An Accidental Family Ch. 02

Over the course of the next few weeks, Jen and I talked at length about finding a safer home for our girls. It was clear they couldn't stay at their uncle's place much longer, but we were at a loss to find a better option.

It seemed far too soon for Jen and me to be considering getting a bigger place together when we hadn't even been on our first real date yet, but it also wasn't realistic to try and make a home for our girls in our two small apartments. With Jen's credit card debt, a parting gift from her ex-husband Bill, she couldn't rent a larger place on her own. Even if I could find a suitable apartment, there was no chance that they would place three young girls with a bachelor like me. We vowed to keep looking for a solution and to do everything in our power to keep our girls safe in the meantime.

The girls' uncle eventually reappeared, hungover and apologetic. It was early evening of the day after Christmas by the time that everything got sorted and our girls were back at their house. By that point we were exhausted, so Jen and I decided to postpone our date until later in the week. Instead, we stayed in and watched an old teen flick on TV until we both drifted off to sleep on my sofa.

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Other than my upcoming date with Jen, the other highlight of my Christmas week was installing the steering wheel on the Shelby and taking him out for his maiden drive. I know that cars are traditionally named for women, particularly muscle cars like the Shelby. In my mind, however, the Shelby would always be my dad's car and I felt him with me when I drove it. So, the Shelby was a 'him' for me. It was my dad.

In a moment of optimism, a month prior, I had completed all the necessary paperwork to get him licensed and back on the road, so once the new steering wheel was in place we could take him out right away.

And so, late in the afternoon on the Monday after Christmas, a small group gathered at the garage to celebrate the Shelby's maiden voyage. Jason was there helping in the shop, and Lisa and her sisters had been hanging out for most of the day, since they were still off school. Their uncle had apologized to the girls for screwing up Christmas and promised to do better. I didn't trust him, and I sure didn't trust Dale, but at least it was a start. We waited for Jen to get off work and she picked up my mom on her way to the shop.

Once everyone was gathered, installing the steering wheel was a little anticlimactic. I held it in place while Jason tightened it down and we were done. George and the mechanics had stayed late to watch us finish the car, however, and I thought I should say a few words.

"I'm not one for long speeches or anything, but I wanted to say how much it means to me, and to my mom, to see my dad's dream finally realized. I feel him when I am in the Shelby. I see his artistry in its clean lines. I feel his patience and persistence when I look at the immaculate restoration. And I feel his joy when I put the pedal to the floor, and I hear that engine roar.

"Jen and Jason, Lisa, Lucy, and Bel—my dad would have loved you all to the ends of the earth. If he were still with us, he would teach you about the beauty in life—with the Shelby being the prime example. He would take you out to watch sunsets, to throw footballs, and to dance with the ones that you love. I miss him every day and I just hope that you can feel a little bit of his love and his pride when you ride in it."

There was some debate as to who would accompany me on the first ride, but Jen and Jason both insisted that it should just be mom and me. I held the door for her as she got in and, as we started the engine, it came to life with a purr.

For those of you who have never been in an older muscle car like the Shelby, saying that the engine purred might sound like alliteration. In this era of ultra-efficient and precision fuel-injected engines, it's hard to imagine any sounds coming from a car that could be likened to a cat or, really, to anything that is or was once alive. Those early Mustangs, though, they were just built differently.

The 1967 Shelby GT500 had a "Ford Cobra" FE Series 428 cubic inch V8 engine with two Holley four-barrel carburetors sitting on top of an aluminum intake manifold. The engine was massive, and it was built for one thing and one thing only: speed. When it idled, the hum of the engine carried through the chassis, and you could feel the vibrations like a cat purring on your chest.

On the open road, the engine's purr would grow into a growl as it started to rev higher. If you had the nerve (and were willing to risk a big speeding ticket), you could open the engine up further and that growl would become a roar. And, if you were willing to push the engine to its physical limits, that growl would become a full-throated scream that could be heard from miles away.

With my mom in the car, I kept the engine down to a low growl as we drove together in silence. Although she looked serene on the outside, I noticed that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can feel him too," was all that she said.

