Authors: Cynthia Ellingsen
Sixty-seven
W
hen Chloe’s alarm clock went off, she opened her eyes with dread. It was going to be one of those days. She was booked solid, back to back to back. The thought of rolling over and snuggling up to Geoff’s warm body was so tempting, but it was impossible. There wasn’t even time to fantasize about playing hooky.
On her way out the door, Chloe poked her head into Mary Beth’s bedroom. It was so early that the little girl was still asleep, her stuffed animals carefully arranged around her body. Mary Beth always slept with her arm wrapped around a fuzzy penguin and sure enough, the penguin was in his proper position as her tummy breathed in and out.
Mary Beth looked so incredibly sweet and peaceful that Chloe felt bad about barely having any time to spend with her. According to Geoff, she had already gone to two Mommy and Me classes with Miriam and they seemed to be getting along very well. Chloe was happy for Mary Beth, but selfishly sad. Once exams were over, once the wedding was over, she really needed to make a concerted effort to build a bond with this little girl. It wasn’t right that she felt closer to some of the children in her internships than the girl who was to become her daughter.
Racing out of the apartment, Chloe started her marathon day. After meeting with her study group (good, she might actually know her stuff for the final exam), dashing across town for a final fitting (crazy, it was so weird to think she was so close to walking down the aisle), attending her final class on intervention methods (oops, falling asleep at some point for at least ten minutes) and then, taking her first final (yikes, ethical and legal issues), Chloe dashed across town again to complete her final internship hours for the semester (phew!).
After ten straight hours of running hard, Chloe pulled out her phone to check in with Geoff.
“Whoa.” To her surprise, there were six missed calls. Worried that something had happened to Mary Beth, Chloe played the messages.
Hi, it’s Geoff. Can you come home for a few hours? Mary Beth scared away another sitter and I’ve got a full day . . .
Delete.
It’s me. Where are you? I really need you to take Mary Beth today. It’s an emergency. Call me back.
Chloe went on to the next message.
I’m starting to get a little annoyed. Where are you?
[There was a bloodcurdling scream in the background.]
Managing this is going to be your responsibility soon enough but I really need your help. Call
me.
The next three were exactly the same, each filled with more screaming from Mary Beth and more of an acerbic tone from Geoff. In the final message, he said,
I contacted Miriam. She’s taking Mary Beth for the day. If I’m going to need an appointment to get my fiancée on the phone, I really don’t know what the hell it is that we’re doing.
Chloe stared at her phone in disbelief. It was one thing to know that he expected some help taking care of his daughter. It was quite another to realize that meant dropping whatever she was doing so that he could go about his day. And the snide comment about making an appointment? What was
that
?
After staring at her phone for a long moment, she shook her head. He knew how busy she was. He must have really been freaking out about Mary Beth to say something like that.
Sorry, exams today,
she texted
.
Thought you knew?
Geoff texted back:
It’s all straightened
out.
Chloe stared at her phone, surprised. Where was the “hope it went well” or “know you did great” or even “let’s meet for dinner”? She stood in silence, a funny feeling in the pit of her gut.
Hopping on the train, Chloe went straight to her favorite corner bar, which was the bar where she and Ben had made the pact to go on a practice date. Even though it was a Wednesday night, she half hoped to bump into him. Maybe they could drink until it felt like old times, laughing and joking and pretending that the past few months hadn’t happened.
Chloe sat at their booth, squeezing limes into her drink and watching the door. After two vodka tonics, she decided there was something she needed to know. Stumbling outside, she hailed a cab. As it cruised toward the destination, her heart pounded with fear.
“What are you doing here?” Sally squealed, throwing open the door. She was wearing a fuzzy white robe and had a light green face mask smeared all over her face. Her hair fell in wet ringlets around her shoulders.
