Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance)

by Havig, Chautona

Aggie stood astounded at the sight of it. She didn’t know much about children’s drawings, but she did know that after two college art classes, she still couldn’t begin to produce the kind of proper perspective and accuracy of a real tree that Ellie had managed. Then again, Aggie had also learned in those classes that she didn’t have the patience to try.

  “Is she your daughter?” Aggie dragged her eyes away from Ellie’s work to a man leaning against a nearby pole. His badge identified him as an employee of the museum’s art department.

  “She’s my niece. I had no idea she could draw so accurately and yet not sterilize it.” Ellie had taken tempera paints and watered them down like watercolors. The effect was bold color, yet soft and gentle. Aggie watched as Ellie carefully tore her newsprint picture off the easel pad and hung it on the line to dry.

  “She has definite talent. Most people can be trained to draw accurately, but you said it well when you called it sterilization. Few people put their soul and real talent into their drawings. She does both.” The man sounded a little bohemian, but Aggie knew what he meant.

  Again, they watched Ellie as she tried to draw chubby baby arms and hands holding a ball. No matter how many times she erased or tore off the page, the child never showed any signs of frustration. She simply tried again. Eventually, the man, who introduced himself as Dave, strolled to her side, hunkered on his heels, and showed Ellie how to look at one of the other children’s arms for perspective. The picture that resulted was endearing. The baby’s profile was very like Ian, and the ball was perfectly proportioned in his little hands.

  She painted the ball a bright red but left the rest of the picture in pencil. Aggie asked the girl why she hadn’t painted the child. Based upon Ellie’s natural talent and understanding of art, she expected there was some kind of deep meaning or reason. She laughed when Ellie confessed, “I don’t know if I can get the color right, and I don’t want to ruin it. I’ll color it in later if I find the perfect shade. Do you like it?”

  Aggie tried hard to show her enthusiasm without being excessively effusive. Ellie was very nonchalant about her talent. It was obvious that she’d been drawing for years, but Allie had never mentioned a particular talent. Aggie wondered if her sister had ever known.

  On the way home, with Ellie’s pictures carefully rolled in a cardboard tube, Aggie asked Tavish, riding shotgun and out of earshot of Ellie, how long his sister had been drawing. “She’s always drawn, Aunt Aggie. She’s really good too. Momma always bought her new drawing books, but Ellie doesn’t usually let people see her pictures, just me.”

  “What did your mom do about her art?” Aggie was thinking about how to get the child more training or something.

  “I don’t think Momma really knew how good Ellie is. Ellie just found books that show how to draw eyes or something, and Momma would buy it. I heard her tell Daddy that it wouldn’t hurt to let Ellie try.”

  Aggie was still thinking about it when she arrived home with the children. After sending them to do their homework, Aggie laid the pictures out on the desk in the study and showed Iris what Ellie had drawn. “Iris? Can I show you something? Should I get her an art teacher? I mean, I think these are really good!”

  Iris examined the pictures carefully. Aggie was right; the child was obviously talented, but Iris thought that people pushed children into developing their talents much too young. Praying for wisdom in how to word her thoughts, Iris agreed cautiously.

  “Well, she is very good, but she’s just a child. I would keep her supplied with pencils, markers, different paints, videos and books. That will be sufficient for a few years. I think parents try to direct their children’s talents so young that, by the time the children really would be enjoying them fully, they are burned out. I think at eight years old, Ellie should just be allowed to be a child.”

  Aggie thought about that. “You have a point. I have a friend who won’t pick up her violin anymore. She spent so many hours in student orchestras and recitals that she simply can’t stand to play anymore.”

  Iris had another thought. “Oh, Aggie? Try to help her develop interest in something less mental and more active. It’s good to balance your time with different activities.”

  Sunday, May 19th

  The simple harmony of the congregation’s voices swelled as they prepared their hearts for communion. Sunlight streamed through the tall narrow windows, the children sat quietly, Ian sleeping on the pew between Aggie and Laird. The bread and “wine” passed from person to person until Aggie too was refreshed as she “sat at the Lord’s Table” during worship. Reflecting on the work of Christ on the cross always humbled the young woman. The words to the old hymn flowed through her mind and her heart as she focused on the memorial.

