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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chris heldAgatha’s daughter as they walked to her mom’s house at the end of the block. The baby was helping to calm his nerves. He didn’t even know why he was nervous, except for the fact that they might all hate him like Sera did. Taking Agatha’s hand, he squeezed it because she was probably even more nervous than he was.
Agatha’s mom had left the house without saying a word or even looking at him. She had left with an anger he didn’t think Violet’s mom could possess—an anger that he was sure was directed at him.
When Agatha had made it down the stairs, she had said they were going to her mom’s for supper and that everyone knew about him and the baby and the entire story. Which might be more then he knew because he hadn’t pushed her for more information about the baby, and she wasn’t saying anything.
Which meant he had no idea what he was walking into. But to be there for Agatha, he would walk through that door every day of the week.
Walking up the steps, he noticed Violet on an old wooden swing, watching them walk up. “Is that her?” she asked.
Chris decided to let Agatha handle it.
“Yes, Violet. This is Poppy.”
Violet walked over to them and looked at the baby. “She doesn’t look red.”
“What color does she look like?” Agatha asked.
“More purple,” Violet said, still frowning.
“No, she doesn’t. Do you like the name?” Agatha took Poppy from his arms.
“I guess since it is a color. Benji isn’t a color.” The baby grabbed Violet’s hand as if to shake it, causing Violet to finally smile.
“I think I like it too. To be honest, at first, I didn’t. It seemed too happy and vibrant for my daughter, but I’m hoping she’s like you and Mom. All bubbly.” Agatha tickled the girl.
Chris looked at Agatha and realized they had never talked about her daughter’s name or that she hadn’t felt it was fitting for her child. Except Chris knew it was. When Agatha let down her guard, she was just as happy and bubbly as her sister. The prickly, angry woman was just a facade she hid behind.
“I’m not bubbly,” Violet said as she giggled.
“You’re just as bubbly as your mom. I love that about you. Is everyone here?” Agatha looked in the front window, worry back on her face.
“Yes, they were early and were talking about you. I left.” Violet shrugged.
“I should go in there, shouldn’t I?” Agatha asked the girl, as if she was hoping the nine-year-old would tell her to run home.
“Yes, I will stay out here, though,” Violet said.
“I’ll stay with Violet,” Chris said, not wanting Agatha to keep stressing about her sisters. He didn’t want to be the reason for more tension between them. Let them fall in love with Poppy, then he could go in.
“Okay.” Agatha took a deep breath before getting up and taking the baby with her inside.
When the door shut, Chris looked at the little girl and said, “On Friday, you said you wanted a girl cousin, and now you have one.”
“I know, and I thought I would be more excited, but I’m not. Mom told me after school today. Right there.” She pointed to the stoop as if she would remember the moment forever.
“On the step, like how Agatha waits for you?” Chris questioned.
“She should have told me inside. Not outside,” Violet said in anger.
“Why not outside?” he asked in confusion.
“Because when I walk alone from the bus, my friend walks with me, and he heard.” She bit her lip.
Chris didn’t understand why Violet was upset. “I don’t think your friend will care that you have a new cousin.”
“No, he does. Nobody can see him,” Violet confided.
