see Isaac trying to wake up, shaky and stumbling in his early morning toddler steps. "Good Morning, baby," Sylvia called to him. Isaac stopped halfway to them and looked at Everett, then bugged eyed, looked up at his approaching grandmother. "I'm gon' ride the moto'cycle, grandma!" Sylvia stopped in her tracks, looked back at a grinning Everett, then back at her grandson. "Good morning, grandma." Her tone and look gave him a clear hint of what should first be his greeting.
"Mornin', grandma," he repeated, then, "Am I gone ride a moto'cycle?" Everett and Sylvia chuckled at his persistence and excitement.
"Yes, you can ride the motorcycle today...but I think you should say good morning to Mr. Styles." Without hesitation, Isaac was right there at his lap, looking up into his blue-gray eyes.
"Good mornin', Minner 'tiles." Followed by the biggest smile his grandma had ever seen. Everett chuckled and stroked his hand over Isaac's head fondly. "Good morning, Isaac...you sleep good?" Isaac bobbed his head in agreement with only one obvious thing on his mind.
"I'mo ride yo’ moto'cycle?"
Everett picked him up on his lap, holding him there he said, "As soon as I cook us breakfast. 'Cause your grandma...well, let's just say, I need a little something more than instant microwave oatmeal."
"You know what? Have at it! Let's see what you can do!" Sylvia challenged, having enough of his criticism.
"You're on, baby! Take a seat right here, and I'm gonna give you a little schooling on how to fix breakfast and conduct a conversation at the same time. Have a seat..."
Chapter Eight
Sitting on Everett's small front porch with Darren perched between her thighs, they sat waiting and watching for him and Isaac to return. He jabbered away as she thought over the morning so far. Everett had indeed whipped up a delicious breakfast for them, and kept her laughing as well Isaac and Darren in the process. To her amazement, he was totally unaffected by his macho, handsome male image. He was silly, funny...animated with the boys, free and easy, teasing and torturing her. With absolutely no fear of her, their racial difference, or what he might inadvertently say to offend her. She was surprised as well to discover that he was not Italian as she first thought, but Irish. He was a talker, and enjoyed speaking about his life as a young man growing up on a farm with watchful, disciplining parents—who were not rich, but loving, kind and supportive. He spoke as if he missed having someone listen to this side of him, about the life that he obviously missed, longed for, and she was just as delighted with the fact that he felt comfortable enough with her to show this side of himself.
"Ohhh, Darren. What's happening here, baby? Hm? Now you know grandma don't need this kinda pressure startin' up in her life. That's right. I'm comfortable, got a nice house. I have you guys over every now and then...and by the way...where is your mama and daddy?" Darren looked up at her, smiling and laughing as usual. He was a happy, easy baby to care for. She hugged him to her, running her fingers through his silky, blond hair, sighing deeply. Just then, they could hear the motorcycle's rumbling exhaust as it came roaring up the road towards the driveway. Isaac sitting in front with a harness strapping him to Everett. His little head swallowed up in the helmet. Everett wore his shades and no helmet. He was as handsome as any woman's dream. Sylvia sensed that he just may be dangerous to her heart...to her peace. Darren's little pudgy hands shot up into the air waving his hands in circle, his dexterity in waving the correct way still undeveloped. Sylvia smiled hearing Isaac cry out in his happy excitement. "Grandma! Grandma! I ride the moto'cycle! I ridin' the moto'cycle!" he announced as Everett guided the bike into his short driveway to stop next to the porch where she and Darren sat waiting. Looking up from Isaac, her smile and gaze was drawn to the man who sat silent
"Mornin', grandma," he repeated, then, "Am I gone ride a moto'cycle?" Everett and Sylvia chuckled at his persistence and excitement.
"Yes, you can ride the motorcycle today...but I think you should say good morning to Mr. Styles." Without hesitation, Isaac was right there at his lap, looking up into his blue-gray eyes.
"Good mornin', Minner 'tiles." Followed by the biggest smile his grandma had ever seen. Everett chuckled and stroked his hand over Isaac's head fondly. "Good morning, Isaac...you sleep good?" Isaac bobbed his head in agreement with only one obvious thing on his mind.
"I'mo ride yo’ moto'cycle?"
Everett picked him up on his lap, holding him there he said, "As soon as I cook us breakfast. 'Cause your grandma...well, let's just say, I need a little something more than instant microwave oatmeal."
"You know what? Have at it! Let's see what you can do!" Sylvia challenged, having enough of his criticism.
"You're on, baby! Take a seat right here, and I'm gonna give you a little schooling on how to fix breakfast and conduct a conversation at the same time. Have a seat..."
Chapter Eight
Sitting on Everett's small front porch with Darren perched between her thighs, they sat waiting and watching for him and Isaac to return. He jabbered away as she thought over the morning so far. Everett had indeed whipped up a delicious breakfast for them, and kept her laughing as well Isaac and Darren in the process. To her amazement, he was totally unaffected by his macho, handsome male image. He was silly, funny...animated with the boys, free and easy, teasing and torturing her. With absolutely no fear of her, their racial difference, or what he might inadvertently say to offend her. She was surprised as well to discover that he was not Italian as she first thought, but Irish. He was a talker, and enjoyed speaking about his life as a young man growing up on a farm with watchful, disciplining parents—who were not rich, but loving, kind and supportive. He spoke as if he missed having someone listen to this side of him, about the life that he obviously missed, longed for, and she was just as delighted with the fact that he felt comfortable enough with her to show this side of himself.
"Ohhh, Darren. What's happening here, baby? Hm? Now you know grandma don't need this kinda pressure startin' up in her life. That's right. I'm comfortable, got a nice house. I have you guys over every now and then...and by the way...where is your mama and daddy?" Darren looked up at her, smiling and laughing as usual. He was a happy, easy baby to care for. She hugged him to her, running her fingers through his silky, blond hair, sighing deeply. Just then, they could hear the motorcycle's rumbling exhaust as it came roaring up the road towards the driveway. Isaac sitting in front with a harness strapping him to Everett. His little head swallowed up in the helmet. Everett wore his shades and no helmet. He was as handsome as any woman's dream. Sylvia sensed that he just may be dangerous to her heart...to her peace. Darren's little pudgy hands shot up into the air waving his hands in circle, his dexterity in waving the correct way still undeveloped. Sylvia smiled hearing Isaac cry out in his happy excitement. "Grandma! Grandma! I ride the moto'cycle! I ridin' the moto'cycle!" he announced as Everett guided the bike into his short driveway to stop next to the porch where she and Darren sat waiting. Looking up from Isaac, her smile and gaze was drawn to the man who sat silent
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