For Keeps (Aggie's Inheritance)

by Havig, Chautona

  Libby says: You will. We have more clothes to make. I just need to help Melanie while her little guy gets over the chicken pox.

  Aggie says: Thanks! Night to both of you!

  Libby says: Luke says goodnight too. Goodnight, Aggie.

  Snips & Snails

  Chapter 8

  Monday, August 18th

  With Tina on kid patrol, Aggie grabbed her purse, guardianship papers, the children’s birth certificates, and school records. Waving gaily at Mrs. Dyke as she passed, she drove serenely through town, onto the highway, and into Brunswick. Brant’s Corners only had a small private school, which she’d considered for Cari and Lorna when their year for Kindergarten came, but for now the school-aged children would ride to Brant’s Corners on the same big yellow school buses that the rest of the children in town rode.

  The elementary school was first. She found the school office and from there strolled to the cafeteria where several teachers and the principal gathered to help parents transition students into school. Only a few women, two with their children in tow, and a man stood in line ahead of her. The cafeteria was bustling with activity. Papers rustled, pens scratched, records were checked, and it seemed like a mountain of paperwork grew beside each smiling face. Aggie couldn’t help but wonder if those faces would look just as fresh and cheerful in May as they did that morning.

  One of the women tried to strike up a conversation, but her daughter, dancing from foot to foot, needed a trip to the restrooms. Aggie moved up in line, determined to offer to let the woman back in her place if she returned in time. The man now ahead of her gave her a small grimace and shrugged. “I’ve never done this before. I hope I have everything.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never done it either.”

  “You looked too young to be experienced at the wonders of kindergarten enrollment.” Flashbacks of a rude single father from Kenzie’s graduation made her uncomfortable for a moment, but then she felt silly. Just because a man was friendly at a school did not make him a creep.

  “I am, but I’m not enrolling kindergarten. This year it’s first, and fourth. Oh, and I forgot to ask if this school has sixth or if they lump it in the middle school.”

  “Babysitter? They won’t let you enroll someone else’s child.”

  She smiled. “Legal guardian of my nieces and nephews.” His eyes asked the question he was polite enough not to ask. “My sister died in February.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Her husband…”

  “Died the same night.” She hated these questions, but the man seemed genuinely sorry and interested.

  “Oh, those poor children. I really admire you and your husband for taking on three children. So many kids would end up in foster care these days.”

  For a moment, Aggie was tempted not to correct him, but her innate open personality and the feeling of dishonesty that washed over her for not correcting his misconception, sent her explaining again. “Actually, she left eight children, and I am not married.”

  The man didn’t respond. His eyes widened, his jaw slackened just a little, and she saw him blink a couple of times, before he gave himself just the slightest hint of a shake. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. I just keep prying, but I can’t help but ask how you do it.”

  The question was an awkward one. She didn’t like when people treated her like a super woman just for doing what Allie had done for years. She tried to formulate an intelligent response that gave credit to the Lord without sounding too pompously pious and then shrugged. “I don’t know. One day at a time, I guess. Oh, and a lot of prayer.”

  “Do you have a good church?”

  Aggie nodded. “Brant’s Corners has a wonderful church.”

  “Well,” the man fished a business card out of his pocket, “with a good church, you’re probably set for help without needing a stranger, but if you ever need anything--toilet overflows, sprinkler head breaks, tire goes flat, anything--just call. My work hours are very flexible, so I can come if you need me.” He rolled his eyes. “That sounds freaky, doesn’t it? You can call The Assembly here in Brunswick for a reference.”

  “Nate Christman. You live up to your name, don’t you?”

  “I’ve never thought of it that way.” The surprise in his eyes showed that he hadn’t. “Thanks--”

  The woman returned just then, trying to quiet her whining daughter, and Aggie stepped aside for her. “I saved your place for you.”

  “Oh, thanks! I thought there’d be fifty people behind you, and I’d never get out of here.”

