A Wedding in December

by Sarah Morgan

  “Family is important at this time of year. I love you,” Maggie told Nick. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

  “Many times,” Nick said dryly, and Rosie closed her eyes.

  She’d never seen her mother this demonstrative. Normally it was the odd look, or touch that proclaimed them as a couple. A quiet togetherness. Today her mother was behaving as if this was their last day on earth and she was determined to make the most of it. It had to be the alcohol, but even that was strange because she’d never known her mother to drink much, not even at Christmas.

  She was never going to persuade her mother to fly again if this was what happened.

  “How about some music?”

  She could see Dan was trying not to laugh. “This is nowhere near as embarrassing as the first time you met my aunt Elizabeth,” he murmured in an undertone. “Remember that?”

  The shared memory made her smile, but it was only when she glanced behind her again and saw that her mother was asleep on her father’s shoulder that she allowed herself to relax.

  The scenery grew more spectacular as they approached Aspen. The sky was a pale, arctic blue, the winter sun bouncing a soft, shimmering light over the snow-laden peaks.

  As someone who had spent most of her life in a small English village where a few flakes of snow created wild excitement for the children and a ridiculous degree of disruption for the adults, the mountains never failed to thrill her and having snow at Christmas appealed to the romantic side of her nature.

  Feeling a little better, she stretched out her legs. “Do you ever get used to the view?”

  Dan shook his head. “Never.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Her mother woke, groggy and enchanted at the same time. “Nick, look!”

  “I’m looking.”

  “Now the flight is behind me, I’m excited. It’s wonderful to be here, isn’t it? We’ve never been away for Christmas. And we’ll be staying in a tree house, just the two of us. It really is a second honeymoon.” There was a pause, and then a sound of rustling as her mother shifted closer to Rosie’s father. “You’re still handsome, Nick. Have I told you that lately?”

  Rosie wished her mother would go back to sleep. Unfortunately, the short nap seemed to have invigorated her and she maintained a running commentary.

  “I’ve never seen mountains this high. And the snow is so smooth and perfect on that field over there it reminds me of my Christmas cake.”

  Rosie felt a wave of nostalgia. She wouldn’t be eating her mother’s Christmas cake this year. And what about next year? She didn’t know. That was one of the details she and Dan still needed to work out together. That and so many others.

  She stared out the window as Dan took the sharp turn that led up the wide tree-lined driveway leading to Snowfall Lodge. Snow lay in soft mounds, blurring the edges of the road.

  “Rosie tells me you work in academic publishing, Maggie.” Dan slowed. “That must be interesting. Do you enjoy it?”

  “No. If you want the truth, I find it intensely boring,” her mother said. “I work in a quiet office, with quiet people, doing the same quiet thing I’ve done forever. I hate it.”

  There was silence.

  Rosie turned her head and saw a deep furrow appear on her father’s brow. He seemed as shocked as she was.

  Even Dan, something of a conversational expert, seemed to struggle with a suitable response.

  Rosie felt as if her world had shifted a little. “You hate your job, Mum? Really?”

  “Why is that so surprising? Not everyone is lucky enough to do a job they’re passionate about. Sometimes you fall into something and before you know it you’re still there twenty years later.”

  “I—I thought you loved your work.”

  “It’s been perfectly fine. Ideal in many ways, because they were flexible about letting me work from home whenever you were sick which was important. It was a practical choice. I’m not the first woman in the world to make a practical choice.”

  The practical choice sounded depressingly uninspiring.

  Rosie felt a twinge of guilt.

  Was this her fault? She knew that her constant emergency trips to the hospital had put pressure on the whole family but she’d never considered that her mother might have stayed in the job because it made it easier to care for a sick child.

  “Why haven’t you talked about this before?”

  “I don’t think anyone ever asked. Dan’s the first. His emotional intelligence is clearly as well developed as his muscles.”

  Of course they’d asked about her job. For years when she’d been living at home, Rosie had asked how was your day?

  But how had her mother answered? She couldn’t remember.

  She was sure she’d never heard her say that she hated her job, but maybe there had been subtle hints that she’d missed. Maybe she’d heard a polite response and not recognized it as that. She hadn’t looked deeper, but that was because it had never occurred to her that her mother didn’t like her job. Why would it? If you didn’t like something, you said so. Her mother never complained about anything. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, Rosie had assumed she loved her life.

  Growing up, all her friends had envied Rosie her mother. Maggie was always there to greet her after school with hugs and fresh wholesome food. She adjusted her hours to fit around whatever family crisis—usually of Rosie’s making—happened to assail the inhabitants of Honeysuckle Cottage at any point in time.

  When Katie had developed flu a few days before her exams for medical school, it was their mother who had taken time off and driven her to the exam, plied her full of medication, and picked her up afterward. It was their mother who had slept in a chair by Rosie’s side when she was in the hospital, and her mother who had encouraged her from the sidelines when she played sports.