  When I survey the wondrous cross

  On which the Prince of Glory died,

  My richest gain I count but loss,

  And pour contempt on all my pride

  See from His head, His hands, His feet

  Sorrow and love flow mingled down

  Did e’er such love and sorrow meet

  Or thorns compose so rich a crown.

  The minister stood and smiled at the end of the memorial feast. Aggie liked this congregation. Somehow, without making it overtly formal, they had restored a stronger meaning to the Lord’s Supper. Actual cups of juice or wine were brought to the members, and the “loaf” was about the size of a small piece of bread. You had time to chew and reflect on Christ’s sacrifice as you feasted. The supper wasn’t rushed, nor did it drag. As she added her cup to the tray at the end of the memorial meal, Aggie realized that she had really missed this last Sunday.

  “I’m reading from Galatians chapter six in the NASB this morning. Turn with me; let us reason together and see what great things the Lord will encourage us with this morning.”

  Aggie listened attentively to the lesson. When the words “let us not lose heart in doing good” were read, Aggie’s mind strayed. Those words were powerful words. She was doing “good,” and she had lost heart for a time. Those times would come again and Aggie knew that she had to not “grow weary.” This new direction that the Lord had taken her life into was exciting as well as exhausting. Many women her age were starting a career, or at the most they were starting a family. Aggie’s family was handed to her ready-made, and when she hadn’t known what to do, she’d grown weary.

  The closing hymn was “My Faith Looks up to Thee.” Aggie thought the words were fitting, and they encouraged her more than she ever could have imagined. Throughout the day, she found herself humming the tune, and her spirit was refreshed. As she went to sleep that evening, back upstairs in her own bed, Aggie prayed a simple heartfelt prayer. “Lord, remind me Who is the Potter and who is the clay. I tend to try to model myself and hope that You’ll just kind of keep me from cracking in the fire of life. Please, Lord, teach me to simply be a lump of clay.” Aggie slept better that night than she had in weeks. Perhaps it was her prayer already being answered, or perhaps it was simply that her bed was much more comfortable than the couch.

  Friday, May 31st

  The children were hyper, and the house was a perfect set for a disaster movie. Aggie tore up and down the stairs in search of socks, barrettes, and baby Ian’s shoes. Between groans of frustration, gasps for air, and wiping beads of perspiration from her upper lip and forehead, Aggie realized that people who said mothers at home didn’t get enough exercise were more than ignorant; they were foolish!

  “If women need more exercise at home, they should have another child or two. Twins would help,” Aggie muttered to herself.

  “What did you say, Aunt Aggie?” Laird eyed his aunt warily. He thought he had heard her correctly, but she sounded a little insane to him.

  “I was just muttering to myself over the idiotic comments that people make about mothers. Ignore me.”

  Aggie dashed back upstairs one last time and finally found a brush under her dresser. Frustrated with the amount of time it took to find simple household stapl
es like pens, pencils, scissors, a hairbrush, and similarly unexciting items, she decided to make a kit for emergencies. She would buy a lockable tool box and fill it with things like, barrettes, hair brushes, socks for everyone, spare keys (note to self: don’t use a keyed lock) pencils, pens, checkbook, cash-- anything that she might need and can’t find in an emergency--or at least a hurry.

  “Aunt Aggie, we have to hurry! I’ll be late to my gradgigation!” Kenzie was near tears as she stood in the entryway wearing her nautical dress, her hair in a ribbon, holding her little purse and a present for her teacher.

  “We’re about ready, sweetie. I just have to brush Cari’s hair, and we’ll be out the door. Everybody load up!”

