Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance)

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Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance) Page 10

by Havig, Chautona


  Mr. Frog wisely sensed danger and leapt from Cari’s hands. Unfortunately for him, Lorna was fast, and when he paused to determine his next step, the excited little girl wasn’t able to halt before squishing him. Screams of horror erupted from both girls, startling Ian into joining their wails of terror. Puppies barked, birds screeched, and the harried sales assistant grabbed the rats and dumped them on the counter before rushing to clean up the remains of the frog.

  Trying to purchase rats, a cage, a book, get basic instructions, and keep the twins and the baby from eating or otherwise killing the rest of the fish and mammals was the most harrowing maternal experience Aggie had yet faced. Her bill was atrocious once she paid for the squished frog, not to mention the three fish that were scooped out of the tank without benefit of a nice bag of water as temporary housing.

  Hours later, Aggie watched as Laird and Tavish built an elaborate maze of empty toilet paper rolls and hollow-ended Velveeta boxes. The time and care that the two boys put into the endeavor astonished her. She had a hard time believing that these were the same boys that balked at hanging up towels in the bathroom. The rats were sequestered in Doug’s old study; Aggie hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in getting rid of that kitten…

  Friday, April 19th

  Laird slipped into Aggie’s room with a miserable expression on his face as she was dressing Ian for the day. “Aunt Aggie?” His feet shuffled awkwardly. “I didn’t want to tell you because Tavish was so upset and everything, but I have to-- see these bites?” Laird lifted his pant leg and pulled down his sock. Aggie stared in disbelief at the welts up and down his legs.

  “I’m slightly allergic to ant bites, but Tavish is really allergic. His legs are covered, and I think the ants are now in the bathroom too.”

  Aggie groaned and handed Ian to Laird. She went to the locked cupboard where Allie kept the medicines and found children’s Benadryl. Ant bites are one thing that Aggie understood. After giving a very miserable Tavish a dose of the medicine, Aggie went in search of ant spray.

  Monday, April 22nd

  Once the children left for school, Aggie took Ian, the cordless phone, the phonebook, and went out on the patio table to call an exterminator. She gave the twins bottles of bubbles and taught them to blow them while she begged every extermination company in town to come immediately.

  “I’ll pay for an emergency visit, I don’t care what it costs, but we can’t go upstairs in our own house. Ants are everywhere. I have children here who are allergic to ants, and these guys are vicious. I don’t know how to get rid of them without exterminating us in the process.” Eventually, a small company promised to send someone immediately.

  When the man knocked at the door, Aggie practically grabbed him and pulled him up the stairs. “In here. They’re in here. They’re everywhere. The floor moves. How did one little ant farm create an invasion like this?”

  The poor exterminator backed away slowly looking frantically from Aggie to the floor. He half-stumbled, half-walked back down the stairs and brought a hand held can of pesticide with a spray nozzle and worked quickly to kill the ants and find the source. He acted suspicious of Aggie as if he was certain that she’d pull a knife, or some other dangerous object, and threaten him with bodily harm if he didn’t kill every single ant inside the house. He was closer to truth than either of them wanted to consider.

  * * *

  “All right, guys. We’ve got a problem.” Aggie spoke with deliberate calm to a table of chewing children. She’d learned quickly, in her on-the-job-training in Mothering 101, that some things require a captive audience. “The exterminator found food in just about every corner of this house. All bedrooms, the bathrooms, the dining corners, cabinets… and ants were covering it all. We are talking about two different kinds of ants causing the problem.”

  Aggie scanned the children’s faces. “The ants that were biting are the ones from Tavish’s ant farm, but the rest--those came in from outside, and they came because there was food everywhere for them to find.” Aggie’s voice grew serious. “I am sorry to make more rules, but we have to have a new one. No food may be taken from the kitchen area. Period. No exceptions. If anyone sees someone with food upstairs or in the living areas, someone needs remind him or her that it’s not allowed. Do you understand?” Aggie smiled, rose, and put her plate in the sink.

