A Wedding in December

by Sarah Morgan

Pulling on a robe, Maggie went down to the kitchen and poured two mugs of coffee.

  When Nick emerged from the bathroom, she handed him one.

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Not as well as I would have expected to after all that exercise. Thanks.” He took the coffee from her. “You?”

  “Not bad. What kept you awake?”

  “Our conversation. This situation.” He walked over to the sofa, put his coffee down and lit the fire. “It feels wrong somehow.”

  Was he talking about their separation?

  Her heart skipped. Was he about to suggest that they tried again?

  The chemistry was still there. The last few days had made her aware of that. Their love was still there, too. But could they really start again?

  He’d picked the sofa that faced the bookshelves rather than the window. Because this conversation seemed too important to have from a distance, she sat down next to him with her back to the door.

  If he suggested they try again, what would her answer be?

  She nursed her coffee, giving herself time. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked as confused as she felt. “But I think we should talk about the divorce, don’t you?”

  Maggie heard a faint sound behind her seconds before she heard her daughter’s voice.

  “Divorce? You’re getting a divorce?”

  Drenched in horror, Maggie turned and saw Katie standing a few feet away. She was holding a box of pastries and staring at them as if they were strangers.

  No need to ask how long she’d been standing there or how much she’d heard. The answer was visible in the agony on her face. She’d obviously heard everything and neither Maggie nor Nick had even heard the door open.

  Maggie forced herself to stand up. Her legs shook. Her hands shook. Her coffee sloshed on her leg, but she ignored the burn. She had bigger things to worry about. She’d spent months planning the best way to tell the girls. She’d ached over how and when. Never once had this scenario crossed her mind.

  She wanted to blame Nick, but she knew it wasn’t his fault. If she’d listened to him, they’d have done it a long time ago, and they would have done it together.

  A tiny part of her wondered what, exactly, Nick had wanted to talk about before Katie had interrupted them but she ignored that, too. Right now, the priority was her daughter.

  Katie looked as if she was in shock. As if she’d witnessed something she hadn’t yet managed to process.

  Maggie knew she’d never forget the look on her daughter’s face. “You should have told us you were coming over.”

  “Why?” Katie glanced at the tumble of bedding on the couch. “So you could both climb into the bed and pretend to be together?”

  “We need to talk. Sit down, Katie.”

  “I don’t want to sit down.” Her steady, reliable, calm and unflappable daughter looked distraught. “I want to know what’s going on. You’ve told everyone this is a second honeymoon. You two have been glued together since you arrived here and frankly it’s been a little embarrassing. But suddenly here you are getting a divorce? I don’t understand.” She looked so hurt and confused that Maggie rushed across to her and tried to wrap her in her arms.

  “Katie—”

  “No!” Katie pushed her away. “I don’t want hugs, I want answers. It was all an act, wasn’t it? The we’re so in love thing you and Dad have going on. An act.”

  Maggie knew her face was probably the color of a Santa suit. “We probably should have told you before now, but it hasn’t been easy and I was trying to find the right time, and that time wasn’t immediately before your sister’s wedding.”

  “How could I have been so stupid? I thought it was odd that the two of you were so demonstrative all of a sudden, but I assumed it was because you were making the most of taking a holiday together.”

  “We—” Maggie glanced at Nick. “I thought it was best to wait and tell you after the wedding.”

  “Does Rosie know? No, of course she doesn’t.” Katie paced to the kitchen area and put the box of pastries down on the counter. “She keeps using you as her inspiration. Holding you up as an example of a perfect marriage. So what’s the plan? Is Dad going to move out? Or have you split Honeysuckle Cottage in half or something?”

  Maggie swallowed. “Dad’s already moved out. He has a room in college. We’ve been living apart for a while.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “Since the summer.”

  Katie stared at her. “The summer? Oh my—” She choked on the words. “I can’t—”

  “Katie—” Maggie stepped forward but Katie headed for the door.

  “Don’t touch me. I need some air. Space. Time to think.” She was stammering. Stumbling.

  Maggie felt as if her heart had been ripped in two. “Please, Katie—” But her daughter was already at the bottom of the steps and flying down the snowy track that led to the tree house as if she was being hunted.

  Maggie whirled to Nick who was standing silently by the sofa, staring after his daughter. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you do something?”

  “You heard her. She wants space. Best to let her have that space and then we can talk properly later.”

  She wanted to blame him, but she knew that all the blame rested with her. She was the one who had insisted on waiting.

  “This is all my fault. You wanted to tell them months ago.”

  “And you wanted to wait.”

  “And that was the wrong decision.”

  “I don’t believe it was.” He shook his head. “The last few days have been the most fun we’ve had in years. We’ve talked more than we have in years. I feel as if I know you better than I have in years. I’m sorry Katie walked in when she did, but I’m not sorry for any of the rest of it.”

