Falling into a Second Chance by Alie Garnett

Chapter Twenty-Three

At 3:10 p.m.,Chris saw Violet sitting on the front step of Agatha’s house. The house had been quiet all day. He hadn’t seen Agatha except when she had woken him to tell him she was leaving with the girls. Now she was ten minutes late to meet Violet, and it looked like Violet had already checked around the house.

Jogging over to her, he asked, “No Agatha?”

Violet was on the verge of tears. “No, I can’t find her in the house, and her car is gone. I think she forgot me.”

“She would not forget about you. She must have got caught in traffic or something. Can I sit with you?”

“Yes. She doesn’t have cookies out.” Violet got up and walked into the house. Agatha always had cookies out for Violet when she got home from school. Just like the pop and mail, it was a ritual.

Chris wondered where Agatha could be. For the first time, he started to worry that she had been in an accident or something. No way would she miss Violet coming home from school.

“Where is Emma?” he asked.

“A friend’s house,” Violet said and rolled her eyes. “A new friend Mom thinks is a nice girl but isn’t.”

“Do you know where the cookies are?” He followed her through the kitchen.

“In the freezer. Lucy makes them for Agatha.” The girl went into the freezer and pulled out a bag of four cookies.

Both he and Violet looked at the frozen peanut butter cookies. It said “B Ratt” on the bag, making Chris chuckle, but not Violet. Lucy was the one behind the shirts.

He poked at the frozen dessert. “We’ll have to wait a few minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll check the studio one more time,” Violet said and was gone. After a moment, she was back with a sad face, no Agatha up there.

Chris had no idea where a studio would be in the house, but he hadn’t been in every room yet. Agatha was still nervous that he would break her house and always kept an eye on him. He hadn’t broken anything in over a week at his house, mostly because he was not allowed to do much. Others were fixing it now, and he had to admit he was no handyman.

“Are you going to see the baby again today?” Chris asked her in hopes of making her happy. Today was the first time he had seen the little girl sad since she had complained that Nick J. had called her sparkly.

“Yes. Buzzy will pick us up and bring us to the hospital again.” She didn’t sound happy about it.

“Did you see the baby this morning?” Chris asked, knowing she had.

“Yes, and I got to hold him, but Agatha didn’t.” She opened the bag of cookies.

“Did she say where she was going today?” Chris realized he was questioning a little girl about his girlfriend. Was she his girlfriend? They hadn’t talked about it, but he wanted to, soon.

“No, she didn’t say anything.” The little girl’s eyes swept the house again, like she still couldn’t believe that Agatha wasn’t there. “Do you think she’s coming back?”

“Of course she’s coming back; she lives here. Why would she not come home? Has she ever not come home before?” he asked as she kicked the counter lightly with her toes.

“No, but she’s always here. She always works when I’m asleep or at least when Mom is here,” Violet said.

“She’ll be here tomorrow. I promise.” He hoped it was a promise he could keep because he hated that Violet was sad. “What did they name the baby?”

“Benjamin Lovely. Mom named him, like Emmaline.” She was still kicking the counter and he let her. She deserved to do what she wanted today.

“But not you?”

She grinned. “Nope, Agatha named me.”

“After a pretty flower.” He handed her another cookie.

“Nope, after the color. I’m an artist. Sometimes Agatha doesn’t see me, and she calls me ultraviolet.” She giggled.

“Agatha loves colors.” He had noticed it over the last few weeks. When she described something, it wasn’t red, it was auburn or brick or burgundy. His blue shirt had been azure, and his green shirt had been Turkish blue, not green.

“Her favorite is walnut brown. One year for her birthday, I bought her a pencil in that color. It’s her favorite,” Violet explained.

“Do you want to watch cartoons and find the mistakes?” he asked, not knowing what else to do with her. The only thing they had in common was Agatha, and she was missing.

“Sure, until Buzz comes. Since Mom and Dad are at the hospital still, I am going to her house for the night.” She climbed off the stool.

It was a little after 5 p.m. when a redhead came in the door without knocking. Violet was off the couch and ran to her sister, yelling her name. After a quick hug, the redhead looked him over and asked, “Where’s Agatha?”

“I don’t know. I found Violet on the step at 3 p.m., and we haven’t heard from Agatha,” he said.

“I’m Bea. Agatha doesn’t leave the house much unless she’s working, but she wouldn’t work during the day. She’s a vampire, isn’t she, Violet?”

