When the wedding planning began in earnest, there was much discussion between having it in the frozen hell of Missoula, or the even colder hell of Fargo, or the f*****g tundra of Bismarck, where Dennis was from. Dennis' mother and I had agreed that we'd go wherever the kids wanted to go, although she was pulling for a destination wedding in the Bahamas, but I didn't have that kind of money.
Becky was home for a week or two before she started her internship in Fargo. She had studied her ass off and became a psychologist. She came to me one evening and asked, "Daddy, would you think less of me if I went and saw mom and forgave her?"
I was surprised. Mainly because I hadn't heard her refer to her mother as anything other than jailbird since she was incarcerated. Occasionally she'd refer to