  Before the woman’s chatter could prevent it, Aggie smiled around her at Nate. “Thanks again. I can’t promise I’ll call, but this card will encourage me even if I don’t.”

  A fresh stream of whines and a few stomps of the feet echoed around the cafeteria. Aggie watched the ineffectual attempts to control the child’s display of displeasure and thanked the Lord for women like Iris and Libby. Cari and Kenzie, probably Lorna as well, would all be just as demanding without the lessons provided by Aggie’s mentors. Nate offered the mother his place in line and stepped back next to Aggie. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not!” She pointed to his file folder. “What grade is your child in this year?”

  “Kindergarten. Abby turns five next week.”

  “Aw, that’s such a fun age. Kenzie is just six, and always amazes me with her observations.”

  “Just a year either way and they might have shared a classroom.” Nate sounded more relieved than disappointed as was Aggie. The man wasn’t going to hound her. That was nice.

  Before they could talk any further, Nate was beckoned to the third table. Aggie watched as each parent pulled out their paperwork, waited for it to be verified, signed documents of some kind, and then received several packets of paperwork. One woman couldn’t find her driver’s license and hurried out to see if it was in her car, while others complained about lunch program rules and school supply lists, insisting that they should not be required to purchase Kleenex for the entire classroom. Aggie frowned.

  At last, her turn came and she sat at the table next to Nate and shook hands with the principal. “I’m Aggie Milliken. I’m here to register my two nieces and a nephew-- or two.”

  “Or two?”

  “I forgot to ask when I called if sixth grade is here or in the middle school.”

  The principal’s features took on that familiar authoritative look. “Sixth is at the middle school, but I’m afraid students must be registered by a parent or legal guardian.”

  “I am their legal guardian.” She flipped open her folder and flipped through pages until she found the letter she sought. “Here’s a letter from the vice principal at Washington Elementary in Rockland. He explains everything.”

  Nate sent her an encouraging look while she waited for the principal to read the letter. “Well, Ms. Milliken--”

  “Miss is fine.”

  “Miss then. You have quite the responsibility here. Let’s get started on your paperwork.”

  Aggie filled out enrollment forms, liability waivers, insurance forms, school lunch program waivers, and initialed a dozen school rule, guideline, and requirements forms. While she worked on Ellie’s, the principal John Beaudine, checked through Kenzie’s school records, ready to tick off each box on the checklist.

  “Why has a six year old had general science? Computer lab? What--” The man frowned. “Who is Vanora Cheyenne Stuart?”

  “How did Vannie’s--” Aggie opened Vannie’s folder and found Tavish’s report card, Vannie’s vaccination records, and Kenzie’s birth certificate. “What--” She stopped herself short. “I think I need to let you help someone else and go sort this. I’ve apparently had ‘help’ with my paperwork. Everything is all mixed up.”

  “Since we have to go through everything anyway, just keep filling out the papers, and I’ll find what I need.” A twitch around Principal Beaudine’s mustache was lost on Aggie, but Nate grinned at the teacher helping him. School wasn’t going to be du
ll with Aggie and her clan there.

  After several long minutes, Aggie pushed her forms across the table. “Ok. I think I got them all.”

  The principal passed several packets to her, and with his pen, pointed to the sheet clipped to the front of each one. “I put Elspeth and Tavish in separate fourth grade classrooms.” Aggie nodded. “MacKenzie, I put in Mrs. Liszak’s room. She’s one of our most beloved teachers, and her class is small, so MacKenzie will get the kind of individualized attention that she likely misses in such a large family. Just follow the directions to each classroom to meet their teachers. Tavish’s teacher won’t be in his room until after noon. He’s over there at table five.”

  Still stunned by the assumption that Kenzie was craving personal attention, Aggie nodded, fought back angry tears, and thanked the principal for his time and help. As she walked away, she heard him mutter to the teacher helping at Nate’s recently vacated table, “That is going to be a problem household; we’ll have to keep an eye on them.”

