Counting His heartbeats (Baxter County Blues #3)

Prologue

Five Years of Development and Devastation...

"Hi. My name is Nigel. Are you new? I haven't seen you before, but Ms. Thomas said we should make friends with new kids so they feel welcome. Do you like to color? I love story time and recess the most. My mom said we're getting pizza for dinner. I like Legos. Do you like Legos? They're so cool, and I love to build stuff with them, although my dad hates it when I leave them on the stairs because he steps on them. Do you have a dad? Where do you live?"

I'm not sure why Nigel picked me to come have a conversation with, but I don't want to be bothered. I miss my mom, and I don't want to be here. The bed I'm sleeping in isn't like the bed at my house, and I want to go home. Mrs. Spivey doesn't tuck me in and kiss my cheeks like Mom did. Mrs. Spivey says she's my mom, but that can't be true because my mom's name is Sheryl. Mrs. Spivey said her name is Jennifer, and that's how I know she's telling a story, no matter what she says about being my real mom.

"Hey. Hey. What's your name? Can we be friends? I don't have many friends. The kids usually run when they see me coming. That hurts my feelings because I want friends too. Can you be my friend? What's your name? My name is Nigel. Do you have a favorite color? My favorite c?—"

Ring. Ring.

"Oh, that's the bell. I gotta go. It was nice talking to you, buddy. I hope we can be friends." Without another word, Nigel runs off, leaving me with my thoughts.

Mommy, why did you leave me with these strange people? I know you said I was ready for school, but you weren't the person sending me. I don't know these people. Those people want to change my name, saying it's not the one they gave me. Mommy, where are you? I don't know what's going on. Please come get me. I don't like it here. You said you would always be there for me. Where are you?

"Jawaan! Jawaan!" A syrupy voice calls my name, causing me to look up from kicking the broken rocks on the pavement.

Lifting my head to the brown skinned woman standing beside me, I fight the urge to fall apart in her presence. My bottom lip trembles and my watery eyes make it challenging to make out her face.

"Aw, sweetie, come on. Recess is over, and we have story time, which will give you a chance to relax. Would you like to pick out our book selection?"

Shrugging, I place my hand inside Ms. Thomas's outstretching palm before heading back toward the school entrance. With every step, I feel like my heart is seconds from dropping out of my chest. The heat filling my core has my bottom lip becoming a chew toy for my teeth, and I'm incapable of stopping the action. I didn't think I would have to do kindergarten without my mom. This isn't fair. Mrs. Spivey didn't look back or speak when she dropped me off at Ms. Thomas's classroom this morning.

Mommy, I need you. Please come back and take me home. I don't like it here with these strangers. I'll be a good boy, I promise.

Two Years Later

"Are you sure you don't want to give it more time? He seems like a sweet kid, but I understand there might be some hesitation on his part due to the situation," an unfamiliar male voice asks.

Twiddling my fingers in my lap, I kick my legs back and forth in the hard chair I'm sitting in across from the office where a meeting is taking place. I have been living with Jennifer and Jared Spivey for two years, and nothing has changed for me. Talking to them isn't something I embrace, nor is establishing a relationship with them. They're not my parents. I don't care how many gifts they buy trying to convince me to change my mind. My tears haven't wavered, nor has my longing for my mom, despite the counselor the Spiveys sought to help me with my transition. I am a Young, regardless of how they feel about it, and thankfully, they have decided against changing my name.

"We're sure. We have been trying to bond with that boy since he came back. He has repeatedly given my wife and me his ass to kiss. It's like he's been brainwashed or some shit. We have told him countless times that we're his birth parents, yet he continues to tell us that we aren't," Jared relays in an aggressive tone that makes my eyes water.

"I know this is crazy given the situation, but that boy isn't my little boy, and he refuses to let me be his mother," Jennifer adds.

"This situation can't be easy for Jawaan because for the first five years of his life, he's known Sh?—"

"Don't you fucking say their names in my presence. Those kidnapping sons of bitches turned my child against me. I spent hours pushing his little ungrateful ass out, only for someone else to take him from us. Then, when we think the cards changed and we would get our child back, he isn't the child I gave birth to," Jennifer aggressively says, causing me to shift in my seat from the hardness of her delivery.

At seven years old, I'm able to understand what I couldn't at five, and I now know that Sheryl and Zack Young aren't my biological parents. In fact, they stole me from the hospital within twenty-four hours of my birth. In the last two years, none of the adults in my presence have felt it necessary to keep me from overhearing the devastating details of my existence. As a result, I have been withdrawn and barely communicating with the people who are still strangers to me. Instead of trying to bond with me, Jennifer and Jared Spivey continue to allow me to self-soothe, which means I spend a great deal of time in my room. When I'm not in my room, Jennifer and Jared put me in situations that have caused me to feel like livestock. I have lost count of how many people have poor baby me in the last twenty-four months. I believe last night's incident is why the three of us are at Franklin County Children Services.

"Now that you've been here and got situated, your mother and I feel like we can bring your sister home. She's missing us and we definitely miss her too. So, this weekend, you need to prepare to make nice with her," Jared says, glowering while standing over me with his hands resting on his waist.

"I don't have a sister because I'm an only child. My mom couldn't have any kids after she had me," I respond.

"Damn it, boy. I'm fucking tired of having this same conversation with your ungrateful ass. My wife and I sent our daughter to live with relatives for two years so we could get your ass accustomed to living with us. We've neglected our child for two years, and you keep giving us your ass to kiss. You're such a fucking ? —"

"Don't say anything else. I'm tired, too. We'll handle this in the morning," Jennifer interjects, cutting Jared off.