  Everything he said was true. But what did that mean? What did it change?

  “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  She understood his confusion because she felt it, too. “It doesn’t even matter. All that matters is Katie.”

  Frustration crossed his face. “Do you really think Katie is what matters here? What about us? We have to talk about us, Mags—”

  “—and we will, but first we have to check on our daughter. I’m worried about her.” She grabbed her phone and called Katie’s number but predictably it went straight to voice mail. “I can’t focus on anything else until I know she’s okay, don’t you understand that?”

  He was silent for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “I understand that.” His tone said that he understood it but didn’t like it, and his body language said the same thing as he clomped to the door and reached for his coat. His shoulders were slumped. He looked defeated, and she felt as if she was being tugged in two directions.

  She felt a moment of loss, followed by panic. “Where are you going?”

  “To find our daughter. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He shrugged on his coat and reached for his scarf. While he wrestled with layers and wool, she wrestled with guilt and questioned her priorities.

  “She’s probably gone back to the tree house to tell Rosie.” They all protected Rosie. And now Katie, her strong, determined, reliable Katie was hurting and alone. Of course they should put her needs first.

  “Katie isn’t the sort to sob out her problems on someone’s shoulder. She never has been. And she’d want to protect Rosie. It’s what she does. It’s what she’s always done. My guess is that she’s gone for a walk to let off steam.”

  They were talking about the girls, but she was thinking about him. About them. About their evening together. And now the closeness had gone, and she was the one who’d killed it. She badly wanted it back but it was like trying to gra
b handfuls of that steam he’d mentioned.

  She felt numb. If Katie hadn’t walked in when she had, what would she and Nick be talking about now? Would the closeness, the intimacy, have continued?

  Had there ever been an example of worse timing?

  And what was he going to say to Katie when he found her?

  They were getting a divorce. That was a fact and it was a fact that stayed the same no matter who had the conversation. “Nick—”

  “I know, you’re worried and want me to hurry up.” He tugged open the door and she felt a rush of desperation. She could stop him. She could call him back now and maybe, somehow, they could find their way back to that place they’d been when Katie had walked in.

  But then what about Katie?

  She opened her mouth but before she could decide what to say the door slammed and Nick stomped off into the snowy forest to look for their daughter.

  Katie

  She was lost.

  Katie turned to look behind her, and then to the sides. She’d been on the trail, but then she’d seen a couple of people snowshoeing up ahead, and because she’d been crying and her cheeks were wet and her eyes were red and the last thing she wanted was to engage with another human being, she’d turned onto an unmarked trail that led into the forest. She hadn’t meant to go far, but she’d walked and taken another couple of turns and now she was definitely lost.

  The trail climbed steeply uphill, guarded by towering trees, the forest thick in parts and coated with fresh snow.

  It had been easy to walk on the main trail in her snowshoes, but harder here where the snow was deeper and the surface untouched. Sunlight poked through the trees, making the surface of the snow glisten.

  Katie closed her eyes and breathed in the air and the peace. She was lost, but so what? Being lost worked for her. It felt like a metaphor for life. She was lost physically and emotionally. Her parents, two people she thought would be together forever, were getting a divorce.

  The world no longer made sense. If they couldn’t make it, what chance was there for anyone else?

  She wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, but she knew denial wasn’t a good thing so she kept forcing herself to think the word.

  Divorce.

  Of all the things she’d expected to happen this Christmas, that hadn’t been on the list.

  It felt as if her entire life was falling apart. First her job, and now this.

  The irony was that she’d gone to her parents’ cabin unannounced because she’d wanted to check on her mother. She’d been worried she might be upset that Catherine seemed to be organizing Rosie’s wedding. Through the windows of the tree house she’d seen them seated on the sofa together, deep in conversation, and had thought how cute they were together. She’d envied them the closeness and felt a little guilty at disturbing them on their second honeymoon.

  They hadn’t heard her knock on the door.

  It wasn’t until she’d stepped inside the tree house that she’d realized the conversation absorbing both of them was focused on the details of their divorce.

  She knew things hadn’t always been rosy at home—she’d witnessed the strain Rosie’s illness had put on their relationship, but that had been years ago and she’d assumed they’d somehow weathered it. The fact that they hadn’t put another dent in her view of relationships.

  She’d thought her family was unbreakable and yet here it was, apparently broken.

  Why now? It didn’t make sense.

  And why was she so upset about it? That didn’t make sense, either.

  She was an adult, not a little girl. The way her parents chose to live their lives shouldn’t impact her, but suddenly all she could think of was the fun times the four of them had spent together. All those idyllic years spent in Honeysuckle Cottage. Her parents taking turns reading her stories, lying on the bed next to her and letting her turn the pages. Her dad taking them all to see Egyptian mummies at the museum.

  Christmas.

