“If you inherited all eight from your sister, why didn’t she leave you her van too? You’d think it was the least--”
Sighing, she turned to leave. After taking a few steps from the bewildered and rude salesman, she looked over her shoulder and said, “If you want to sell cars, I’d suggest you learn how to listen to your potential customers and learn how not to insult them.”
* * *
Hours later, Aggie sat in a dark, tacky, paneled office trailer at the last used car lot on her list. The previous car dealerships had offered no better help in her quest for adequate transportation than the first. She’d had her pick of pure junk or overloaded machines, sporting everything from DVD players to individual leather bucket seats. Her newest sales acquaintance, Zeke, listened intently as she tried to describe what she needed and why she needed it yesterday. Zeke found it difficult to pay attention to what she said. Her bright and lovely hazel eyes were overflowing with tears, and Zeke was always moved and helpless around a lady in tears.
Aggie liked Zeke’s face. Deep lines etched around his eyes and white hair belied his youthful demeanor. He was a bit weathered, but his eyes were gentle and his voice low. He listened intently while stroking one side of an old-fashioned handlebar mustache. She noticed that the side he toyed with was slightly shorter than the other and wondered if it was due to his absentminded habit. Even sitting on the corner of his desk, Zeke was a large, imposing man. Instinctively, Aggie felt that he was a softie with a tender heart. His sympathetic demeanor and the understanding that shone in his eyes prompted her to confide in him, and she hoped he could give her the help she needed.
Aggie spoke almost incoherently through the threatening tears. “You see, I can’t get all of them ready on time yet, and so they end up missing school because I can’t take them all. I need at least a nine-passenger van, but really, with car seats and all, twelve would be much more comfortable. It’s what my sister Allie had, and I think--” She sniffed and tried to continue her explanation.
Zeke cleared his throat and interrupted, “Ma’am, I see you need the van. I understand you have the money, but hon, we don’t have one that size, unless you want that shiny new one out there, and it has all that fancy, schmancy stuff you said you don’t want. Mighty wise financial decision, I might add.”
He paused and smiled at Aggie, who continued to fight tears. “Now, sweetie, we can get you a twelve-passenger van here in a week, at the most two, but I’d suggest, if you want cargo space for grocery shopping and such, that you buy yourself a nice fifteen-passenger vehicle. If we take out that back seat, you’d have lots of room for storing things. Now, if you need one before next week, and it sounds like you do, I’d suggest you shop in Rockland. There are more options in the city, and I see why you need one quickly.”
The retired farmer-turned-used-car-salesman chuckled and snapped his suspenders against his chest. “But as for the school problem, maybe you could just teach those children at home for the rest of the year; that way, you don’t even need to go anywhere for a while. It might work until you get a van anyway. Just tell them to bring their schoolbooks home, and then keep them going on their lessons until you get transportation at the least.”
“I was trying to avoid Rockland. I actually live there now, but it’s so overwhelming. If you find something, will you call? I’d rather wait for you, I think. At least you don’t seem ready to talk me into something I don’t want.” She stood to leave, offering her hand.
Zeke walked to the door and opened it for her. “I’ll be calling you when we get you a good one, and who knows, maybe it can be here before next Friday.”
Aggie gave a half-hearted smile and thanked Zeke for his time. She gathered her purse and moved toward the door in a slight daze. As she left his office, Zeke shook his head, and the corners of his mouth turned up in his trademark grin. Zeke Sullivan was quite impressed with Aggie’s determination. Her unique combination of grit and delicate femininity was a rare and lovely sight.
Zeke’s words, “Just teach those children at home,” played repeatedly in Aggie’s mind as she started her little car and turned toward home. Before her sister’s death, she’d intended to begin teaching the following fall. If she could teach a class of twenty to thirty children, surely she could teach five. Even if only for the last quarter of this school year, it might be a lifesaver.
Her education philosophy classes had debated whether the home schooling movement was a good thing. Aggie defended home education with the argument, “The proof is in the pudding.” She now thought that home schooling might just be an answer to prayer, but she was clueless as to where to begin.