  The Stuart children and Aggie almost filled the front row. Ian bounced, giggled, and squirmed, Cari and Lorna sat in rapt attention, mesmerized by exciting things like water fountains, microphone testing, and the elementary school band warming up with its discordant squeaks and ill-timed twangs. When the little kindergarteners filed out on stage in their little white caps and gowns, the baby clapped and clapped. Aggie had to stifle a laugh when Kenzie clapped with him. The children led the auditorium in the Pledge of Allegiance and in singing the national anthem. Aggie choked and sputtered when she heard one little boy nearest the edge of the stage singing, “What so proudly we bailed at the twilight’s last gleaming…”

  The kindergartners were all given a rolled “diploma,” and each made a speech. Some speeches were long and rambling, while others were, considering the fifty-two that year, mercifully short and sweet. Kenzie looked adorable, and very serious, as she stood at the child-sized podium.

  “Thank you for coming. My big sister Vannie helped me write my speech. We worked hard this year. We learned to read, and we got to draw pictures, and our teacher was very nice. I am good at pluses and take-aways now, and that is because Miss Williams is so nice. My Aunt Aggie is my mommy now, and I want to thank her for that too. Vannie didn’t help me with that part. Thank you.” Kenzie gave a little bow and took her place in line.

  She smiled over at Vannie, but the frown on the girl’s face unnerved her. Aggie telegraphed a question to her, but Vannie refused to respond. Something was amiss. She would have to talk with her later, but for now, she had a graduate to congratulate.

  The cafeteria reverberated with chattering voices. Aggie, fighting a headache sparked by the constant drone, worked hard to keep her eyes on the children as they laughed and wove between the people trying to find their classmates. For the first time, she realized that moving would also mean leaving their friends. The children must not realize this yet.

  Aggie was trying to clean marshmallow off Ian’s face when she heard a voice a little too close to her ear; she jumped. “Excuse me?” She took a step back instinctively. A man, taller than most in the room, and a little too suave in his attire and demeanor, stood before her with a lazy smile on his face.

  “Do you have a child here? Well, except for the little mister…” The man obviously thought his line was clever.

  “Actually, I have eight here today. And you-- do you have any children present?” The look on Aggie’s face would have daunted someone less arrogant, and the frost in her voice was not that of cookies and cakes.

  “Yes,” his smile was perfectly timed. He must have perfected his approach either by practice in front of a mirror or “on the job training.” “My daughter Emi was one of the graduates. She’s… oh, right over there-- talking to the little girl with the sailor dress.” Her words finally pierced his self-filled consciousness. “Did you say eight children?”

  Aggie followed his line of vision. “Yes, eight, and the little girl she is talking to is my Kenzie.” Aggie’s tone should have warned the man, but he seemed oblivious to her irritation.

  “Wow! Eight children--” he glanced at her hand. “And no wedding ring. You look good for having so many. Hasn’t anyone told you what causes that?”

  Aggie’s jaw dropped. Before she could answer, an arm took hers and led her away. Aggie, after one last astounded glance at the insulting man, tried to thank her rescuer. “I-- I--” She was still speechless.

  “I know about your family, Miss Milliken. I’m the assistant vice-principal here at Lincoln Elementary, and if I could slug that man, trust me, I would. What you are doing for these children is remarkable. I am just sorry to hear that they won’t be back next year.”

  With that, the man left her and hurried to where a group of boys were attacking the refreshment table. Aggie watched as he handed them each one cookie and sent them packing. He turned as if to come back to talk with her, but another parent stopped him.

  The assistant vice principal watched as the young woman herded her charges out the door and to the parking lot. He saw her laugh at something Kenzie said and ruffle Tavish’s hair. Those children were going to be all right. It was much too bad all the children in his school weren’t as fortunate.

  Aggie says: HELP TINA!!!

  Tina says: What!

  Aggie says: We have a situation.

  Tina says: Oh, well, a situation. That’s helpful.

  Aggie says: Ok. Tonight, Kenzie gave a little speech at her “gradgigation.”

  Tina says: How cute!

  Aggie says: It was. She obviously idolizes Vannie a bit, but she said something that made Vannie upset. I need to know how seriously to take this.

  Tina says: Well… what did she say?

  Aggie says: She said something about me being her “mommy” now, and Vannie is upset about it.

  Tina says: I can see why.