  Rosie realized she’d never seen her father do any of that, and until this moment that had never even struck her as odd.

  Her father had always seemed like an exciting figure to her. He was energetic, passionate and often elusive, disappearing from their lives for weeks and sometimes months at a time and then reappearing with exotic gifts and stories of sandstorms and badly behaved camels. This being before mobile phones, they often wouldn’t receive more than a single postcard during the time he was away.

  Rosie recalled admiring her mini-Sphinx bookends, while her mother patiently fed the washing machine with clothes that seemed to contain more sand than the desert.

  Their family had expanded and contracted as he came and went and her mother was the one responsible for that easy elasticity. She’d held everything together in his absence, and then welcomed his presence as if he’d never been away.

  There had been no criticism that Rosie could remember. No resentment as he’d packed his passport and she’d packed lunches for the girls.

  What must it have taken to be that flexible?

  Compromise.

  A whole lot of compromise on her mother’s part, and little on the part of her father.

  Rosie realized with a flash of shame that she really only ever thought of her mother in relation to her role in the family, not as an individual. Her mother was her rock. The person she always turned to when she had a problem. When had she ever asked her mother if she was happy? Never. She’d made an assumption. Her mother had always been there for her, one hundred percent dependable, no matter what. Who was there for her mother? The answer was her father, of course, except judging from the look on his face that wasn’t the case. He looked as shocked as she felt.

  Had he ever thought about the sacrifice Maggie had made for them all?

  Rosie decided, right there and then, that she wasn’t going to burden her mother with her current crisis. She was going to make sure her mother had a relaxing holiday because no one deserved it more than she did.

  “I’
m taking you straight to your tree house so you can settle in.” Dan raised a hand in greeting as they passed some of the staff who worked at the resort. “Then I’ll talk to my mother about getting you some emergency clothing.”

  He pulled up outside the tree house. “We’re here. The path should have been cleared, but it does get icy so be careful.”

  The tree house sat high in the tree canopy, blending with its surroundings.

  “We’re actually in the forest. It’s like something out of a fairy tale. Magical.” Maggie climbed out of the car, and slid her arm through Nick’s to steady herself. “Can you smell the trees?”

  “My mother is a keen gardener. She loves trees,” Rosie muttered, grabbing her mother’s coat from the seat.

  “And stars.” Maggie tipped her head back. “I love stars, too. Do you see them, Nick?”

  “I see them. Are you going to be able to make it up those stairs, Mags?”

  “Why? Would you like to carry me?”

  Struggling not to smile, Dan unloaded Nick’s suitcase. “We have the best night sky. When I was young, my father and I used to hike at night to take photographs. We’d go through the forest and up to the lake.”

  Maggie glanced around her. “The air is so clean and the trees—it smells of Christmas. Is that Douglas fir?”

  “We have a mixture of fir, pine and aspen here.”

  “It’s the most romantic place I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry about finding me spare clothes, Dan. We won’t need any out here.”

  Rosie ushered her toward the stairs that wound upward to the deck and the front door. “The cabin is equipped with robes and toiletries. Why don’t you settle in, get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll come over and see you in the morning. I’ll bring clothes with me.”

  Dan frowned. “But my mother was—”

  “It’s fine, Dan.” She sent him a meaningful look. “My parents are tired. I think they need to sleep off the journey,” and the drink, “and hopefully they’ll be fresh to enjoy the day tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Her father stepped forward and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry about your mother, Rosie. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Why did they keep saying that?

  What was she missing?

  Insisting that Dan wait outside, she picked up the suitcase and helped her father guide her mother through the door of the tree house.

  “This is charming.” Maggie stopped in the entrance. “Nick, isn’t this charming?”

  “It is.” He nudged her forward so that he could close the door on the bitterly cold night.

  Rosie loved the tree houses, particularly this one. All of them had the same basic design: cedar-clad walls, exposed beams and floor-to-ceiling windows with incredible views in every direction. Directly outside was a small pond and a stream, and deer and elk often came exploring. It was the ultimate cozy retreat.

  Rosie had spent a couple of nights in one the first time she’d visited, but now she was staying in Dan’s room in the apartment above Snowfall Lodge that was home to the Reynolds family.

  Maggie stepped toward the dining table at the back of the room. “It’s an antler chandelier! Is that—” she swallowed “—did the animal die?”

  Her mother couldn’t bear the thought of any creature being hurt.

  “No, they’re naturally shed at the end of the mating season, so you can switch the lights on without having to worry about your conscience. The bathroom is through to your right, and the bedroom is up the stairs.” She gave her father a quick guided tour. “Does Mum need nightclothes?”

  Her father patted her shoulder. “She can wear one of my shirts. She’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t need anything,” her mother called from the bedroom. “Naked is fine. The bed is huge. What size is it? It’s bigger than king or queen—more like a whole monarchy.”

  Rosie backed toward the door. “Is she safe on those stairs?”

