Marriage Matters

Three

Kristine decided she’d eat at her favorite French wine bar before stopping by her store. Even though it was closed, there was always something she could be doing. Besides, Kevin had already flown out for work and she didn’t exactly feel like sitting in their house, alone.

Pushing open the heavy door of the restaurant, she smiled at the hostess. “Bonjour, Michel.”

“Bonjour, Kristine.” As always, the hostess wore bright red lipstick and looked like she’d time-warped from the 1930s. “Just one this evening?”

“Just one.” Then, for some unfathomable reason, Kristine said, “I’m celebrating my anniversary.”

Michel raised a penciled eyebrow. “Of the store?”

“Oh, no.” Kristine felt her cheeks flush. Blushing was one of the many problems that came along with being a redhead. Others included a tendency to get angry, to sunburn quickly and an inability to wear pink. “The anniversary of my marriage. It’s my wedding anniversary.”

Michel peered behind her, as though the language barrier had gotten in the way. “But where is your . . . ?”

“Traveling.” Kristine smiled extra big to show that it was fine, that it didn’t matter. “He has to travel for work.” At Michel’s look of distress, she said, “It’s really no big deal. When you’ve been married as long as we have . . .”

“I will have the server bring you out some special champagne,” Michel suggested.

“No, no.” Kristine suddenly felt embarrassed. Why had she said anything at all? Maybe June was willing to tell anyone anywhere anything but Kristine was a private person. It wasn’t like her to broadcast this type of thing. “Let’s just pretend it’s a normal night.”

“Of course.” Michel reached for a menu. “Come with me.”

As the hostess led Kristine through the cozy interior with its small tables and hidden nooks, Kristine admired the ambiance of her favorite restaurant. Along the bar, bottles of wine were as colorful as a collection of rare jewels. Everything from the blonde hardwood floors to the tiny crystal chandeliers sparkled as though polished mere moments before.

“Here we are.” Michel stopped at a cozy table for two. It was covered with a white cloth and topped with an aged porcelain vase. White geraniums spilled out, bathing the table in their perfume.

“Perfect,” Kristine said. “Thank you, Michel.”

“Happy anniversary.” Michel gave her a sympathetic look before strolling away.

Kristine let out a tiny breath. Plucking her cell phone out of her purse, she called her husband.

Kevin picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Firecracker. Happy anniversary.”

Kristine smiled at the nickname. He gave it to her when they first met, thanks to her red hair and quick fuse. Cradling the phone to her ear, she asked, “Where are you?” In the background, she could hear the buzz of traffic. She imagined him standing outside a hotel or an airport, next to a long taxi line.

“Kansas. But don’t worry,” he said. “The weather’s perfect.”

“I wish I was there. With you.”

“No, you don’t.” He laughed. “I’m staring at a Dumpster, literally, even as we speak.”

Kristine felt a wave of sympathy for her husband. When he lost his job, Kevin had been shocked, hurt and then, angry. Committed to finding something better, he started looking with a vengeance. With over twenty years’ experience and a high salary requirement, Kevin lost out time after time to entry-level workers working for entry-level pay. After a year and four months, he was finally offered a position in a new field. It required “up to 90 percent travel,” but at that point, there was nothing to do but take it.

A waiter wearing horn-rimmed glasses approached Kristine’s table. With one hand, he poured sparkling water into a glass and with the other, set down a basket of freshly baked bread.

“Merci,” Kristine murmured.

The waiter nodded and walked away.

“Where are you?” Kevin asked.

“That French restaurant I like.” Kristine frowned, realizing that her husband probably had no idea which restaurants she liked anymore, considering they spent so little time together. “It’s by the store. I’m going to work a little before heading home.”

“Just think,” Kevin chuckled. “Twenty-five years ago today, June was insulting us at our own wedding.”

“Ah, yes.” Selecting a piece of crusty, flour-coated bread, Kristine split it open. Steam rose from its soft center. “The infamous speech.” Boy, had June gotten in hot water for that one.

