Chapter Text
Ennis collapsed into his recliner and sank back, taking a long pull from the cold bottle. It was finally Friday, and he could relax.
He was grateful for the work, although it was becoming less appealing as the years passed. Getting up in the dark, returning home in the dark. Putting in the hours for a boss who had little regard for his stock other than what profit he could squeeze from them.
Need the cash, though. Child support payments ain't goin' anywhere fer a few years yet.
The divorce was a relief, even if money was tighter now. At least he didn't have to pretend with Alma any more.
Ennis shifted in his chair, the hand gripping the bottle hanging loosely towards the floor. He allowed his thoughts to drift away from Alma and his family to somewhere very different.
Three weeks ago, he and Jack were in the Tetons. Braving the wet, windy conditions in the most enjoyable way. Ennis rubbed his thigh absentmindedly with his free hand as he replayed scenes from the tent, recalling Jack's hands and their shared heat and all that came after.
He felt the bottle slipping from his grasp and sat up with an oath, the moment broken. Clearing a space on the cluttered table, he set the bottle down and breathed out heavily.
The interval between trips dragged more painfully each time. But there was no other way.
This was what they had. Deep inside he knew it was probably all they would ever have.
It would have to do.
❖
"I'm sorry, Ennis. The arrangements have already been made." Alma's tone was that of someone who was not at all sorry. She sniffed. "Monroe's mother hasn't seen the baby yet, and you know how she dotes on the girls too. She'd be real sad if we din't take them."
Ennis' lips thinned. He did not know how Alma's mother-in-law doted on his daughters. He folded his arms across his chest and glanced along the street.
"It's Christmas, Alma. You sayin' I can't have 'em at all? Thought we was takin' it in turns."
"And we have, so far. But this is a particular year fer us. Havin' the second baby makes it special." She eyed his truculent expression and shifted the sleepy toddler in her arms onto her other hip. "You got a understand— we're a family here. P'raps in the New Year—"
Ennis stepped down from the porch. "Yeah, well, what if I'm busy then, huh?" He looked up at her, tamping down his anger at her placid features.
Alma shrugged. "It's up to you how you organise your work, ain't it? Jus' let me know after the holidays." She paused. "If that's all..."
Ennis frowned, biting back the retort. "Have a good Christmas," he said in a toneless voice, walking away before Alma could reply.
He sat in his truck, fingers on the ignition key.
Should a told her it was my turn. This ain't fair.
Yet Ennis was well aware, life could be unfair in many ways. This was merely another disappointment he had to accept.
With a resigned sigh, he started the engine and made his way home.
Sometimes the argument was just too much trouble.
❖
"I'm real sorry, darlin'. Yer ma's decided, an' that's that." Ennis winced at Junior's tone.
He hated letting his girls down.
He tucked the handset between his ear and shoulder and groped in his pocket for a cigarette and lighter. "Maybe when you get back—"
"But Daddy, it's so boring at her house. She makes us do jigsaw puzzles."
Ennis suppressed an involuntary chuckle. "That don't sound so bad—"
"You haven't seen 'em. Stupid pictures of kittens wearin' frilly dresses an' things like that."
Ennis had to acknowledge it sounded dreadful. "But it won't be fer too long. After Christmas we can take a trip into the mountains... hunt some deer if you like."
"That'd make a change from jigsaws. Not sure if Jenny'd want a come, though."
Ennis hummed thoughtfully as he lit his cigarette. "Well, we can do somethin' she'd like too. Fact is—" Ennis broke off, then added, "I've prob'ly got a work a fair bit anyhow. Some a the hands won't be in, an' the boss is lookin' fer cover." He grimaced, hating the deception but figuring it would mellow Junior's disappointment. "So p'raps this'll work out fer the best."
Junior made a noncommittal sound, then sighed. "I s'pose... I can't wait 'til next year when I'm sixteen an' can move in with you."
Ennis' eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was not a conversation they'd had so far.
"Hmm... we'll see. Don't want a cause upset 'tween you an' yer ma." Junior started to protest, but Ennis interrupted. "We can talk 'bout that next year, darlin'. Plenty a time to figure out what works best." He took a long puff of the cigarette and coughed, turning his face away from the mouthpiece.
"You smokin', Daddy? Thought you was cuttin' down," said Junior sternly.
Ennis looked round the empty room guiltily, then gave an embarrassed smile. "I'm tryin'... p'raps I should make a New Year resolution."
"You should," she said firmly. "Me an' Jenny don't want you gettin' sick... Troy's pa had to go to hospital an' they told him to stop or else."
"Okay, sweetheart, I'll do my best. Now then— you an' Jenny are gone a be here end a next week, right? I'll have yer presents ready an' we can go out to eat. Be like an early Christmas, huh?"
Junior squealed with delight. "Me an' Jenny will bring yours, too. An' then we'll go on that trip next year."
❖
Ennis' substitute Christmas Day with his daughters went well. Gifts were exchanged; Ennis was delighted with the matching knitted scarf and gloves they gave him.
"Junior did the gloves 'cause fingers are tricky," explained Jenny. "But I did the scarf all by myself— even the fringes at the ends. Do you truly like it, Daddy?"
