Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (59 page)

No
sound
came
from
her
room
when
Luke
reached
Aggie’s
door.
He
started
to
knock
,
but
hesitated.
“Aggie?”
He
knocked
at
last.
No
response
came.
Again
he
knocked
and
again
the
response
was
lacking.

It
occurred
to
him
that
she
might
be
sleeping—that
she
couldn’t
hear
his
quiet
knock.
He
turned
the
knob,
opening
the
door
just
a
crack
, hoping to see
if
she
lay
asleep
on
the
bed.
She
was
on
the
bed
it
seemed,
but
her
sniffles
told
him
she
wasn’t
asleep.

“Aggie?”

“What!”

“Can
I
come
in?”

“No!
Leave
me
alone.”
There
was
an
extended
pause
before
she
added,
“Please.”

Hesitation
overtook
him
again,
but
this
time
he
did
not
yield.
“All
right.
I’ll
go
if
you
tell
me
you’re
okay.”

“Fine.
I’m
fine.”

It
was
a
lie,
but
he
heard
in
it
what
he
needed.
She
didn’t
want
to
discuss
it—whatever
“it”
was.
It
hardly
seemed
likely
that
some
mud
on
the
floor
and
toys
strewn
over
the
house
could
possibly
be
the
real
trouble.

“Okay
then,
I’ll
go.”
Luke
said,
“I
love
you,”
before
shutting
the
door
behind
him.

Seconds
later,
t
he
door
flung
open
and
he
found
himself
soaked
in
tears
and
shaken—as
well
as
stirred—by
her
uncontrolled
sobbing.
A
head
peeked
up
the
stairwell,
but
Luke
glared
at
Laird
and
shook
his
head.
He
led
her
into
her
room
and
to
the
little
loveseat
by
the
window.

“What’s
wrong?
Not
what
happened,”
he
amended
quickly.
“I
want
to
know
what’s
really
wrong.”

“I’m
tired.”

Though
it
wasn’t
the
true
problem,
it
was
a
start.
“Nap?”

“Are
you
nuts?
I’d
wake
up
and
find
the
house
destroyed.”

“
Then
,
tired
is
really
a
symptom.
What’s
the
real
problem?”

A
poorly
suppressed
sigh
escaped
as
she
said,
“I’m
a
failure.”

“That’s
a
lie.
Next?”

“Don’t
call
me
a
liar.”
The
faintest
hint
of
her
usual
spunk
managed
to
infuse
itself
into
her
words.

“Then
don’t
lie.
You
are
not
a
failure,
so
why don’t
you
tell
me
why
you
feel
like
one.”

“Did
you
see
the
mess?”

“Yeah.
They
got
it
cleaned
up
and
are
doing
their
schoolwork
right
now
.
Laird
said
something
about
a
messy
living
room
and
broken
glass.”

“I
got
it
all
cleaned
up—for
all
the
good
it
did
me.”
This
time
there
was
something
new
in
her
tone—something
he
didn’t
like
to
hear.
Bitterness.

“Mibs…”

“You
wanted
truth.
You
got
it.
It
took
us
three
hours
to
make
a
simple
ornament
for
Tavish.
Three
hours.
I
don’t
have
three
hours
a
day
for
a
week
to
put
into
making
stupid
ornaments
because
my
sister
was
an
over-achieving
lunatic.”