  “Probably not. I’ll handle it.”

  “I think they provide a stair gate if you need one.” She hesitated. “Dad, is everything okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

  “I don’t know. I—” She shrugged, not sure whether it was a good idea to voice her feelings. She wanted it to all be in her imagination. “Ignore me. I’m sure you’re right, it’s the stress of the flight, that’s all. The fridge should be stocked, so if you’re hungry—”

  “We’ll have an early night and see you in the morning.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” She could hear her mother humming a song about a lonesome pine and made a hasty retreat.

  Dan was leaning against the railing that surrounded the deck, his eyes amused. “You remind me of a zookeeper who just managed to cage a dangerous wild animal without losing a limb. Everything okay in there?”

  “Yes.” If you ignored the fact that her mother was about to run around the cabin naked. And was apparently deeply unhappy with her life. “I think we should go. Your mum is probably waiting and I should tell her that my parents won’t be joining us.”

  “There’s no rush. I already called her. She’s totally cool with it all. Do your parents have everything they need? Why did you stop me coming in?”

  “Because there’s only so much embarrassment a girl can stand in one day, and I already hit my quota.”

  “Why are you embarrassed?”

  “You’re seriously asking me that?” She trudged past him toward the car. “If I’d known my mother would be drunk, I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me to the airport.”

  “I wouldn’t have let you do that drive alone.”

  She stopped and turned. “Are you being sexist?”

  “No, I’m being caring.” He caught up with her. “You don’t know these roads the way I do. I’ve been coming here summer and winter almost all my life. And you’re used to driving on the wrong side of the road.”

  “It’s not the wrong side where I come from. And I’m a great driver.”

  “You are a great driver, apart from those moments when you forget which side of the road you’re supposed to drive on.”

  “That happened twice, and on both occasions I saw a car coming at me in my lane and swerved back in plenty of time.”

  “That was when I took up drinking.” He looped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m kidding. You’re a great driver, but it’s a long journey and two people makes it easier. And now you need to relax. Your mom was terrified of flying, so she had a drink. Don’t overthink it.”

  “It’s not the drinking, it’s all the things she said. My mother basically told us that she hates her life.”

  “People don’t always say what they mean when they’ve had a few drinks.”

  “And sometimes they say exactly what they mean.” Was there something else her mother would have wanted to do? “My mother took the job in publishing when she graduated, and she’s worked there ever since. I assumed it was what she wanted to do. I mean, if someone is doing something, you assume it’s what they want, don’t you?”

  “Maybe, although I’m sure most of the population don’t end up doing their dream job.”

  They crunched through fresh snow on their way back to the car. The air was bitterly cold and flavored with wood smoke and the smell of pine.

  She felt the weight of his arm resting on her shoulders. “Did your mother always want to be a wedding planner?”

  “No, but looking back on it the clues were always there. She organized her own birthday party at six years old. It was themed and she hand made the invitations.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Great-Aunt Eunice told me. Also, there are photographs. My mother has been arranging parties ever since. She organized four of her friends’ weddings.” He stooped and picked up a pine cone. “Moving here permanently from our home in Boston, and setting up the wedd
ing business was a way of processing the loss of my father, but it turned out to be the best thing she could have done. She loves this place, and she loves the work.”

  “Right.” So his mother was living the dream, while hers—she frowned. Did her mother even have dreams? “My mother was an only child, and my grandparents died before I was born so I don’t have any stories like that. All of a sudden I feel as if I don’t know her.”

  “Of course you know her. It’s probably not something you think about much, that’s all. We never do when it’s our parents. What does she do in her spare time?”

  “I don’t think she had much spare time when we were growing up. Since we left home—I don’t know. Our house is pretty old and takes up a lot of time. There’s always something wrong, or a room that needs decorating. She does it herself. She’s good at that kind of thing. And the garden. She loves the garden.”

  “There you go. You do know what her passion is. Not everyone makes a job from what they love, but it doesn’t mean they don’t have passions in their spare time.” He handed her the pine cone and opened the car door.

  She didn’t move. “What if she really has spent her whole life doing a job she doesn’t love?”

  “Then that was her decision. And before you lie awake all night worrying, why don’t you wait and see how she is tomorrow? It’s possible she didn’t mean any of it.”

  “What makes you think I’d lie awake all night?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “Right. Yes, you’re right. We know each other.” She breathed. “And I do overthink things. I’m sorry I’m tense but it’s the first time you’ve met any of my family and forgive me I would have rather it hadn’t been when my mother was drunk and slobbering all over my dad. It was all a bit horrifying.”

  He laughed and pulled her into a hug. “I love your parents. And your mother reminds me a little of you.”

  “Drunk?”

  “Open. Friendly.” He kissed her. “Forget it. And don’t worry about your mom. She’ll be fine in the morning.”

  Maggie

  Maggie woke feeling as if an entire construction project was taking place in her head.