  While the children silently finished their food, Aggie made a list of things to inspect and or clean on a weekly/biweekly basis. Closet corners were top of the list. Next, she began a list of things she needed to do to pack them up for moving. That would be an entirely different and challenging project.

  Saturday, May 4th

  “Vannie? Are you ready? Let’s go room by room, starting here at the door.” Aunt and niece walked through the house cataloging what would stay behind, what would be sold, and what would move with them.

  Aggie had gotten mixed reactions to the move. Vannie and Ellie seemed too attached to their home to want to leave, but the boys seemed to consider it an adventure. The little children had no opinions--only questions. Was it big? Where would everyone go to school? Would they have the same Sunday school teachers? Aggie answered to the best of her ability and prayed that this move would be a blessing.

  “Aunt Aggie! I had an idea!” Laird was excited. “Remember how that shoe organizer thing ripped up right away and you wanted something else?”

  Aggie nodded. “Why? What’s up?”

  “Well, what if Tavish and I took that old apothecary’s chest and converted it into one? I know we can do it. Those drawers are so big and there are sixteen of them!”

  Aggie gave the go-ahead and turned back to her list making. “Ok, what pieces of furniture do you know you guys would like to have with you? Were any of these your mother’s favorites, or are there any with personal sentimental value?” Aggie surveyed the room with dismay. “You know, Vannie; I think your mom and I had opposite tastes. I’m only taking the beds, your toys, the books, and a few pieces of furniture that you want to have with you. The attic at the other house has a lot of furniture and things in it, and if we have to, we’ll buy some.”

  “Momma didn’t like most of our furniture. She couldn’t stand the couches. She thought that white couches in a family full of children were ridiculous. Oh, and those dining room chairs with the fabric seats, Mom spent every night covering and scrubbing those. She hated them.”

  While not surprised to discover that Geraldine Stuart’s idea of proper furniture dictated much of the décor of her home, Aggie was relieved to find that almost none of the furniture meant anything to the children. It was easy to decide what would come and what would stay. The gold plated silverware set would not come along, but the lovely stainless steel set would. They’d keep most of the books, all of the beds, the casual dishes, the children’s toys, the scrapbooks, and the photo albums. Things like the grandfather clock, couches, chairs, sideboards, credenzas, desks, curio cabinets, and any oil paintings they intended to leave behind. Aggie added, “Buy sheets at the thrift store to cover furniture,” to the to do list clipped to her clipboard.

  Vannie packed boxes of books as Aggie packed family pictures, the children’s keepsakes, and boxed up Doug’s coin collection to be added to their safe deposit box. The little children created huge toy messes in every room, which sent Aggie’s clutter tolerance into the danger zone. Instead of making the children clean up their messes, Aggie had Ellie and Kenzie pack them and set them in the rapidly filling garage. The children didn’t need so many toys all the time anyway. “Children all over the world live without very many toys,” she muttered to herself. “The Stuart children can live with limited toys for a few weeks.”

  Aggie was about to wind down for dinner when Laird called to her from the entryway. Walking around the corner, she saw the boy standing next to the apothecary’s chest beaming with pride, but Aggie had no clue why. She felt like a very small child had handed her a page of scribbles, and she was supposed to know what they represented. Cautious
ly, Aggie asked, “Well, are you going to show me how it works?”

  Laird glowed. “See, we took all of the drawers out and took the fronts off of them. Then we took the fronts and screwed these hinges to them.” Laird demonstrated by lifting one of the drawer fronts upward. Inside was a pair of shoes. The boy was almost dancing with excitement. “Now, the doors lift up so no one hangs on them or leaves them down so they get bent off. And the little kids can put two pairs in one spot!”

  Aggie was excited. She complimented the boys on their work and called Vannie in to see. “This is so well-done boys! Everything is lined up perfectly. I am very impressed.”

  Aggie was truly amazed at how beautifully the boys had lined up the drawer fronts. No one would ever imagine that the drawers didn’t slide outward. Aggie’s enthusiasm diminished when, as she carried boxes to the garage, she tripped over the leftover drawers scattered about the floor. Aggie’s foot caught inside one of the drawers, and she went down at an extremely awkward angle.

