For Keeps (Aggie's Inheritance) (22 page)

Aggie says
: She will be thirteen in a couple of months…

Libby says:
So, did you work out a solution for her?

Aggie says:
I showed her the court papers, the restraining order, and her father’s letter to me. I had her speak to Mr. Moss, and I think she’s not so afraid of being taken away anymore.

Libby says:
I think that was a very good decision.

Aggie says
: On a brighter note, Luke said he would move my furniture back into my room tomorrow. He didn’t have to sand down my floors or anything, so I guess the room is done!

Libby says:
I can’t wait to see it.

Aggie says:
It’s going to be strange without him around as much for the next two weeks.

Libby says:
Don’t be surprised if he finds excuses to stop by on his way home a few dozen times. I’m not sure my Luke can survive for two whole weeks without his Stuart-Milliken infusion.

Aggie says:
I’m going to use that time to try to help Vannie finish up

her clothes, get the kids enrolled in school here, and buy all the millions of school supplies that we will need. Three out of five backpacks were worthless at the end of last year, and the other two won’t make it the whole year this year.

Libby says:
Buy all new ones then. They will inevitably fail on a rainy day when they bring home their most expensive books.

Aggie says:
Aaah. Good point.

Libby says:
Oh, there’s the phone. My Luke is calling to say goodnight. I’d better go.

Aggie says:
Thanks, Libby. I hope to see you soon.

Libby says:
You will. We have more clothes to make. I just need to help Melanie while her little guy gets over the chicken pox.

Aggie says:
Thanks! Night to both of you!

Libby says:
Luke says goodnight too. Goodnight, Aggie.

 

Snips & Snails

Chapter 8

 

Monday, August 18
th

 

With Tina on kid patrol, Aggie grabbed her purse, guardianship papers, the children’s birth certificates, and school records. Waving gaily at Mrs. Dyke as she passed, she drove serenely through town, onto the highway, and into Brunswick. Brant’s Corners only had a small private school, which she’d considered for Cari and Lorna when their year for Kindergarten came, but for now the school-aged children would ride to Brant’s Corners on the same big yellow school buses that the rest of the children in town rode.

The elementary school was first. She found the school office and from there strolled to the cafeteria where several teachers and the principal gathered to help parents transition students into school. Only a few women, two with their children in tow, and a man stood in line ahead of her. The cafeteria was bustling with activity. Papers rustled, pens scratched, records were checked, and it seemed like a mountain of paperwork grew beside each smiling face. Aggie couldn’t help but wonder if those faces would look just as fresh and cheerful in May as they did that morning.

One of the women tried to strike up a conversation, but her daughter, dancing from foot to foot, needed a trip to the restrooms. Aggie moved up in line, determined to offer to let the woman back in her place if she returned in time. The man now ahead of her gave her a small grimace and shrugged.

I’ve never done this before. I hope I have everything.


I don’t know. I’ve never done it either.


You looked too young to be experienced at the wonders of kindergarten enrollment.

Flashbacks of a rude single father from Kenzie’s graduation made her uncomfortable for a moment, but then she felt silly. Just because a man was friendly at a school did not make him a creep.


I am, but I’m not enrolling kindergarten. This year it’s first, and fourth. Oh, and I forgot to ask if this school has sixth or if they lump it in the middle school.


Babysitter? They won’t let you enroll someone else’s child.

She smiled.

Legal guardian of my nieces and nephews.

His eyes asked the question he was polite enough not to ask.

My sister died in February.


I’m sorry to hear it. Her husband…


Died the same night.

She hated these questions, but the man seemed genuinely sorry and interested.


Oh, those poor children. I really admire you and your husband for taking on three children. So many kids would end up in foster care these days.

For a moment, Aggie was tempted not to correct him, but her innate open personality and the feeling of dishonesty that washed over her for not correcting his misconception, sent her explaining again.

Actually, she left eight children, and I am not married.

The man didn’t respond. His eyes widened, his jaw slackened just a little, and she saw him blink a couple of times, before he gave himself just the slightest hint of a shake.

I’m sorry, how rude of me. I just keep prying, but I can’t help but ask how you do it.

The question was an awkward one. She didn’t like when people treated her like a super woman just for doing what Allie had done for years. She tried to formulate an intelligent response that gave credit to the Lord without sounding too pompously pious and then shrugged.

I don’t know. One day at a time, I guess. Oh, and a
lot
of prayer.


Do you have a good church?

Aggie nodded.

Brant’s Corners has a wonderful church.


Well,

the man fished a business card out of his pocket,

with a good church, you’re probably set for help without needing a stranger, but if you ever need anything
--
toilet overflows, sprinkler head breaks, tire goes flat, anything
--
just call. My work hours are very flexible, so I can come if you need me.

He rolled his eyes.

That sounds freaky, doesn’t it? You can call The Assembly here in Brunswick for a reference.


Nate Christman. You live up to your name, don’t you?


I’ve never thought of it that way.

The surprise in his eyes showed
that he hadn’t.

Thanks
--”

The woman returned just then, tryin
g to quiet her whining daughter, and Aggie stepped aside for her.

I saved your place for you.


Oh, thanks! I thought there’d be fifty people behind you, and I’d never get out of here.

Before the woman’s chatter could prevent it, Aggie smiled around her at Nate.

Thanks again. I can’t promise I’ll call, but this card will encourage me even if I don’t.

A fresh stream of whines and a few stomps of the feet echoed around the cafeteria. Aggie watched the ineffectual attempts to control the child’s display of displeasure and thanked the Lord for women like Iris and Libby. Cari and Kenzie, probably Lorna as well, would all be just as demanding without the lessons provided by Aggie’s mentors. Nate offered the mother his place in line and stepped back next to Aggie.

Do you mind?


Of course not!

She pointed to his file folder.

What grade is your child in this year?


Kindergarten. Abby turns five next week.


Aw, that’s such a fun age. Kenzie is just six, and always amazes me with her observations.


Just a year either way and they might have shared a classroom.

Nate sounded more relieved than disappointed as was Aggie. The man wasn’t going to hound her. That was nice.

Before they could talk any further, Nate was beckoned to the third table. Aggie watched as each parent pulled out their paperwork, waited for it to be verified, signed documents of some kind, and then received several packets of paperwork. One woman couldn’t find her driver’s license and hurried out to see if it was in her car, while others complained about lunch program rules and school supply lists
, insisting that they should not be required to purchase Kleenex for the entire classroom.
Aggie frowned.

At last, her turn came and she sat at the table next to Nate and shook hands with the principal.

I’m Aggie Milliken. I’m here to register my two nieces and a nephew
--
or two.


Or two?


I forgot to ask when I called if sixth grade is here or in the middle school.

The principal’s features took on that familiar authoritative look.

Sixth is at the middle school, but I’m afraid students must be registered by a parent or legal guardian.


I am their legal guardian.

She flipped open her folder and flipped through pages until she found the letter she sough
t
.

Here’s a letter from the vice principal at Washington Elementary in Rockland. He explains everything.

Nate sent her an encouraging look while she waited for the principal to read the letter.

Well, Ms. Milliken
--”


Miss is fine.


Miss then. You have quite the responsibility here. Let’s get started on your paperwork.

Aggie filled out enrollment forms, liability waivers, insurance forms, school lunch program waivers, and initialed a dozen school rule, guideline, and requirements forms. While she worked on Ellie’s, the principal John Beaudine, checked through Kenzie’s school records, ready to tick off each box on the checklist.

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