The Shelby would save our girls twice before that winter was done.

Date Night

It wasn't until later in the week that Jen and I finally managed to go out on our first official date. It's funny, I must have eaten dinner a hundred times with Jen and Jason during the previous year, but I was still as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs as I got ready. I was worried that once we went out together, Jen would realize that she could do far better than me.

Luckily, there wasn't much question as to what I was going to wear. I only owned one good pair of khaki pants and Jen had given me a nice new shirt for Christmas. It didn't even need to be ironed. So, I took a shower, shaved, got dressed, and put on a single spritz of cologne before walking across the hall to pick Jen up for our date. I grabbed a jacket as I left since it would almost certainly be cold enough to need one at the end of the night.

Normally, we would walk right into each other's apartments when we visited, and we each had the other's spare key. It felt a bit presumptuous just to walk in for our date, however. Formal occasions called for formal manners, so I knocked on the door and waited for Jason to answer.

"Hi, JT. You look like a dork," he said, as he opened the door and then went back to his video game.

That kid certainly didn't pull any punches, I thought to myself with amusement. That thought was interrupted, however, when Jen came out of her room. She was wearing a beautiful green knee-length floral dress and a matching pair of medium heels with just a hint of makeup on. She looked transcendent and, as she smiled at me, I thought my heart would stop beating.

"Hey there, handsome man," she said by way of greeting.

"Wow, Jen. You look ... just ... wow."

I wasn't the most eloquent guy at the best of times and seeing Jen dressed up like that had apparently robbed me of the power to form coherent sentences.

"You like it?" She asked with a little half twirl that caused her dress to gently billow outwards.

"I like blueberry pancakes with a strong cup of coffee in the morning. I like going fishing when I have a day off. Jen, my feelings for you in that dress go so far beyond 'like' that it would take 'like' a year on a racehorse just to catch them."

Jen blushed prettily and looped her arm in mine. "You're looking sharp yourself. All the girls are going to wonder how I got lucky enough to be with a guy like you."

With that last comment, Jason looked over and asked if we didn't have a restaurant to go to or something. We told Jason that my mom would be there shortly with some pizza, and we put the poor kid out of his misery by heading out to the car. Since it was our first official date, I thought it would be more appropriate to take the Shelby rather than my old truck, and I had spent a good portion of the afternoon polishing it to a brilliant sheen. I held the door for Jen, and we set out for a nice Italian restaurant I knew in the suburbs of Atlanta.

One of the decisions you need to make when restoring a classic car is what to do about the radio. A radio wasn't even standard equipment on the 1967 Shelby GT500, but the Shelby we restored had been fitted with one in the factory, so my dad and I chose to be faithful to the original and installed an era-appropriate AM radio. As I drove, Jen spent a while trying to find some music before eventually settling on a classic country station out of Atlanta. As she tuned in, an old Randy Travis song came on and I sang along to the chorus:

Oh, darlin', I'm gonna love you forever

Forever and ever amen

As long as old men sit and talk about the weather

As long as old women sit and talk about old men

If you wonder how long I'll be faithful

Well, just listen to how this song ends

I'm gonna love you forever and ever

Forever and ever, amen

"I didn't know you could sing," Jen said as the song concluded. "JT, you are a man of many hidden talents."

"Well, I am not much of a singer, but that song reminds me of my cousin who used to sing it at family gatherings. She was a true artist. She died far too young. When I sing that song, it always makes me think of her and smile."

"I'm sorry for your loss, JT," Jen replied squeezing my arm.

As we drove, Jen's hand covered mine as I worked the stick shift. Since we weren't in a rush and it was a nice evening, I decided to take the back roads to the restaurant. Without really meaning to, I drove by the old acreage where I grew up. My mom, dad, and I had loved that place, and it held many precious memories. We had sold it after my father died, because it was too hard to maintain while keeping the shop running as well.

My dad built the house on that acreage with his own hands (along with many helping hands from his friends and colleagues.) My parents had always wanted a large family, so they built a substantial house with five bedrooms and two baths in total, with a large two-car standalone garage.