Chloe couldn’t quite answer. Instead, she swept inside and slammed the door behind her. The framed black-and-white posters that lined the walls shook. So did Sally’s ridiculous collection of wedding crystal. It was a menagerie of colorful animals riding carousels, holding balloons or playing with friends. To this day, Sally found it difficult to articulate exactly what had compelled her to register for something so ridiculous.
“I need you to tell me something.” Chloe turned to her friend. “And I don’t want you to lie.”
“Are you pissed?” Sally demanded. “Come on, Chloe. It’s late. I was just about to go to bed.”
“It is 11:10 in the p.m.” Chloe’s eyes settled on the black-and-white clock hanging above the black leather sofa. “Stop being so incredibly”—she searched for the right word—“
married
.”
Sally snorted. “Bloody hell. You are pissed.”
“I am not. Do you have anything to drink?” Chloe swept into the kitchen, looking for an open bottle of wine. There was nothing. “Shit.”
Sally poured two glasses of sparkling water. “Somebody must have the pre-wedding jitters!”
Chloe paused. It seemed like she had those quite a bit lately.
“Look, I have to ask you something serious.” Chloe squinted at her. “Do you like him? Do you like Geoff?” There was a moment of hesitation in Sally’s face. “You don’t.” Chloe hit the table like she had a winning poker hand. “You can’t
stand
him.”
“I didn’t say that,” Sally insisted. “You’re drunk.” Shoving the glass of water toward Chloe, she said, “Look, I think Geoff is fine. He’s just not who I pictured for you.”
“Who did you picture?”
Twisting a blonde ringlet around her finger, Sally bit her lip. “Come on. I don’t know.”
Chloe stretched her arms across the table, resting her head on her sleeve. “What did Ben say to you?” she asked. “When you told him about the engagement?”
Sally hesitated. “Why do you want to know?”
Sitting up, she picked up the glass of water and studied it. “I just . . .” She took a long drink. “I just do.”
“Ben’s in love with you,” Sally said. “He has been for years.”
Chloe stared at her friend, stunned. Feeling a slow flush creep up the back of her neck, she said, “No. I don’t believe you. He’s barely spoken to me in weeks. And . . . And he said that the only reason a man would even want to be with me is so that I could be his kid’s nanny. Those are not words of love.”
“Ben has been in love with you ever since I’ve known him,” Sally said. Giving a hearty sigh, she tugged at a silver stud earring in her right ear. “I was never supposed to tell you that, you know. Ben confessed one night when we were getting high, up on the roof.”
“You got high with Ben?” Chloe was shocked. “He can’t get high. He’s bad at it.”
Sally shrugged. “It was just one of those nights. You’d gone on a date and he was . . . having a hard time with it. So, we started talking.”
Chloe swallowed hard. “Why didn’t he say anything to me?”
“About getting high? Probably because—”
“Sal.” Chloe’s tone was sharp.
“Ugh.” Sally groaned. “I don’t want to be put in the middle of this.”
She tugged on the lapel of her bathrobe. It was monogrammed with her and Norman’s initials. Chloe thought about the bathrobes she and Geoff had received as a gift. They looked almost exactly the same. “Ben didn’t say anything because you’re best friends. There was a risk in ruining that then, wasn’t there?”
Chloe looked down at her engagement ring. “I wish he would have just said something.”
“Why?” Sally’s face was stern. “It doesn’t matter. You’re getting
mar
ried. In two weeks. Now is not the time to start playing the what-if game.”
Chloe looked down at her glass of water. The bubbles were rising to the surface like champagne.
“Unless . . .” Sally reached over and took her hand. Her voice was gentle. “Unless Ben is the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. If that’s the case . . . well, then that’s a different story.”
Chloe shrugged. “You’re forgetting something very important. Ben would have to want that, too.”
“He does, Chloe.” Sally nodded so hard that her blonde curls bounced. “He does.”
Sixty-eight
T
hursday night, June received a visit from holiday carolers. The doorbell rang and, since she was expecting Chloe and Kristine, she threw the door open without even checking the peephole. To her surprise, a cheerful-looking group, decked out in antlers and carrying sleigh bells, was clustered together on her stoop.
