Page 35 of Justice

“For Dream,” I said, and watched my oldest see the horse for the first time. “She’s been on me about riding for a year. Figured she’s old enough to learn on a real one.”

Storie stopped. Her eyes went to that black mare and stayed there, and her face did something I couldn’t quite catch before it was gone.

“A horse? You got it for her?” she said, with a hint of disappointment.

“I did.”

Then she smiled, big and bright, and turned that smile up at me. “Daddy, she’s going to lose her mind. This is the best present ever. Can I be the one to walk her out? Please? I want to see her face.”

“Yeah. And if you get it together by your sixteenth birthday, I’ll get you a car.”

I put my arm around my girl and squeezed, and she leaned into me, warm, happy, everything a father wants his child to be.

“I promise I’ll do better,” she said.

“I’m holding you to that.” I kissed the top of her head. “Come on. Let’s go make your sister’s whole life.”

When Storie and I brought the horse out, the party stopped.

A young black mare, glossy as poured ink, with a big red bow around her neck that she kept trying to eat. I’d gone back and forth on it, a pony versus a horse, before I landed on the horse. Dream had been talking about riding for a year now. A child grows out of a pony. She grows into a horse. This one she could learn on. This one could be hers for a long time.

The handler walked her out slow. Storie took the lead from him and brought that mare the last few steps to her little sister herself. Dream looked at that horse like her heart had walked out on four legs.

“Happy birthday sis!”

“She’s MINE?”

“She’s yours, sweetie. What you gon’ name her?” I replied.

Dream studied that black mare for a while, petting her side.

“Midnite,” she declared. “Because she’s dark like the sky at night and I love her.”

The yard went up. And I stood there watching both my girls. Storie leaned down and gave her sister a hug. All the kids gathered around to pet and feed Midnite. I couldn’t have been more proud.

“You spoil that child rotten,” Rita said when I made my way over to her chair. She said it like an accusation and a blessing at the same time.

“Don’t do that.” I bent and kissed the top of her head. “Let me have my day.”

Skye was standing near Rita’s chair. I found myself parking next to her, which was becoming a habit I hadn’t decided to make. We watched the party a minute, the kids, the horse, the loud beautiful mess of it.

“You do spoil them,” Skye said, quiet, not judging, just seeing.

“I know I do.” I kept my eyes on Dream. “I know exactly what I’m doing and I do it anyway.” I don’t know why I kept talking but I felt like sharing with her. “Their mother’s gone. And there’s a hole in them where she’s supposed to be, and I can’t fill it, no matter how much I spend or how hard I try. So I overdo it. Buy the horse, throw the castle party, say yes when I should say no.” I exhaled. “I know it. I know one day I’ma turn around and they’re gonna be rotten and it’ll be my doing. I just haven’t figured out how to look at what they lost and tell them no.”

She was quiet next to me, letting me have the space to say it. And that quiet worked one more thing loose in me, a thing only the family knew.

“Storie was the one who found her,” I said.

Skye turned her head.

“Her mother. When she passed.” I watched my oldest across the yard, stroking that horse’s neck. “She found the body. Actually when I walked in she said, ‘I saw her take her last breath.’ She was only twelve years old. Nobody should have to see they mama like that, and my baby did, alone, and I wasn’t there. I had ran to the store.” My jaw tightened. “So when she’s cold or difficult, I remember that. I remember she carried something no child should carry. And I give her all the grace I got. Maybe too much. But I can’t help it. She earned it the worst way there is.”

“Oh, Justice.” Skye’s voice had gone soft, and there was real grief in it, real feeling for a girl she barely knew. “That’s a terrible thing for a child to live through. I’m so sorry. For both of you. Did you get her counseling?”

“She did grief counseling for a bit and seemed to have gotten better. Then I don’t know. The last year or so has been tough.” I cleared my throat, already embarrassed I’d said so much. “I’ve made mistakes with her. I know I have. But I’ll fix them. I’m looking for a good therapist now.”

She nodded slowly, and we stood there a moment in it.