Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) Read online

  Here We Come

  Chautona Havig

  Copyright 2012 Chautona Havig

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Connect with Me Online:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/ - !/Chautona

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Chautona-Havig-Just-the-Write-Escape/320828588943

  My blog: http://chautona.com/chautona/blog/

  All Scripture references are from the NASB. NASB passages are taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE (registered), Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation

  ~For Kaylene~

  Maybe now that all of the books are finished, you’ll actually read the series. I hope that the end is sufficiently sappy for you. You are a delight as a daughter, and I am so happy that you are not only real in our lives now but also in the eyes of the law. May God’s grace continue to shine on you and guide you.

  ~For Pat~

  I don’t think I’ve seen you once since For Keeps was released that you didn’t ask how this one is coming. Hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for being such an encouragement—and not just because you sell my books in your store.

  Contents

  Copyright 2012 Chautona Havig 8

  Chapter One 11

  Chapter Two 21

  Chapter Three 31

  Chapter Four 40

  Chapter Five 50

  Chapter Six 57

  Chapter Seven 65

  Chapter Eight 75

  Chapter Nine 84

  Chapter Ten 92

  Chapter Eleven 100

  Chapter Twelve 108

  Chapter Thirteen 115

  Chapter Fourteen 124

  Chapter Fifteen 134

  Chapter Sixteen 146

  Chapter Seventeen 155

  Chapter Eighteen 165

  Chapter Nineteen 174

  Chapter Twenty 180

  Chapter Twenty-One 192

  Chapter Twenty-Two 200

  Aggie’s Accidental Snickerdoodles 205

  Books by Chautona Havig 206

  Chapter One

  A Fountain Not Free

  Monday, November 17th

  In Aggie’s mind, it was their first true argument. She was furious, and the fact that she couldn’t remember what prompted her anger made it even worse. Luke’s pain-filled eyes would normally have sparked her compassion, but an uncharacteristic stubbornness had seized her and held her in its grip.

  “Mibs…”

  “Just go home, Luke. We’re obviously not going to agree on this one. I don’t want to argue anymore.”

  “We can’t just ignore—”

  “We can postpone the inevitable until I’m ready to handle it,” she snapped. “I’m tired, I’ve had a very hard day with five students who did not do well in their studies and three little ones who took advantage of that. The last thing I need is for you to show up and scold me for something that isn’t even any of your business. Just go home.”

  The moment the words were out of her mouth, Aggie regretted them. Before she could try to take them back and apologize, a spider crawled lethargically over her toe, making her jump. Luke’s foot came down on the critter before she had a chance to wonder how it had survived so long in the cold.

  Aggie glanced up, expecting to meet his eyes but found them downcast. “You know, you’re a handy guy to have around.”

  “I’d be happy to stomp spiders for you for the rest of your life,” he whispered before turning to leave.

  She would have thought he was joking, but the catch in his voice confused her. “I’d like that.”

  At the bottom of the step, he glanced back up at her. Seconds, oh how they seemed like hours, passed before he finally spoke. “Would you, Mibs? I thought maybe, but I can’t help but wonder…”

  He was in his truck and down the driveway before the full import of his words registered in her mind. Aggie hurried down the steps, but Luke was gone. Her hand dug into her skirt pocket for her cell phone, but she hesitated. Messenger.

  She hurried inside, flipped open her laptop, and waited for it to boot. Her mind spent the next minute reminding herself that he couldn’t possibly get home before she got connected.

  A minute later, her cursor hovered over the instant message icon. She dragged it to the left and clicked her email instead.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Forgive me?

  Luke,

  I was wrong. This apology shouldn’t surprise you. It seems like I’m always apologizing to someone for something. I want to promise it won’t happen again, but I can’t. We both know it will. I can promise that I’ll be just as disgusted with myself next time as I am this time, and I’ll be begging the Lord to be merciful to me—again.

  I want to own what I did wrong—be specific. You know? I mean, that’s what I was taught to do. The problem is that all I know is that I was rude and hateful to you because I was embarrassed. I just don’t know why. I can’t even remember why we argued. I think you corrected me as a sister in Christ. I think. Maybe not. Maybe you just should have. My mind is so muddled—probably because I’m writing instead of praying and allowing God to bring my sin to mind, but I wanted this note to be there for you when you got home.

  I am so sorry,

  Aggie (a.k.a. Mibs)

  Not two minutes later, the following email whizzed its way over the information highway and into Luke’s email box.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Seriously?

  Ugh. I just remembered what I got so upset about. Did I really blow up over that? Thank you for not backing down and letting me get away with it. What a terrible example to the kids.

  It’s kind of cliché too. Really? Spilled milk? Oy, as Laird would say. What is with him and his pet words that change every other day. He never did that before!