With those thoughts bouncing around in her brain, Aggie returned to find the older children home from school and diligently working on their homework, while their grandmotherly babysitter entertained the little ones. Five-year-old Kenzie carefully printed one-syllable words and colored matching pictures, while eight-year-old Elspeth hovered over a science worksheet. Elspeth’s introverted twin, Tavish, was nowhere in sight. “Hey, guys, where is Tavish?”
The children rushed at her, as if she was an ice cream truck on a hot summer day. It seemed to Aggie that they acted as though she’d been gone for days. She hugged everyone as she tried to calm the mini-riot on her hands. She’d noticed that children tended to be overly enthusiastic with their greetings, but this seemed even more extreme than usual.
Mrs. Gansky, Allie’s faithful babysitter, smiled and whispered to Aggie as she retrieved her purse from the hall table, “They aren’t used to you leaving yet, and the last time that someone they loved left…”
Understanding dawned. She cleared the couch of jackets and stuffed animals and settled in the middle, gathering the children around her. Recent experience had taught her to let the children snuggle for a while after a meltdown of grief, until they felt comfortable going about their normal business. The tendency to be needy and then fiercely independent was surprising, and the resulting effect was both confusing and taxing on Aggie’s physical and emotional resources.
By the time the last child wandered away from the impromptu group hug, it was dinnertime. She heard Vannie, the eldest of the little clan and second mother to them all, opening cupboards and peering into the refrigerator in an effort to find something for dinner. Aggie hurried to the kitchen and sent Vannie outdoors with Cari and Lorna. “Why don’t you go push them on the swings? I’ll see to dinner.”
Aggie surveyed the chaos that threatened to overwhelm her again, and then issued orders to the remaining children. “Ok, Tavish-- where is he anyway? Tavish and Ellie can go play laundry basketball. I mounted the rim in the hallway upstairs. Shoot some baskets. I don’t want to see so much as a sock on the floor by the time dinner is done.”
The twinkle in her eyes belied her stern tone. Ellie peeked in the little door under the stairs and called Tavish out of his sanctuary. Aggie almost smacked her forehead. She hadn’t yet adjusted to Tavish’s preference for hiding away in that tiny, confining space.
“Kenzie, you put everyone’s school work back in their backpacks, and Laird, you come with me.”
Aggie wondered what to feed everyone. The freezer and fridge were bare. Most of the boxed and fresh foods and the casseroles brought by the church were history. Digging through the back of the pantry, she found a jar of spaghetti sauce and a package of egg noodles. Grocery shopping was no longer optional. She shelved that thought for after dinner.
“Ok, Laird, looks like spanoodlie to me! You find or clean me a pan for the noodles, and I’ll find one for this sauce. Is there any parmesan cheese in here?”
Aggie dug through the fridge. It was packed with unidentifiable containers full of even less recognizable food. Some containers were already sporting green, fuzzy hair-dos. Cleaning and de-junking the fridge was now a new priority. Triumphantly, she extracted a tall container of half-eaten parmesan cheese. “Eureka!”
Though it took a good half hour for everyone to scrub hands and faces and clear the
table for dinner, the meal itself was relatively catastrophe-free. Ian ignored the excellent example of his elder siblings and cleared his place by dumping his sodden paper plate on the floor. Aggie, desperate to keep from becoming discouraged, chose to consider this a positive thing. With forced Pollyannaish gaiety, she shrouded herself in mock chipperness and attacked the neglected kitchen floor with a scrub brush and mop. There was nothing like spaghetti sauce and noodles on the bottoms of your shoes to inspire a cleaning frenzy, and she informed every child that passed by the kitchen of that little-known fact.
Her head spun once more with the enormity of her tasks. The moment she finished scrubbing the floor, the trash overflowed and spilled to the four corners of the room, spreading spaghetti sauce-coated paper plates everywhere. By the time she had that mess picked up and rescrubbed, Tavish tracked fresh mud across the floor as he returned from taking the trash to the dumpster outside. Aggie reached determinedly for the mop once more when Laird, carrying a filthy and wriggling Ian, stopped her. “Mom always saved the floor for last. She said that our floors were clean for one-third of the day-- that third of the day when we’re sleeping. I actually saw her just sitting in that chair once, looking at the clean floor, and drinking that nasty bedtime tea she loved.” His voice cracked and tears spilled from his eyes at the memory of his mother.