I was sad to see a 'Foreclosure and Sale by Auction' sign posted on the fence by the acreage. Times were tough back then, and many families were losing their homes to the banks. But that sign also meant that there would be nobody to complain if we pulled in and took a quick look around.

"Jen, do you mind if we stop here for a few minutes? This is the house that I grew up in, and I would love to show you around and share some memories with you."

She said she was excited to see the house, and so we pulled up to the gate. The same trick I had used to open the gate as a teenager when I forgot my key (lifting it off its hinges and pivoting it open on the lock) still worked over a decade later, and we drove into the yard.

The house looked like it hadn't been lived in for several years. Some of the ground floor windows were broken and covered with plywood, and the kudzu and other underbrush had already started to reclaim it. It made me sadder than I could express to see my father's hard work being undone by time and neglect.

We went exploring but the house was locked up tightly, so I brought Jen over to the garage and took advantage of a broken window to unlock the door. I walked with her to the far corner of the garage where you could see the outlines of three sets of handprints set in the concrete slab.

"Mom, dad, and I pressed our hands into the slab the day it was laid before it could fully cure. I should have cut these handprints out when we left, but there were too many other things to worry about at the time. Seeing this place sure brings back a lot of happy memories."

"Thanks for showing it to me, JT. I feel like I have a better idea of where you come from now."

"Maybe you can show me where you grew up at some point," I replied. I knew a bit about her life story, particularly her philandering ex-husband, but I knew very little about her childhood.

"Maybe, JT. But you know that I don't speak with my parents anymore. I am not sure I would want to risk running into them. They made it pretty clear to me what a disappointment I was when I left."

I didn't understand how anyone could view Jen as a disappointment. I was constantly amazed at how kind and compassionate she was, despite the hand that had been dealt to her in life. Families were complicated, however, and I said a little prayer of gratitude for my own parents who had given me such a loving childhood.

I showed Jen the rest of the yard, hoping to take her mind off her past. I led her to the backyard to see the garden that had once been my mom's pride and joy. It didn't seem like much in the dead of winter, but it would see an explosion of vibrant colors and smells come the spring. I promised Jen that I would bring her back when the garden was in full bloom if the house was still vacant.

We left a few minutes later, after one more look around, and arrived at our restaurant a bit late for dinner. It wasn't the fanciest or priciest place, but it was nice, and it served amazing food. It felt pretty darn great rolling up in my dad's Shelby with Jen at my side. For a night, we could pretend like we were a glamorous couple out on the town.

A few minutes after we took our seats, we were approached by an older man in a dark grey suit. I am no expert on these things, but it looked expensive.

"Beautiful car you have there," he said without preamble. "Do the numbers match?"

I saw the look of confusion on Jen's face and quickly explained that the original engine, transmission, chassis, and other major components of the Shelby were stamped with matching numbers while still in the factory. If a car had matching numbers, it meant that all its main systems and components were original, making it more desirable and expensive to collectors.

"Thanks. Myself, my father, and my ... and my lovely date's son spent years restoring it. The numbers don't match, but all the parts are original ... just not necessarily original to this Shelby. Each part's source is documented in the restoration plan."

My father had been meticulous in tracking the provenance of every part that we replaced on the Shelby. Jason had kept up this practice when we finished the restoration, and it was all recorded in a log in the glove compartment.

"Would you ever consider selling it? I own an auction house in town and, every June, we hold an auction for classic and rare automobiles. Your Shelby is both. I could see it being an anchor lot for this year's auction."

"I'm flattered, but I don't think we would ever sell. The Shelby is the last piece of my dad's legacy that my mom and I still have. I know it might be worth a lot at auction, but it is priceless to us."

"If you ever change your mind, let me know," he said with a smile, handing me a richly embossed business card. "I hope you two have a lovely evening."

The rest of our dinner was amazing. Jen was the smartest and most interesting woman I had ever met, and I could (and had) talked to her for hours without pausing or searching for topics of conversation. What was even more amazing, and a bit shocking, was when, partway through dinner, Jen slipped her foot out of her shoe and teased it along my inner thigh. I must have blushed the same shade as the Shelby, and I knew she could feel my excitement.