“She is not. She goes out in the sun!” the girl argued with a giggle. It seemed like an ongoing joke.

“Chris Lowell,” he put out his hand, which she ignored.

“I know who you are. Don’t hurt her.” Her brown eyes held his.

“I won’t,” He stated.

“Agatha puts on this air that nothing touches her, and not much does. But when she gets hurt, it takes her a long time to recover. Sometimes she doesn’t. She isn’t some plaything,” Bea warned. She was no taller than her sister, but she was willing to stand up to him for her.

“She’s not,” he agreed.

With her dark eyes still on him, she pulled out her phone and pushed some buttons. Her eyes squinted as it rolled to voicemail, and Bea dialed anther number.

“Luce, have you talked to Ag today?” She turned her back on him as she spoke. “No, she wasn’t here when Violet came home. I’m picking up Violet.”

As she talked, she walked out the door, leaving him to wonder if any of her sisters knew where she was.

Without knowing what else to do, he went across the street to see what the crew had finished since he had spent the afternoon with Violet. The walls were sheetrocked and were now ready for paint, and the tile in the kitchen and bathrooms was done. All the bathrooms and kitchen were in working order. The house wasn’t going to be a masterpiece of original workmanship because he had destroyed most of that, but his contractor had told him that modern design in old houses was all the rage, so they had changed direction and started over. It would still be a nice house, just different than he had originally dreamed.

Deciding it was safe for him to pick up garbage around the house, he filled a bag of bottles and cans from beverages and odds and ends that could be thrown out. He knew the house was still half done, but in a few more weeks, he either had to live in it or sell it. When he began the project, he had planned to sell it and move on to another project, but now he knew there would be no other project. And he didn’t want to live there either. He was happier across the street with Agatha.

Her prickly side rarely came out anymore, and when it did, it was because she was trying to protect herself from something. Earlier in the week, she yelled at him all day on Monday before he left for work, but when he came home, she was in a better mood.

Before he knew it, an hour had passed, so he went and checked to see if her car was back. Grinning, he saw it was sitting right where it always did in the yard. Why she parked on the grass, he didn’t know. Shutting off lights and locking the door, he headed across the street. On the porch there was a box sitting by the door. Glancing at it, he saw his Turkish blue shirt on top. He tried to open the door but found that it was locked.

Agatha had been gone all day, and now she had kicked him out of her house. No explanation, nothing. He had no idea what he had done. Should he have gone with her to the hospital that morning? It had been a family event, and she hadn’t invited him. He was beginning to believe he needed to start inviting himself.

Chris decided he needed an explanation and began pounding on the door. He yelled her name, knowing she was in there and that she could hear him.

She opened the door a crack and looked out it. “Stop being so loud, Chris.”

“What is this?” He pointed to the box.

“Your stuff. We’re done,” she stated calmly.

“Why? Where were you today?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“What? I was the one who sat with the saddest nine-year-old in the state for two hours, who kept asking if you were ever coming back!” He hoped she would understand how sad Violet had been. Though he was sure she knew, he wanted her to feel guilty about it.

She didn’t open the door any wider. “I just can’t do this right now.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing, Chris, it’s me. This was never going anywhere. It needs to be over now.”

“Over now, Agatha? I have no say in it?”

“No, Christopher. This is my life. You don’t even know me!” She yelled and tried to shut the door on him.

“Because you don’t let me, Agatha.” He pushed the door open and saw the entire living room was full of cardboard, plastic, and plastic bags. The couch was covered in pink clothes and baby toys.

“Get out, Chris. Get out of my house and my life. I don’t need you. I have never needed you.” She pushed against his chest to push him from the house, but she had no hopes of moving him. They both knew that.

“Stop it, Agatha.” His arms pulled her to him. He held her tight as she pushed and twisted to get free and cried. Tightening his hold on her, he kicked the door closed behind them. Whatever had happened that day had been hard on her, and what he had learned since meeting her was that when her emotions ran high, she pushed people away. Anger was her go-to emotion.

Looking around the room more closely, he saw a playpen amongst the mess, and a baby was peeking over the side, looking at him. Only the baby’s black curly hair and dark eyes were visible, along with two tiny hands holding on to the top of the playpen.

“Agatha, there’s a baby here,” he whispered to her, not taking his eyes from it. In his arms, she stiffened and pushed away from him again, but he tightened his arms around her. “She’s staring at me. I think she might be dangerous.”