There was a time, not too long ago, when June would have shooed them away. This year, though, she drew her faux-fox shrug around her shoulders, rested her hand on the doorframe and listened. The woman in the middle was short and plump, with a bright red nose. A soprano, her voice cut right through to June’s heart and filled her with an incredible sense of joy.
When Chloe and Kristine finally arrived, June was still slightly giddy. After all, she’d been serenaded by beautiful music, was just over a week away from her wedding and about to spend the evening with the people who she loved.
Throwing open the door, June held her daughter and her granddaughter tight. They were stomping their feet like horses, freezing in the chilly winter air. It was that time of year where Kristine tried to stay off the roads and took the train in and out of town instead, and June was tempted to make her stay over since Kevin was out of town anyway and it was much too cold for her to take the train back home.
“Come in, come in!” Quickly, June helped them to remove their coats, hats and mittens. “I’m so happy to see you. I have cocoa brewing on the stove and cookies in the oven.” Earlier, she had sent a plate of these away with the carolers.
“Oh, it’s so cold.” Chloe shivered, slipping off her boots. She stomped her feet on the ground. “I think my feet are wet. No wonder.”
Kristine peered at her daughter’s feet. “You need to start putting plastic baggies over your socks like I taught you.”
June tsked. “Like I taught you,” she said, smiling.
Leading them into the kitchen, June poured the cocoa, set out plates and eyed her family in delight. “Well. This will be the last Thursday we will have time to meet, just the three of us, before we’re married. Or . . .” June winked at Kristine. “Renewed.”
“Yay.” Chloe’s voice sounded weak from the cold.
Kristine nodded. “Yup.”
June clasped her hands in delight. “Well, let’s all have a seat,” she said, her voice practically shaking with excitement. “Tonight, I have a very special, very meaningful activity for all of us.”
Chloe gave her a suspicious look. “Why are you all amped up? What, exactly, will we be doing?”
“We . . .” June beamed. “Are going to write our wedding vows!”
Sixty-nine
K
ristine stared at her mother. “I’m sorry. What?”
The
last
thing Kristine felt like doing was writing her wedding vows.
“Yes!” June clapped her hands, the glare of her diamond practically doing the cha-cha in the light from the kitchen. “That’s why I asked you the other day if you’d already written them. If you had, then I would have found something else but I have to write mine, so does Chloe and, of course, so do you.”
Bustling toward the long dining room table, June took a seat and Chloe followed. Silently, Kristine joined them.
On the table were three stacks of paper, each paired with a gorgeous fountain pen.
“Those are from me.” June smiled. “Look at the inscription.”
Kristine squinted at the silver pen. It reminded her of the one she’d gotten Kevin for their anniversary. This one read,
With ye I wed . . .
and the upcoming date of the wedding.
Chloe looked about ready to cry. “Grandma, that’s . . . that’s really special.”
“This is
all
very special,” June said. “How many women are lucky enough to get married with their entire family?”
Kristine watched her daughter out of the corner of her eye. Chloe looked pale, withdrawn and exhausted. It was as though the prospect of the wedding was too much to handle. Catching her eye, she gave her a look as though to say, “Are you alright?”
Chloe looked down at the table. Then, putting on a brave smile, she gave a sharp nod.
Sliding on her reading glasses, June reached for her notebook. The glasses were red and white striped. Finally, a pair Kristine did not own.
“Wedding vows.” June beamed. “Wedding vows started back in the Roman Empire.”
“They were created as a way to keep a marriage together via the honor system, instead of through signed documentation.
The Book of Common Prayer
is the first known location where standard wedding vows appeared, as far back as the 1500s. A variation of these vows are used in traditional ceremonies today. However, many brides and grooms choose to write their own personalized version of vows to share with their spouse to create a stronger level of intimacy at the ceremony.”
