Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance)

by Chautona Havig

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Aggie said. “You pick out a few things for each boy and I’ll go look for the twins and Kenzie. I doubt there’ll be anything in here that Vannie would like, but maybe Ellie…”

  An hour later, the shopping cart was full to overflowing and still they had nothing for Vannie or Ellie. Luke maneuvered through traffic to the hobby store, but they found more bare shelves than stocked ones. “I’ll call Mom. Maybe there is a better place,” Luke offered.

  “Or maybe it’s four days before Christmas and stores are getting depleted.” She stared at her phone, hesitating. “It’s almost dinner. William can’t be expected to cook for them too. I’ve got to go home.”

  “I could see if Mom—”

  “She’s got her hands full with your sisters and their kids. I’ll figure something out. I have to.”

  Luke drove toward home and then pulled into a gas station. “Need to fill up. Why don’t you go get us some coffee?”

  By the time she returned, he looked more chipper. “William said that he can con Shay into delivering pizza. He is back on the clock in an hour and a half. Let’s stop at one more store and then go for a walk around Lake Danube before we go home.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Stars twinkled overhead as Aggie and Luke walked hand in hand along the shore of the lake. On the other side, Christmas lights twinkled on houses and reflected in the water. It seemed almost magical. “I should bring the kids to see this.”

  “We should.”

  Aggie looked up at him, smiling. “That’s right. We should. I have to get used to the idea that I’m not in this alone anymore.”

  “You never were,” he reminded her. “Even in Rockland you had church family, your parents, friends, Jesus. You’ve never been alone.”

  “It felt alone—still does more of the time than I’d like to admit.”

  He didn’t respond for some time, making Aggie wonder if she’d hurt him with her honesty. Before she could ask, he stopped and pulled her into a gentle hug. “I forget that a lot happens that I never see—never know about. The girls say a lot of that happens even though they’ve been married for years. They’re home with the kids and it can still be overwhelming.”

  “True…”

  “Call me home, Mibs. Even now, if you need someone for support or to back you up with the kids—whatever. Call me home. If I can possibly do it, I’ll come.”

  “I can’t get into the habit of using you to bail me out of hard days.”

  “Is that what your mom is doing when she needs someone to take her to the doctor or to do something that she physically can’t handle? You are young,” he said, his hand reaching up to touch her cheek with a gentleness that stole her breath. “But you are not invincible. Let me help.”

  “You may regret that.”

  He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, holding her close for just a moment longer. “I doubt it.”

  “Regrets come in all shapes and sizes—even for things you were sure you wanted.”

  Luke winked. “Is that a hint?”

  “It’s a fact. I’m glad you put a stop to it with Vannie.”

  “I am too,” he agreed, “but I think God knew what He was doing when He gave your father to you. Some temptations are best avoided.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

  “That’s what you think.”

  Monday, December 22

  “Laird! Get back in here!”

  The boy shuffled in and picked up the book. “I’ll put it away,” he grumbled.

  “Um, you might not want to do that yet.” Aggie passed him his “book report” with a huge red F marked across the single sentence on the page.

  “What? Why!”

  “A single sentence, Laird? Really? You thought I’d let you get away with a single sentence for an entire book report?”

  “You told me it had to be a report about what I liked about the book. That’s what it is.”

  Aggie frowned. “And you think, ‘I liked the book Bad, Bad Beginning because it was short’ is a sufficient book report?”

  He started to argue—the angst and frustration written on his face—and then he shook his head. “Ok, how many words or pages do I need?”

  “Fill the page.” He made it to the door before she added, “In normal sized handwriting.”

  The genuinely confused expression on his face made her want to kick herself. “Don’t get any ideas, boy. Just do your assignment.”

  An hour later, the finished report was placed in front of her and her red pencil offered with relish. A giggle near the staircase warned Aggie that this was going to be good. She flipped over the paper and began reading.

  In my personal opinion, the book The Bad, Bad Beginning by Lemony Snickett was a good choice for this book report. The size of the book, as well as the number of pages and words, make it optimal for a person like me to choose for a book report. Additionally, the frequent use of illustrations to break up the pages also contributes to the things I like about this book.

  The size of the book is approximately five by seven inches—much like a portrait photograph. It is hardbound with an illustrated front and a letter from the author, Mr. Snickett, on back. It fits well in your hand and isn’t very thick.

  There are only one hundred sixty-two pages in the book. They’re cool pages that look like they’re from an old book or handmade or something. The margins are wide, which contributes nicely to keeping the story short.

  The illustrations are interesting and occur at reasonably frequent integrals. This helps to keep the reader from feeling as if the book is too long. I particularly liked this part of why I like the shortness of this book.

  In conclusion, the thing I liked most about the book The Bad, Bad Beginning, by Lemony Snickett is that it was a short book. It was not too long. It could have been shorter, of course. However, it was short, and that is what I liked about it. That is all I liked about it.

