The bus trip was the best part of her journey so far. The kids were tired, she was tired, and for once everyone slept. For Natalie, it was a deep, dreamless slumber. There were no lights in the back of the bus, and the darkness hid their identities far better than the dye job ever could. For a blessed six or so hours on the road, she and the children were safe.
When Natalie’s internal clock woke her, they were somewhere outside St. Louis. Off to the east, glimmers of dawn cast an orange streak across a glowing horizon. She stretched creaky limbs—her neck was especially tight—before checking on the children, who were sleeping beside each other, their tiny heads touching. She wanted to hug them, caress their arms, their hair, but they needed rest as much as she did, so she let them sleep.
She got to her feet carefully, checking her balance, well aware that a few hours of shut-eye wouldn’t be enough to offset the long-term effects of her insomnia. She knew from experience that a full night’s sleep could actually make her symptoms worse—and sure enough, Natalie felt groggier now than she had before. What she needed was a consistent sleep schedule, but that would have to wait until they were settled at Kate’s place.
The Greyhound station in St. Louis was a massive, modern, glass structure that had the appearance of a sports arena. Natalie woke the children fifteen minutes before their scheduled arrival so they could adjust to the daylight. All three exited the bus in silence and began the long walk down an emerald green–tiled corridor to the exit.
At some point, Natalie had the wherewithal to phone Kate and tell her they’d be arriving by bus now, knowing her friend would insist on picking them up at the bus station in St. Louis. Yes, it was an inconvenience, and for that Natalie felt a little guilty, but the children needed a break from the hard travel, and Kate had insisted an hour’s drive each way wasn’t a big deal at all.
There were few cars in the passenger pickup area when they arrived, making it easy for her to locate her friend. Kate, dressed in blue jeans and a red T-shirt adorned with the Hildonen Farms logo, a cow sporting a toothy grin, stood next to a dust-covered four-door pickup truck. When she saw them, her face lit up.
“Nat!”
Kate came running over, arms open wide, and wrapped Natalie in a tight embrace. The warmth of Kate’s touch, the imperative of her hug, made Natalie want to cry. A flood of emotions, mostly relief and gratitude, overwhelmed her. She didn’t realize how much she’d been holding in until that moment.
“Hey there, you all right?” Kate whispered in Natalie’s ear. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m fine,” Natalie assured her in a low voice. “It’s been a hell of a trip, is all.”
When they finally broke apart, Kate turned her attention to the children, who were gazing uncertainly at the woman with the round face and genial smile standing before them. She placed a calloused hand upon Addie’s slender shoulder.
“Look at you two,” Kate said, a tinge of awe in her voice, her bright blue eyes beaming. “Your mother and I haven’t spoken in quite some time, but I’ve seen pictures of you both—and, well, if you two aren’t the cutest things ever, I don’t know what. I bet you’re hungry though. What do you say we stop at a doughnut shop I know? The frosted glaze will perk up even the weariest traveler.”
Addie nodded a bit tentatively, while Bryce looked quite eager.
“I like doughnuts,” Bryce said with an earnest grin.
Kate smiled back warmly and brushed bits of hay onto the floor of her pickup as she helped the kids get settled into the backseat.
“Well then, you’ll really like these.”
Natalie tried to reconcile the Kate she’d known back when they were young urban professionals living in Boston with this solidly built, square-shouldered woman. Natalie guessed her friend’s ruddy complexion was a byproduct of working outdoors under the Missouri sun, something Kate had sworn she’d never do. “My dad wants me to quit this damn job and get back to the farm,” Kate would lament at least once a week. Then one day Kate didn’t show up for work, and the next Natalie heard she was gone, back home to run the family dairy farm after her father had suffered a near-fatal heart attack.
For a time, she and Kate stayed in touch. Natalie would share anecdotes of the office life Kate had left behind—who was dating whom, who got fired, who should get fired—while Kate regaled her with tales from the farm, everything from early morning milkings to details on how to inseminate cattle, which included a picture of Kate with her gloved arm buried deep in the vagina of a cow.
Kate’s father died nine months later from a second coronary. Natalie sent a condolence card, but by then their emails were sporadic, and communication trailed off from there. Back in those days, Natalie was consumed with Michael, building a life with her future husband. Even friends who lived close by had drifted into the background of her life, while acquaintances like Kate faded almost entirely out of the picture.
It was a short drive to the doughnut shop. The four inhaled their purchases, which lived up to the hype, and then did a drive-by viewing of the Gateway Arch, which failed to inspire the children.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” Natalie said, compelled to offer her apology. “I should have reached out. I mean, I didn’t think to look you up on Facebook until I needed your help, and that’s just shameful.”
Kate gave Natalie’s leg a few gentle, placating pats.
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I was thrilled to hear from you, and I’m happy to help. When we get to the farm, we’ll get you all settled in your rooms and then you can tell me what’s really going on.”
The drive to Elsberry passed with a scattering of conversation, mostly from Kate, who, despite having no children of her own, proved quite adept at engaging with Bryce and Addie. She asked about their respective schools, favorite subjects, and what foods they liked to eat.
“You’re gonna have to try my toasted ravioli,” she said. “And of course I’ll fix you up some St. Louis–style barbecue.”
The landscape grew wider the farther from the city they drove. If Natalie had tried on her own to follow the directions Kate provided, she most certainly would have missed the turnoff to the farm, which was hidden by an overgrowth of shrubs and weeds. The pickup turned onto a road that wasn’t much more than a wood-lined rutted path and went jouncing over rocks and potholes before entering a clearing, which revealed a wide green pasture. Wire fencing tacked to rustic posts ran in all directions, stretching out beyond Natalie’s line of sight.