For Keeps (Aggie's Inheritance) Page 2

Aggie says: Well, I was just admiring my new fireplace.

  Aggie says: Tina was right. It does look better now.

  Libby says: Luke said she made the right call. He wasn’t sure why

  paint wouldn’t have been good enough, but now he agrees that she chose the right solution.

  Aggie says: Is he still speaking to us?

  Libby says: I think so. He’s already talking about painting walls tomorrow.

  Aggie says: I was practicing my cutting in skills, but I’m still pretty pathetic. I do better with roller work.

  Libby says: That’ll save him a bunch of time. He said he got the fire pit and the patio all marked off today.

  Aggie says: Yep. It’s going to be perfect.

  Libby says: You don’t seem yourself tonight. Are you tired?

  Aggie says: Hard day. It started by putting the kids back to bed this morning and then early to bed tonight. I haven’t had this much trouble with them in a long time.

  Libby says: I remember those days. Oh, my. There were times that I wondered who was inhabiting my children’s bodies!”

  Aggie says: Off topic. Why does Luke call me Mibs? Tina says she asked him today, I asked him today, and he told both of us that I should know.

  Libby says: If Luke won’t tell you; I’m not going to! I don’t relish the idea of having my head bitten off!

  Aggie says: *shrugs* I think he likes being all mysterious.

  Libby says: He’s a man. Of course he does.

  Aggie says: *giggles*

  Aggie says: Tina is going to take Vannie school shopping tomorrow. If I can manage, I think I’ll convince her to take the other kids one at a time. It’ll be good for them to have some focused attention. I haven’t figured out how to incorporate that yet.

  Libby says: That’s a lovely idea! I think you’ll find that having one child help you each day in the kitchen will be a nice way to have some one-on-one interaction. You’ll have to figure out what to do with Ian when he gets old enough for his turn, but with seven days a week, it gives you ample opportunity…

  Aggie says: Do I sound like a terrible person for confessing that the last thing I want to do is add work to an already distasteful task? I am already such a lousy cook. Why would I subject the kids to an even more unskilled culinary example?

  Aggie says: Never mind, you’re right. I’m just being selfish.

  Libby says: Children can chop vegetables, crush breadcrumbs, set tables, and all kinds of things. They don’t have to start with crème brûlée.

  Libby says: Oh, you beat me to it. I would say that you’re being a tired mommy. Being a mother is hard work, but having a helper in the kitchen isn’t the only way to do a one-on-one time. It’s just one that was easy for me.

  Aggie says: Well, I’m going to try it anyway. I need to do something.

  Libby says: Aggie, you are the most teachable young woman I think I’ve ever met.

  Aggie says: You mean desperate, don’t you?

  Libby says: Possibly. I’m at my most teachable when I’m desperate.

  Aggie says: Touché. Oh well, I need to do the whole face-washing, tooth-brushing bit. It’s my last night in my bedroom. Until it’s done, it’s back to the library for me.

  Libby says: Goodnight, Aggie. I can’t wait to see your room. Luke says it’s either going to be a work of genius or a work of Genie-ous.

  Aggie says: Night. And if he’s still there, tell him I said I’ll get him for that.

  Libby says: He’s pretending to quake in fear--or is that laughter?

  Aggie says: *shuffles downstairs to rig a bucket of water for Luke’s grand entrance in the morning*

  Libby says: LOL. Now he’s rubbing his palms together in a most fiendish fashion. I would be worried if I were you.

  Aggie says: You should be--for him.

  Libby says: The Sullivans bid you goodnight!

  Aggie says: Goodnight all… both… whatever.

  Un-Fashionable

  Chapter 2

  Tuesday, August 5th

  Ian, ineffectively corralled in a playpen, greeted Luke when he arrived to work on Aggie’s room. Plopped in the middle of the room, Aggie worked around it, throwing frowns in the child’s direction every time he hiked one of his little knees toward the top. At the sight of Luke, the baby squealed and threw his hands up for Luke to rescue him from his prison. Luke dropped his water bottle and tool belt and pulled the little tyke into his arms. “Mornin’, squirt. Are you causing trouble already?”

