Marriage Matters (33 page)

Sixty-five

T
he stone lodge Charley’s friends had booked for the engagement party bustled with activity everywhere Chloe turned. The guests were three generations of close and casual acquaintances, all thrown together in one room.

The lodge was decorated for Christmas, with boughs and holly lining every spare surface. A fire roared in the fireplace downstairs and the scent of eggnog and gingerbread floated through the air, mingling with a hundred different types of perfume. June and Charley stood in the center of the main room, both completely in their element, but Chloe was finding the whole thing overwhelming.

On top of that, Sally and Dana were hovering around her like the court of a queen.

“Do you need anything?” Sally chirped. “Maybe another cocktail?”

Sally looked so cute. She was dressed in a white sweater dress and red high heels, along with dangly candy cane earrings and a big black belt buckled at her waist. Chloe envied the fun outfit. It looked so much more comfortable than the black taffeta monstrosity June had crammed her into.

The dress had arrived by courier two nights ago, along with a pair of adorable silver shoes. The outfit looked awesome, yes, but the dress itched like crazy and made noise every time she moved. The shoes were also giving her a blister. Honestly, she would much rather be at home, dressed in her pajamas and curled up with her cat.

“No, I don’t need anything.” Chloe showed Sally her full glass of Chardonnay. “Thanks.”

“What about some food?” Dana asked. “That tapenade looked pretty amazing.”

The hors d’oeuvres circulating the room did look delicious, but Chloe didn’t want to get anything in her teeth. Every time she turned around, she had to smile at someone and say, “Thank you,” as they offered their congratulations.

“No, I’m good.” She took a sip of wine.

“Don’t you bloody need anything?” Sally demanded.

Chloe laughed, looking back and forth between her two friends. “I’m fine. What on earth is going on? Why are you guys trying to wait on me?”

Sally grinned. “We’re pretending to be bridesmaids,” she cried. “How did we do, then?”

“Perfect,” Chloe said. “You’re definitely bridesmaids in my heart.” She felt a tap on her shoulder and turning, she came face-to-face with her mother. “Wow,” she gasped. “Mom, you look beautiful!”

Chloe’s friends nodded in agreement. Kristine looked like some sort of tragic heroine, with her black flared taffeta dress, flawless skin and diamond teardrop earrings. Unfortunately, she also looked a little upset. She leaned in close enough to smell the scent of coconut in her hair.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she murmured, “so I’ll just say it.”

“What?” Chloe asked, suddenly worried.

Sally held up her drink glass. “Anyone?” When they shook their heads, she and Dana headed off in search of another round.

Chloe turned to her mother. “What’s wrong?”

Kristine pressed her fingers under her eyes. “Your father’s stuck in Denver. He’s going to miss tonight but he wanted to let you know how incredibly sorry he is.”

Chloe’s heart sunk. “Oh, no.”

“I know.” Gently, Kristine reached out and adjusted the ribbon on Chloe’s dress. Her hands were shaking.

Even though it was a bummer her father was going to miss the engagement party, Chloe was more worried about the way her mother seemed to be taking the news. “Mom, are you okay?”

Kristine waved her hand. The sparkle from her wedding ring seemed dull in the muted light. “I’m fine. Just disappointed he’s not here to see you on your big night. You look beautiful.”

“Okay, but . . .” Chloe surveyed the crowded room. So many of the faces belonged to friends of her parents. “This was supposed to be your big night, too. I’m fine, but you must be really upset.”

“Oh, things happen.” Chloe must not have looked convinced, because her mother went on to say, “Honey, your father and I have been married for a long time. This is a nice idea for us, but it’s the real deal for you. I know your father is devas—”

A guest swooped in. It was some friend of June’s, and based on her exclamations, she hadn’t seen Kristine since she was “this big.” Kristine allowed the woman to drag her away, without forcing Chloe to endure yet another introduction. Looking back over her shoulder, she mouthed, “Love you.”

“Everything alright?” Geoff walked up and put a hand on Chloe’s arm.

“I’m not sure.” She nodded, watching the retreating form of her mother. “I think I need to sit down for a minute.”

Taking Chloe by the arm, Geoff guided her through the crowd and pushed open the first wooden door he saw. Shutting it behind them, he flipped on the lights. The room was just a tiny nook with a scratchy brown and orange couch and no decorations. But it so was quiet and empty. It was the perfect escape from the chaos of the party.

Geoff gave her a quick kiss. “Tell me what happened.”

Peeling off her high heels, Chloe collapsed onto the rough springs of the sofa. Quickly, she narrated what her mother had said. “She’s devastated. I could tell by the look on her face.”

“It’s just a party.” His voice was gentle. “It’s not the party or even the ceremony that counts. It’s everything that happens afterwards.”

She bit her lip. “You always say the right thing. Have you thought about a career in psychology?”

