Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (170 page)

I
know
Allie
felt
guilty
about
“burdening”
me
with
this
responsibility
so
young.
I
am
glad
there’s
no
guilt
in
heaven
or
she’d
still
feel
guilty.
That’s
just
how
she
is.
Well,
it’d
be
unnecessary
anyway.
It’s
been
hard.
I
won’t
pretend
it
hasn’t.
I
don’t
know
what
I’m
doing
and
the
kids
know
it.
Thankfully,
you
guys
did
a
good
job
and
they
haven’t
really
taken
advantage
of
that.

I
just
wanted
to
say
thanks.
Thanks
for
trusting
me
with
your
children.
I
don’t
think
I’ve
completely
failed
you
yet.

I’d
give
almost
anything
to
have
you
back
,
though.

Miss
you,

Aggie

By
the
time
she
finished,
Vannie
wept
openly.
Laird
fought
back
tears,
but
he
too
caved
after
a
time.
Tavish
and
Ellie
clung
to
each
other
for
a
minute
or
two,
crying.
Then,
as
if
they
had
left
the
past
where
it
lay,
they
tried
to
distract
Cari
and
Lorna
from
bothering
the
others.
Kenzie
soon
followed,
uninterested
in
unburdening
her
little
heart
just
yet.

Aggie
clung
to
Ian,
the
full
weight
of
all
that
was
gone
hitting
her
fresh.
The
baby
squirmed
and
protested,
but
she
kept
herself
wrapped
around
his
little
body,
wondering
how
to
keep
a
mother
fresh
in
a
baby’s
mind.
He’d
hardly
known
Allie.
Certainly,
there
was
no
chance
of
memory.
Still,
she
should
try
to
do
it.
Shouldn’t
she?
Again,
she
wished
for
Luke
or
Tina’s
comforting
presence.

A
snowball
whizzed
past
her
head,
missing
Ian
by
a
breath.
“Wha—”

Ten
eyes
widened
in
horror
as
she
turned
to
stare
at
them.
From
the
look
on
Cari’s
face,
Aggie
had
a
fairly
good
idea
of
the
culprit.
Lorna,
in
an
obvious
attempt
to
protect
her
slightly
younger
sister
from
yet
another
foray
into
Trouble
101,
grabbed
a
handful
of
snow
and
packed
a
small
snowball
herself.
With
every
ounce
of
strength
the
girl
possessed,
she
threw
it
at
Laird,
hitting
him
squarely
in
the
back.

“Wha—”
He
grinned
,
jogged
several
yards
away,
and
packed
his
own.

Aggie
watched
in
stunned
fascination
as
her
children
began
a
snowball
war
right
there
in
the
cemetery.
She
and
Ian
stood
on
what
appeared
to
be
no
man’s
land.
Surreal—this
is
surreal
,
she
thought
to
herself.
My
children
are
playing
on
the
anniversary
of
their
parents’
death,
in
a
cemetery,
and
disturbing
the
ground
in
the
process.
What
next,
a
snowman?
Snow
angels?
That
thought
prompted
a
snicker.
How
appropriate.
Snow
angels
in
the
cemetery.
It woul
d
tie
into
the
erroneous
idea
that
people
become
angels
when
they
die.