"Cosiest scarf I ever had," said Ennis, his voice muffled by the swathe of wool. "An' these gloves'll come in handy when I ain't workin'. Thanks, girls."
They hugged him tightly, and when he drove them back to Alma's after a visit to Wendy's, Junior whispered she was sure it had been a better Christmas than the one they would have a week later.
Ennis returned to his drab house, brightened a little by the cheap decorations they bought in town. He wouldn't normally bother, only Jenny insisted, and he had to confess they made the place more cheerful.
But now, an oppressive silence enveloped the small rooms, and he struggled to imagine how he might pass the time until he was needed at work again. With a sigh, he ran hot water into the sink and started to do the dishes.
Halfway through, the quiet of the house was disturbed by the shrilling of the telephone. Ennis frowned, wondering what Alma wanted to nag him about now. He sometimes regretted having it installed, as she was almost the only person who called him, and then usually only to complain about something.
Patting his hands on his jeans, he strode into the hall and snatched up the handset.
"Yeah?"
There was a warm chuckle in his ear.
It wasn't Alma.
"What kind a greetin' is that? You that friendly with ev'ryone who phones you?"
"Jack! What you callin' for?" Ennis tutted mentally at the brusqueness of his tone. "I mean, it's good to hear you... but is ev'rythin' okay?"
"Sure it is," Jack assured him. "Got the house to myself, an' it din't take me long to decide whose voice I wanted a hear."
Ennis grinned, feeling the warmth creep up his neck. "Idiot," he said fondly.
Jack snorted. "I've missed you, cowboy," he said.
"It's only bin a month or so," Ennis pointed out. "But... I know what you mean."
There was a short silence, then Ennis added, "That was a good trip, weren't it? Weather could a bin worse, an' that big sleepin' bag a yours sure was warm."
"Mmm." Jack's thoughts ran back to the nights they'd spent together, and with an effort he re-focused. "Anyway, how you doin', Ennis? Got yer Christmas all sorted?"
Ennis sighed. "Kind a... ain't much happenin' really. Alma's takin' the girls away fer a spell, so it'll be a quiet one, I reckon."
"What, you're gone a be on yer own?" Jack's tone was mildly indignant. "That's no way to spend the holiday, bud. Ain't right at all."
Ennis shrugged. "Jus' how it is, Jack. I'll prob'ly see 'em in the New Year."
Jack continued to grumble. The notion of Ennis spending the festive period alone in his dreary house did not sit well with him.
"Look here, Ennis. Maybe— I got an idea. Listen."
Ennis shook his head with a smile. When did Jack not have an idea?
"Go on, then."
"My ma was gone a come an' visit, seein' as it's the first Christmas since Pa died. But that ain't happenin' now... I'm goin' up there instead."
"Jus' you? What about yer family?"
"Jus' me. Bobby's away skiin' with a friend, an' Lureen's ma is sick, so she's over there seein' to her pa. There's no way I'm spendin' Christmas with LD, so I said I'd go up to Lightning Flat an' see my ma."
Ennis processed Jack's explanation. He wasn't certain how it affected him. "Okay, but—"
"You could come up there with me," blurted Jack. "Ma'd be powerful glad to see you after all this time."
Ennis chewed his lip, coiling the phone cable round his fingers absent-mindedly. An uneasy weight settled in his gut.
"Can't be doin' that, Jack. Don't seem right."
"Why not? Seems natural enough to me," Jack objected. "Ma knows we bin friends fer years. She's bin sayin' you should come up, now Pa's gone." He laughed. "Christ, Ennis. It ain't like we'd be carryin' on under her nose."
"You got that right."
"Well then. I can't think of a reason not to." Jack crossed his fingers and waited. He knew better than to press Ennis repeatedly in a situation like this.
Ennis finally broke the silence. "How long for?"
Jack breathed out slowly, a smile curving his mouth. "As long as you like, friend. I was gone a go up in a few days an' prob'ly stay a week or so. How does that sound?"
Ennis hummed, weighing up the pros and cons. He'd often speculated about Jack's life in Lightning Flat, but the prospect of visiting was never an option while John Twist was alive. Now that obstacle was no longer present, perhaps it was a sign.
He certainly had no reason to stay in Riverton by himself.
But—
"You certain your ma won't mind? She don't know me, after all."
"She knows enough. I done told her 'bout you, Ennis. Not all of it, a course," Jack reassured him. "But she knows you're a good friend, an' like I said— she wants to meet you."
"Okay then... if you're sure. Only—" Ennis broke off. There was always a but, it seemed. "My truck ain't runnin' so well right now. I got a get it looked at, 'cept..." he tailed off, ashamed to confess he could not afford it.
Jack guessed the problem but said nothing. "Don't make sense to take two up there anyhow," he said breezily. "Tell you what, I'll drive up on Thursday an' break the journey at your place. Then we can get goin' first thing Friday."
The implication of Jack spending the night at his house was not lost on Ennis. Despite his reservations, his desire won.
"Makes sense."
"Great! You get yer bag packed, an' I'll see you in two days' time."