A Wedding In December. Sarah Morgan

Honeysuckle Cottage and hadn’t even known.

      She’d never been away for the holidays before. Never had a Christmas that she hadn’t owned. She had friends who delighted in “escaping” at Christmas so that they could avoid the craziness, but Maggie loved the craziness. What would Christmas look like without that?

      And why was she worrying about Christmas, when the real issue here was Rosie’s wedding? What was wrong with her?

      She checked the time.

      Nick had said he’d be with her at eleven and it was now half past. Since he was invariably late for things, including their wedding, that wasn’t a surprise. In the past it had infuriated her that he was fluent in Classical Greek but couldn’t seem to communicate what time he would arrive home. He could read hieroglyphic but not, apparently, a watch or a simple text message.

      To begin with it hadn’t mattered. She’d loved his passion, and the fact that he was so focused on the things he loved. What he lacked in reliability, he made up for in spontaneity. One day he’d be brandishing two tickets to a concert at the Sheldonian Theatre, the next a picnic which they’d devoured by the river watching sunlight dance over the surface of the water. Nick had uncovered the fun side of Maggie. For her that was as much of a discovery as Tutankhamen’s tomb. She was the child of older parents who took their responsibilities seriously and invested everything in her development and education. Earning their love had been exhausting, and it was an uncomfortable, stressful relationship. Having fun hadn’t been part of her life until she’d met Nick in her first few weeks at Oxford.

      He’d been studying Egyptology, and she English. His reputation and academic career had bloomed. They’d stayed in Oxford, and she’d taken a job with an academic publisher and spent her days editing textbooks. If it had ever crossed her mind that she didn’t love her job the way Nick loved his, she ignored the thought.

      And then Katie was born and the strength of her emotion and the power of the bond she’d felt had shocked her. Maggie had loved fiercely, and discovered that her passion was for her children, her husband, her family. For creating a home like the one she’d dreamed of living in herself.

      Katie’s arrival gave her the perfect excuse to reduce her working hours. She’d ended up taking responsibility for the childcare simply because she enjoyed it more than she enjoyed working.

      When Katie had started school, Maggie returned to work for the same publisher but once Rosie arrived she’d taken a second career break. Her youngest daughter had been born premature, a tiny fragile being weighing less than a bag of sugar. As a baby Rosie had suffered endless coughs and colds, and then came her first asthma attack.

      Maggie had never forgotten it. After that, they’d happened regularly, and life became a series of sleepless nights and panicked journeys to the hospital.

      For the first decade of Rosie’s life, Maggie had walked around in a fog of exhaustion.

      They’d moved out of the center of Oxford and into Honeysuckle Cottage, hoping that the air pollution would be less than it was in the middle of the city. Tests showed dog hair to be a trigger which meant that they’d been unable to have the family dog that Nick had badly wanted.

      Rosie’s childhood had been a roundabout of canceled plans and terrifying sprints to the hospital. Then she hit the teenage years and it became harder to control. It wasn’t “cool” to carry an inhaler, and denying her condition landed her in the hospital on far too many occasions. The tension of it affected all of them, as did the general ignorance from their friends and acquaintances who had always thought of asthma as being something mild and benign.

      Maggie remembered the day Katie had stomped into the kitchen and slammed her books down on the table.

       I’m going to be a doctor, because then I can cure Rosie.

      Maggie had often felt guilty that most of her time and attention was focused on her youngest daughter, but Katie hadn’t seemed to be affected. She was a bright, fiercely determined child who had grown into a bright, fiercely determined adult. She’d set herself goals, and lists of things to do to achieve those goals. Unlike Nick and Rosie who made decisions based on impulse and emotion, Katie never did anything she hadn’t thought through.

      She’d gone from being a hardworking child to a hardworking adult. Now she was a dedicated and talented doctor and Maggie was proud of her.

      Unlike Rosie, who veered from one thing to the next, Katie always knew exactly what she wanted and never wavered.

      The sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts and she walked to the door and opened it.

      Nick stood there. His long wool coat was one he’d had for years. He wore it with the collar turned up and his favorite scarf wrapped round his neck. He gave her that same crooked smile that had snagged her attention all those years before and she felt a rush of sadness. Where had their love gone? There had been no great falling-out. No clandestine affairs or flirtations. She’d tried repeatedly to identify when her marriage had malfunctioned, but had been unable to pinpoint a specific event. She and Nick had lived parallel lives and then drifted apart so gradually neither of them had noticed, until one day they’d simply been unable to connect the way they once had.

      Even their decision to part had been mutual and amicable.

      Sometimes she wondered if they’d simply lost each other under the pressure of being a family.

      Despite everything, she felt relief that he was here. She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. She opened the door wider. “You’ve lost your key again?”

      “For once, no, but I didn’t feel comfortable using it. This isn’t my house anymore.” He hesitated and then stepped over the threshold.

      “It’s still your house, Nick. We bought it together and when we sell it we’ll share the proceeds. You have a right to walk in whenever you like.” No part of her was screeching change the locks. Why would she?

      “I don’t want to intrude.” He glanced at the stairs and she gave a half laugh as she realized he was respecting her privacy.

      “You think there’s a Christmas elf hiding under my bed? Santa? Some muscular young guy?”

      Another serious relationship wasn’t on her wish list. As for anything more superficial, well, the thought of an affair was ludicrous.

      “It’s cold in here.” Nick touched the radiator closest to him. “Broken again?”

      “It waits for the first hint of frost to malfunction.” As usual she was wearing two sweaters, which made her look heavier than she was.

      “Do you want me to call someone?” He didn’t offer to look at it himself. Nick could hold a lecture hall spellbound, but he couldn’t fix a dripping tap and was bemused by flat pack furniture.

      “I’ve already done it. They’re coming next Monday.”

      “You look tired.”

      “That generally happens when someone calls you at three in the morning.” She knew Nick probably would have gone straight back to sleep. His ability to sleep, no matter what the crisis, had been a source of envy and frustration over the years. She would have given anything to be able to switch off and let someone else take responsibility for five minutes. Maybe it was because he knew she couldn’t that he’d been able to switch off himself, soothed by the knowledge that she was in charge.

      “Rosie shouldn’t have called you in the middle of the night.”

      “She was excited. She wanted to share her news. And I’m pleased. She might be living miles away, but I still want to be part of her life.”

      “But middle of the night calls always scare you. I’m sure you answered in a panic, assuming she was having an attack. Not easy to go back to sleep after that.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Sit down. I’ll make coffee and then we’ll book flights.”

      “Oh.” Her stomach gave a lurch. “What’s