Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance)

by Chautona Havig

  “I suppose. Well, if Luke doesn’t mind all the double secrets and such, then I suppose…” She dug in the drawer for her favorite strainer. “What about Cari and Lorna?”

  “We’ll tell them it’s your party too. They’ll probably be extra good in the days before hand and if they talk freely, it won’t ruin things for Ellie and Tavish.”

  “Just what do I have to do?”

  “Make a list of people we should invite?”

  Aggie sighed. “Remind me to thank the Lord that none of you were born Christmas week.”

  ~*~*~*~

  It was a dark and stormy night. The living room lights flickered as the power hovered between steady and blackout. Aggie pulled her power cord from the laptop, reached for the surge protector at the side of the couch, jerked the plug from the wall, and plunged the entire room into perfect darkness. There, at least the TV won’t be ruined if we get hit.

  The odd glow of the laptop was the only light in the room, apart from the occasional flash of lightning, but still Aggie pecked away at the keyboard, determined to get the kids’ party lists entered into some semblance of order. A pile of scrap paper, notebook paper, envelopes, and of all things, construction paper, had notes of everything from “gold balloons” to “don’t forget to invite Deputy Markenson. Kenzie insists. I’m writing this down so she’ll quit bugging me.”

  Lost in confusing food suggestions such as sparkling grape juice and crab cakes, she didn’t see the flash of light, hear the booms that rattled the windows, or feel the cool gusts of wind that fought to get into the house. She did feel cold hands cover her eyes and screamed, clutching her laptop before it flew across the room. “Luke!”

  “I knocked! I could see you, but you didn’t answer. Is the power out?”

  “No, I just pulled the plug in case.” She sank back to the couch. “My heart is still pounding!” she accused, slapping his arm lightly.

  “Well, I have to produce some kind of heart thump in you… it’s my duty as your fiancée.”

  “You like that word, don’t you?” Aggie set the laptop on the table and stood, fumbling for the light switch in the dining room. “There. Shed a little light on the subject.”

  “Yes, I do like that word. I’d like wife better…” he frowned. “Tell me you don’t want to serve crab cakes at our wedding.”

  “Um, no. The kids want to serve crab cakes at Ellie and Tavish’s surprise party.”

  “Ellie—” He paused, then laughed. “You got me.”

  “No, I’m serious. They want to do a surprise party for Ellie and Tavish’s golden birthday.”

  “What’s a golden birthday? Wouldn’t that be age fifty?”

  “That’s the fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

  Luke winked. “What can I say, I’ve got weddings on the brain. Now, tell me about golden birthdays.”

  “It’s just when your birth year coincides with the day of the month you were born. They were born on December ninth and are turning nine this year. Vannie did the same thing. Thankfully, everyone else isn’t for a long time. Maybe I can get out of doing anything by then.”

  “They really want crab cakes and sparkling grape juice?”

  “I know, right?” Aggie flopped back against the couch, staring at the screen on the coffee table. “I was thinking nine small cakes, nine kinds of ice cream, and nine balloons or something. I planned to invite your nephews and nieces and that’s it. They’ve got a list of everyone we know! They even want to invite Tina’s dad!”

  “Probably for the great gifts he’d be likely to bring.”

  Her eyes widened and her chin dropped ever so slightly. “I bet you’re right! Oh man, they scare me sometimes.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  The flashing little cursor on the screen mocked her. It seemed to be an electronic hand, drumming its fingers in impatience. “I think so. It’s a lot to do in a week, and it’ll cost a fortune, but Allie made a big deal out of Vannie’s. I think the kids are trying to tell me that we need to do this.”

  “I take it now isn’t a good time to discuss dates and such.”

  Without hesitation, Aggie closed the laptop, curled up in her corner of the couch, wrapped her hands around her knees and grinned. “It’s a great time.”

  “I suppose,” his fingers ticked off days until he was satisfied, “December thirteenth is out.”

  “Next Saturday?”

  “Yeah.”

  Aggie sighed. “We could just have the Vaughns come—no wait, they’re already invited—and have a brief ceremony at the end.”

  “No dress?”

  “Who cares? You get to stay then.”

  “I could go for that, but I think in twenty years I’d regret not giving you time to have a dress.” Luke nudged her foot. “A bride should have the chance to be bridal for a bit.”

  “Bridal wave, eh?”

  “That’s better than Bridezilla. The girls are taking votes as to if and or when you will turn into one.”

  “The girls? Your sisters?”

  Luke nodded. “I told Connie you’d get frazzled, but before you could don your lizard skin and bare your fangs, you’d go marching up the stairs singing It Is Well with My Soul or something.”

  His words stung for some reason. “Am I that—that—”

  “Encouraging? Endearing? Predictably faithful? Yep.”

  It only took a second of hesitation before Aggie unwrapped her arms from her knees and scooted next to Luke, laying her head on his shoulder. “Thanks. It just sounded… um…” She swallowed hard. Suddenly, she felt as if it looked like she was making a production out of it to garner attention. “Oh, I don’t know. Pietistic or something. Trying to look spiritual or ick... It’s just a habit. I usually don’t even know I’m doing it.”