  “See those footprints?” Aggie’s disgust was nearly palpable.

  “Did you think a curious toddler would ignore a lovely chance to finger paint?”

  “I put him on that blanket,” she jerked her roller in the direction of a blanket that now was bunched under the playpen and flung a stream of paint that splattered across Luke’s chest. Her look of horror faded into amusement before she erupted in a fit of giggles.

  “If you thought I needed a makeover, you could have just told me.” Luke punctuated his comment with a swipe at his nose where a drop of paint threatened to fall at any second.

  “--and told him to stay.”

  “He didn’t.” Feeling like the master of stating the obvious, Luke couldn’t repress a smirk.

  “Well, I’ve heard of other mothers doing it…”

  “And you think that moms just put a child on a blanket, tell them once not to get off, and that’s all it takes?”

  The moment he spoke, Aggie flushed with embarrassment. “I’ve become too dependent on Vannie as an extra pair of eyes.” Shoulders slumped, she continued. “I’ve made finishing more important than being the mother that he needs.”

  Several seconds dragged as Aggie contemplated her words, staring at the paint roller in disgust. Her face fell, the corners of her eyes filling with pain. She dropped the roller in the tray, took the paint-splattered Ian from Luke, gave him a forced smile, and carried the baby out of the room. Her wavering voice wrenched his heart further when it floated up the stairs seconds later, “…Fill Thou my life, O Lord my God…”

  Hesitant, Luke’s eyes flitted back and forth between the abandoned paint tray and the open doorway. He turned to follow Aggie and on the second floor, heard sniffles punctuating the next verse. “Praise in the common words I speak, life’s common looks, and tones. In fellowship in hearth and board with my beloved ones…” A hiccough set his resolve. Some things were more important than finishing a room.

  Down in the kitchen, Aggie had already strapped Ian into the high chair, and with fistfuls of baby wipes, she scrubbed the paint from his hands, face, and leg. The bottom of both feet bore traces of dried-on paint, which she now scrubbed at ineffectually in an attempt to finish the cleanup in one try. “Laird, will you go get Ian some clean clothes?” she asked without looking his way.

  Luke turned and went to retrieve the desired clothing. When he returned, he set them on the counter at Aggie’s right, and smiled. “Will these work?”

  “Why didn’t Laird--”

  “He didn’t hear you; I did. So, I got them.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Aggie pulled the t-shirt over Ian’s head, ignoring his protests, and wiggled the shorts over his knees, hips and around the child’s waist, before setting him on the floor where she knew he’d be off in search for the kitten. “There. At least you’re clean again.” She grabbed the paint-splattered romper and carried it to the sink. “Thanks, Luke.”

  “Aggie?”

  The weary young woman sighed. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” He leaned against the counters and tried to meet her eyes as she attempted to scrub the paint out of Ian’s outfit. “Is there?”

  She nearly slammed her head into his nose as she whipped her head around to meet his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve got that look on your face, Mibs. I know that look.”

  “What look?”

  Luke heard a squeal from the kitten and rescued it from Ian’s overeager hands, and then retu
rned to answer the question. “That look that says, ‘I’m not qualified for this job, but come what may, I’m going to do it right if I die trying-- even if it kills me.”

  “If I died trying, wouldn’t that be evidence that it killed me?”

  “You’d think.”

  “Qualified or not, I have to get the paint out of this thing.”

  Luke took the wad of sodden fabric from her hands, opened the trash cupboard, and dumped it in the bag. “There.”

  “Hey, I was--”

  “Wasting your time.”

  “It just seems so wasteful,” she admitted.

  “Will you put it on him if it’s stained?”

  “No, but…”

  His laughter surprised her. “You’re dodging the subject! It actually worked. We were discussing your propensity to expect too much from yourself.”

  Before Aggie could respond, the twins came tearing through the kitchen in search of something, but Aggie sent them back to the door to walk. “Again.” Cari sent her a dirty look but retraced her steps outside for a third time. The defiance on the child’s face wasn’t lost on Aggie. “And again…”

  “But--”

  “And again…” With almost exaggerated nonchalance, Aggie shrugged at Luke, fighting to keep her expression curious, interested, even bored--anything but irritated or angry.