“I wish I was there with you.” Kevin’s voice was tired. “But don’t worry. Our fiftieth is coming up. That’s only . . . what? Twenty-five years away? We can celebrate then.”

Absently, Kristine reached out and touched one of the velvet petals of the geranium. It fluttered down to the table like a pinwheel. “Yeah,” she said, brushing it to the ground. “I’ll put it in the books.”

Opening the menu, Kristine’s eyes scanned the options. What would Kevin order? Probably the skirt steak with rosemary potatoes. “Well,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Have a good night.”

* * *

Kristine and Kevin met on the summer travel program at college. The program gave students the opportunity to take classes onboard a ship, while docking in various countries along the way. It was the most exciting thing Kristine had ever been a part of because she finally got to see the world.

As a child, Kristine spent her free time watching television shows about the Yuen Tsuen Ancient Trail in China, the sea turtle rescues off the coast of Turkey and the Harvest festivals in Thailand. She fantasized about being an anthropologist the way other girls dreamed of being lawyers, doctors or movie stars. At the same time, she knew she would never be brave enough to follow her dreams.

Kristine was not a bold person in life; only in her imagination. It had taken some serious guts just to attend an out-of-state college instead of staying in Chicago, as June had wanted her to do. When Kristine signed up for the summer travel program, it only took one phone conversation with her mother to convince Kristine to withdraw her name altogether. Ultimately, it was her father who convinced her to go.

Kristine’s father called her when June was out with her gardening group. “Now, you know I love your mother, but you can’t let her stop you from living your life. See the world, Kristine. Enjoy yourself.”

Kristine tugged at the phone cord. “I’m afraid of traveling so far away. I won’t know anybody.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said, “as long as you’re always prepared.”

So, Kristine decided to get prepared. She learned how to say, “I am a student and need your help,” in five different languages. She stocked her suitcase with a full medical kit that included Bonine, Dramamine, ginger capsules, ginger candies and Pepto-Bismol. She even brought along a glass bottle with letters to her parents stuffed into it, just in case the ship went down.

On the day of departure, Kristine’s stomach did cartwheels of joy. After a bon voyage! that involved confetti throwing and waving at strangers until her wrist was sore, her classmates headed inside. There were group games and snacks to enjoy, but she was perfectly happy on the deck. Staring at the water, the thrill of adventure ran up her arms like shivers. Silently, she thanked her father for helping her make the right decision.

“I don’t know about you,” a deep voice said, somewhere from the shadows of the dock, “but I’m not too sure about this.”

Kristine practically jumped out of her skin. Grabbing the rail, she turned and found herself staring into the fleshy face of a football player who had been in her Political Science class. His cheeks were ruddy and there was a smattering of freckles across his nose. At six foot two and two hundred plus pounds, testosterone wafted off him like cologne.

“Not sure about . . . what?” The ship’s foghorn let out a sonorous cry and Kristine pulled the sleeves of her navy sweatshirt closer to her.

“Any of it.” He shook his head as though angry. “I don’t like water, boats, trips to foreign countries, any of it. I never should have come. No relationship is worth this type of torture.” Kristine opened her mouth to speak but he kept going. “You know, I’d give my right nut to be back there.” With his massive hands, he pointed at dry land. “On solid ground.”

His cheeks were covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Suddenly, Kristine saw a way she could contribute to the conversation. “Are you sick?” Her voice was a little too eager. “I have some motion sickness medicine in my . . .”

The guy’s face cracked into a crooked smile. It was one of those face-wrinkling grins full of mischief. Suddenly, Kristine realized he was really attractive and she looked out at the water.

“I’m not sick,” he said. “I’m . . .” He gestured out at the ocean. “I just don’t like boats.”

The ship hit a large wave then and he yelped, grabbing the railing of the boat as if his brute strength was the only thing that could keep him from flying overboard. His upper arm had to be the size of her thigh. In spite of his distress, she giggled.

A wounded look passed over his face. It reminded Kristine of this children’s book June used to read, where the big bear is brought down by a tiny thorn in his paw. “It’s not funny,” he growled. “I don’t want to be here. It’s like I’m being kidnapped.”

