay, can you help me clear the dishes?"
I start to get up automatically to join them, but she waves me off with a firm hand.
"You stay with the kids, Ivan. Jay and I can handle this. We need to talk anyway."
Jay glances at me with panic in his eyes. I try to give him an encouraging smile that probably looks more like a grimace.
I watch them disappear into the kitchen together. I trust Rosalyn completely, and I trust Jay. But I also know Rosalyn won't hold back if she has something to say.
Soon, I can hear the water running in the kitchen, the clink of plates being stacked in the sink. Their voices are too low to make out individual words, but the conversation seems calm at first. Which I take as a good sign.
The kids scatter—Caleb to his room to get his dinosaur collection to show Jay, the twins to the TV—but I stay at the dining table, straining to hear.
