Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (68 page)

“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
woul
dn’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.”