  For just a moment, she had the wild temptation to storm back to the table, grab the enrollment forms, and run from the building. Into what kind of hostile environment had she just enrolled the children? It seemed as if the principal was predisposed to dislike her and her children simply because of their numbers. Similar thoughts troubled her all the way to Kenzie’s and Ellie’s classrooms.

  ~*~*~*~

  Exhausted, Aggie collapsed on the couch, a stack of folders, packets, envelopes, and her own files sliding every which way. “Enrolling children is a fulltime job. I am so glad I won’t have to do that again.”

  Tina dropped Ian in her lap and then began stacking paperwork. “No, but you’ll get to do class assignments for high school for the next thirteen or fourteen years. Yay for you.”

  That thought nearly sent Aggie over the edge. After the day she’d had, nothing sounded worse than trying to juggle biology and driver’s ed. in the same year. “Well, at least we’re good until next year on that, eh? Laird and Vannie are at the middle school, but they ride the same bus as the others. I thought that was good. No worries about bullying with your older siblings there, right?”

  “Speaking of older siblings, I think Vannie needs help with the skirt she’s working on. She ripped out a zipper three times this afternoon.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “I took her and Laird to a movie. We just got in before you did.”

  “What movie?”

  “The dollar theater was still playing the adaptation of The Lost Princess, so they went there. They said they hadn’t seen it…”

  “That sounds good. I should have thought about taking them to a movie.” She grunted as Ian used her stomach for a trampoline. “Or bowling, or putt-putt golf, or the zoo…”

  “You’ve been busy, girl!”

  “I’m a mother. I don’t get these days back just because the back porch needs the rail fixed or the toilet overflows.”

  “I think,” Tina began carefully, “it might be smart if you spent more time concentrating on whatever God puts in your way next, rather than whining about your perceived failures.” At Aggie’s attempted protest, she added, “For example, how often did Allie take them to the movies, the bowling alley, swimming at the public pool, or the zoo?”

  “I don’t know. Isn’t that what moms do?”

  “Your mom never did.”

  Aggie sighed. “I know, and I understood, I did. I just never wanted to be that mom.”

  “What if you had a heart condition like your mom? Would you still feel like a failure for not being able to do everything Polly Perfect does?”

  “But I don’t--”

  Before Tina could argue further, Tavish burst into the house staggering under the bulk and weight of a large box. “Look what I found! This truck just drove by, and this box fell off. The guy saw it, slowed down, and then took off!”

  A suspicious yelp and whimper seemed to echo from the diaper box the boy held. “Did I just hear--”

  “Puppies!” Tavish agreed, excitedly. “They’re so cute! Black with little white spots…”

  Heedless of the look of dismay on his aunt’s face, Tavish set the box on the floor and pulled out a pup. “Isn’t he--” the boy examined the underside for a moment. “Yeah, he cute?”

  As much as she resisted, Aggie felt herself being pulled into the vortex of puppy breath, bitty teeth, and yaps that would grow into loud and obnoxious barks. “Oh, he is cute, isn’t he!” She reached for the animal.

  Tina snorted. “Sucker!”

  “Just feel that fur…” Lost in the sensations of puppiness, Aggie asked, “So how many are there?”

  “Six.” The record playing that moment of her life screeched to a halt.

  “Six! We cannot keep six puppies! I’ll have to call the pound.”

  “No! Please, Aunt Aggie. I’ll find homes for them. The minute you call the pound, their days are numbered. Let me do it; I know I can!”

  Closing her eyes and ignoring Tina’s shaking head, and much against her better judgment, Aggie nodded. “If you don’t show progress in a week, I’m calling, though.”

  In a display of affection and excitement she hadn’t seen from him, Tavish grabbed her, hugged her, took the puppy, and almost ran through the house with the wobbling box in his arms, shouting to the children to come see. Tina shook her head. “Do you have any idea what you just got suckered into?”

  “I have a feeling you do.”

  “Eight kids weren’t enough? You needed a half a dozen puppies to make your life really interesting?”