  Aggie’s cry brought all of the children running. Laird took one look at the mess of boxes, drawers, Aggie, and then turned and ran out the side door. Just as Vannie stooped to help Aggie stand, the baby cried. Aggie sent Vannie to get him and begged the rest of the children to clear a path to the couch.

  She felt nauseated. It took every ounce of self-control to prevent herself from crying and vomiting simultaneously, and when her head began to swim, she wondered if she’d make it to the couch. Each movement was torture. The horrible pains in her ankle felt like repeated stab wounds, and by the time she reached the couch, Aggie was exhausted. Moments later, she was sleeping soundly.

  When Aggie awoke, the house was quiet; too quiet. She sat quickly upright with both legs still extended on the couch. One glance at her ankle sent a wash of relief over her; it wasn’t swollen. Turning it sideways, she gasped. All of the swelling was concentrated on the side of her ankle. It looked like a tennis ball had grown out of the bone. Where were the children, and how was she going to get to a doctor for x-rays?

  Aggie called and called, but silence was the only answer. Frantic for the children’s safety, she crawled across the floor until she found the phone, tears of pain streaming down her face. Quickly, she dialed Tina’s phone number. “Tina, help!”

  Tina’s voice was soothing, and her normal, unruffled, matter-of-fact, words calmed Aggie immediately. “Sit down, Aggie, and tell me what is wrong.”

  “I either badly sprained or broke my ankle this afternoon. It hurt so much that I got sick. The next thing I knew, I woke up on the couch--I barely remember crawling there--and Tina, the kids are gone! I keep calling, but no one answers. Cemeteries are louder than this house!”

  “Are they outside? If you are really quiet can you hear any noise outside?”

  “None! What if Vannie got scared and called Mrs. Stuart? I have no idea how long I slept. How irresponsible can I be!”

  “Aggie, hush! Mrs. Dragon Lady does not have your children. They are safe. We just don’t know where yet. You are going to get off the phone, call anyone you can think of who can come look, and then call me right back.”

  Aggie agreed and hung up. Grabbing the phone book, she called Mrs. Gansky, the minister’s family, and every woman who had watched the children in the last three months. No one was home. Aggie nearly screamed in frustration. Out of desperation, she flipped through the yellow pages until she found the used car section. Feeling foolish, she dialed Zeke’s work number and caught the man on his way out the door.

  Aggie prayed like she had never prayed before. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was audibly crying out petitions for safety and wisdom when Zeke came through the door. “Oh, Zeke. What can I do? I don’t know how I can find where they’ve gone!”

  “Well, missy, did you look upstairs? Oh, no, you couldn’t do that could you? Let me do some searchin’ and then we can figure out what to do next.”

  Zeke slowly climbed the stairs and wandered around the upstairs. Next, he went through the kitchen and checked the backyard. On his way back through, Zeke noticed a note on the refrigerator door. “Well, here’s the mystery all solved. They’re walking up and down the street to keep things quiet so you can rest.”

  Aggie was so relieved the tears started again. “Now, don’t cry, honey. It’ll be just fine. You call a cab--that ankle looks bad--might be broken even. I’ll go get the kids and bring ‘em back in so you can see that they’re fine. I’ll stay until you are ready to come home, and then call me, and I’ll come get you in your van.”

  Four hours later, Zeke helped Aggie manipulate her new crutches in order to get inside the house. The children swarmed her and nearly toppled her over. Laughing, Aggie insisted that they back away and give her room to maneuver through the house. Zeke helped situate her on the family room couch, brought her baby supplies, a stack of books, the phone, and a jug of ice water. With promises of an intercom by ten the next morning, Zeke left the Stuart house and drove home.

  Aggie groaned. She couldn’t get the children up, ready for school, make lunches, drive them anywhere, and the idea of chasing toddlers made her cringe. Those twins were going to drive her up the wall. Aggie just knew it. Meanwhile, with Vannie’s help, she fed and changed Ian. Vannie put the baby in his portable playpen, and the children went to bed.