"How about I arrange some family counseling for you all first?" the unknown man asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"No. We're done. We're gonna go on about our lives and do our best to forget he exists. When we leave here, it'll be the last time we think about that boy. Let the city of Columbus worry about his ungrateful ass. I'll have another baby to make up for the reminder of the stretch marks I obtained with his birth," Jennifer fumes.

"So, you want to relinquish your rights?" the unknown man asks.

"Yes. Have yourself a good day," Jared confirms before footsteps sound seconds before he and Jennifer exit the office.

Neither Jennifer nor Jared made eye contact with me before walking toward the bank of elevators and entering the shaft a second later. I stare blankly in disbelief at the empty hall where Jennifer and Jared once occupied.

Did they just walk out on me too? What is wrong with me that two sets of parents have turned their backs on me? I hate Columbus, Ohio.

Same Day, Unknown Time

"We're here, Jawaan." Someone says, shaking me gently and causing me to open my eyes slowly, stretch, and take note of my surroundings.

I'm unsure where here is, but the back passenger door opens a few seconds later, and the man whose name I didn't remember stands outside of the car.

"Where am I?"

"This is where you will be living until you turn eighteen. The Gardners came highly recommended and have agreed to keep you long-term," the man answers me, smiling.

My forehead wrinkles, and I shield my eyes from the sun beaming on me while staring at the two-story house. None of his words affect me. This is the third place I have been bounced to in my seven short years. I'm already over all the maneuvering, so it's whatever at this point. Sighing, I frowned before following behind the man, wondering if I'd be able to finish the nap I had been awakened from.

"Oh my! Aren't you a handsome little fella?" a woman with warm brown eyes gushes, smiling while holding open the screen door.

Hm, she's beautiful.

The long salt and pepper hair on this woman's head contradicts the youthfulness of her face. Her high cheekbones, slender nose that holds a nose ring, and thin and pouty lips make me believe she's much younger than her hair color presents her to be, not to mention the deep plunging neckline of her black blouse, where a gold chain rests between her ample breasts and my eyes were unable to disconnect from her.

"This is Jawaan Young. I believe you're expecting him," the man voices, pulling my eyes from the woman to him only to see stars dancing in his eyes.

Yeah, she's fione, and I'm glad I'm not the only one noticing.

"Yes, we are. Come on in. I'm Rema Gardner. You're the last one to round out our family unit. My husband, Humphrey, is?—"

"Right here, babe. This must be the new guy," a man standing over six feet with a bald head walks up, grinning with his hand extended in my direction.

"All right. I'll let you all get to it. I have transferred Jawaan's case to Baxter County, so if something should arise, let the caseworker assigned to you know," the man instructs before walking out the front door without a word to me.

"Let's get this family meeting popping. Then I'll have one of the boys show you to your room," Humphrey says before closing the door.

"Kyce. Kayshon," Rema calls.

Well, at least I won't be here alone. This shouldn't be too bad.

Adulting at Thirty-One

"Man, this shit is too much. It feels like the world is drop-kicking me like I'm in a WWE match, and I'm about to suffocate from the pressure. I don't think I'll make it if you don't do something. Everybody that should love me has left my ass to fend for myself. God... please come see about me. I'm ready to..." My words trail off as my phone vibrates for the hundredth time today, yet I make no attempt to acknowledge or answer the call.

Wiping the constant flow of water sliding down my cheeks, I pick up the bottle of Hennessy and take a healthy drink. I've lost time and days while being holed up in this room, hiding from everyone and everything. Once the last drop of liquor hits my mouth, I release the bottle as it clinks on the carpeted floor.

"This world would be better if my black ass was no longer in it. No one will miss or mourn me."

Emmanuel!

The shouting of my middle name has my eyes popping open as I look around the room for the person calling me. My vision is blurry from the tears escaping my eyes, yet I can make out the dresser where the TV rests, the closed curtains that are blocking the outside from coming in, and the open bathroom door. Lowering my gaze, I see the four empty Hennessy bottles haphazardly surrounding me.

You are the light of the world. My word says: Nay, in all these things, you are more than a conqueror through Him that loved you. I love you, Emmanuel. You are more than the mistake you believe yourself to be. You shall live and not die. I am making a way of escape for you... help is on the way.

"You don't mean that shit! Nobody has given me any reason not to end my life. They gave me up. They turned their backs on me. Why should I believe any of what you're saying?" I scream.

Pressure in my chest has me gasping for air as intense pain surges through me rapidly. My face is wet, and my pulse is racing, making me feel like I'm at the top of a rollercoaster, waiting for it to drop.

Forsaken but not forgotten. Abused but not forgotten. Mistreated but not forgotten. I am with you and will be with you even unto the end of the world. When thy father and mother forsake you, I, the Lord, will take you up.

"What does that mean?" I shout while pulling at the holder, keeping my dreads in place, causing them to fall over my shoulders.

**

God will take care of you.

Beneath His wings of love abide.

**

At that moment, my phone blares from wherever I dropped it in the room with Mama Lo's ringtone, causing me to hang my head despite her inability to see me.

"Man, I can't talk to you right now, Mama Lo," I whisper with scratchy vocals while wiping the never-ending water from my face.

Picking up the silver steel on the left of me, I hold it to my temple and close my eyes. Wrapping my index finger around the trigger, I inhale and exhale, solidifying my decision to escape everything.

Knock. Knock.

"Housekeeping."