  Wednesday, August 20th

  Sluggish from another night of serenades from crying puppies, Aggie stumbled down the stairs, anxious for a cup of coffee. A glance at the clock told her she could have stayed in bed another half-hour at least, but Aggie had given up. The puppies had to go; she just didn’t know how to tell Tavish. Laird and Vannie had plastered the town with signs, Tina put an advertisement in the local sales sheet, and Tavish had plans to take the wagon and drag the puppies door to door to find them homes. If they weren’t successful by the end of the day, she was calling the pound.

  One look at Tavish’s hopeful face weakened her resolve. After breakfast, he gave each puppy a bath and towel-dried them, leaving water and a laundry load of dirty towels strewn from the bathroom, through the mudroom, and outside, and then loaded the wagon into the van. She’d expected him to walk up and down the streets of Brant’s Corners, but when she climbed into the van after him, he announced that Brunswick had more houses and therefore a better chance at finding homes.

  Aggie spent most of the time trying to keep the puppies in the wagon while Tavish wheedled men and women alike. He sounded like a spokesperson for the SPCA as he railed at the cruelty of someone abandoning puppies in the middle of the highway and the responsibility of humans to care for God’s creatures.

  After several streets of consistent rejection, Aggie loaded them up and drove to Wal-Mart. There she purchased six small bags of dog food, six puppy collars and leashes, and a bag of chew toys. Surely, people would be less resistant if the initial needs were provided. Back they drove to the same neighborhood and started on the next street. Now Tavish sounded like a combination snake-oil hawker and missionary to lost puppies.

  The mission became a comedy of errors at one home. It looked innocent enough. Yellow house, white shutters, white picket fence--it didn’t get much more all-American than that house. The door opened, and chaos erupted. Five cats streamed out of the house, one after the other, and the last was skittish. It took one look at the puppy in Tavish’s arms and jumped into Tavish’s arms, sinking its claws into the poor puppy’s back. Tavish yelped, the puppy screeched, and the woman who opened the door screamed.

  “Get that filthy animal off my porch! Oh, poor Penelope! Here, baby, I’ll protect you from the bad dog.” She glared at Tavish as she pulled her cat from the writhing puppy’s back. “Shame on you! How dare you bring your flea-bag dog to my house. Get out of her
e! Shoo!”

  Stunned, Tavish couldn’t move. As if on auto-pilot, he began his rehearsed speech about the wonders of puppies and the responsibility for people to care for unfortunate animals. Aggie rushed up to the porch and dragged him away, apologizing profusely. Her heart wanted to lash out at the woman who berated her child, but she knew it was wrong. A few children gathered around the gate, some whispering loudly, but Aggie didn’t pay any attention to them.

  “In the van, Tavish. Let’s find another neighborhood.”

  Their next house was almost a success. After finding rows of tree-canopied streets, she pulled up the van to one corner, and helped him put a bag of pet supplies in the wagon. This time, she suggested putting two puppies there. It couldn’t hurt, and maybe seeing more to need homes would elicit sympathy in the hearts of the people behind the door.

  At the first house, a man opened the door, took one look at the puppy, and asked how much they wanted for it. Tavish handed him the bag of food, asked if he wanted a boy or a girl, and raced to the van to retrieve a boy, but by the time he returned, a woman stood there. “Sorry, but we can’t have a dog. Greg always forgets how allergic I am to them. I’m sorry. I hope you find homes for your puppies soon.” The door shut firmly behind her.

  Undaunted, Tavish pulled the wagon up and down the streets, stopping at every house, always polite, ever patient, certain that he’d find homes. Aggie, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. The sight of a cat strolling down the sidewalk sent the injured puppy running back down the street, his tail between his legs and howling with fear. Aggie tried to chase him, but the dog raced into the street, narrowly missed by a passing car. The driver pulled over and helped take up the chase. With no one watching the van doors, the other puppies tumbled from their rolling prison and wandered through the neighborhood, sniffing fences, marking territory they’d never see again, and making friends with the children who found them.