Page 53 of Finding Hope

Slowly spinning in my seat, dread swirls in my stomach as I come eye to eye with ten separate sets of browns and blues and greens.

Six school aged children, and another four toddlers strapped into five-point harnesses, stare at me like I’m an exhibit in the zoo.

Jesus Christ. How many kids do these people have?

“Uncle Jack said asshole,” Alexandra Kincaid happily chirps. “I’m telling Mommy. She’s gonna whoop his butt.”

Scoffing, Evie turns on her sister. “Snitches get stitches, Alex. We don’t snitch on Uncle Jack. I’ll put you in the sick bay.”

Climbing into the van with a grin, Jack turns back and offers a fist bump for his violent niece. “There’s a reason you’re my favorite, Bug. Blood in, blood out, baby girl.”

“I gotcha back, Uncle Jack.”

“Which means you get to pick tonight’s movie.”

“No!” The older boys groan.

Blissfully uncaring, Evie preens and grins like the troublemaker she is. “I choose The Princess Bride.”

Jack smiles wickedly. “Thought you might.”

“Oh man,” Jamie whines. “I hate that movie!”

Jack and Evie turn on him as one. “Inconceivable!”

“Oh my God,” I laugh and turn back to the front. “You’re all nuts.”

Laughing, Jack turns to the front and starts the van. “We’re unique.We’re loud. We’re crude. And well, yeah, we’re nuts, too. But we own it, don’t we, Crew?”

Like a cheer squad that have practiced it a million times, everyone in the van – except me – yell in unison, “Yeah, Rollers!”

“Now let’s go eat,” Jack adds to the noise. “I’m starving.”

Three hours later – three loud, chaotic, tantrum filled, pizza and ice-cream consumed hours later – Jack walks out of his niece’s bedroom minus the four toddlers, then heads across the hall and snaps at the six and seven-year-olds to “stop screwing around, or we’ll roll.”

Turns out,everyone’ssleeping over tonight. Jack’s on babysitter duty while his brothers and sisters are off having a much-need night out – and probably creating another dozen noisy, messy offspring.

Shaking his head, but smiling like the chaos feeds him, Jack walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch beside me.

Evie and Lucy are the last kids standing, but they’re curled up under a blanket on the second long couch. Lucy’s head on Evie’s chest, arms wrapped around each other, the girls that fight – truly, the girls that are attached at the hip most of the time – watch Disney movies with drooping eyes.

Letting out a deep sigh, Jack rests his head against the back of the couch, stretches his legs out, and spreads them wide so his jean clad knee brushes against my stockinged thigh.

I’d kill for a pair of sweatpants right now.

“The babies are out, the older kids are still fucking around.” He laughs. “I think the girls will be out before the others.” Turning toward the girls, he watches them with a father’s love in his eyes. Rolling his head back toward me, he grins softly. “You good?”

“I’m good.” Smiling lazily, I relax back into the couch. “That was fun.”

He rolls his eyes. “That was exhausting. I couldn’t do this every day. I don’t even know what you were thinking when they asked you at college what degree you wanted to earn. You’re surrounded by these monsters every day.”

“At least I get paid for it… Makes it easier.”

Smiling comfortably, his eyes flick along my face.

He’s relaxed in a way I never knew he could be. I just knew the hyper,drunk Jack. This one knows how to sit and relax, and the shadows playing across his face lend a mysterious air.

“No. You can’t fool me, Bambie. You’re not in it for the money. I heard teachers get paid barely more than a bag of shit. And if you’re lucky, you might get a five-dollar coffee gift card at Christmas.”

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