  One eyebrow rose as she handed him back the report. “Turn it into Luke. Whatever grade he gives it stands.”

  “What! That’s—”

  “Turn it into Luke for your final grade, or I mark it as an F and you get to read the entire series with five page book reports on each.” She waited until he was just outside the door before adding, “Oh, and by the way. The word is intervals, not integrals. This is English, not math.” Laird’s chin dropped when she added, “And if you use your sister as a thesaurus and advisor, it might also be wise to have her look it over as an editor.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Luke jogged up the steps, eager to get Aggie out of the house and onto her shopping journey. The whole thing seemed ridiculous, but if it made her happy, it was worth it. Why she needed more gifts was beyond him, but as he mentally calculated what they’d procured for each child the previous day, he realized that it wasn’t that much after all. The sheer volume—

  “Here. I’ve got this for you. Gotta run.”

  The red brake lights signaled that she was gone before he stepped into the house, the paper she’d handed him still clutched in his fist. He glanced down and began reading. What kind of book report was this?

  Tavish strolled toward his cubbyhole, but Luke stopped him. “Where is Laird?”

  “Waiting in the schoolroom I think.”

  The boy was right. Laird sat at the table, working on some assignment or another, trying desperately to look uninterested in what was about to take place.

  “What is this?” Luke shook the paper. “Interesting report.”

  “Good. Aunt Aggie said you have to grade it.”

  “What was the criteria for writing the paper?”

  Laird set down his pencil and leaned back in the chair, again with a ridiculous air of nonchalance. “At first, she said to write what I liked about the book. So I did.”

  “Well, you did a thorough job of it,” Luke conceded.

  “I had to. My original report got an F for being too short.”

  “Too short?” This wa
s going to be good. “How long was it?”

  “It was one sentence, not a fragment even. I specifically named the book and what I liked.”

  Luke sat down and laid the paper between them. “Then what?”

  “She said it had to be a full page report. So, I expanded on what I liked about the book—in short, its shortness.”

  “Brevity.”

  “What?”

  Luke glanced around and then retrieved a dictionary from a nearby bookshelf. “Look it up.”

  “It’s not vocabulary, Luke. I did what she said I had to do—twice. I didn’t deserve the F—”

  “Look it up, Laird.”

  After a few seconds in the dictionary, Laird retrieved the paper and erased something. When Luke got it back, he saw one sentence changed from “why I like the shortness of this book” to “why I like the brevity of this book.” Brevity was written out in a sprawling manner to help it fit into the larger space needed by shortness.

  Now Luke saw the real problem. Aggie wasn’t concerned about the book report—it was actually quite ingenious considering the requirements given. No, she was upset by the attitude that prompted it. Even now, a smugness hovered about Laird’s features. He knew he’d written exactly what was required and had done a good job of it.

  After rooting around in the drawer, Luke found the red pencil Aggie used for grading and marked an A on the top of the page. Self-satisfied, Laird stood and nodded before turning to leave. Luke stopped him. “I am not finished with you.”

  “But—”

  “I consider that you did the assignment as requested and within the parameters you were given. The first was a mockery of the assignment and you knew it. You didn’t even attempt to hide your disrespect. I’m going to tell her to keep that F on the record. You earned it. You also earned this A.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Tell me,” Luke added, nudging the chair toward the boy, “what would your teacher have given you last year if you had brought one sentence in as a book report.”

  “But I wouldn’t—” He stopped short.

  “Exactly. You wouldn’t have been that snotty to another teacher, but you will to the woman who loves you and is doing her best to give you everything you need for a good life. Your teacher last year might not have given you the opportunity to make up a failed report. Be thankful Aggie did. I wouldn’t have and once we are married, that kind of second chance for insolence won’t be permitted.”

  “You’re not our dad, you know…” Laird said.

  “No, but I will be the only father you have until you marry, so you’ll show me the respect that God requires of you.”

  Laird’s head dropped, making Luke wonder if repentance was at hand. Instead, he heard, “I hate this.”

  “What? What is it? What do you hate? What has you acting so out of character? This isn’t like you…”

  “Everything.”

  The catch in the boy’s voice told Luke that it was only a matter of time before he broke down. In an effort to protect Laird’s pride, Luke went to shut the doors, locking them behind him. He sat on the couch and gestured for Laird to follow. “C’mon. Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s almost Christmas and it’s going to be horrible. Mommy—Daddy—they made Christmas amazing. Aunt Aggie tries, but she’s no good at this mom thing. You know she isn’t. We can’t see Grandmother Stuart. It’s not always bad that we can’t, but the fact that we can’t is bad. I want to talk to Dad. I want him to take me on a walk across the field and talk to me—tell me what a jerk I’m being.”

  “I doubt he said you were a jerk.”

  “No, but he knew how to make you see that you were. I want him to tell me it’s ok to cry.”