Kristine lifted her palms. “Look. I’m not even holding on.”

“Then you’re stupid.” Before Kristine could get offended, he grinned. They stood in silence, the sound of the water churning around them. A seagull gave a cry and laughter drifted out from the game room.

“So . . . Why did you come on this trip?” Kristine asked. “Did your girlfriend make you do it?”

“Yeah.” He ducked his head. “She’s inside, playing some game. Probably getting drunk. She brought a flask onboard. Rum. If she gets sick I’m not going to hold back her hair. No way.”

In spite of his protests, Kristine knew that this guy would in fact hold back his girlfriend’s hair. He was obviously a big ol’ teddy bear, with those sensitive blue eyes and that open, friendly face. She wondered who his girlfriend was. Probably someone in one of the sororities. One of the sororities that Kristine was too shy to pledge, in spite of June’s encouragement.

“Well, it sounds to me like you have two choices.” He started to interrupt her again but Kristine raised her voice above its normal, soft-spoken pitch. “You can walk around wearing one of those life vests they showed us during the safety presentation—”

The guy nodded, his face earnest. “I was considering that.”

“Or . . .” Kristine thought of her father’s words. “You could relax and try to have a good time. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Why waste it being afraid?” The boat was moving faster now and the wind was whipping her hair around. Quickly, she pulled it back into a ponytail.

“The opportunity of a lifetime?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You mean the opportunity to get drunk every single night and blame your hangover on motion sickness? Why not do that on dry land?”

The sun was setting and red streaks stretched across the sky like a painting. Kristine spread her arms wide, as though trying to capture it. “No. The opportunity to see the world!”

The football player cringed. “Oh, boy. You’re gonna be the one who gets really into it, right? I bet you already tried to learn foreign languages.” At the look on her face, he laughed. “I knew it. You’ll take soil samples and try to get in with the natives. I can see it now. You’ll even try to bring a goat back onboard because it’s indigenous to—”

“I will not!” Kristine couldn’t believe he was making fun of her, but she should have known better. In spite of his use of a four-syllable word, this guy was a jock. He had no interest in world events and would spend the trip soaking up as little culture as possible.

“You know what?” Flicking her ponytail back over her shoulder, she glared at him. “You’ll be the one who tries to ruin it for everybody. You’ll mock the people with accents and you’ll make fun of the different cultures. And everyone on land will hate us for bringing someone like you along.”

The football player stared at her in surprise. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Good, Kristine thought. She was done with him.

“See you around.” She started to walk away.

Before she knew what was happening, the guy grabbed her sweatshirt. The move was gentle but commanding, and it pulled her right back to him. Kristine gave a little gasp of surprise. She was close enough to feel the warmth of his body and smell his spicy scent.

“You can’t hate me already.” His blue eyes were locked onto hers. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kristine.” It came out as a whisper. Once again, she wondered about the girlfriend. Would she be mad if she saw the two of them standing so close together?

“Hello, Kristine,” he said, softly. “I’m Kevin.”

Kevin stuck out his hand. After a moment, she took it. His hand swallowed hers up like a drop of water in the ocean. Flustered, she took a step back.

“I think I’m going to call you Firecracker.” He grinned. “With that fiery temper.”

Blushing, she said, “I think I’m going to go back . . . to the . . .”

“Don’t go,” Kevin pleaded. “I was hoping that, if I keep looking at the water, I’d get used to it. I won’t talk anymore.” He dropped her hand and crossed his heart. “We can stand here in silence like you were doing before I showed up.”

Kristine agreed to stay but of course, the silence didn’t last longer than two minutes. They started talking about their families, where they were from and their experience at college. In spite of his humor, he was weighted and serious. She found herself really starting to like him.

The conversation ended when a perky blonde came out of nowhere and leapt into his arms. The girl kissed him and Kristine swallowed hard, embarrassed that she’d developed a crush on a guy like him. Excusing herself, she went back to her cabin.

