Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (3 page)

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 woul
d
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]