  “But it is ok, Laird. You know it is. I still cry when I think of my father sometimes. Rodney gets me all the time. That kid will turn just at the right angle and it’s like looking right at Dad. Cuts me. And I cry. It’s ok to cry.” He pointed out the window. “And, if it helps to know it, crying it out to a dog is a great way to have comfort when you’re not ready to talk with a person.”

  “That’s just the thing,” Laird said, obviously fighting back those tears. “It’s not. If I cry, and you know even if it was just me and the dog someone would see it, the girls start crying. Then Tavish loses it. Pretty soon, I’ve just made everything a million times worse.”

  “Or better. Missing your parents isn’t something you want to get over. They sound like they were amazing people. Who would want to stop missing that?”

  “Me! It doesn’t hurt if I don’t miss it. I want it to stop! I want it all to stop. I want to go to school where everything is so busy that I can’t remember. I want to go where I’m not surrounded by things that remind me of how everything has been taken away. I want to look at Aunt Aggie and not feel guilty because I’ve ruined her life.”

  “You didn’t ruin her life!” Luke pulled the boy into a rough hug. “She chose this, remember? She had a choice and she took it. No one forced her. No one—not even herself. She cried at the idea of giving you guys up. In a way, having you helps her keep a piece of her sister.”

  “But Vannie said—”

  “I love your sister to bits, but she reads a few too many old novels that show the world in a very romanticized self-sacrificing way. She’s wrong.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know because I’ve lived this, Laird. No, I didn’t lose my mom too, but I lost my dad, and if it came down to it, Aggie would pick you guys over me without blinking.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Luke sighed, stuffing back his own ragged emotions. “I know so. She did back when she thought she had to make that choice. She didn’t hesitate—even for a second.” He stared at Laird for several seconds before he added, “I’m going to be very frank with you.”

  “Ok.”

  “You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

  Laird sat upright, already looking less like a lost boy and more like a young man. “I promise.”

  “You’re right. Aggie chose a hard path. It was a choice and I know she doesn’t regret it, but it was a hard path. Your mother chose that same path, Laird. No one forced her to have eight children. No one forced her to marry a man with a difficult mother. No one forced this on anyone, but it is still hard sometimes—a lot of the time probably.”

  “See—”

  “But with it, comes a lot of blessings. You know that. You have brothers and sisters. You know that sometimes they drive you nuts and you just want them all to go away, but then when you do have time alone, you remember what you love about having them, don’t you?”

  The boy nodded. “Yeah. I get frustrated sometimes, I guess—but not like Vannie.”

  “Right. This conversation fits her personality better, but it is still true. I think sometimes Aggie doesn’t know how hard it is. We see her struggling, but to her it’s just life and that’s good.” Luke reached over the back of the couch and stretching, managed to snag the paper. “But stuff like this? It’ll break her. You might enjoy feeling powerful enough to bring her to tears or knowing that you beat her at a game of wits she didn’t even try to enter, but let me tell you something.” Again, Luke’s eyes bored into Laird’s. “You’ll hate yourself for it someday. It’s cruel. It’s disrespectful, and that isn’t the Laird Stuart I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you tell her that. You tell her and you mean it.”

  “I will.”

  Luke stood and went to the door. Before unlocking it, he turned. “Next time you feel like you’re spinning out of control—as if you want to prove something to someone, you come tell me. I’ll help. I know that feeling much better than you can imagine.”

  “Thanks.” Laird stared at his hands, unwilling to meet Luke’s eyes.

  “Oh, and one more thing.”

  With evident difficulty, the two green eyes darted around the room before resting on Luke. “Yeah?”

  “If you
ever show that kind of disrespect for my Aggie again, you will sorely wish you had not. Do you understand me? This is the woman who will be my wife. No one, man, woman, or child will get away with that. Am I clear?”

  There it was—the penitence Luke was looking for—in Laird’s entire demeanor. “Yes. I understand. I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t do it. Don’t try to defend yourself. Just don’t do it again.”

  Unsure if he made the right decision, Luke walked from the room without a second glance. Laird’s eyes followed. He stared down at the paper beside him and frowned at the red A on the top. With a sigh, he picked it up and set it on top of the pile of work to be graded and left the room. Smiling.

  Aggie says: What’d you say to Laird today? The boy is almost obsequious in his attitude.

  Luke says: He’s probably going a little over-board with showing his remorse, but I think he gets how disrespectful those papers were.

  Aggie says: Something’s not right, Luke.

  Luke says: How so?

  Aggie says: I can’t say. I can just feel it.

  Luke says: I’ll talk to him again if necessary.

  Aggie says: Well, we should probably give him time to process it.

  Luke says: I don’t know. With kids like Laird, they seem ok, but if

  the behavior is still off…

  Aggie says: That’s just it. His behavior is too “on” if anything. It feels almost as if he’s mocking me.

  Luke says: I thought he understood. He seemed genuinely sorry for it once he saw it.

  Aggie says: I’m probably just being overly sensitive. I’m tired and frustrated.

  Luke says: Why? What’s wrong?