Marriage Matters - By Cynthia Ellingsen Page 0,134

forever. In some ways, she was still desperately hoping that he would come through. That he would turn down the promotion or if he accepted it, somehow find a way to prove to her that it was the best choice, that he had a plan to make it all work.

“A book you’d like . . .” She thought for a minute. He wasn’t much of a reader but he seemed to prefer biographies on sports figures or world leaders. “A biography?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin made a move to crack his knuckles. She tensed in preparation, then he dropped his hands to his side. “Action?”

Throwing back the heavy comforter, Kristine padded into the living room. She ran her fingers over the spines until she found what she was looking for. Walking back into the room, she handed him a mystery thriller she’d been stupid enough to read on a night when he wasn’t home. “Courtesy of June. It scared the crap out of me. Maybe that will do it for you.”

“Great.” He stood there, holding the book, as Kristine slid back under the covers. She read a few pages, then noticed he was still standing there, looking at her.

Letting out a sigh, she took off her reading glasses. “What is it?”

Kevin opened his mouth, then closed it. “Nothing.” He walked over and sat on his edge of the bed. The mattress shifted slightly under his weight. “You look beautiful tonight. I just wanted to tell you that.”

“Oh.” Kristine’s voice was dull. After worrying about their marriage, juggling the events for the wedding and staying on top of the holiday rush at the store, she did not feel beautiful. She felt tired, old and more defeated than she’d ever thought she’d be.

Kevin gave her an awkward smile and climbed into bed. They both sat there for a moment. Her book was half opened, the pages fanning out in front of her. His book was still closed, resting on his lap.

“Do you . . . care if I read?” she finally asked.

“No, no. Let’s read.” Kevin cracked open his book. He read a page and turned it. Then he shook his head and gave a little laugh.

She looked over at him in surprise. “What are you laughing at? I thought it was a thriller.”

“Us.” He gestured at them. They were both tucked in under the covers, the lights on the nightstands fired up and their books neatly lying in their laps. “When the hell did we get so old?”

Kristine shook her head. “I have no idea. But I ask myself the same question every day.”

After a moment of pretending to read the book jacket, he set it aside altogether. “Kris, are we going to make it?” His eyes were worried, his voice low and earnest.

She stared down at the pages, watching the words blur in front of her. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “To be honest with you, I really don’t know.”

Sixty-one

The doorbell chimed and June wiped her hands on her apron. Kristine was working at the store and Charley was at the country club for his poker game. June wondered if it was a deliveryman, with yet another present. Even though she and Charley had not registered, it seemed that everyone in town had decided to send over a token or a trinket anyway.

At first, June had considered sending the gifts back. This was the second marriage for each and they certainly didn’t need anything. She hated for people to waste their money. But as the silver picture frames, monogrammed hand towels and wine goblets arrived, she found something very special about each item. They symbolized the life that she and Charley were building together.

Sliding open the peephole, June was surprised to see her son-in-law standing on her doorstep. He was wearing a heavy brown coat, jeans and a pair of tan worker boots. The navy stocking cap pulled low over his forehead made him look like a criminal, not a successful plant manager. June shook her head. No matter how he tried to play it, Kevin was a worker. That’s who he’d always been.

June eased open the door and kissed him hard on each fleshy cheek. “Kristine’s not here. She’s working at the store.”

Kevin’s face was ruddy not just from the cold, she saw, but from emotion. “Actually, June,” he said. “I’m here to see you.” He bowed his head, the muscle in his cheek working. “I . . .”

June pulled her sweater around her, surprised. Kevin rarely came to