Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (79 page)

~*~*~*~

All
the
way
up
the
drive,
Luke
kicked
himself
for
not
calling.
What
if
she’d
given
up
and
gone
to
bed?
The
house
was
dark,
but
the
Christmas
lights
were
still
lit
on
the
tree
and
outside.
Then
again,
perhaps
she’d
left
them
on
for
the
children
if
they
woke
up
when
it
was
still
dark.

The
door
was
unlocked,
assuring
him
she
hadn’t
gone
to
bed
yet.
Aggie
wouldn’t
go
to
bed
without
locking
the
door.
The
couch
was
empty,
the
kitchen
dark.
He
stood
in
the
entryway,
trying
to
guess
where
she
might
be.
The
light
had
been
off
in
her
room—maybe
the
basement.

Just
as
his
hand
reached
for
the
doorknob,
he
jumped,
the
sound
of
her
voice
nearly
separating
him
from
his
skin.
“I
didn’t
see
you.”

“I
just
thought
it’d
be
nice
to
look
at
the
lights.
I’ve
always
loved
lying
on
the
floor
and
gazing
up
at
the
tree
on
Christmas
Eve.”

“Well,
we
have
something
else
in
common.
I
actually
did
that
at
mom’s
last
night.”

“You
don’t
have
a
tree?”

He
lowered
himself
to
the
floor
beside
her
and
grabbed
a
pillow
from
the
chair
in the process
.
“Not
this
year.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“I’m
not.”
Luke
tucked
Aggie’s
hair
behind
her
ear
in
order
to
see
her
face.
“I
had
another
tree
that
I
preferred
to
visit.”

“I
didn’t
expect
you
to
come.”

“I
didn’t
expect
that
you
would
expect
me
to
come.
I
just
thought
you
sounded
as if you wanted to talk
.”

“I
said
something
awful
today.”

The
idea
was
so
ludicrous
to
him
that
Luke
had
a
hard
time
not
laughing.
“What
did
you
say?”

“That
I
want
to
give
up.”

Dread
filled
his
heart.
“Give
what
up?”

“This
pretense
that
I
can
do
what
Allie
asked
me
to
do.
I’m
failing
in
everything.”

“That’s
not
true.
It
probably
feels
true,
but
it’s
not.”

“Well,
then
I’m
also
a
failure
at
recognizing
my
own
weaknesses.
”

“Do
you
really,”
Luke
began,
the
despair
that
had
been
planted
now
taking
root
in
his
heart,
“want
to
give
up
on
the
pretense
or
is
it
the
reality?”

“What
do
you
mean?”

“Do
you
regret
telling
the
kids
you’ll
keep
them?”

“No!”

Despite
the
doubts
she’d
implanted
in
his
heart,
the
vehemence
with
which
she
rejected
that
notion
left
little
question
of
her
sincerity.
“I’m
relieved,”
he
whispered
when
he
noticed
her
impatience
at
the
delay
in
his
response.

“I
couldn’t
do
that
to
them.”

Fear
crept
back
into
his
heart.
“Mibs,
that’s
not
what
I
asked
you.
I
asked
if
you
regretted
it,
not
if
you’d
changed
your
mind.”