by Alie Garnett
Deciding it was safe for him to pick up garbage around the house, he filled a bag of bottles and cans from beverages and odds and ends that could be thrown out. He knew the house was still half done, but in a few more weeks, he either had to live in it or sell it. When he began the project, he had planned to sell it and move on to another project, but now he knew there would be no other project. And he didn’t want to live there either. He was happier across the street with Agatha.
Her prickly side rarely came out anymore, and when it did, it was because she was trying to protect herself from something. Earlier in the week, she yelled at him all day on Monday before he left for work, but when he came home, she was in a better mood.
Before he knew it, an hour had passed, so he went and checked to see if her car was back. Grinning, he saw it was sitting right where it always did in the yard. Why she parked on the grass, he didn’t know. Shutting off lights and locking the door, he headed across the street. On the porch there was a box sitting by the door. Glancing at it, he saw his Turkish blue shirt on top. He tried to open the door but found that it was locked.
Agatha had been gone all day, and now she had kicked him out of her house. No explanation, nothing. He had no idea what he had done. Should he have gone with her to the hospital that morning? It had been a family event, and she hadn’t invited him. He was beginning to believe he needed to start inviting himself.
Chris decided he needed an explanation and began pounding on the door. He yelled her name, knowing she was in there and that she could hear him.
She opened the door a crack and looked out it. “Stop being so loud, Chris.”
“What is this?” He pointed to the box.
“Your stuff. We’re done,” she stated calmly.
“Why? Where were you today?” he demanded.
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“What? I was the one who sat with the saddest nine-year-old in the state for two hours, who kept asking if you were ever coming back!” He hoped she would understand how sad Violet had been. Though he was sure she knew, he wanted her to feel guilty about it.
She didn’t open the door any wider. “I just can’t do this right now.”
“What did I do?”
“Nothing, Chris, it’s me. This was never going anywhere. It needs to be over now.”
“Over now, Agatha? I have no say in it?”
“No, Christopher. This is my life. You don’t even know me!” She yelled and tried to shut the door on him.
“Because you don’t let me, Agatha.” He pushed the door open and saw the entire living room was full of cardboard, plastic, and plastic bags. The couch was covered in pink clothes and baby toys.
“Get out, Chris. Get out of my house and my life. I don’t need you. I have never needed you.” She pushed against his chest to push him from the house, but she had no hopes of moving him. They both knew that.
“Stop it, Agatha.” His arms pulled her to him. He held her tight as she pushed and twisted to get free and cried. Tightening his hold on her, he kicked the door closed behind them. Whatever had happened that day had been hard on her, and what he had learned since meeting her was that when her emotions ran high, she pushed people away. Anger was her go-to emotion.
Looking around the room more closely, he saw a playpen amongst the mess, and a baby was peeking over the side, looking at him. Only the baby’s black curly hair and dark eyes were visible, along with two tiny hands holding on to the top of the playpen.
“Agatha, there’s a baby here,” he whispered to her, not taking his eyes from it. In his arms, she stiffened and pushed away from him again, but he tightened his arms around her. “She’s staring at me. I think she might be dangerous.”
After feeling her laugh at his joke, he relaxed his hold a tiny bit. The baby seemed content, so he kept holding Agatha. Agatha needed holding right now. Whatever she had been doing had brought a baby into her house.
“I have to get this all cleaned up,” she said into his chest.
“I will clean it up. You do whatever needs to be done with the baby.” He ran a hand over her hair before releasing her.
“Poppy, her name is Poppy.” She walked over and picked up the baby from the playpen. Poppy was in tiny pink footie pajamas with a duck on them.
“Hi, Poppy. I’m Chris.” He gently took the girl’s hand and shook it.
Knowing something was up with Agatha, Chis started to clean the living room. He found a garbage bag and filled it with plastic and cardboard. There were more bags of stuff on the floor that she hadn’t even opened yet. At this point, he was not going to ask questions in case she tried to toss him out again. He didn’t want her to be alone.
Once the second bag was full, he glanced at Agatha on the couch and was only met by one set of brown eyes, the others were closed in sleep. With a smile, he slid the wide-awake little girl from her arms. For her part, Poppy didn’t cry or seem nervous that a stranger was holding her. She just smiled at him with her two little teeth.
Over the years, Chris had never spent time with any kids, even his sister’s kids. When they had been this young, he had been thinking about nothing but football. It seemed he had missed a lot for his football dreams—dreams that didn’t even feel real anymore. It had only been a year, and he was already over those dreams.
Setting Poppy in her playpen, he carefully carried Agatha up to her bedroom. She must have been exhausted because she didn’t even stir. Once she was in bed, he turned his attention to the baby again. Taking her out of the playpen, he sat her on his lap and worked through her bags, opening packages of pink clothes and little toys that Poppy inspected with interest as he went.
Once again, he cleaned the floor after filling another bag with garbage and wondered what to do with all the stuff. He asked Poppy but only got a smile in return. The only thing he was sure of was that Agatha was all in with this baby. Poppy was here to stay.