  “That’s what is so wonderful about it, Mibs. It’s a part of your relationship with the Lord. It’s who you are in the deepest part of you. It’s a beautiful thing.”

  “I’d rather talk about dates. Start with months?” she suggested.

  “Ok.” He hesitated then sighed. “December is out. If we can’t do it next weekend, then the following one is too close to Christmas and then there’s New Year’s at Uncle Christopher’s.”

  “January is out.”

  “Ok, any particular reason?” Luke sounded disappointed.

  “Well, we can do it, but if I can’t get married next Saturday, then I’m going to do it ‘right,’ and that means I need a little more time.”

  “February then. We can do the cheesy Valentine’s Day thing. I can tell everyone it’s because—” He stopped mid-sentence as tears splashed onto Aggies cheeks and she shook her head. “What’s wrong, Mibs?”

  All of her mental preparation failed her at the mention of Valentine’s Day. Although she wanted to pretend the day would be salvaged by a happy memory, Aggie had no doubt that the pall of the first anniversary of her sister’s death would kill the festive spirit. Trying to explain it, however, proved to be harder than she’d anticipated. “I want people to cry for happiness at my wedding if they must cry—not because it is also a sad day for the Milliken-Stuarts.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Valentine’s Day will be the first anniversary—”

  “Oh! I forgot!” Luke’s jaw slowly tightened as he worked through his thoughts and put them into discussable order. “I—oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s just skip February, ok?”

  “Then the date is March. Name the day, but it is March.”

  Aggie dragged the laptop back off the table and flipped it open. Thanks to her good buddy, Google, the calendar appeared. “Seventh, fourteenth, twenty-first, or twenty-eighth.”

  “Not the fourteenth. I’ll take the others, but that’s too close to the ‘Ides of March.’ It feels ominous.”

  “How about the seventh?”

  “Far enough away from Valentine’s Day?”

  There was no doubt in her mind when Aggie shoved the la
ptop back onto the table and grinned up at him. “Definitely.”

  “Can you do the wedding thing that fast?”

  “You better believe it.” Rain pelted the house even harder than ever, and the thunder rattled more than the windowpanes. “I want hot chocolate. Want some?”

  “Are you afraid of storms, Aggie?”

  “Afraid is a bit extreme. I just really don’t like all the elements at once. One or two at a time, great. All… not so much.”

  He jumped up to help her, grinning like a kid who just won a new bicycle. “I’m going to love this.”

  She jumped at a new clap of thunder, shoving the cocoa canister into his hands. “What?”

  “Discovering all these little things that we haven’t had time to learn yet.” For a moment, it seemed as if he’d disappeared into some distant daydream. “I’ve practically lived my days here for five months. I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone outside my family, but then it seems like I don’t know you at all.”

  “I felt guilty,” she confessed with a sly smile growing as she spoke. “I felt the same way. It seems like you shouldn’t feel like you don’t know the person you’re going to marry, but I kind of liked the feeling. It’s like an adventure, and yet that’s crazy because I know things about you that no one else does—maybe even you!”

  Luke’s slow nod told her he understood. While milk heated on the stove, they leaned against the corners of the island, their hands intertwined on the granite. Both Luke and Aggie seemed mesmerized at the sight before them, but at last, their gazes met. The look in Luke’s eyes stole her breath and held it for a moment. “March.”

  “Seventh,” she agreed.

  “A long time.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Though she tried to drop her eyes, she couldn’t. “Too long.”

  “Sunday after church?”

  “Nope. It’s Saturday or the seventh of March.”

  The scent of warm milk jerked her from their conversation. She stirred the pot, readied the mugs, and tried to control the overwhelming temptation to beg him to agree to Saturday or Sunday. It didn’t take long for him to say the only words that could assure that she would be Aggie Milliken for at least a couple of more months.

  “I suppose preempting the kids’ birthday with our hastily arranged wedding isn’t exactly something Emily Post would agree with.”

  “Getting married that quickly probably also gives rise to other, less charitable, gossip.”

  “Who cares—” Luke sighed. “I suppose we should. The kids would be the ones who got the brunt of it—eventually.” He accepted the cup she offered and nudged her back toward the living room. “So, what about houses. Should we live in your house or mine?”

  Hot chocolate spewed across the room, landing mostly on the dining table, bench, and chairs. The floor also looked as if the storm had moved indoors. “And I thought you were a gentleman.”

  “Why would you think that? I was just protecting my back from scalding hot chocolate.”

  Aggie started to turn back toward the kitchen, but Luke blocked the way. “Go sit down and enjoy your chocolate. I’ll clean up your mess.”

  “Your mess. You know it, too.”

  From the dining room, Luke peppered her with questions that were at nearly a conversational pace. “Do you know where you want to do this? At the church? Brunswick? Rockland?”

  “I know,” she admitted, “but you might not like it.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “On one condition.” Aggie waited for him to see how serious she was before she continued. “You’ll be honest with me if you don’t like it?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m serious, Luke. I want to tell you my idea without worrying that you’ll just feel obligated to do it out of some… some… obligatory sense of… of… obligation.”

  “Ok then, no feeling obliged to agree. Got it.”

