Marriage Matters - By Cynthia Ellingsen Page 0,2

neatly divided by a satin runner that led to a dramatic floral arch woven through with red, pink and purple wildflowers. The flowers danced in the breeze while the lake, in all of its deep blue vibrancy, sparkled against the horizon. Any bride would just love a view like this on her wedding day, assuming she wasn’t too nervous to see it. Kristine could remember exactly how it felt to stand at the altar, trembling in her white dress. Her legs were shaking like crazy until Kevin took her hands in his.

“You sure you want to do this?” he teased.

The comfort of his hands calmed her and she felt a rush of love more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced.

I’ve found my prince, she’d thought. I’m going to live a fairy tale.

Kristine flushed at the memory. The sentiment was so childish, so silly. Yes, she and Kevin had been fortunate enough to share many beautiful, passion-filled years, which was more than a lot of people could say. But eventually, like with all things, their marriage had lost its spark.

Nothing specific caused it, not really, just a slow series of life events that chipped away at their foundation. Chloe left for college, Kevin lost his job and Kristine started a business. Money was tight and Kevin finally found a new job, but it required him to travel all the time. Ultimately, it was just a lot of little things that added up to nothing, but something between the two of them had changed.

For example, this weekend marked their twenty-fifth anniversary and they weren’t even spending it together. This was nobody’s fault, really. Kristine had made plans to go to this wedding, while Kevin booked his typical flight out Sunday afternoon for work. Neither one of them even noticed the anniversary was coming up until last Wednesday. At that point, there was nothing left to do but laugh.

“It’s official,” Kevin had said. “We’re just two old and craggy married people.”

Gazing at the flowered arch, Kristine wrapped her arms tightly around herself. It was hard to believe that those sweet, early days when the only thing that mattered was watching the sunset together and cozying up in bed were long gone. It was scary to think that, if they weren’t careful, everything they’d built together might just drift away. At the thought, Kristine’s eyes pricked with tears.

“Uh-oh.” Chloe nudged June. “Mom’s getting emotional.”

For years, her family had teased Kristine about her tendency to tear up at everything from sentimental moments to sappy commercials. “When I got dropped off at kindergarten,” Chloe loved to say, “most parents had to comfort their children. I had to comfort my mother.”

“I’m not crying,” Kristine said quickly. “I just got a piece of sand in my eye.”

She hated to lie but she was not about to admit that something was wrong with her marriage, especially in front of her mother. June wouldn’t rest until she’d set up a battle plan for Kristine to resolve the issue. No, thank you. On a day like today, when the sun was shining so brightly and the lake sparkling in the distance, Kristine just wanted to enjoy herself. If that meant pretending everything was just fine when it wasn’t, then that’s what she’d have to do.

Flashing a bright smile, she said, “Should we find our seats?”

“Not quite yet.” June eased to her feet and gestured at a tiny trailer next to the parking lot. “I vote we powder our noses first. These bathrooms actually look just fine for an outdoor wedding.”

Kristine turned in the direction her mother was pointing. A squat, compact trailer was perched at the edge of the reception area. June was right; it was an awfully nice setup. Kristine narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious. A group of girls in blush-colored dresses were standing just off to the side, chatting with a group of young men in suits and cummerbunds.

“Mother, no. That’s the bride’s trailer and you know it,” Kristine said. “If you’d like to powder your nose, you’re going to have to do it over there.” She pointed at a row of the expected porta potties. They were set up over by the parking lot, steam practically rising from their surface.

“Unless my memory is failing me,” June said with a sniff, “I RSVPed for a wedding, not a camping trip. As a wedding guest, I expect a bathroom with air conditioning and running water.”

Chloe elbowed June. “Don’t forget you’re feeling faint,” she whispered.

June’s eyes brightened. “And I’m feeling faint.”