Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance) (61 page)

Tina says:
I
’
ve wondered about that. You don
’
t talk about it much you know… You don
’
t talk about the kids having problems or anything… Whatcha gonna do?

Aggie says:
I love how you use words on the messenger you
’
d never use in person.

Tina says:
Hee hee… if I
’
m gonna be a teacher, I gotta get my improprieties out somewhere!!

Aggie says:
Yep! Anyway, Luke
’
s going to be working somewher
e
else for the next week or two. I doubt I
’
ll see much of him. This
’
ll give us time to work on this grieving stuff though.

Tina says:
You don
’
t
“
work on grieving
”
like you do manners and things. You simply allow it. You talk about your loss, you as
k
questions… this isn
’
t another item on the running
“
to do
”
list yo
u
keep filed in that one organized compartment of your brain.

Aggie says:
Thanks… another Aggievating thing about me.

Tina says:
Aggievating?? That
’
s cute!

Aggie says:
Compliments of Luke and William.

Tina says:
Well, it
’
s appropriate. Perhaps you should consider making a scrapbook with the children. They
’
ll remember stories and things that meant a lot to them. It might help them grieve.

Aggie says:
Luke suggested keeping up scrapbooks, but, like I told him, it
’
s just one more thing for me to do. I don
’
t need more to do, Tina.

Tina says:
Well, not to imply you
’
re a lousy scrapper or anything…

Aggie says:
You know that sounds like I can
’
t fight…

Tina says:
Well, you can
’
t and you know it. No, I thought it
’
d be healing for the kids to make the pages themselves. You know, put things on the pages that are important to them. Help them keep their memories contained and preserved.

Aggie says:
GREAT idea. I love it. If they each do a page or three…

Tina says:
That
’
s the spirit.

Aggie says:
Well… honestly, I
’
m going to go do some overhauling of my spirit. You go to bed.

Tina says:
Good idea. Nighters.

Stand Off

Monday, July 8
^th

While William scraped the eaves and soffits, the boys worked on the planks on the east side of the house. Not to be left out of the fun, Aggie brushed the crevices of the porch railing with a steel wire brush until perspiration soaked her t-shirt in the summer heat. Vannie divided her time between supervising the Monday maintenance chores Aggie had instituted and matching socks from her bed. Ian played at her feet, as she directed the twins to put their stuffed animals back in the corner net, reassemble their dollhouse rooms, and called them back for the dozenth time to retrieve yet another shirt or dress that they hadn
’
t worn but had dumped in the laundry pile outside Vannie
’
s door.

“
Aunt Aggie, I think they
’
re ready for inspection,
”
Vannie called from the window above the porch corner, where Aggie sanded and brushed a particularly difficult section of the railing.

“
I
’
ll be right up.
”
She glanced down the side of the house where William stood on the ladder, his shirt soaked with sweat, hat covering his
eyes,
and face flecked with paint shavings. He
’
d worked for two hours without even a quick break for water.

Inside, Aggie washed her hands and face, drying them as she climbed the stairs. The gate in Vannie
’
s doorway kept Ian in
,
and the laundry-tossing twins and their various articles of clothing
,
out of the tidy room. Clipboard with checklist in hand, she stepped into Laird
’
s room and surveyed it closely. The bed was stripped, fresh sheets were folded and waiting for him to remake his bed, trash emptied, laundry basket emptied, and his closet
--
“
Ugh,
”
she sighed. Well, she
’
d have him check that later. A thick layer of dust on the windowsill sent her pen scribbling across her checklist with a new task for the children
--
dusting. Would she ever remember it all?

Once the rooms were checked, with the detestable list she forced herself to use, despite the fact it made her feel more like a drill sergeant than a mother figure, Aggie jogged downstairs. The difference between floors was staggering. Now that the upstairs, with the exception of her bedroom, was completely refurbished with fresh coats of paint, appropriate furniture and décor, and refinished flooring, the downstairs looked even shabbier than ever. For the next week or two she
’
d be doing dishes in the odd laundry sink that Luke had installed, tearing off drywall, ripping up flooring, and, in general, preparing the kitchen for Luke
’
s return. The result of her initial labors was a heavy layer of filth all over the furniture and floors on the first floor. Old sheets covered the couch and all other fabric covered furniture, but the table and chairs weren
’
t safe to sit on, unless you liked the lighter-backside look to your clothing, and it would only get worse.

From the fridge that now blocked part of the entry to the kitchen, Aggie pulled a can of lemonade from the freezer compartment and dug through a plastic storage tote for the pitcher. She carefully replaced the lid and then growled under her breath to see both the plates and glasses totes with lids standing against their sides. Humming
Sweet Will of God
as she whisked the frozen glob of lemony goodness into the pitcher of water, Aggie prepared herself to find the culprits and make them return the lids to their rightful totes. She didn
’
t have time to rewash dishes because children were too lazy to move a lid twelve inches.

“
…what power from Thee, my soul can sever? The center of God
’
s will, my home. Sweet will of God, still fold me closer,
‘
til I am wholly lost in Thee…
”

When she came back, Aggie called for William, as she poured glasses of lemonade on the front porch.
“
You
’
ve been working too long without some fluids; come on down.
”

William gratefully accepted the glass she offered him and drained it in seconds. Undaunted, Aggie poured another glass and shoved it at him.
“
Drink. I
’
ll be back in a minute. The boys probably need some too. Oh, and I have to see who was in the dish totes last.
”

Resting in the shade of the porch, Aggie and William sipped more lemonade and discussed their progress. She felt strange discussing her renovations with anyone but Luke. She
’
d spent the past month getting Luke
’
s opinion and advice on everything from paint brands to designing her kitchen. William was the man who came out on 9-1-1 calls or to rescue her from Geraldine. Seeing him covered with paint chips seemed incongruous with the militaristic neatness he usually exuded.

“
Have you decided on what color you are going to paint the house? I have vacation time on the books, so I talked to Frank, and he said I could take it now if I wanted.
”

“
Oh, William, I appreciate that, but you can
’
t use your vacation to work on my house. You work hard and need a vacation that lets you relax. Painting doesn
’
t exactly qualify.
”

“
Aggie, honestly, I would really like to do this for you. I am not handy with things like kitchens and wiring and stuff like that, but I can scrape and paint. I
’
m good with yard work too. Let me contribute. It
’
ll also give us time to get to know each other better, and we did decide we wanted to try that.
”

Smiling, Aggie handed him another glass of lemonade.
“
Ok then, it
’
s a deal, but I get to feed you, and you have to stay for a movie now and then.
”
She hesitated as though
second-guessing
herself, and then shook her head.
“
And, William, thanks.
”

“
So about paint…
”
There was a wistfulness
--
almost an eagerness to his voice.

“
Well, there was this house down the street from us in Yorktown. It was yellow with white trim and shutters and a green door
--
almost emerald green. It was such a cheerful and cozy house. I might do something similar.
”

Aggie was utterly unprepared for William
’
s reaction
--
make that
,
overreaction.
“
No. I think that you should reconsider. Any other color or color combination would be preferable. Use
orange
if you must, but I think yellow and white is just tired. Besides, the green door would clash with your living room.
”