Two giant boxes of diapers didn’t say weekend visit, nor did hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothes and toys. With the baby in his arms, he decided some stuff could be put away; he just needed a place to put it. With his empty arm, he carried the tan highchair to the kitchen, deciding to put it by the island.
There was a manila folder on the mostly empty counter, like the one she had been looking at weeks before when she had been so prickly. Was it about the baby girl or something else?
Flipping it open, he saw adoption papers, signed by a judge and none other than Agatha C. Lovely for a Poppy Joy Chambers. They were dated today. Chris sat down and stared at the papers. He couldn’t really believe it. He had woken up beside her this morning, or would have if she hadn’t woken up first, and she hadn’t said anything. Nor over the last three weeks he had known her. She had to have known. She had to have been working on it.
Did she think he would disapprove and tell her not to do it? What would he have said? At this point, he didn’t know, but he knew she thought he would be mad. That’s why she tried to end it; because she thought he wouldn’t be happy with her having a child.
Looking at the curly black hair, he knew he had to prove himself, because this child was hers now. If he wanted Agatha, he had to accept this little one and any others she might bring home. And he wanted Agatha.
Also in the folder was a hand-printed list of when things needed to be done. Poppy was going to need to be fed soon based on the sheet. He was not going to fail at this.
An hour later, he had Poppy’s diaper changed, made and fed her a bottle, and she was fast asleep in his arms. But he had no idea what to do with the baby now. As far as he knew, she had no crib in the house, and the playpen was miles from Agatha’s bedroom upstairs.
He checked all the other rooms to see if she had actually put up a crib while he was gone or even days before in preparation but found nothing. All the rooms looked like the one he had stayed in, just different color schemes and layouts. All rooms had a queen-sized bed and a dresser. Some had stuff on the walls, some didn’t. He didn’
t see how six grown women and two kids had lived in the house at the same time. There were only eight bedrooms, and that included the master. He was tempted to check the attic for a crib but figured she would have hauled it down already if she had one. With that, he gave up on finding a crib.
After a few false starts, he silently got the playpen up to Agatha’s bedroom. Then he took the baby and put her in the playpen and covered her with a pink blanket.
Downstairs, he tossed the bags out the back door to be dealt with later and organized the living room a little more so that it didn’t look like a pink bomb had gone off in it. Life was going to be different here tomorrow. No more sleeping in and having sex when he wanted her.
Agatha was a parent now. And he hoped that she would let him help her. He wanted to do this with her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A buzzing phone woke Agatha earlier than she usually liked. Ignoring it, she snuggled deeper into the covers. She could feel the rough fabric encasing her legs and wondered why she was wearing jeans in bed.
Pulling out the phone, she answered it with a sleepy, “Morning.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Sera yelled at her. Sera never yelled.
“Home, sleeping.” Rolling over, she realized Chris wasn’t with her. She missed him right away.
“Bull. You weren’t home when Violet came home from school yesterday.” Sera was pissed, which was not a normal emotion for the woman. That meant that Agatha was in trouble.
Sitting up Agatha, dropped the phone. Suddenly, she was reminded of the events of the day before. From Sera’s baby’s birth to bringing Poppy home with her. The baby wasn’t in the room with her, and she had no idea where she was. A glance at the clock told her she had been sleeping for twelve hours. She had been right. She wasn’t mother material. She had lost her baby in less than one day!
Scrambling out of bed, Agatha left the phone where it had dropped and was almost to the door when Chris came into the room holding Poppy in his arms. He was shirtless, and she was resting her head on his shoulder, her little chunky hand lying on his chest.
Relief turned into pain as she saw them together. Her daughter in the arms of the man she loved—their daughter. Both appeared content and happy with the situation. It seemed Chris had taken over the duties of parenting without her asking; in fact, she had told him not to, but here he was, melting her heart in just another way.
Agatha grabbed the phone off the floor when she realized Sera was still yelling her name. “Sorry, Sera, I just had something big come up yesterday and it took way longer than I thought it would. How’s the baby?”
Sera sighed and started to tell her all the things Benjamin had mastered in his first day of life, from eating every two hours without fail to latching on almost immediately. They were even getting out of the hospital a day early because the baby was so smart, or so Sera said. Her anger was forgotten, at least for a moment. Agatha listened as Chris sat down on the bed with Poppy still in his arms. Exactly where Agatha wanted to be.
“When you get out of the hospital, we can talk then,” Agatha said, knowing Sera had two more days in the hospital. And knowing Sera’s anger at Agatha would be tiny compared to her finding out Agatha had put a baby up for adoption without her even knowing.
“Yes, we will,” Sera said as if she knew everything that was going on and was not pleased. The woman probably thought that her being gone had something to do with Chris.
Hanging up on her stepmother, Agatha asked, “How’s Poppy? I’m sorry I crashed. I shouldn’t have. I’m responsible for her now; I can’t just sleep when I need to anymore.”
“We did just fine. There were a few rocky moments, but we made it through. Poppy’s not sure she loves pink,” he joked, trying to ease her worries.