Closing the book, June gave a serene smile. “Isn’t that lovely? So. With that in mind . . .” She slid off her reading glasses. “I think we should all get started.”
The dining room was filled with the sound of pens scratching across the page, filling the empty space with strong and solid words of love. Kristine stared down at the paper, her mind blank. So many years ago, she and Kevin had written their own vows and read them to each other at the front of the church. They had been so simple but they’d still gotten choked up. As if they couldn’t believe their luck in finding true love. Slowly, she brought the nub of her pen to the paper and waited for a wave of inspiration.
Nothing came.
June and Chloe continued to scratch away. Every few words, June would go so far as to let out a satisfied little grunt. Kristine’s page remained blank. Finally, as June gave a happy little sigh and pushed her paper away, Kristine slowly got to her feet.
“Would you mind getting me some water?” Chloe’s pen was between her lips. “Since you’re up?”
Kristine didn’t answer, just held on to the edge of her chair. June looked up. As soon as their eyes met, her mother seemed to know.
“Kristine,” she said, leaping to her feet. “Please don’t do this. You’re making a big mistake.”
“Do what? What is she . . . ?” Chloe asked. Her voice trailed off, probably at the look on Kristine’s face. “Mom.” She laid the pen on the table. “What’s wrong?”
Kristine thought of the weeks, months and years in front of her, if she chose to stay with Kevin. The loneliness, the desire for something more. She imagined standing up in the front of the church, next to her mother and daughter, as they made promises they meant to keep.
“I can’t do it.” Kristine bowed her head. “I can’t go through with this. Mom, I’m really sorry. Chloe, I’m really sorry. But I just can’t do it.”
Kristine dared to look at her daughter. She was staring at her with eyes so much like Kevin’s. As the realization of what she was saying dawned, Chloe’s face flushed a bright red. “Why?”
“Did Kevin talk to you?” June demanded. “Did he tell you what he told me?”
Kristine stared at June. “What do you mean, what he told you?”
“About the money, the . . .” June’s voice trailed off. Turning slightly pale, she said, “I guess not.”
After years of complaining about June’s constant interference, Kevin had sat down and confided in her about something that Kristine obviously knew nothing about? This made Kristine so angry she could hardly see straight. “Mother, what is it?”
June looked out the window toward Charley’s house. The lights were on, twinkling merrily. Turning back to Kristine, she looked physically pained. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you. I . . . I gave Kevin my word.”
“Tell me.” Kristine’s voice was low, dangerous. “
Now.
”
June squared her shoulders. “Kristine, I am sorry. I am. But I made him a promise. And I made a promise to Charley that I would let you all start figuring your lives out for yourself. So, you’re going to have to just figure it out.”
“Are you
kidding
me?” Kristine was beyond furious. After a lifetime of meddling, June was going to start keeping her nose out of other people’s business
now
? Kristine shook her head, a bubble of hysteria rising up in her throat.
Unable to speak, she grabbed her purse and darted toward the front door. Quickly working the locks, she threw open the door and ran out into the dark, icy night, forgetting all about pulling on a coat. Huge mistake. The snow and sleet was pelting down. The wind bit against her skin and she was freezing. But she was not about to go back.
“Mom!” Chloe followed her to the front stoop. Her silhouette was dark against the bright light of the hallway. “Come back here!” she shouted. “Let’s talk about this.”
June was right behind her, wrapping a shawl around herself. “Kristine! Now, just hold on.”
Kristine had to grab the railing to keep from falling down the steps. She found her footing and ran as fast as she could, not caring about the way the sidewalk slipped under her feet. She ran until her heart pounded and sent blood to warm her skin. She ran until the only sound she could hear was the panicked huffs of her breath.
Stepping into the street, she turned right, then left. A cab screeched to a halt, just missing her. The cab driver laid on the horn. “Figure out where you’re going, lady,” the driver shouted.
Kristine nodded. That was exactly what she was trying to do.