  Anyway, now that I remember what I was so upset over (and I confess I am now giggling that I was so silly), please forgive me for getting upset about you correcting me for getting upset over spilled milk. Particularly the minuscule amount that dribbles from a toddler’s sippy cup. I am mortified.

  Prostrate and laughing too hard to be believable when I say I am truly sorry,

  Mibs (a.k.a Aggie)

  She waited, her eyes rarely leaving the clock at the bottom right of her screen for longer than a few seconds. Mentally, she calculated the distance and time to his duplex, praying he wouldn’t go see Libby first. It would be a natural thing to do. The last thing she wanted was to wait any longer than necessary for him to see it.

  The phone felt as if it was burning a hole in her pocket. She hesitated and then whipped it out. Her fingers hovered over the letter keys and then she found the right words to send. The wait continued.

  One scrubbed stove, two emptied wastepaper baskets emptied, three shoes returned to their proper cubbies, and four thousand glances at her inbox later, a message appeared. With trepidation, she opened it.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: You’re still doing it

  Mibs,

  You’re still crying over spilled milk, only now you’re crying over having cried over spilled milk. Stop it. ;)

  I am just thankful for that spider.

  I love you,

  Luke (a.k.a. Lucas
)

  Her brow wrinkled, trying to remember what the spider had to do with anything? Why would he be thankful for—she gave up and opened a new email. She’d intended to go crawl into bed and sort out her spirit with the Lord, but it was impossible to let that one go.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Thankful for pests?

  And I don’t mean me… just why would you be thankful for a spider?

  Glad you still love me,

  Migsie (For the record, combining Aggie and Mibs doesn’t work)

  Her fingers nearly twitched as she waited for his reply. Apparently, his careful attention to wording was not limited to conversations in person or on messenger. Even letters took him some time to compose. Did he start his occasional notes to her half a dozen times before he got the words just right? She suspected that he did.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Aggibs

  You’re right. It doesn’t. Yours is better. I’ll reserve that for when you need to be put in your place (you know, anytime you dare disagree with my superior wisdom).

  I am grateful to the spider because he inspired my feeble attempt at gallantry. That attempt was rewarded with your assurance that you’d like me to be around to stomp your spiders for the rest of your life. You see, my gratitude is self-centered and greedy. I make no apologies for it. I’m afraid I am not sorry and cannot lie and pretend I intend to mend my ways.

  Now go to sleep. Let’s just sort of pretend this didn’t happen. Remember the spider and your words about him and his kind and forget the milk. Besides, it’ll happen again. That’s one thing I know I can promise.

  I love you (tired of hearing that yet?)

  Luke the Lucky (It works better with Leif)

  Aggie couldn’t resist one last quick note back. Although she preferred the swiftness of the messenger, these emails would definitely go in the scrapbook of their conversations and his notes. Already it was very precious to her.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: No.

  I am not(tired of hearing it, that is). Thought you ought to know.

  Aggie de la Mibs

  Tuesday, November 18th

  Aggie’s cell phone blasted Beethoven’s fifth symphony, the latest in a series of ringtones that Laird found hilarious. His changing them approximately once every other day would drive her to the nut house or keep her from needing it—she wasn’t sure which.

  “Aunt Aggie?” Ellie’s voice broke through her concentration on Luke’s latest text message.

  “Hmm?”

  “Is it t-o the store or t-o-o the store? I can never remember.”

  “T-o.”

  The girl’s forehead furrowed as she wrote. “How are you supposed to know which one to use?”

  “Well,” Aggie’s brain raced through her grammar lessons for the clearest explanation. “Ok, t-o-o has an extra o, right? Well, you use t-o-o to mean too much or excessive. You also use it for also. So, too meaning too much or ‘in addition’ get more o’s. Does that make sense?”

  “Too gets more o’s…” her mind seemed to mull it while she scribbled. “So too much, too many, too long all have two o’s, but to go, to stay, to eat, don’t?”

  “Exactly. T-w-o has the w. It’s the odd ball. And, since two is also a number, it’s also an odd ball—so to speak.” She frowned. “Except that it’s an even number. I guess that doesn’t work well.”

  “Ok,” Ellie said excitedly. “So, t-w-o two girls want to t-o to go t-o to the store t-o-o too.”

  “Excellent.” Her phone played its ominous tones again.

  “Aunt Aggie, go talk to Luke. I’ll keep the kids going. I am just editing my paper anyway. So far I’ve found too many sentence fragments to turn it in.”

  Aggie glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. They’d hardly been in the classroom for half an hour. Then again, Luke tried not to call during school times…

  “Ok, be right back.”

  Icicles hung from the porch roof, looking beautiful but dangerous. She grabbed Tavish’s baseball bat from the empty pot where it rested for these occasions, and swung it while the phone dialed Luke. His “Hello,” was drowned out by the crack of the bat against ice.

  “Icicles again?”