Geoff smiled, showing those three lines in his cheek. “I don’t have all the answers,” he said, tugging at his ascot. It was red and dotted with diamond rings. Even though Chloe wanted to like it, she had to admit it was painfully tacky. “No one has all the answers.” Letting out a weighted sigh, he looked down at his hands. “Especially when it comes to marriage.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you . . .” Chloe picked at a string on the scratchy material of the couch. “Are you feeling any better? About Miriam being back in town?”

Geoff adjusted his ascot. “She stopped by the office today. We chatted for a while.”

Chloe blinked. This was the second time there had been some sort of interaction with his ex-wife where he had mentioned it after the fact. As though it was not a big deal.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that?” she asked, her voice cautious. “Like, right away?”

Geoff seemed genuinely puzzled. “You’ve been in class all day. It’s not really something to leave you a message about on your phone. Or to talk about at our engagement party,” he said pointedly. The din of the party could be heard just beyond the door.

“Right, but . . .” Yes, she had been in school all day, then at her internship, changed into her dress in two seconds flat, then hopped in the town car they’d shared with Charley and June. Still, for some reason, she wasn’t comfortable with the fact that he was just telling her this now. “What did she want?” she pressed. “Why did she stop by?”

“To apologize.” Geoff clasped his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His green eyes looked sad. “It turns out, I was right about the depression. She went on medication about a year after she left. She really regrets some of the choices she made and she just wanted to apologize.”

Chloe rubbed her lips together. “Did she ask you about us?”

There was a slight pause. “Yes.”

“What did you say?” Chloe knew that she sounded like a typical jealous girl, but come on. If she was, in fact, going to invest the rest of her life in Geoff, she did have a right to be a little proprietary.

He looked confused by the question. “I told her about you. Who you are, how we met . . . I showed her a picture. She’s interested in knowing who will be raising Mary Beth.” He smiled. “She was happy to hear you want to work with children.”

Chloe reached down and played with the taffeta ribbon hanging on her dress. It crunched like a dead leaf in her hand. “How do you feel, Geoff? About all this?”

“Surprised.” He shook his head. “The conversation was complex. I felt . . .” He thought for a moment, once again smoothing his ascot. “Sad for her. For us.”

At the “us,” Chloe wrinkled her forehead. “
Us
, like me and you?”

“
Us
as in me and Miriam. It was a very painful time, Chloe.” Geoff’s eyes were fixed on the black laces of his patent leather shoes. “We were both hurting and didn’t help each other. I regret that. Very much.” He ran his hands up and down over his thighs. “Before all this, Miriam was a wonderful woman. It’s important for Mary Beth to get to know her.”

Chloe chewed the inside of her lip. If there was one thing she had learned from her classes, it was to be direct. Clear questions were designed to bring honest answers.

“Do you still want to get married?” she asked. “To me?”

“Of course I still want to marry you!” Reaching out, Geoff pulled her in close. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be talking about this here. However, you asked and I thought it only fair to answer honestly. I love you, Chloe. I really do.”

They sat in silence for a moment, their arms around each other. She rested her cheek against his lapel. The murmurs outside had gone silent. She sat up straight.
Crap.
It was very possible that someone—June—was making a toast.

“We better get back out there,” she said, fumbling on the floor for her shoes. She slid her right foot into the silver shoe with the diamond-encrusted broach at the toe, then moved her left foot around, trying to find the other. “I can’t find it.”

Dropping to his knees, Geoff dug around under the couch. “Aha!” He gave a triumphant smile. “Found it.” It had a little dust bunny on it, which he blew off with a quick puff. Then, he held it out, waiting for her to slip her foot inside. “You ready, my princess?”

Extending her foot, Chloe let him slide it on the shoe. Immediately, the sharp leather pinched into the raw skin of her blister and she winced. It was just too tight.

“You ready?” Geoff asked, holding out his hand.

Chloe nodded. Taking his hand, she limped her way back into the party.

Sixty-six

A
fter the engagement party was over, Kristine went straight home. She took off her dress, deleted the eight messages from Kevin all begging her to call him and went up to the attic.

The space was dusty and freezing cold. Ratty pink insulation hung out from the sides of the rafters and something scurried across the corner. She picked through the well-organized boxes, amazed that twenty-five years in one place could mean such an incredible accumulation of stuff.

In the corner, there was a collection of ski equipment, from the days when they used to take ski trips as a family. Now, they were covered in cobwebs and dust. There were boxes filled with Kevin’s baseball card collection from when he was a kid. It was carefully organized. Even though she knew nothing about baseball, she knew he had cards that were valuable because when he’d lost his job, he’d been tempted to sell them. “Absolutely not,” she’d said. “Some things are more important than money.” Then, of course, there was the section of the attic just filled with Chloe’s stuff. Even though Kristine was tempted every spring to throw away the sports uniforms, second grade spelling tests and essays, she could never bring herself to do it. In that way, she was a lot more like June than she wanted to admit.