  Scowling with every step, Cari stomped back and forth from the island to the screen door, until Luke was sure that Aggie would give in, but the young woman surprised him. She saved the DVD collection from Ian’s curious hands, wiped up the counter, found Tupperware for the baby to play with, and carried on a conversation about floor finishes, all while repeating “again” to Lorna and Cari.

  After half a dozen trips, Lorna, who hadn’t shown a nasty attitude, was sent to play again, but Cari marched back and forth with a vehemence that would have terrified Aggie six months earlier. “You should just behave, Cari. I want to play.”

  “I am behaving! I’m coming in and out just wike Aunt Aggie says. It’s not faiw!”

  “I said to come in quietly. Your stomping isn’t quiet.”

  For a few seconds, it looked like Cari was cooperating. She opened the door with the sweetest expression that anyone had seen from the child. However, when Aggie sent her back for one last round, the child stomped to the back door, opened it, and slammed it shut. She then opened it again, quietly shut it, and walked sedately across the floor as if incapable of creating such a nasty display of temper as she’d just exhibited.

  “If you think that you will get away with any bad attitude at all, you’re mistaken. I did say you had to come in quietly. I did not say you had to leave quietly, it’s true, but,” Aggie’s voice grew very quiet and her tone was carefully measured. “You know that it is always against the rules to throw a tantrum, and that is what your stomping is. It’s a nasty temper tantrum.”

  It took half a dozen more trips that were quiet, but with a sullen face, before Cari relaxed her features and threw herself into Aggie’s arms. “I’s sowwy, Aunt Aggie. I’ll walk nice now.” Without being told, she turned and strolled to the back door, opened it, stepped through, closed it, and then reopened it with a genuinely contrite look on her face. At Aggie’s side, she asked, “Do I pwactice again?”

  Visibly sagging with relief, Aggie sent the girl to follow her sister and sank to one of the barstools that she kept near the island. She laid her head onto her arms, leaning onto the smooth cool countertop, and sobbed. “I can’t do this, Luke. I am such a failure. Everything I do is wrong. I--”

  “Mibs--”

  “Stop calling me that! I don’t even know what it means. I’ve got out of control children, a house that is more than I can handle, nowhere to hide, and that’s probably a good thing, because if I do hide, chaos erupts, and--”

  Tavish burst into the kitchen, oblivious to the pity party in full swing, and announced, “There’s a wasp’s nest out there! Can you believe it! I’ve got to get my book and see what kind they are!”

  Before Aggie could process Tavish’s alarming information, the boy was thundering up the stairs in search of his encyclopedia of insects. Luke started out the back door and down the steps. Just as his foot stepped onto the grass, he heard Aggie’s voice, cracked, wavering, and off-key, sing, “The Lord is in His holy temple. Let all the earth keep silence before Him--” The song ended abruptly with a sniffle and a hiccough.

  One glance at the combination summerhouse-carport, and Luke saw that Tavish was correct. He shooed the children away, insisting that they play in the front yard until they’d eradicated the pests. How he was going to do it, he didn’t know. Whatever he did, it needed to be before Aggie’s nerves snapped.

  ~*~*~*~

  By dinnertime, the nest was a bitter memory in Tavish’s budding-entomologist’s heart. As was a frequent custom in Aggie’s house, the children trooped into the kitchen, like clockwork, begging for a dinner that she hadn’t even considered yet. After a debate between “leftover buffet” and pizza, Aggie grabbed the phone. The moment the pizzeria answered, they placed her on hold, and Tina and Vannie entered the house bearing buckets of KFC.

  Grateful for a break from pizza rescues, Aggie allowed Vannie to take the baby while she pulled out plates, loading each as swiftly as possible. “Luke, it looks like there’s plenty here. Why don’t you take a shower and join us? You left those jeans and t-shirt here the other day. They’re in the mudroom in the cabinet to the left of the dryer--top shelf.”

  She watched him hesitate and then nod. As she listened to the children fill Vannie in on the great wasp eradication, she relaxed for the first time all day. With all of her failures, she hadn’t managed to destroy the close and loving relationship that the children had with one another.