At the end of our meal, we learned that our bill had been paid by the man from the auction house. I guess he really wanted the chance to sell the Shelby.

After a leisurely drive home, we ended up back at my apartment. It was relatively early, and my mom was still watching Jason over at Jen's place. I asked Jen if she wanted to come in for a bit and she agreed. We made it inside the apartment before our arms were locked around each other in a passionate embrace. After a minute, I gently pushed her back against the door as I kissed a line down her neck to her collarbone. With my hands around her hips, I eased my way back towards the sofa and started to remove my shirt. Jen let out a low moan as I dropped it to the floor, but she also put a hand on my chest and gently pushed me back.

"JT, I ... damn, all that working out with Jason is really paying off," she said as she lost her train of thought and ran a hand across my chest. I felt my nipple harden as she brushed it with her fingernail.

"Sorry, I got distracted. JT, I want you so badly, but I also want us to go slow. It has been a long time since I felt like this about anyone. In fact, I am not sure if I have ever felt as strongly for someone as I do about you. And, if I am honest, it scares me to death. I was married before, JT, and it didn't end well. The scars have mostly faded, but the fear has not.

"Do you think that we could take things slowly to start? Would that be alright?"

"Jen, we can take things as slowly as you want, as slowly as you need," I replied. "I am not going to lie, I want you. But I want you ... I need you to feel safe and loved." With my best corny smile I continued, "I feel like I waited my whole life to find you ... I think I can wait a little while longer to be with you now that you're mine."

"You should put that on a greeting card," Jen quipped with a laugh.

As she said that, the apartment door swung open and Jason walked in, heading over to the cabinet where I kept my PS4 games. It wasn't unusual for him to just come and go as he pleased in my place, and I didn't mind him borrowing my game. His timing, however, left a little to be desired.

"Hey, JT. Hey, Mom, I didn't know you were home yet. How was dinner? JT, where's your shirt?"

He said the last bit in that deadpan way of his that made it impossible to tell if he was serious or if he was making a joke. Being on the spectrum, he had a hard time reading social cues and he didn't always understand the subtleties of human interaction. So, he could be making a joke, or he might genuinely be wondering about the current location of my shirt.

"Dinner was great, Jason. How was your night? And my shirt is around here someplace. Thanks for asking."

"My night was great; your mom is nice. Gonna go play some games now. Bye."

Jen and I both had a good laugh, but the romantic spell of the evening was well and truly broken. I gave Jen a kiss and put my shirt back on.

"Should we see what's on TV?"

New Year's Eve

After a busy Christmas, Jen and I had planned to have a low-key New Year's Eve—maybe a movie night then watching the countdown to midnight on TV. After the Christmas day fiasco, however, we made a point of inviting Lisa and her sisters to join us well in advance. Jason was particularly adamant on that point.

We were worried that Lisa, in her pride, might not accept an invitation to spend New Year's Eve with us if she thought we were asking out of pity, so we decided to invite a few more people as well and host a low-key gathering. Not a party, but not a pity dinner either. We asked Ted and Sue, and Sneaky to join us. I also invited my mom, who would never have forgiven me if she missed an opportunity to spend time with Lucy and Bel.

I was a bit surprised when Lisa asked if Cindy Stanley could come as well. As far as I knew, Lisa didn't have any female friends, so it was nice that she was growing closer to Cindy. She seemed like a bit of a strange choice, given how rough she had been on Lisa not two months prior. Once she had apologized, however, she had proven to be a loyal friend and fit right in with Lisa, Sneaky and Jason. I would have assumed that a popular cheerleader like her would have had a half dozen more exciting parties to go to on New Year's Eve than ours, but then what did I know about the social lives of teens.

Early in the afternoon on New Year's Eve, I went with Jason to pick up Lisa and her sisters from their uncle's place. A party was already underway at the house when we got there, with cars parked haphazardly on the lawn. Music blared from the living room and there were copious amounts of alcohol and recreational drugs being consumed throughout the house. Apparently, their uncle's newfound commitment to the health and happiness of his nieces had lasted less than a week.