Without another word, Laird carried Ian out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The sound of running bath water told her that he was bathing the baby. Aggie thanked the Lord, once again, that her sister had been such a type-A, perfectionist, first-born. She knew that when Laird finished bathing the baby, he would shower, then come down and rock Ian while Vannie took the little girls upstairs for their turn in the bathroom. Tomorrow night they would switch roles, and Vannie would go up first.
She once asked why they switched, and Laird nonchalantly quipped, “That way if things get too late, the same kids aren’t always dirty.”
It made sense to her, so she wisely kept quiet and let the kids continue their routine. She also didn’t want to admit that her ten-year-old nephew had more child-care experience than she did. Aggie had never bathed a child in her life, and right now, she had enough trouble trying to remember to take her own shower!
While Vannie readied the twins for their baths, Aggie attacked the counters ferociously. She jerked a large, decorative basket down from the cabinet tops, blew the dust out of it, and loaded it with the stacks and stacks of unopened mail that littered every surface of the downstairs. With that basket filled, she grabbed another. By the time she finished gathering up the mail, there were three overloaded baskets taking up the space she’d just cleared from the counters.
She looked around for another place to put the baskets but failed. Another sigh heavenward answered her unspoken prayer. “Excellent idea, Lord. Glad You shared it with me.” Grasping the baskets, she heaved them back on top of the cabinets and surveyed the results. The counters were half-cleared, the mail mess hidden from sight, and no baskets took up any precious counter space. Success.
Aggie had a nebulous recollection of the children bidding her goodnight. If someone had mentioned Cari’s screams or Ian’s bottle spilling all over her freshly scrubbed counters, she would have remembered. As it was, the children put themselves to bed amid Aggie’s third loading of the dishwasher. The fridge gleamed with empty purity, and the microwave was spatter-free. The pantry still sported a crumby appearance, but in general, the kitchen was now clean enough to ward off health inspectors. If nothing else, the scent of lemon cleanser, Murphy’s Oil Soap, and dishwasher detergent hinted at a level of cleanliness that it hadn’t sported since her sister left on her ill-fated date.
With a sigh of satisfaction, her eyes swept her now sparkling kitchen. Confidence bubbled inside her until she thought of the shopping, the laundry, the bathrooms… “Oh, my-- the trash. I don’t think I’ve taken it to the curb since I’ve been here!” All confidence gone, she flicked the light switch off and dragged herself up the stairs. She noticed the lack of laundry underfoot as she crawled over the mountainous pile at the end of the hallway, blocking the entrance to her room. “Mount Never-Rest,” she muttered as she forced the door closed. She now understood what Allie meant by that phrase.
Aggie avoided a glance at Sarge. She knew it was late, but she chose to remain blissfully ignorant of just how late. Tonight, the formula was on a tray next to her bed, and with hot water in the bathroom, there would be no more going downstairs for her! The best news was that tomorrow was Saturday, and she planned to sleep until at least eight a.m.
Physically spent, but feeling a little more confident, she snuggled amidst the sheets with her laptop and a cup of chamomile tea that Tavish assured his frazzled aunt would calm her nerves and give her deep and restful sleep. The laptop booted slower than usual, nearly sending Aggie over the edge. However, moments later, she signed into her favorite instant messenger program, and her fingers flew as she conversed with her oldest and dearest friend, Tina Warden.
Aggie says: Tina
Tina says: How are you girl? I’ve imagined you taken hostage by a group of miniature savages!
Aggie says: LOL. Not yet.
Tina says: How is it really going? Are you doing ok? We’re praying, but I feel so helpless!
Aggie says: Oh, Tina, this is so hard. Can I do this?
