Marriage Matters - By Cynthia Ellingsen Page 0,153

wrong?

Kristine waited for the inevitable barrage of tears. To her surprise, they didn’t come. Instead, her heart was filled with an icy calm, like the sea after a storm. She bowed her head. Reaching down, she slid off her engagement, vow renewal and wedding rings. Snapping open her pocketbook, she dropped them inside like loose change.

* * *

“Do you have everything you need?” June asked.

Kristine had arrived back on her doorstep half an hour later, pale and removed. June had brought her inside, drawn her a hot bath and made her a strong drink. It did not escape her notice that Kristine was not wearing her wedding rings.

“I’m fine.” Kristine’s voice was quiet. “Thank you.” She was buried in the bubbles of the bathtub, her head against the blow-up pillow. The delicate skin around her neck was flushed a bright red and finally, she seemed to have stopped shivering.

June nodded. “In case there’s any confusion about the matter, you’re welcome to stay here,” she said. “As long as you need. Until you figure things out.”

“I know.” Kristine gave her a weak smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

Shutting the door gently behind her, June walked down the stairs and into the parlor. Charley was sitting in a straight-backed chair with a worried expression on his face. As she walked in, he stood up, as he did every time she walked into a room. She felt a wave of appreciation for this wonderful man. Then, her eyes filled with tears.

“June.” Charley pulled her into his strong arms. “Is she alright?”

“No.” Impatiently, June wiped at her eyes. “She left him. The man who I begged her not to marry all those years ago, she up and left him. The man who . . .” Her voice caught in her throat. She sank down on the couch, letting her face fall into her hands. Looking up at Charley, she said, “The man who loves her more than anything in the world.”

Laying his hand on her back, Charley held her tight. In the safety of his arms, June cried as if the heartbreak were her own.

Seventy-two

The next day, Chloe took her last exam, had her interview with the children’s hospital and went to June’s. Letting herself in through the front door, she called up the stairs, “Grandma, are you home?” The Christmas tree was lit and the lights on the tree were dancing but the house was quiet.

“She’s at Charley’s,” Chloe heard from upstairs. “But I’m here.”

Chloe gripped the railing, relieved. In between breaks, she had tried to call her mother again and again, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Racing up the steps, she burst into the guest bedroom. Kristine was lying in bed, wrapped in at least five different blankets, listlessly reading a book on Venice.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Chloe felt those familiar springs dip beneath her weight. When she was a child, she used to bounce up and down on this bed. June had probably had the same mattress since the sixties. “Mom, you didn’t call me back. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.” Kristine slid off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes. They were vaguely bloodshot and Chloe wondered if she’d even slept. “I thought June texted you that I was here.”

“She did. That’s why I came.” Chloe swallowed hard. “No vow renewals for you and Dad? For sure?”

Kristine didn’t answer. She turned a page in the book, studying the pictures. Chloe reached out and took it from her, like taking a toy from Mary Beth.

“Look at me. Are you guys getting . . .” Chloe took a deep breath then forced herself to say the word. “Divorced?”

Kristine fixed her eyes at a point on the wall. Blinking, she said, “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Mom, you have to talk to him.” Chloe’s heart was breaking for her father. He’d been calling her nonstop since that morning, after he’d talked to her mother. Yes, he worked too hard. Yes, he was gone all the time. But he loved his family. He was desperate to figure out what was going on and how to fix it. “He’s flying home right now. He’ll be here all week, for the wedding. You have to talk to him.”

“I will,” her mother said. “Just not yet.”

“Mom, you have to. You have to work this—”

“We’ve tried to work it out,” her mother said. “I’ve told him exactly how I feel, I’ve told him what needs to change.” She shook her head. “People don’t change, though, Chloe. Relationships