Two nights later, Kevin came over and sat by her at dinner. His tray was filled with mystery meat, potatoes and two chocolate cupcakes. “Hey, Firecracker.” He passed her a cupcake. “I brought you dessert.”

Kristine set down her fork in surprise. “Where’s the girlfriend?”

Kevin gave her a sidelong look. “I threw her overboard.”

From then on, they were inseparable. They sneaked out onto the deck every night and talked until dawn. They shared their first kiss at the edge of the Grand Canal in Venice. Then, one perfect night when the moon was silver and the motion of the boat slow and steady, Kevin took her into his room and shut the door. He removed her clothing piece by piece, before gently guiding her to the bed.

Years later, when celebrating their anniversary with a picnic by the water, Kevin said, “I knew I was going to marry you that first night we talked.”

Kristine was surprised. “Why?” Even though she’d liked the cowardly football player, she’d had no idea she’d marry him.

“You offered me motion sickness medicine.” He shook his head. “I fell in love.”

Kristine laughed. “I had a whole medical kit in my room. It wasn’t nearly as romantic as you think.”

“Yes, it was.” Kevin took her hand, his gaze earnest. “You were the first person I’d ever met who was prepared to face something bigger than what was right in front of us. I loved that about you.”

“Well—” Kristine started to say but as usual, Kevin cut her off.

“I also knew that if you fell into the water, I would have jumped in to save you. Life jacket or not.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, smiling. “You were so scared.”

“Doesn’t matter. I would have.”

Kevin kissed her then; a deep, drowning kiss that left her as breathless as falling into the sea.

* * *

Kristine ordered a glass of wine and a roasted hen from the waiter with the horn-rimmed glasses. Then, she pulled out a magazine she’d swiped from the plane. The cover shot was of New Caledonia and she stared at it for a moment, admiring the aquamarine water and vegetation-covered rocks. She’d just started to read the article when a warm hand touched her shoulder.

“Kristine?” a low voice murmured. “May I join you?”

It was Ethan, a part-time employee at her store. In the past, he’d worked as a travel photographer, shooting everything from National Geographic to Redbook; now he did photography as a hobby.

Since Ethan was still standing by the table, she nodded at the chair across from her. “Have a seat.” Hopefully, he was just planning to stay for a moment.

“It’s good to see you.” Ethan rubbed his eyes, stretching. “I’ve been in the darkroom all day. It’s good to get back to civilization.”

“Oh?” Kristine took a sip of sparkling water, deliberately letting her eyes wander the restaurant. She did not want him to invite himself to dinner. “That sounds fun.”

“Not fun, exactly,” he mused, “but interesting. I lose all sense of time when I work. I’m sure you know how that is.”

Yes, she did know. The travel bookstore was an all-encompassing project. Kristine was often surprised to look up from her work, only to discover it was hours later than she’d expected.

“Pouilly-Fume.” The waiter set a glass of wine in front of Kristine. Hints of grapefruit and apple drifted up like perfume. “Monsieur, what can I bring you?”

“Ah . . .” Ethan hesitated. “Kristine, do you mind?”

Yes, of course she did. What would Kevin say if she had a drink with another man on their anniversary? Especially a man like Ethan? Unfortunately, she couldn’t find a tactful way to say no.

“The same.” Ethan nodded at her glass.

Leaning back, Ethan drummed his tanned fingers on the table. Kristine wondered if he was really a travel photographer. Maybe he was actually with the CIA. With his gray stubble and sharp eyes, he certainly fit the profile.

“I love this restaurant.” Ethan’s gaze swept the room. “It’s like stepping into Paris, even for a moment.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kristine admitted. Her voice was wistful, as it always was when discussing travel. “I’ve never been.”

Ethan’s dark eyebrows shot up. A scar cut through the left one, reinforcing her belief that he was a spy or, at the very least, someone dangerous. “You’ve never been to Paris? You, of all people, should go. It’s the perfect time of year. The summer is winding down, the shops are reopening—”

“What do you mean, you of all people?” Kristine laughed and pointed at her hair. “Most people assume I’m Irish.”