Walking past the box that held the collection of love notes Kevin had once given her, Kristine found what she was looking for—her wedding album. Holding it in her hand, she looked down at the faded white silk cover. At the party, June had a collection of photos from the ceremony set up on a table, and Kristine hadn’t been able to even glance at them, for fear she’d burst into tears. Now that she was home, she gripped the book to her chest and climbed back down the rickety ladder.

Armed with a cup of hot tea, she sat on the comforter of her bed and flipped it open. She gazed at the first picture with a dispassionate eye. It was a photo of her hands gripping Kevin’s as they lit the unity candle. Their rings glistened in the muted yellow light, and in that moment, if it were possible, even their hands looked happy.

Slowly, she flipped through the pages, marveling at how young they looked. Kristine’s dress was just as beautiful as she remembered, floating around her like some ethereal cloud. Kevin looked strong and proud in every shot, his hand somehow always rested on her body. In one picture, his hand was on the small of her back. In another, it held on to her elbow. In another, he held her hand.

Kristine peered at the picture of the two of them cutting the wedding cake. When it came time to feed each other, they’d playfully smashed the cake into each other’s faces. Then they’d kissed and kissed, delighting in the fact that frosting was getting all over their hair and their clothes. She remembered him murmuring, “The sweetest first kiss,” before pulling her close once again.

Turning the page, she sucked in a sharp breath. There was a picture of her father dressed in a smart black suit, guiding her down the aisle. He looked exactly the way she held him in her memory: a precise, kind man with freckles on his nose and eyes that seemed to pick up on everything. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have him back right now. She would ask him what she could do to get things back to good. Even though June would most certainly love to offer up volumes of opinion on the topic, Kristine trusted that her father would have known the answer. Even so many years after the fact, it was so confusing to her that he was really, truly gone.

Her father had died just a few months after the wedding, when Kristine and Kevin lived in an apartment in the city. In those first few, horrible months, she had spent many of those nights at June’s house, taking care of her. When she wasn’t with her mother, Kristine would come home and lie in bed with Kevin, staring blankly at the rusty fire escape just outside the window. At that stage, she still believed that if she’d just be patient, her father would climb up the fire escape, poke his head in the window and wave. “Not dead,” he’d say. “Just a joke.” June would pop up along behind him, laughing at the ruse the two had pulled off.

In those moments, Kristine would rifle through her favorite memories of her father. The time he taught her to ride a bike on the sidewalk in front of the house. The trip they took to Washington, DC, without June, exploring the White House and having lunch with a senator. The secret phone calls he made to her at college when June was not be around, just so he could get a word in edgewise. The memories would make her laugh and then, finally, cry.

“You okay?” Kevin would ask, cradling her head against his chest.

Kristine would nod, letting her most recent, favorite memory burn her father’s memory even more firmly into her brain. “At least he got to walk me down the aisle. How many girls get to say that?”

It was just two months after his death that Kevin walked into the room and found her staring out the window, yet again. On this particular day, snow was falling and the fire escape was thick with a fresh white powder. Kevin had walked into the room, whistling and carrying a big bowl of popcorn, but he stopped the second he noticed the look on her face.

“Are you thinking about your dad?” he asked, walking over to her.

“No,” Kristine said. “I was just thinking . . .” She stared at him as though he could answer the question growing inside her. “This is kind of strange, but . . .”

“What?” Plunking down on the edge of the bed, Kevin shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

She touched her stomach. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Kevin’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. He choked and as he sputtered, she patted him on the back. “Geez, honey. Are you okay?”

He turned to her, his face bright with excitement. “Are you being serious? Do you think we’ve got a little baby?”

Kristine looked down at her stomach.

“Yeah,” she said, looking up at him in wonder. “I think we do.”

The popcorn all but forgotten, Kevin climbed into bed and held her close. Kristine rested her head against his chest, staring out at the fire escape. In the light from their bedroom, the snow seemed to wink.

Over the years, Kristine watched Kevin become the type of father hers had been. For this, she found herself falling in love with him in new ways, as he taught Chloe how to catch bugs, how to throw a ball and, in particular, ride a bike. The fact that he had always been there for their family, just like her father always had, was something else that had made her love him, more than anything.

Tonight, when he had missed out on sharing their daughter’s engagement party with her, with their family . . . Kristine closed her eyes, fighting back yet another wave of pain. In twenty-five years of marriage, they had created one thing that mattered even more than their relationship—their daughter. That mattered more than anything. The fact that he was now giving that part of their relationship so little respect, as well . . .

Staring down at the wedding album, she gazed at a picture of the two of them. Their faces were filled with love and promise. It was hard to believe, looking at them back then, that they would ever be capable of drifting apart.

Kristine wanted their relationship to work. She wanted her family back. But after tonight, it had become pretty clear that her husband could not care less.

Closing the book, she set it on the bedside table. She turned off the lights and pulled the sheets to her chin, dreading the night ahead of her and the thoughts that would run through her mind. There was a lot to think about. Particularly, whether to keep fighting to save a marriage so clearly beyond repair.