A Wedding in December

Maggie remembered the day Katie had stomped into the kitchen and slammed her books down on the table.

I’m going to be a doctor, because then I can cure Rosie.

Maggie had often felt guilty that most of her time and attention was focused on her youngest daughter, but Katie hadn’t seemed to be affected. She was a bright, fiercely determined child who had grown into a bright, fiercely determined adult. She’d set herself goals, and lists of things to do to achieve those goals. Unlike Nick and Rosie who made decisions based on impulse and emotion, Katie never did anything she hadn’t thought through.

She’d gone from being a hardworking child to a hardworking adult. Now she was a dedicated and talented doctor and Maggie was proud of her.

Unlike Rosie, who veered from one thing to the next, Katie always knew exactly what she wanted and never wavered.

The sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts and she walked to the door and opened it.

Nick stood there. His long wool coat was one he’d had for years. He wore it with the collar turned up and his favorite scarf wrapped round his neck. He gave her that same crooked smile that had snagged her attention all those years before and she felt a rush of sadness. Where had their love gone? There had been no great falling-out. No clandestine affairs or flirtations. She’d tried repeatedly to identify when her marriage had malfunctioned, but had been unable to pinpoint a specific event. She and Nick had lived parallel lives and then drifted apart so gradually neither of them had noticed, until one day they’d simply been unable to connect the way they once had.

Even their decision to part had been mutual and amicable.

Sometimes she wondered if they’d simply lost each other under the pressure of being a family.

Despite everything, she felt relief that he was here. She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. She opened the door wider. “You’ve lost your key again?”

“For once, no, but I didn’t feel comfortable using it. This isn’t my house anymore.” He hesitated and then stepped over the threshold.

“It’s still your house, Nick. We bought it together and when we sell it we’ll share the proceeds. You have a right to walk in whenever you like.” No part of her was screeching change the locks. Why would she?

“I don’t want to intrude.” He glanced at the stairs and she gave a half laugh as she realized he was respecting her privacy.

“You think there’s a Christmas elf hiding under my bed? Santa? Some muscular young guy?”

Another serious relationship wasn’t on her wish list. As for anything more superficial, well, the thought of an affair was ludicrous.

“It’s cold in here.” Nick touched the radiator closest to him. “Broken again?”

“It waits for the first hint of frost to malfunction.” As usual she was wearing two sweaters, which made her look heavier than she was.

“Do you want me to call someone?” He didn’t offer to look at it himself. Nick could hold a lecture hall spellbound, but he couldn’t fix a dripping tap and was bemused by flat pack furniture.

“I’ve already done it. They’re coming next Monday.”

“You look tired.”

“That generally happens when someone calls you at three in the morning.” She knew Nick probably would have gone straight back to sleep. His ability to sleep, no matter what the crisis, had been a source of envy and frustration over the years. She would have given anything to be able to switch off and let someone else take responsibility for five minutes. Maybe it was because he knew she couldn’t that he’d been able to switch off himself, soothed by the knowledge that she was in charge.

“Rosie shouldn’t have called you in the middle of the night.”

“She was excited. She wanted to share her news. And I’m pleased. S

he might be living miles away, but I still want to be part of her life.”

“But middle of the night calls always scare you. I’m sure you answered in a panic, assuming she was having an attack. Not easy to go back to sleep after that.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Sit down. I’ll make coffee and then we’ll book flights.”

“Oh.” Her stomach gave a lurch. “What’s the rush?”

“The wedding is happening in a little over three weeks. We’ll be lucky to get seats as it is.” Nick ground beans and made two cups. The machine had been their indulgence, a mutual gift that kept delivering when stress piled upon stress. Coffee had become a shared habit during those early, sleep-deprived years and it had stuck. They both drank it black, mostly because they’d been too tired to reach for the milk. “Then there’s the fact that if I give you time to think about it, you’ll find a reason not to do it.”

She took the coffee gratefully, knowing he was right.

“I have to do it. I’m not going to miss Rosie’s wedding.”

“In that case, we need to book.” He put the cup on the table and unwound his scarf.