He smiled. “I meant someone with your flair for adventure. For romance.”

Kristine hesitated. She had spoken to him what, fifteen times in her life? He had no way of knowing what she had a flair for.

“An interest in travel means you have an interest in adventure,” Ethan said, as though reading her mind. “Take it from me.”

“Do you have a favorite country?”

It was a rote question, one she asked a hundred times a day in the store.

Ethan’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “I don’t know. That would be like choosing a favorite child.”

“You have children?” For some reason, she didn’t picture him cradling a baby with a leaky diaper.

“Ah, no.” There was a note of pain behind his dark eyes. “I was smart enough to stay away from the marriage and family thing.”

“You stayed away altogether?” she asked. “You’ve never been married?”

Ethan fiddled with the flower petal that had drifted down to the table. “I think love is the greatest thing in the world.” Raising his dark gaze, his eyes met hers. “It can rip your soul apart and change your life in ways you don’t want or expect. But everyone makes choices.” He reached for his drink as the waiter set it on the table. “I used to be on the road all the time. Travel doesn’t exactly lend itself to a solid relationship.”

Kristine fidgeted. That was the truth. What would Ethan say, if he knew it was her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary? That her husband was five hundred miles away?

They were silent for a moment. Then his eyes fell on the magazine. “Oh,” he said, surprised. “Look at that.”

“New Caledonia.” Kristine turned the picture toward him. “Have you been?”

Sheepishly, he pointed at the photo credit. “Actually, yes. I shot that.”

“What?” Amazed, Kristine studied the pictures. Aquamarine water, billowing white sails, comical fish . . . Wow. It was hard to imagine the man sitting across from her capturing all of this with just the lens of a camera. It showed a depth that she hadn’t given him credit for.

“Ethan, these are great.” She regarded him with a new respect. “Why on earth are you working in my store?”

“It’s time to put down some roots. I’m getting old. You know what I mean?”

Kristine shook her head. “Nope. I just turned thirty.”

The laugh lines around his mouth twitched. “I would have guessed twenty-one.”

“Ah.” Kristine touched her glass to his. “Touché.”

Ethan ran his hands through his thick black hair. There were a few silver strands around his temples, which she liked. It gave a little imperfection to his perfection. “Getting older is a funny thing. It’s made me feel this need to settle somewhere, to become part of a community. And I love the store. You’ve done a great job, Kristine. It’s really given the neighborhood some badly needed texture.”

“Thank you,” she practically whispered. It was a nice thing to hear. Owning the store was a lot of effort, and sometimes Kristine wondered if it mattered to anyone at all. “You know, I envy you,” she said slowly, touching the sleek magazine cover. “When I was younger, I wanted to join the Peace Corps. See the world.”

“You didn’t do it?”

“No, I got married instead.” Immediately, she felt guilty. “I don’t mean it like that. I just . . . If I really wanted to join the Peace Corps, I would have done it.”

“There’s still time.” Ethan lifted his glass. “There’s always time.”

The waiter arrived then with a perfectly browned, roasted hen. Garlic, rosemary and delicious goodness wafted up from the plate. Waving her knife and fork at Ethan, Kristine surprised herself by saying, “You should order something. Otherwise, I’ll feel bad for taking down this whole thing in front of you.”

“I’ll have the mussels and truffle fries,” Ethan told the waiter, without looking at a menu. “You have to try a fry,” he said, giving her a quick wink. “It might make up for the fact that you’ve never been to Paris.”

“I’ve had them.” Kristine surveyed the familiar restaurant. “This is my favorite place.”

“Mine, too,” he said.

They smiled at each other.

Just then, a jazz band took the stage. The snare drum set the rhythm and a woman sang a song in French, her voice low and earthy. Kristine and Ethan turned their attention to the stage.

As a sultry breeze blew through the windows, Kristine felt happy for the first time all day. Life was so funny. She’d started out the evening upset about her anniversary and in the process, surprised herself by finding a friend.