Page 188 of When Love Takes Root

“Leilani,” I cried and laughed at the same time.

“I said what I said. He fine, and he knows breaker boxes. That’s dual anointing.”

Calista lifted one hand. “A practical blessing.”

Cassia nodded. “A man with shoulders and a license.”

I covered my face. “Y’all are not serious.”

Calista pulled my hand down and held it between both of hers. “We’re very serious. Go home and sit with your children before grief keeps translating for everybody. Let them speak without punishing them for being honest. Then tell them the truth without apologizing for being human.”

Cassia’s voice softened. “Especially Kayden.”

My chest tightened around my son’s name.

Cassia kept her hands on me. “He’s not grown, Celeste. He’s a boy standing guard over a door he couldn’t keep death from walking through.”

The room blurred.

I saw Kayden at fifteen in a black suit he’d outgrown emotionally before he ever put it on. His shoulders had been broad enough for people to forget he was still a child, and he’d stood beside Jamal’s casket with dry eyes while grown folks kept calling him strong like strength wasn’t sometimes just shock with good posture.

I saw him after that, checking locks and standing between his sisters and anything that looked too loud or unfamiliar. I’d mistaken so much of his vigilance for attitude because attitude was easier to correct than grief. Grief required me to admit my baby had been carrying a responsibility death handed him, and I’d been too wounded to take it back.

“Lord, give me wisdom,” I whispered. “Not fear disguised as protection. Real wisdom. Wisdom that sees beneath behavior, tends the wound, and still tells the truth. Help me mother what my children haven’t found language for yet. Don’t let me punish pain just because it came out wrong.”

Cassia’s hand moved slowly over my shoulder.

“Amen,” she said.

Leilani picked up her grapes again. “And after you talk to those children, you need to talk to that man before somebody with sense and lip gloss finds him at Home Depot.”

I cut my eyes at her.

She shrugged. “I’m helping urgency.”

Calista grabbed her purse. “Come on. Go mother your children.”

Cassia smiled. “And don’t turn it into a sermon series.”

I frowned. “I don’t overtalk.” All three of them stared at me. I grabbed my keys. “Y’all so raggedy.”

Leilani grinned. “But accurate.”

By the time I got home, the sky had turned the soft blue-gray that always made my house feel tender. Jamal used to call it the hour when God dimmed the lights so families could find each other. I sat in the driveway for a moment with both hands around the steering wheel and let myself remember him without flinching.

“I still love you,” I whispered.

The ache rose, familiar and faithful to its assignment, but this time, I carried it with me instead of letting it hold me hostage in the driveway.

Inside, the girls were in the living room. Maya had her sketchbook open, Zuri was building something with blocks she was too old to still love and too stubborn to give up, and Skye was lying upside down on the couch with her feet in the air like blood flow was optional. Kayden stood at the kitchen island with a bowl of cereal, even though dinner was less than an hour away.

I set my purse down. “Family meeting.”

Skye popped up. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not yet.”

Zuri froze with a block in her hand. “That sounds flexible.”