After feeling her laugh at his joke, he relaxed his hold a tiny bit. The baby seemed content, so he kept holding Agatha. Agatha needed holding right now. Whatever she had been doing had brought a baby into her house.

“I have to get this all cleaned up,” she said into his chest.

“I will clean it up. You do whatever needs to be done with the baby.” He ran a hand over her hair before releasing her.

“Poppy, her name is Poppy.” She walked over and picked up the baby from the playpen. Poppy was in tiny pink footie pajamas with a duck on them.

“Hi, Poppy. I’m Chris.” He gently took the girl’s hand and shook it.

Knowing something was up with Agatha, Chis started to clean the living room. He found a garbage bag and filled it with plastic and cardboard. There were more bags of stuff on the floor that she hadn’t even opened yet. At this point, he was not going to ask questions in case she tried to toss him out again. He didn’t want her to be alone.

Once the second bag was full, he glanced at Agatha on the couch and was only met by one set of brown eyes, the others were closed in sleep. With a smile, he slid the wide-awake little girl from her arms. For her part, Poppy didn’t cry or seem nervous that a stranger was holding her. She just smiled at him with her two little teeth.

Over the years, Chris had never spent time with any kids, even his sister’s kids. When they had been this young, he had been thinking about nothing but football. It seemed he had missed a lot for his football dreams—dreams that didn’t even feel real anymore. It had only been a year, and he was already over those dreams.

Setting Poppy in her playpen, he carefully carried Agatha up to her bedroom. She must have been exhausted because she didn’t even stir. Once she was in bed, he turned his attention to the baby again. Taking her out of the playpen, he sat her on his lap and worked through her bags, opening packages of pink clothes and little toys that Poppy inspected with interest as he went.

Once again, he cleaned the floor after filling another bag with garbage and wondered what to do with all the stuff. He asked Poppy but only got a smile in return. The only thing he was sure of was that Agatha was all in with this baby. Poppy was here to stay.

Two giant boxes of diapers didn’t say weekend visit, nor did hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothes and toys. With the baby in his arms, he decided some stuff could be put away; he just needed a place to put it. With his empty arm, he carried the tan highchair to the kitchen, deciding to put it by the island.

There was a manila folder on the mostly empty counter, like the one she had been looking at weeks before when she had been so prickly. Was it about the baby girl or something else?

Flipping it open, he saw adoption papers, signed by a judge and none other than Agatha C. Lovely for a Poppy Joy Chambers. They were dated today. Chris sat down and stared at the papers. He couldn’t really believe it. He had woken up beside her this morning, or would have if she hadn’t woken up first, and she hadn’t said anything. Nor over the last three weeks he had known her. She had to have known. She had to have been working on it.

Did she think he would disapprove and tell her not to do it? What would he have said? At this point, he didn’t know, but he knew she thought he would be mad. That’s why she tried to end it; because she thought he wouldn’t be happy with her having a child.

Looking at the curly black hair, he knew he had to prove himself, because this child was hers now. If he wanted Agatha, he had to accept this little one and any others she might bring home. And he wanted Agatha.

Also in the folder was a hand-printed list of when things needed to be done. Poppy was going to need to be fed soon based on the sheet. He was not going to fail at this.

An hour later, he had Poppy’s diaper changed, made and fed her a bottle, and she was fast asleep in his arms. But he had no idea what to do with the baby now. As far as he knew, she had no crib in the house, and the playpen was miles from Agatha’s bedroom upstairs.

He checked all the other rooms to see if she had actually put up a crib while he was gone or even days before in preparation but found nothing. All the rooms looked like the one he had stayed in, just different color schemes and layouts. All rooms had a queen-sized bed and a dresser. Some had stuff on the walls, some didn’t. He didn’t see how six grown women and two kids had lived in the house at the same time. There were only eight bedrooms, and that included the master. He was tempted to check the attic for a crib but figured she would have hauled it down already if she had one. With that, he gave up on finding a crib.

After a few false starts, he silently got the playpen up to Agatha’s bedroom. Then he took the baby and put her in the playpen and covered her with a pink blanket.

Downstairs, he tossed the bags out the back door to be dealt with later and organized the living room a little more so that it didn’t look like a pink bomb had gone off in it. Life was going to be different here tomorrow. No more sleeping in and having sex when he wanted her.

Agatha was a parent now. And he hoped that she would let him help her. He wanted to do this with her.