Page 14 of Untamed Heart
I was still hesitating as we reached the station where I’d need to change lines. The family got off instantly, wheels clattering down the platform.
Fuck it.
As the doors bleeped to warn of their closing, I leapt onto the platform and, filling up with adrenaline, followed the family down to the right platform and onto a Piccadilly line train. As always, now that the decision was made, I felt easier with myself. Now it was just a case of following through.
As the tube emerged overground, I was tempted to search for flights and get stuck into the logistics, but for once, I just let go. It would be what it was; there was no need to plan anything more just yet. Slipping on my headphones, I chose a random recent playlist and leant my head on the glass partition.
It wasn’t until I stepped into the busy, voluminous space of Terminal 2 that reality dawned. I pulled my phone from my pocket and searched for flights, feeling a huge rush of satisfaction at finding two flights I could viably make this afternoon. The first was on Lufthansa, whose desks were almost opposite where I now stood.
Not quite believing I was going through with this, I approached the counter and just twenty minutes later, boarding pass in hand, I went through security. Walking out onto the other side, I felt as though I’d somehow shed my skin and was re-emerging as a slightly different version of myself, one I didn’t know just yet.
Looking at my messages, I hovered over Hestia’s name but stopped. She’d get a much bigger kick out of a call from theUS. But Mum . . . I sighed. Like it or not, that needed to be a call right now.
‘Slight change of plan,’ I said sheepishly as she picked up. Hearing the change in my tone of voice, she waited for me to continue. ‘I, umm . . . I’m not coming home today after all. I thought . . . well, I’ve decided to go on a bit of a trip. Please don’t say anything to Carrie, or Lil, but . . .’
To my complete surprise, she chuckled.
‘Oh baby girl, I wondered if you’d thought about it,’ she replied, her Wyoming drawl suddenly ringing through loud and clear. My stunned silence prompted another soft laugh. ‘Are you shocked that I’m not surprised? You might not be coming back to the home you grew up in, but it sounds like you’ve finally listened to your gut, huh? That ranch is as much your home, and your heart, as it was mine, Lottie. I saw how much you loved that place, how you opened up like one of those little summer meadow flowers when you were there.’
Mum sighed, the sound of life, of responsibilities and the past all bundled up in one sound.
‘Yeah . . . I suppose,’ I admitted. ‘But I . . . I’m not that same person now. I don’t know if it’ll feel the same way as it did. But however it feels, it’s a break from all the stuff here.’ Mum hummed her agreement but added nothing else. ‘And, if I’m honest, I’m not sure if I can handle Dad’s . . . disappointment.’
‘Oh honey.’ Mum sighed again, deeper this time. ‘I’m not gonna sugar-coat it, I can imagine his reaction too. But listen, this is about you, my darling. Not him. This is your life, not his, okay? Deep down he only wants the best for you, the same as I do. We’ve just got different ways of expressing it.’
I raised my eyebrows, glad we weren’t having this chat in person, where it’d be impossible to hide my scepticism. I was no psychologist, but I was pretty sure there was a term to describe people that lived through their kids’ achievements, a couple of toxic steps beyond being simply a ‘pushy parent’.
‘I’ll let you know when I get there, okay?’ I replied, not wanting to get into it now, aware of the fine line between conversation and argument lurking in the shadows. ‘I’ve got to get to the gate pretty soon – you know how massive this place is.’
‘Okay,’ she relented, her voice soft. ‘Take care of yourself, honey, and give all of my love to Lil. Oh – and one other thing.’
‘Yeah?’ I asked, suddenly wary.
‘Mind you watch out for those cowboys. Most of them around Jackson are some of the finest men you’ll ever meet – real salt of the earth, genuine types. You might just be in danger of having some fun.’
‘Jesus Christ, Mum,’ I muttered, repressing a smile despite myself.
‘All I’m saying is, I know you have Kyle, but you’re a Dean woman, through and through. And if there’s one thing I do know, cowboys cannot resist a Dean woman . . .’
‘Okay, gross – I’m going now, Mum. I love you.’
We hung up, the sound of her laughter held fast in my mind.
I realized that for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, I didn’t feel like crying. Still reeling from my own spontaneity, I had no idea what to expect; but this time, for the first time, the reins were in my hands. I was in control.
CHAPTER5
Jackson Hole was just as magical as I’d remembered. I was now on the second flight, fourteen hours after leaving London and aboard a much smaller plane, and the reconditioned oxygen and borderline edible food suddenly felt worth it.
The sight from the window was startling as the plane lowered and dipped, revealing a patchy blanket of snow across the endless craggy peaks. In the late-afternoon sun, the glistening white was almost unbearable in its brightness, but I drank it in greedily, closing my eyes for a moment, the image imprinted on the insides of my eyelids. There were so many happy memories lodged between these valleys and ridges, a postcard of unfiltered joy almost too idealistic to be believed. I’d listened to my gut instinct and whilst I had no idea where it would take me, I was grateful.
It still didn’t stop the nerves as we stepped out of the plane to be immediately met by a blast of cool air, so fresh that it tasted sweet in the back of my throat. At ground level, the surrounding mountains were utterly dominating, coloured every shade of grey, purple and blue in the low sunlight.
I moved quickly through immigration, my American passport acting like a fast-pass at a theme park in a sea of tourists, and a lack of checked-in luggage meant I was first out at the taxi rank. Having had plenty of time to think about it on the plane, my plan was to head into Jackson itself, maybe buy an extra sweater or two and then call Lil. I’d found the ranch’s number online easily enough, and had been surprised to see that they now even offered dude ranching, one of the old barns having been converted into three cabins for guests.
I just had to hope Lil wouldn’t mind me arriving out of nowhere.
The valley passed by the taxi window, the vivid greens of the trees, vast rolling fields and lower hillsides blending into a collage of spring. The warmth from the heater belied the real story out there, of a season quite different to London. With no smoggy blanket to raise the temperature, Wyoming was only just out of winter, snow still a real possibility and thick jackets a must.