  Aggie stared at the ceiling. She looked at the stack of books but didn’t pick up any. She drank a glass of water. She regretted it. The water only created a need to use the bathroom. Not a simple thing when you can only put weight on one leg. Aggie almost wished she had broken the ankle. A cast would certainly be preferable. There was something pathetic about taking thirty minutes to use the restroom because you couldn’t easily dress and undress yourself.

  Hobbling back to the couch, Aggie spotted something she hadn’t noticed in the two months she had lived there. Doug had a laptop. All Aggie needed to do was figure out how to get the laptop to the couch and she could talk to Tina.

  Tina says: What are you doing online?

  Aggie says: Laptop! Isn’t it great!

  Tina says: Only you would find a laptop and get online while hobbling around with an injured ankle. Speaking of which, what’s wrong with it?

  Aggie says: Sprained. I’m on complete bed rest for 3-5 days and limited motion for two weeks. They all think I’m nuts.

  Tina says: Why is that?

  Aggie says: Well, they told me to take it easy and do as little possible.

  Tina says: ROFLOL

  Aggie says: I was under the influence of pain and partially effective Tylenol. What more do you expect?

  Tina says: Aggie. What are you going to do? I can’t leave right now. I’ve got finals in a week.

  Aggie says: Well, Zeke is coming first thing tomorrow to put in an intercom system.

  Tina says: The car sales guy?

  Aggie says: Yep. I couldn’t find anyone else home, so I tried him. He’s always been so nice to me.

  Tina says: How old is Zeke again?

  Aggie says: Over sixty for sure. Knock it off Tina; he’s just a nice old man.

  Tina says: Making sure. Ok. What about meals? School? That field trip next week? The baby?

  Aggie says: I have no idea. I’m working on a plan but hoped that you would possibly give me some ideas?

  Tina says: Hire a cleaning service to come in twice a week. You can’t do it alone. See if you can’t find a college student who wants some extra cash for watching the kiddos at the house with you. Then… STAY OFF THAT FOOT! Remember that bad sprain I had? I can tell you. You have to do as little as is humanly possible until setting the foot down does not hurt at all. Trust me on this!

  Aggie says: Oh, but Tina!

  Tina says: If you say one word about the money, I’ll shoot you. If you don’t spend it here, those children will come home from school, do their homework, and then try to clean up the house-- it’s too much. They can do their part on the weekends.

  Aggie says: What about my part? I can’t do any
thing!

  Tina says: You are working hard to get well. Order pizzas, buy macaroni and cheese, Ramen noodles, canned soups, fish sticks, whatever-- have someone go get them so that food is fast and easy. It w on’t hurt them for a couple of weeks.

  Aggie says: What do you think they’re eating now? Add in pot pies, a few leftover casseroles that came after the funeral, frozen burritos, and this is their dinner. I’ve taken to cereal and a bag of apples for breakfast every day.

  Tina says: You’re not cooking?

  Aggie says: Since when can I cook? I don’t know how to shop, make the food, and make enough to feed everyone. Every recipe says it serves 4-6. If I double it, that’s 8-12. We need 9 and those are adult servings. So, do I need to make 4-6?

  Tina says: Ok, ok. I get it. Consider this training time. I’m going to overnight a couple of basic cookbooks. Read them. I’ll also send some regular recipes that you can make from that gal at our church. You know, Priscilla, the lady with like 5 kids under 6? She should know what you should do. You’ve got three more kids, but no husband to feed and guys eat a lot.

  Aggie says: OH, BOY. Wouldn’t that be awful?

  Tina says: What would?

  Aggie says: A HUSBAND! Eeeeeeekkkkkkkkkk.

  Tina says: It would be helpful, dear. Most mothers like husbands.

  Aggie says: No self-respecting husband would put up with the frozen stuff I’ve been feeding these guys, the condition of the house, and you haven’t heard my ANT story!

  Tina says: I don’t want to know. You know how I hate mice, cockroaches, and ants.

  Aggie says: I guess I won’t tell you about Bonaparte and Wellington then.

  Tina says: Not mice. Tell me that they are not mice.

  Aggie says: They are not mice.

 

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