A Wedding in December

Maybe he knew her better than she thought he did.

She felt a surge of emotion that felt almost like grief. When Rosie had moved to the US to study it had shaken her, but she’d told herself that it was only a short-term thing. Not for a moment had she considered the move might be permanent.

“I feel as if I’ve lost her.” She wasn’t going to cry. That would be ridiculous. All that mattered was Rosie’s health and happiness. “You probably think I’m the most selfish mother on the planet, wishing she’d come home.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish. I think you’re a great mother, you always have been. Perhaps a little too good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You put those girls ahead of everything else.”

“You make it sound like a sacrifice, but it wasn’t. I loved being there for our girls. If I had my time again I wouldn’t change a thing.” Some people had big dreams and big goals, but Maggie enjoyed the smaller things. The first buds appearing on the apple tree, the soft scratch of pen on paper as Katie had done her homework at the kitchen table, the scent of fresh laundry, the joy of the first cup of coffee of the day, and the sheer pleasure of a book that transported her to another life and another place.

But it was true that taking two career breaks had narrowed her choices. And then there was the fact that she’d built up goodwill with the publishing house where she worked. Because they trusted her to get her work done, they were flexible when she needed time off to care for Rosie. Worried that a new employer might not offer the same latitude, she’d felt it safer to stay where she was.

She looked closely at Nick and noticed the fine lines around his eyes. He looked tired.

“Have you eaten?”

She knew he sometimes forgot, and judging from the sheepish expression on his face this was one of those occasions.

“No. I forgot to shop, so I thought I’d grab something in college.”

“I’ll make you something if you have time to eat it.”

“I always have time for anything you cook.” He stood up. “What can I do to help?”

She gaped at him. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.”

“That’s not true. I clean up after you. I am a champion cleaner-upper.”

“But you don’t usually help with the cooking part.”

“Because you’re so good at it. Also, you never let me near the kitchen.”

Was that true? Probably. She’d wanted and needed something that was all hers. Something she could excel at and own.

Plenty of people would have rolled their eyes at her apparent lack of work ambition, but Maggie didn’t care. She’d been there when the girls had taken their first steps. She’d taught them both to read. Never once had she felt that what she was doing was anything less than valuable.

It was only in the past couple of years that she’d started to feel dissatisfied.

She envied people whose life looked exactly the way they wanted it to look. People like Nick and Katie, who had a passion and followed it. Even Rosie seemed to know the path she wanted to take.

Maggie felt as if she’d strolled randomly through life with no map.

“If you want to help, you could fetch eggs from the fridge.” She pulled a large bowl out of the cupboard and a whisk from the drawer.

When he put the eggs next to her she selected six and broke them into the bowl while he watched.

“The last omelet I made was crunchy.”

She tried not to smile. “Generally, it’s best not to include the shell.”

“Ah, so that’s the secret. I knew there had to be one.”

She snipped fresh herbs from the pots she nurtured on her windowsill and added them to the mixture, then she poured half into the hot pan, waiting as it sizzled.

“It isn’t only about me. I worry about her.”