Chapter 7
SEVEN
JUSTICE
Tears blur my vision as I drive up the holler to Haven’s house. I park in the driveway and hurry to pull Ezekiel from his car seat, slinging his backpack over my shoulder.
“Why’s you crying, Auntie?” he asks as his little hand touches my face. And I breakdown even harder, chest-racking sobs expelling from my lungs. I open the front door and set Zeke on the couch, then pull his shoes off. “Momma!” he cries. “Momma, Auntie cwying, Auntie cwying.”
Haven barrels through the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Justice?” Haven asks as she comes to me, and I shake my head and raking my fingers through my hair and pulling.
“Hers hurt, Momma. Auntie cwying.”
I collapse against the couch and wrap my arms around my son, the child who will never know the truth of his parentage, my soul bleeding at his feet.
Ezekiel rubs his chubby little fingers through my hair as he tries to comfort me.
This sweet boy has no idea what’s wrong, only that someone he loves is hurting.
Haven kneels beside me and wraps her arms around my shoulder as she pulls me into her chest.
“Breathe, sissy. You don’t want Zeke to be scared.
He doesn’t understand what is happening right now, so please try to catch your breath and tell your son that you are okay,” she encourages, and I nod as I wipe the tears from my eyes.
I pull in a ragged breath and stand on weak legs as I pick Ezekiel up and carry him into his bedroom.
I set him on the bed and kneel beside him. “Auntie is okay, little man.” He nods and rubs his eyes. “You look sleepy. Let Auntie cover you up so you can nap. I’ll be right here when you wake up, so you’ll know that I’m okay.”
“Otay, Auntie,” he says around a yawn. He lays his head on the pillow, and I pull the blanket up then kiss his forehead.
I stand and find Haven standing in the doorway, watching us. I pull Zeke’s door together, then follow her into the kitchen, where she’s baking.
She turns on me, her hands fisted on her hips. “What happened?” Her tone is demanding, urgent.
“He knows…” is all I can manage to whisper.
Haven’s mouth drops in shock, and she shakes her head, refusing to accept the truth.
“No. He can’t. No, Justice.”
She has loved my boy since his first breath.
“What happened? What did he say? Talk to me!”
I pull the chair out from the table and sit, then hold my head in my hands.
“He didn’t say anything.”
“What? You’re not making any sense, Justice. If Harlan didn’t say anything, what makes you think he knows Ezekiel is your child?”
“He didn’t have to say anything. I saw the realization in his eyes. The way he looked at Zeke, the way he touched him, talked to him. He handled him gently, like that boy was his most prized possession.” I suck in a breath and begin to question my actions. “Dear God, what have I done?”
Haven pulls a chair close to me and takes my hands in hers. “You did what you felt you had to do to ensure the safety of your son. Any mother in your situation would have done the same.”
“You didn’t see Harlan with him, Haven. I’ve never seen that man be so tender. The sight mended my heart and broke it all at once.”
“Sissy, you can’t think like that. For the love of God, you’re an active confidential informant for the FBI, Justice. Harlan is a dangerous man. Your son is not safe with him.”
“But what if…”
Haven cuts me off, standing so abruptly she pushes the chair back with the force of her fury.
“No. No, you are not going to doubt yourself over this situation, Justice. I’ve been that boy’s momma since the day he was born.
I stopped living, Justice, to raise your son as my own.
You are not going to take everything he’s ever known and tear his life apart.
You cannot do that to him, to me,” Haven pleads, agonizing tears streaming down her cheeks. And she’s right.
When Harlan was sentenced to three-to-five years in prison, I saw that as my chance to give my son the life he’d never have under our roof.
I left Georgia and came home to Kentucky in the dead of night.
Haven was just a kid, nineteen-years-old, and she hadn’t even lived her life yet, but she didn’t second guess my plan.
Neither did our cousin Luke. We knew if Harlan ever did come back to Kentucky, our son would be in grave danger.
Ezekiel Israel Ashton was born on a rainy day in my childhood bedroom.
Luke, having been a firefighter and EMT, delivered my son.
That was the easy part. Ezekiel would be safe with Haven, and I’d be right here watching over him as his auntie.
It crushed my soul that I’d never hear my son call me momma, but I’d still be present for all the milestones that mattered.
And he was safe. That was the only way I’d sleep at night.
The hardest part was forging the birth certificate.
For that, I needed the man responsible for my existence.