  “Yeah.” She whacked another one. There was something very satisfying about beating up ice. The puppies out back howled with each crack. “The pups don’t like me to break them off. I think it hurts their ears.”

  “I bought the cable for the gutters, but I don’t think I’ll make it today. If we didn’t have these unexpected cold fronts followed by warmer days, it wouldn’t happen.”

  Something he said felt “off,” but she wasn’t sure what. “I don’t get weather, ice, and stuff. Never have, don’t want to. I can apply to you for your superior wisdom and save myself a lot of headaches.” She frowned. “Wait, did you say you weren’t coming today?”

  The line seemed dead for a very long half minute before he grunted, “Sorry, what? I found another puddle.”

  “Puddle? What are you doing?”

  “House on Cygnet. The pipes froze and burst. I missed a whole wall of insulation when I foamed the laundry room. Outside wall of course—the one with the pipes.”

  “Oh, no!” Her heart sank for him. “How bad is it?” Her teeth tried to chatter, but Aggie rubbed her hands together and set her jaw, listening.

  “I’ll have to gut the laundry room, replace two walls of the kitchen, and do some repairs on the powder room. The living room has some damage, but nothing too bad. I’m not sure about the kitchen floor though.”

  “Can I do something?”

  “Right now, no. I’m still assessing damage and waiting for the insurance adjuster. I am glad I insured the house before I insulated or this wouldn’t be covered.” His voice sounded strained and weary. “I just wanted you to know I wouldn’t make it for lunch. I’m really sorry, Mibs.”

  “Stop by on your way home if you like.” She sounded too eager and she knew it. The last thing he needed was to feel obligated to do anything. “And let me know if I can do something—even if it’s just running errands so you don’t have to leave. The kids would love to get out of the house.”

  “I’ll call. Got to go.”

  She stared at the dead phone. “Bye.”

  As she opened the door to the house, something Luke said clicked. “Lunch. I didn’t cut the veggies for lunch.” She peeked her head in the library and asked if anyone needed help. Several heads shook, but Aggie saw Cari, Lorna, and Ian getting restless. “You three come with me,” she said, scooping up Ian. “I’ve got to go work on lunch.”

  “Is Luke coming?” Laird didn’t even raise his head from his math book.

  “He can’t. Pipes burst over on Cygnet, and I guess there’s a lot of damage.”

  Laird frowned. “It wasn’t my fault, was it? I didn’t work on pipes.”

  “No, he forgot to insulate a wall in the kitchen or something.”

  “Can I go help?”

  Aggie shook her head. “Let’s wait until tomorrow to ask. He has a lot to do and take in. The damage sounds extensive.”

  She shooed the little ones into the kitchen and gave the girls plastic knives and bananas to slice for the Jell-O. Ian enjoyed a snack of banana in the high chair while she chopped vegetables. Into a large bowl went chopped potatoes, carrots, celery, and a couple of cans of stewed diced tomatoes. She covered them with water, put a plate over the bowl, set the timer for an hour, and set it aside. She added the rest of the previous night’s chopped chuck steak, garlic powder, and chopped onion into her heavy Dutch oven. The clock was against her.

  “All done, Aunt Aggie!” The bananas were definitely sliced in thicknesses ranging from a penny to a thumb.

  “Done, Gaggie!” Ian threw his hands into the air, touchdown style, and clapped a
t the empty tray.

  “Good job, guys! Ok, why don’t you two go into the bathroom and wash your hands. I’m going to count to one hundred. See if you can get them all clean and be back by a hundred. One, two, three…”

  After washing Ian’s hands, she sat him on the floor while she browned the meat, covered it with beef broth, and left it to simmer. In another pot, she measured water for Jell-O and put it on the stove to boil. The girls returned on eighty-nine with reasonably clean hands. “Ok, bring me the hand towel now.”

  The girls exchanged confused glances, but raced back to the bathroom to retrieve it. Aggie arranged the bananas in thirteen by nine pans and tried not to watch for the pot to boil. The towel was damp but clean. “Good job! You got all the banana off with water instead of the towel.”

  “You said to wash them,” Lorna reminded her.

  “That I did. You can put that back now.” Just as Aggie tried to measure the cold water to add to the Jell-O, she sprayed herself with the faucet. “Ugh!”

  “Is that what the water looks like in Luke’s house?” Lorna’s voice was awestruck.

  “Wuke doesn’t have fountains in his house!”

  “Well, this morning he had fountains of water, that’s for sure. It probably looked a lot like that too.”

  “We should bake him cookies,” Lorna suggested. “He likes our cookies.”

  “Yeah. Wuke wikes cookies.”

  So much for Cari’s improvement with her L’s, Aggie thought to herself. I can’t handle that today. Maybe tomorrow. Even as she thought it, Aggie realized it was the wrong thing even to think. Anything that implied weakness on her part was an open invitation to mischief for Cari.

  “Can we play outside?”