Tina says: Well, God sure seems to think that you can. He says that He won’t give us more than we can endure…
Aggie says: Well, that’s true, but how do I convince my heart that my mind is right? Besides, doesn’t it end with something about a way of escape? Doesn’t that imply that if I don’t think I can hack it, I can run away and whimper? How does a twenty-two year old child-illiterate make this work?
Tina says: I don’t know. Probably, one day at a time.
Aggie says: Well, maybe in a few hundred more days things will seem more manageable. Right now, I just barely make it from day to day.
Tina says: I’d say that sounds Biblical. If His mercies are new every morning, then it only stands to reason that He’ll help us make it from day to day.
Aggie says: Hmm. It’s not very reassuring perhaps, but it makes sense.
Tina says: That’ll be one French Crème on the rocks.
Aggie says: Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.
Tina says: Why? What?
Aggie says: French Crème. You’ll never guess what I did with it the other morning…
Tina says: Do tell!
Aggie says: While sleep-deprived, I mixed Ian a bottle of it.
Tina says: NO WAY!
Aggie says: WAY… he was bouncing like Tigger on his tail, while the rest of the kids were snug in their beds. And the diapers that followed…
Tina says: tee hee…
Aggie says: Listen you; I know where you live, and I will come and find you…
Tina says: Like you dare leave the house for that long. Face it Aggie m’dear; I’m perfectly safe to enjoy your maternal escapades from this safe distance.
Aggie says: I’d love to tell you what I think about those escapades, but I hear a late night marauder wandering the hallway. I’m guessing Cari has finally discovered Ellie’s candy stash. I’ll bet she thinks she can snag some while Ellie sleeps. Bonsoir, my friend. I go to stop the natives from their plundering!
Tina says: Poofs then!
Aggie says: Poofs!
Chapter 2
Along with the Hits
Saturday, March 2nd
Sarge’s off-key bugle sounded the alarm promptly at six a.m. Aggie, through the thick fog of interrupted sleep, and determined not to allow another day of early morning chaos, jumped up, slammed her fist on Sarge’s “head” and extricated herself from the tentacles of her covers. Without wasting time searching for her slippers, she tripped over the mountain of laundry that covered the hamper outside her door, creating a short trail behind her. She raced down the hallway, throwing doors open and calling, “Up and at ‘em! We’re not going to be late to
day. Every child on their bus and on time. Get up, get up, get up!”
She ran downstairs and turned on the TV to find out the day’s forecast on the morning news. Channel after channel passed with a veritable smorgasbord of cartoon offerings. From Power Puppies to Flutterby Days, she had her choice of insipid and mind-numbing animation. “Arrrrrrrrrggggghhhh!! I forgot! How could I forget?” Sighing, she jabbed the power button on the remote and dragged herself back up the stairs calling, “Back to bed everyone, it’s Saturday, and I need my beauty sleep.”
Laird stuck his head out the door and said, “But, Aunt Aggie, you are beautiful enough as you are!”
The boy’s impish grin wasn’t lost on Aggie. “Who said anything about physical looks, bud? I am talking about beauty of temper. Go back to sleep.”
Once again, she scaled Mt. Washmore to enter her room and crawled back into bed. Aggie saw Ian’s nearly finished bottle on her night table and sighed in relief. She hadn’t woken the baby up with her maniacal shouts. Sleep consumed her, but much too soon, Ian’s good morning coos beckoned her from his room. Almost immediately, infant giggles rang through the hallway, and she heard Vannie call, “I’ll play with him, Aunt Aggie, and you sleep a bit more. Mama always…” Aggie heard a sniff as her young niece, too old for her years, tried to stifle her tears while she deftly changed the baby’s diaper and descended the stairs.
She flung an arm over her eyes to shield them from the sunlight. In books, sunlight supposedly streamed gently through the curtains, illuminating the room with a warm glow. For Aggie, the sun blasted her face like a searchlight, blinding her with its sharp glare. Torn between the desire to comfort her niece and giving the girl space to grieve, she chose the latter. Dejected, she rolled out of bed, grabbed the last of the clothes peeking from her still unpacked suitcases, and moved toward the shower. After a day like the previous one, a shower was no longer optional.
Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance) Page 2