  Christmas had always been her favorite time of year. From the moment she arrived at Honeysuckle Cottage and saw the candles flickering in the window and the trees decorated with tiny fairy lights, the stresses of the year somehow slid from her.

  But she knew that what really made Christmas so special wasn’t the fairy lights or the candles, nor even her mother’s fabulous cooking—it was being home with her family.

  She gasped in air as she struggled up the steep slope. Her parents added a level of security to her life, even though she didn’t see them that often.

  Her life was so crazy she dashed from one moment to the next with little control over her time. Most days she felt like a leaf blowing in the wind. She’d shared a house with Vicky for a decade, but it still felt like somewhere she slept and ate. It didn’t feel like home. Honeysuckle Cottage was home. Would they sell it?

  Katie stopped walking because she could no longer breathe properly or see where she was going.

  She brushed away the tears, angry with herself.

  Her parents were both alive and healthy. She of all people should know that was what was important. And of course they’d sell the cottage. They couldn’t hold on to a house that was too big for one person, simply to accommodate the family a couple of times a year. Why did that make her sad?

  Maybe it was because the rest of her life seemed unstable. She’d had relationships over the past decade, but none of them had lasted more than a couple of months and she’d barely shed a tear when they ended. She had friends she was often too tired to see because she was always working, and a job she wasn’t even sure she liked anymore.

  Her whole life had shifted precariously. She’d been so sure about being a doctor, but now she was questioning that.

  She thrust her hand into her pocket and dug out her phone.

  She shouldn’t be thinking about herself. She should be thinking about her parents. Her mother must have been miserably unhappy, and presumably she was unhappy now. Why hadn’t she said something?

  Katie waved her phone in frustration, looking for a signal.

  Guilt crawled over her flesh as she remembered all the times she’d avoided calling home. Maybe if she’d been better at staying in touch, her mother would have found it easier to confide in her.

  And what about Rosie? Rosie, who kept using their parents’ solid marriage as evidence that a whirlwind romance could work. Impetuous and impulsive Rosie, who still believed in happy endings. Katie had used that evidence, too, to reassure herself that her sister’s relationship would sustain.

  Katie was going to have to tell her the truth. But not now, because her phone wasn’t working.

  She put it back in her pocket and stood still, staring into the trees. It was only now, when she stopped trudging through the snow, that she realized how cold it was. Her breath left smoky clouds in the air ahead of her.

  She started walking again, planting her feet firmly in the deep snow. The surface was scattered with pine cones and whispers of fir and the only sounds were the soft thud as snow fell from a tree, the call of a bird, the snap of a branch as the weight of its burden grew too much.

  She came to a fork in the trail and stopped. A decision had to be made. Left, right, or turn back? Better to keep going forward in the hope that she’d see a sign.

  She was surrounded by peaceful, scented forest. Snowy peaks rose above the tops of the trees and she could hear the rush of water from the river somewhere far down below. It was beautiful. So beautiful it was almost humbling.

  She thought about London, with its streets choked with cars. When she’d first moved there she’d found the city exciting and energizing. Lately, she found it energy-sapping. Everyone was in a rush, in a crowd, in a temper.

  Here, it felt as if she was the only creature on the planet.

  She wasn’t sure what made her glance up, but she did it and immediately cla
shed with a pair of yellow-gold eyes.

  For the second time in a month she knew real, gut-wrenching fear.

  She was not the only creature on the planet.

  What was that thing? It was huge. And it was looking right at her, and not in a friendly way.

  Could she run in these stupid, cumbersome snowshoes?

  Given that walking had been a challenge, the answer had to be no.

  A moment ago she’d been freezing cold, but now she was shivering for a different reason.

  Maybe she could sidle into the trees and hope he didn’t think she looked like something worth following.

  She took a single step and the animal sprang down from the tree in a series of fluid, athletic leaps and landed on the trail in front of her.

  This is it, Katie thought. This is how I die.

  And they’d never find her body because no one knew where she was.

  A familiar male voice came from behind her. “Don’t move.”

  Relief weakened her knees. Never in her life had she thought she’d be pleased to see Jordan, but as he stepped beside her, she was. It took all her willpower not to fling herself at him. “What is that thing?”

  “Mountain lion.”

  Lion?

  Katie wished she was back in London. She was never, ever, complaining about the city again. “We should run.”

  “Do not run.” His hand closed over her shoulder. “Are you going to accuse me of going all macho on you if I step in here?”

  “Please—” Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. “Step anywhere, preferably in front of me.” She could have sworn she heard him laugh, and then he did step in front of her.

  His bulk blocked her view, but she saw him spread his arms and heard him shout at the lion. For a moment it stood, all coiled muscle and strength, and then it vanished into the forest.

  Katie thought her legs might give way.

  Jordan turned and closed his hands over her arms, as if he realized she needed holding up. “We were lucky.”

  “Yes.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t happen. “I’m relieved you arrived when you did.”