  She groaned as she sipped her chocolate and wondered if the idea was such a good one after all. A new thought gave her the perfect way for him to present an objection. “I also need to know if it’ll cause any problems with your family. I don’t want to start off our marriage by alienating people.”

  “Just tell me, Mibs.” Luke wiped down the last of the chocolate that dripped from the bench to the floor and then strolled back into the living room, sipping his drink.

  “I want to have the wedding here.”

  “It won’t work. Not in March. It’ll be too cold, windy, rainy… we can’t.”

  “I mean right here. You and me on those steps, Mr. Vaughn at the bottom with his back to the guests, and guests everywhere else. All the furniture out of here, the dining room, and maybe the library—well not the books, but the tables and stuff.”

  “We couldn’t have very many people here…”

  Aggie willed her features not to give away her disappointment. “I was afraid it wouldn’t work. That’s ok. We—”

  “Wait. I didn’t say it wouldn’t work. I just said we couldn’t have many guests. Are you sure you’re ok with that?”

  “I pictured your family, mine, Tina, William, Mrs. Dyke, the Vaughns, Iris… oh, probably Murphy, but that’s it for here. Then we do pictures and go somewhere else for the reception. Invite everyone we know to that. The church, my church from home, your’s and your mother’s church and friends, the Rockland church… pack the place for all I care.”

  “That would work…” He hesitated and then asked, “Do you mind telling me why so few people? Is it because you want the house especially or the small number?”

  “Both. I want the house, of course. It’s where it all started. You helped make the house become whole again—and now you’re helping our family become a whole thing too.” A new tear rolled down her cheek and onto her blouse. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s just about the most incredible thing anyone has ever said to me—except maybe a girl I know who said she loved me.”

  “Well, that too.”

  “And numbers?” Luke’s voice sounded suspiciously emotional.

  “I really wanted to consider having only those people who would take seriously an admonition from our wedding sermon to ‘hold us to our vows’ in hard times. I wanted everyone to celebrate with us, but only those who understand the sincerity and seriousness of our vows to be there to witness them.”

  “I see that…” His mind and jaw worked double time until he nodded. “I like it.”

  “Really? I just want someone to say, ‘I was there the day you got married. I witnessed those vows. You said in good times and bad. This is the bad. You vowed. Now let’s get back there and I’ll help you work it out’ if I ever even hint that I’m ‘done.’”

  “I pray I never make you think that.”

  She smiled. “You won’t. It’ll be all me. I know me all too well.”

  Their eyes locked, enchanting messages flying back and forth between them, until Luke gave himself a little shake of the head and dropped his eyes to the pile of papers on the coffee table. He flipped through them, visibly trying to distract himself, which caused Aggie no little amount of delight. There was no doubt about his feelings toward her, and it seemed as if he understood her heart as well.

  One slip of paper, scrawled on yellow legal paper, grabbed his attention. “What? Did you read this?”

  “The yellow one? No. What does it say?”

  “‘There should be a breath holding contest. This will give the little girls a chance to win something. Cari and Kenzie can hold their breaths much longer than I can.’”

  “A breath holding contest?”

  “It’s futile. They’ll lose.”

  Aggie’s eyes asked the obvious question, “Why do you say that?”

  Luke stood, squeezed her hand, and dragged himself to the door. “No, don’t get up.”

  “But why—”

  “Because I’ll be holding my breath until March.”

  Libby says: Have you seen my Luke tonight? He’s not home and he’s not answering his
cell phone. With this weather, I’m a little worried.

  Libby says: Oh, and hello! Sorry.

  Aggie says: Yes! He just left. When was the last time you tried to

  call?

  Libby says: Oh, about ten minutes ago?

  Aggie says: He was right here ten minutes ago. Either his battery is dead, or he left his phone in the truck. I’m sorry.

  Libby says: If he’s all right, I am too. I’ve not gotten to chat with you since you returned. I loved the video!

  Aggie says: All his doing. I was clueless.

  Libby says: Yes, well, you made him very happy. He hasn’t quite touched ground yet.

  Aggie says: I know exactly how he feels.

  Libby says: I know he wanted to talk about dates with you…

  Aggie says: Well, we both liked Saturday. What do you think?

  Libby says: As in this Saturday, or as in the best day of the week?

  Aggie says: This Saturday. We’re already planning a birthday party for Tavish and Ellie, so it’d be convenient—everyone here already and everything.

  Libby says: Are you teasing me?

  Aggie says: Not at all. We both talked about it and that really was the date that suited both of us best.

  Libby says: Well, it is a bit sudden, but you do make a good argument about the party.

  Aggie says: Yeah. No wait, no fuss, no time to get nervous…

  Aggie says: Unfortunately, we also thought maybe it wasn’t fair to the children to preempt their day with ours.

  Libby says: And then picked another day, right?

  Aggie says: Yes.

  Libby says: I’m starting to wonder if pushing you two together was

  such a great idea.

  Aggie says: Pushing?

  Libby says: You’ve had at least a dozen matchmakers doing their

  part to ensure that you and Luke marry. Surely you know this.

  Aggie says: Actually, no. I’m relieved that I didn’t. I might have resisted.