“She has no choice. The baby industry says she loves it. I got other clothes in other colors when I could find them.” She touched the baby’s back, wanting to take her away from Chris but also wanting to enjoy watching him hold their baby for just for a moment longer.
“Does your mom know about her?” he asked.
Biting her lip, Agatha pushed herself up against the headboard. “No, I never told her. She was in the middle of a pretty hot affair at the time and didn’t notice.”
“She had an affair while she was dating Harrison?” he asked in surprise.
“The affair was with Harrison. Then she was busy with marriage prep and planning all my sisters’ weddings. We hosted quite a few weddings this last year. Nobody was paying much attention to me, and I just wanted them happy and not to worry about anything,” she admitted. Even if she wouldn’t have it any other way, it still made her sad.
“That doesn’t explain whose baby Poppy is,” he pushed, rubbing the baby’s back.
Agatha took a deep breath. “Mine. I gave her up for adoption when she was born. Yesterday, her parents gave her back. Apparently, they have a new baby they like more.” She drew up her knees and watched him. Even now, she couldn’t see that she’d had any other choice. How could she not have taken her baby back?
“What the hell? Who could not love Poppy best?” He hugged Poppy to him, just like Agatha had the day before. He wanted to protect her from the world also.
“The couple had one of their own last month.” She gently pulled the baby from his arms and held her tight, needing to hold her close.
He grabbed Agatha’s foot and rubbed it with his thumb, then asked quietly, “You don’t have to answer, but why did you feel like you had to give her up in the first place?”
Looking at her daughter’s curls, she felt the misery she went through when she did it again. Agatha closed her eyes. “I wasn’t doing so great at life then. Everyone still lived here at the house, and I was able to hide from the world. I do that sometimes. I had quit or been fired from all my jobs, and nothing was working out in my life. I was doing worse than a high schooler—at least they thought they had a future. I didn’t. Then I was got stupidly pregnant. Nobody else got pregnant; well, Lucy did, but I didn’t know that at the time.”
It had only been after Poppy was long gone that both her sisters, Lucy and Buzz, had gotten pregnant before getting married. In both cases, everyone rallied around the new mothers, which made Agatha realize she should have just said something from the start. But it was too late, and for both of her sisters, the babies’ dads had been in love with their mothers. All were now happily married. That wasn’t going to happen for her. No matter what her heart wanted, her brain knew better.
“You were not stupid, Agatha. It happens.” Chris tried to comfort her.
“Yeah. I do stupid stuff all the time. I gave Poppy away to people who were supposed to love her forever no matter what. But no, they ended up just like my parents and wanted out when something better came along. Everybody leaves.” She hugged the baby to her, hating that Poppy had felt the pain of rejection even for a moment. But hopefully, she was too young to remember later—unlike Agatha.
“When are you going to tell your mom? You can’t hide Poppy for long. Nobody even knocks when they come in the house,” Chris reminded her.
“I have to wait until she comes home from the hospital. Let her and Benjamin have their time without me getting in the way,” Agatha replied, though she knew she was only stalling for time.
“I don’t think she’ll mind. I think she’ll be pretty excited to meet Poppy.”
“She’s going to be pissed.”
“How did you carry and give birth to a baby in a house full of people?”
“Nobody was paying much attention to me. They cared that I was gaining weight, but nobody said anything. And then Poppy was born while Sera and her new family were all on vacation. It worked out perfectly, actually. Harper and Maby were married and didn’t live here anymore. Lucy was staying with Maby that week. Buzz was around but was working, and I just told her I was with friends. Nobody ever questioned it.” At the time, she thought luck was finally turning her way, oddly only so that she could give away th
e one thing she loved more than life itself. All without anyone knowing it had happened.
“Until yesterday. Then it wasn’t so perfect. Or maybe that means it is perfect because your life is back on track, and you can raise her now,” he said, moving closer to Agatha and tucking her hair behind her ear.
“But I fell asleep and didn’t know where she was.” Agatha knew she had messed up badly. It was way too soon for her to feel that it was going to be alright.
“I knew. You were tired, Agatha. When I’m here, I will help you.” He kissed her lips above the baby’s head.
“But she’s mine. I need to take care of her all the time.”
Because there was one thing she knew: she couldn’t count on Chris being there for her all the time. He didn’t even know her; not really. And once he did, he would be gone. Because nobody stuck around for Agatha Christie Lovely … they never had. Why would Chris be any different?
Chapter Twenty-Five
The weekend blew by with Agatha’s every thought and move centered around a nine-month-old baby. Saturday, Chris left most of the baby care to Agatha because after their talk, he knew she needed to prove to herself that she could do it. She had convinced herself that she couldn’t be a mother, and the only way for her to realize she was going to be fine was for her to do a lot of it alone.
So around noon on Saturday, he had went out to buy the crib she hadn’t been able to fit in her car the day before. While in the store, he bought a few more things that the saleswoman had insisted would make his life easier—their lives easier. On his way out of the store, he saw them: Christie Lovely’s books. Buying two of the six available, he was excited about his find. He had completely forgotten about the books until that moment. So much had changed in his life since he had found out about his former locker neighbor’s books.