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Five
Farris did not come home the next day. Or the next or the next. In fact, by the time the weekend rolled around, he had been away from Wyoming for six nights. The first couple of afternoons, he copied both Dottie and India on his texts that gave vague details about why he had gotten hung up in New York and why he wasn’t returning yet.
But eventually, Dottie was the only one getting info. India refused to let her feelings be hurt. Farris had no obligation to communicate with his ex-wife.
Still, all the rationalizations in the world didn’t appease the tight, achy knot in her chest. On Saturday at breakfast, she decided it was time for a change of scenery. “How are you feeling today?” she asked as they enjoyed Belgian waffles, raspberries and fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Dottie wiped a drip of syrup from her chin. “I feel great.”
“What would you think about going for a drive? The sun is shining. It’s above freezing today. We could even stop in town for lunch if you want to shake things up.”
“I’d love that.”
“What vehicles do we have?”
“Farris bought me a new Range Rover when he realized I was going to be living here. He wanted me to be able to drive around the ranch without worrying about getting stuck anywhere.”
India raised an eyebrow. “Nice. Do you want to drive for our excursion, or shall I play chauffeur?”
Dottie waved a hand. “Oh, you drive, please. I don’t really enjoy being behind the wheel.”
While India was in her room changing clothes and gathering her things, she remembered suddenly that Farris had tried to buy her a similarly expensive vehicle when they first came to Wyoming as newlyweds. She had declined. In New York, she never drove at all, and when she and Farris were out West, she rarely went anywhere on her own. The expense had seemed not only extravagant, but unnecessary.
It took Dottie fifteen minutes to remember where the keys were, but finally they were on their way. The vehicle’s interior was luxurious and still smelled like new leather. The heated seats kept them comfortable.
India steered a circuitous route west and then slightly north, intersecting the highway at Moose Junction and taking the southern turn. The Tetons were striking today, the sun gleaming off jagged snowcapped peaks. Even farther south in Teton Village, the skiers would be out in full force.
Dottie was quiet, but she had a smile on her face. India found herself nostalgic for the time when all of this had been novel to her. Farris had been as eager as a new puppy, determined that she would love Wyoming as much as he did.
In the town of Jackson, India found a parking space on the street near a restaurant both women liked. India helped her passenger out of the car and held her arm as they maneuvered the two steps to the porch that stretched around two sides of the building.
Over vegetarian lasagna and wonderful homemade bread, Dottie chattered away. India knew in an instant that this spontaneous get-out-of-the-house plan had succeeded. To go from the hustle and bustle of New York to relative isolation on the ranch in Jackson Hole must have been hard for Dottie, even though the move had been her choice.
India wanted to ask about Farris, but she held her tongue. It was better for her mental health not to know. She concentrated on her companion.
Over coffee and dessert, Dottie fixed India with a mischievous look. “I know you don’t like talking about your marriage, so I’ll start further back. I remember that you’re an only child...and that you lost your parents when you were fifteen. That must have been terribly hard.”
India nodded, stirring cream into her cup, watching the dark brown change to pale mocha. “I’ve lived almost half my life without them now. Sometimes it’s hard to remember their faces. But yes, it was devastating.”
“Will you tell me what happened? Farris never said much about the details. I assumed he was protecting your privacy.”
“My parents were arguing. They did that a lot, actually. One of those oil-and-water couples who thrived on high drama and confrontation. For a kid like me, it was unsettling. But at least I knew they loved each other.”
“I’ve met people like that.”
“Then you understand. Anyway, I came home from school and caught them in the middle of a huge blowup. My father was a gambler, everything from poker to lottery tickets. Occasionally he would go to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting, but mostly he would convince my mother that he had his impulses under control.”
“And did he?”
“No. Not ever, really. I think he just became good at hiding things.” Like Farris, actually. “But on this particular occasion, my mother found out that he had bet a huge sum on a horse race. The bet was a bad one. He used our house as collateral. We were going to lose everything.”
“Oh, sweetie. How awful.”
“The shouting got worse. Eventually, my mother came to my door to tell me she and Daddy were going for a drive. I think that was her way of saying they didn’t want to have an ugly confrontation in front of me. Anyway, they were clearly upset and angry when they left. Less than half an hour later, my father ran a red light. I’ve always assumed he was distracted by their fight. Their car was broadsided by a tractor-trailer truck. They were both pronounced dead at the scene.”
Dottie paled. “India. I had no idea.”
“I lived in foster care until I turned eighteen. There was a small insurance stipend, enough for me to get a studio apartment in a wretched neighborhood. I was afraid Farris would think I wanted him for his money, but that was the farthest thing from my mind. What I really wanted was to belong to someone again. I thought I had found that, but I was wrong.”