  Aggie says: Well, so can I, but how do I help her. I am not trying to be THEIR mom. Allie was given that role first; I want the children to keep her in their memory as their mother.

  Tina says: But the little ones are going to see you as mom. Kenzie is already transferring her “loyalty” if you will.

  Aggie says: I didn’t expect that.

  Tina says: You know, you have to prepare Vannie for this. The baby will call you mom most likely. Explain to Vannie that you are not trying to take the place of her mother, but the little children won’t remember as much. Allie is probably fading already in their memories. She’s going to be a “feeling” and a picture someday. It’s how things are going to be. No one prepared Vannie for that.

  Aggie says: You have a point there. Sigh. Guess that’ll be my job. I’ll add it to my “to do” list for the next YEAR!

  Tina says: So, how are you going to be able to do that whole list and move? Aren’t the Landrys coming to help you move tomorrow?

  Aggie says: Well…

  Tina says: Don’t put it off too long, Aggie. I know you. You’ll let the move, the settling, the fixing up this house… everything will crowd it out, and you won’t ever resolve this. Talk to her, Aggie. Don’t forget.

  Aggie says: Yes, oh wise Tina. I will not forget. Bug me until I say it’s all settled ok?

  Tina says: Will do. So, Kenzie is all “graduated” huh?

  Aggie says: It was an interesting evening, that’s for sure.

  Tina says: Spill it.

  Aggie says: Well… I learned that we proudly BAILED in the Star Spangled Banner. Better to bail with pride than in shame right?

  Tina says: Too funny. Anything else?

  Aggie says: Yep… and then this creep asks me if I know what causes “that” yet when he finds out I have EIGHT children.

  Tina says: WHAT?

  Aggie says: Yep. The assistant VP rescued me. I wanted to deck him.

  Tina says: Glad I wasn’t there. I would have!

  Aggie says: Oh, blech. I have to go upstairs. Ian is crying.

  Tina says: You can get upstairs now?

  Aggie says: Yep. It’s a slow process, but I do it. No crutches too!

  Tina says: Ok, then… Poofs

  Aggie says: Poof!

  Chapter 11

  The Shambles

  Saturday, June 1st

  Pandemonium reigned in the Stuart household the Saturday they mo
ved. While Aggie attempted to keep Kenzie and the twins out of the packed boxes, and Ian from screaming, Vannie and Laird filled other boxes with the remaining kitchen items and packed suitcases with the final loads of laundry from the washer and dryer. Mark Landry expertly filled a rental moving van as Aggie directed Iris with what to pack and what would stay. All the while, Iris’ ten-year-old son, Jonathan, raced from one room to the next, helping everyone and thoroughly enjoying a house full of playmates.

  Seeing the frustration that the boys felt in their inability to get to know each other, Aggie obtained permission to take Jonathan with them as they drove over to the new house. She still hadn’t shown the children the home she had found for them to live in but had high hopes that they’d love it. The adventure, the room-- what child wouldn’t be thrilled? There was even a ramshackle old summerhouse-type building. With a little repair and a thorough cleaning, the children could use it for a playhouse!

  After one last look over their old house, Aggie drove away from the historic Stuart home, onto the Rockland loop, and took the Fairbury/Highway 32 exit. Mark and Iris followed behind them caravan style; Iris in their vehicle, Mark driving the moving van. The younger children bounced in their seats and sang silly songs from a CD that Aggie now promised herself she’d destroy the moment she found it. Meanwhile, Vannie questioned Aggie about schools and neighbors. Laird and Jonathan played “Slug Bug,” laughing uproariously at their improvised “Clunker Junker” version.

  The drive around Lake Danube resulted in begs to have a picnic, but Aggie made no promises. She had much she wanted to accomplish in the two and a half months until school started again, and didn’t know how much leisure time there’d be. Thirty minutes later, they drove past the road to Brunswick and down the road that led into the little town of Brant’s Corners. There was a small pizza parlor, a lovely park, three churches, and a small combination grocery and hardware store along the main street. Aggie pointed them out, as well as the road to the school complex down a side street from the park. At the edge of town, she drove down the last street and turned into the first driveway. They were home.