  Dinner was always a noisy affair, and that night was no exception. By the time Luke rejoined them, the children were laughing at the dance he’d done with the bellows he’d used to try to smoke the wasps into a stupor. “And then he rushed to bomb the nest and tried to run away without being stung. He almost did it too,” Tavish raved. “He’s good with pests.”

  Cari’s little voice piped up importantly. “Of couwse he is! I heawd Aunt Aggie tell Aunt Tina that he’s vewy good wif me!”

  “Aw, Cari. You’re a pest all right, but a nice pest,” Tavish reassured her, unaware that his compliment was quite backhanded.

  Eager to diffuse the situation before it became one, Aggie said, “Vannie, I can’t wait to see what you and Tina found today. You’ll have to show me right after dinner. I know what good taste Tina has. Whenever I need something new, I always ask her what she suggests.”

  “We only found one shirt and a pair of saddle shoes. The shirt will go with anything, but I’m not sure about the shoes. I just loved them, and since we hadn’t found anything else, I decided to get them.” Dejection, exhaustion, and irritation laced Vannie’s voice.

  Aggie glanced at Tina, confused. “It was ridiculous, Aggie. Everything in the stores that fit was either too mature for her or too indecent for anyone. I took her to every store in the Eastbrook Mall and half a dozen down by Boutique Row, and the only one down there that had anything was Boho Chic, but you have to order from them. Since I wasn’t sure, I didn’t buy anything there, but I did write down the styles and sizes we liked in case you decide to go for it.” With a look of utter disgust, she added, “Don’t even get me started on the jeans. I thought the low-slung, squeeze your rear into an odd shape fad was grotesque. Skinny jeans are a million times worse.”

  Aggie frowned. “Tina, you own about a million pairs of them!”

  “Well, they’re going in the garbage. It’s amazing how you see things in a new light when you see them on other people.”

  Shrugging, Aggie turned to Vannie. “Where did Allie buy your clothes? Didn’t those stores have anything?”

  Vannie shook her head. “Mom usually just bought fabric and made them or had Mrs. Gansky make them when she couldn’t do it herself.” A new look br
ightened Vannie’s eyes. “Last summer, I made a couple of skirts at Mrs. Gansky’s house. Those were fun.”

  “I didn’t know Allie knew how to sew,” Aggie mused thoughtfully. It wasn’t the first time she’d learned something about her sister and wondered how she hadn’t known. She’d spoken to or instant messaged Allie every day for years. How had she missed so much of her sister’s life? “I guess we should call Boho. Did they say how long the clothes take?”

  “They have a six week backlog right now…”

  Tina’s news wasn’t what Aggie needed to hear. “Great, now what do I do?”

  Luke grinned. “It seems to me, you have one solution. You’ll have to learn to sew.” A roguish twist to his grin gave him a taunting look as he added, “Or, should I say seams? S-e-a--”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny,” Aggie retorted. “If you’re so clever, you make the girl’s wardrobe.”

  Aggie’s threat was lost amid Tina’s titters and Laird’s guffaw, and even Vannie cracked a smile that seemed to draw her out of her clothing misery. Seeing that Aggie wasn’t amused, Tina tried to mollify her friend a bit. “We did manage to find her underthings and a pair of athletic shoes. She said hers were too small, and she’d need them for gym.”

  “I just need clothes, Aunt Aggie. Everything is too short, too tight, and what Mom called ‘seedy.’”

  Shoulders slumped, Aggie turned to Vannie and asked, “Did we bring the sewing machine, Vannie? Do you know how to run it?”

  “Wha--” Tina looked stunned and then shook her head.

  The transformation in Vannie amazed the three adults at the table. It was evident that the child not only knew something about sewing, but she actually enjoyed it. “The sewing machine and serger are in my closet. I also have a few of the pieces of fabric Mom was going to make up for me before…” For the first time in weeks, when Vannie mentioned something her mother would never do again, the child didn’t dissolve into a fit of weeping. Instead, through unshed tears, her eyes shone with budding excitement.

  “Ok, do you know enough about sewing to prevent me from ruining your clothes? Can you operate that thing? Show me how?”