AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“When I left the house of the man I called my husband, I was only able to take Farris and two small suitcases, the bare necessities. When Simpson realized I was not coming back, he flew into a rage. He called me—drunk and screaming—told me he had tossed the baby book and all the baby pictures into the fireplace.” She paused, the memories painting her features with grief.
“Oh, my God. I am so sorry, Dottie.”
She shrugged. “I think he was trying to erase my boy. But it’s okay. I still have Farris, and that’s what matters.”
“I didn’t mean for him to see the pictures,” India said. “I thought you might have hidden the name from him so he wouldn’t do something foolish as he grew up. But Farris told me he knew his name and never forgot.”
“Your theory isn’t so far-fetched. Farris carried an unbearable burden of anger. When I had the financial means, I took him to a counselor who specialized in childhood trauma. It was twice a week for six months. That’s all I could afford.”
“Did it help?”
“I like to think so. He was calmer after those sessions concluded, better able to manage his emotions. But the fact remained—Farris was robbed of a normal father/son relationship, and nothing I did was ever going to make up for that.”
India was silent for a moment. “What about you, Dottie? Who helped you with your anger?”
The older woman winced, as if remembering. “I had to lock all my grief and anger into a big box and bury it. My son was my responsibility. It was only after Farris finished college and moved out on his own that I let my guard down. I was fortunate to find an excellent therapist. Actually, he’s more of an old friend now. I still see him when I’m in the city. I’m a work in progress, as they say. But I did finally let go of the anger. If not, I would have died long before now.”
“I hear something in your voice when you speak of him. Is this man something more to you than a shrink?”
Dottie blushed. “Herman can’t date a patient, and I won’t end our working relationship. So we do what we do.”
“Have you ever wanted more?”
“Of course I have, but I’ve never had the courage to try. I made such a huge mess of my life, India. A mistake like that stays with you. The fear of another misstep, trusting another con man, is a powerful deterrent.”
“I understand.” But what India really understood was that Dottie and Farris had suffered terribly and now deserved to be happy. Was there no way forward for them? She shook her head slowly. “Well, if you and Farris have both seen those photos, and we know they’re the oldest ones, we might as well start the first album.”
Dottie bounced and clapped her hands. “Oh, goodie.”
Her childlike delight made India smile. Soon, several pages were filled, pages documenting a young, innocent Farris. And Dottie, of course.
Eventually, India’s stomach growled. “I think we deserve a break.” She wasn’t actually hungry, but she wanted desperately to check on Farris. She wasn’t sure he was okay. The man who’d walked out of her bedroom this morning had looked shell-shocked. She had fallen asleep again after he left, but her dreams had been unsettled.
When she and Dottie made it to the dining room for lunch, there were only two places set. That wasn’t entirely unusual midday. But the housekeeper burst India’s bubble. The woman addressed Dottie. “Mr. Quinn wanted me to tell you that there was an emergency out on the ranch. One of the men got a bad cut. Mr. Quinn took him into town to the ER, and he’s catching an earlier flight to LA.”
Dottie nodded. “Thank you. I’m sure he’ll call later.”
India was stunned and hurt. Farris had mentioned going to LA next week. Now, suddenly, he was on a plane? That was a remarkably fast change of plans.
In the course of the next half hour, she ate enough of her meal not to make a scene, but she excused herself soon after. In her room, she stared at the bed where she and Farris had spent their wild night. Apparently, while India and Dottie had been in the great room this morning tackling their project, the housekeeper had changed the sheets.
India sat down on the bench at the end of the bed and put her face in her hands. Farris had asked for no regrets. But she had plenty already.
She had to leave Wyoming. She couldn’t do this. If she got so upset because she wanted to inhale her lover’s scent on the sheets—and now those sheets were gone—how would she survive the moment when she had to say goodbye to Farris a second time in her life? Making love to him and thinking she could keep her heart intact was stupid.
As she sat there, remembering every intimate, sensual, deeply satisfying moment of the night before, she realized there was only one possible solution. As soon as Farris returned to Aspenglow, India would have to confront him.
The thought made her stomach churn with dread. She wasn’t good at confrontation, particularly with Farris. But her life was stuck. She needed closure, even if that word had become trite from overuse. Until she knew why he had ended their marriage, she would always wonder. She would always second-guess herself and her decisions.
Emotional upheaval made the walls begin to close in. She had to get out of this house. Dottie usually rested at this time. India scribbled a brief note and slid it under her mother-in-law’s door.
Then she bundled up in her warmest clothes and headed for the barn. She wasn’t an extremely experienced rider, but she could handle a gentle horse. She had noticed the other day a stall marked Daisy. Sure enough, when she explored the depths of the massive barn, she found that Farris had kept the gentle, slow mare that had been India’s.
“Hey there, old girl. Do you remember me?”
The horse’s gentle whinny sounded like a yes. India found the same saddle she had used when she was married to Farris. Hefting it off the nail and settling it on Daisy’s back seemed like old times. The motions came back to her, a skill back-burnered but never forgotten.
When she had checked all the buckles and tightened the cinches, she led Daisy outside. The day was cloudy and in the low thirties. India wouldn’t freeze if she took a gentle ramble around the ranch.
