Randy pulled himself up out of the water and sat next to her. “I saw their pictures in the lobby. You look just like your mother.”
“I know.” Dawn smiled. “But I have my father’s temperament.”
“Your mom is pretty.”
“Was. She’s dead, remember?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Dawn looked at him, his eyes so sincere. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Randy leaned close and kissed her gently. “But now that you’re in a serious mood.”
“I’m not,” Dawn said, laughing.
“Either way,” Randy said. “Are there any more surprises I should know about, like this club? If so, maybe we can just get them out of the way now.”
“No surprises,” Dawn said. But judging from the fact that she’d glanced away to say it, Randy wasn’t so sure.
“Tell me this then.” He hesitated. “Is there anything or anyone that can come between you and me? Anything I should...”
“No, nothing.”
“Why is it when you say nothing, I think it’s something. What is it with you?”
“I told you. Nothing.” She smiled reassuringly. “Nothing else is important, Randy.”
Randy nodded, but still wasn’t convinced for some reason. They were quiet for a moment, sitting next to one another, touching lightly, and just looking out over the pool.
“Do you have family besides Linda?” Randy asked.
“Yes. Linda’s parents, my Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Matt. And my Aunt Maeve. That’s all, unless you count Ben and Tom.”
Randy looked at her. “The attendant told me you never have guests. Why me?”
Dawn smiled and linked her arm around his. “Because I wanted to spend the day with you. I wanted you asking me all these silly questions.”
Randy laughed. “Aw, come on, like you didn’t think I’d ask about this place?”
Dawn chuckled. “No, I figured you’d ask. I was just hoping it wouldn’t overwhelm you.”
Randy leaned close and kissed her, delightfully aware of the softness of her breast against his arm. “I have to say I’m impressed. But overwhelmed, no.”
Dawn smiled, gazing into his eyes.
“Would you like to go somewhere for dinner?” Randy asked. “There’s an Italian restaurant close to my apartment. The food is delicious.”
She nodded. “I love pasta.”
“Good. I’ll meet you in the lobby. How long does it take you to get ready?” he asked, dreading the wait.
“About fifteen minutes.” She stood up, smiling but hesitant from the way he just sat there looking at her. “You’re not going to watch me walk away, are you?”
He nodded, motioned for her to go on, and watched her every step, all the way. He dove into the water then, and swam to the other end on sheer testosterone. Tonight she was going to be his and that’s all there was to it.
Ben heaved a sigh and smiled. Things were going well for a change. Beau was finally right, no more second-guessing himself. He’d probably win easy tomorrow. Charlie solved his problem with Gloria. And All Together had reached a turning point as well. Fighting everything at first, the bit, the saddle, the night and day, she was finally out of heat and settling down nicely. Yes, things were going well.
He got up and went into the kitchen for something to eat. He wasn’t much of a cook, and thinking about that, smiled sadly. The last couple of months of Meg’s illness, whenever she had the strength, and sometimes even when she didn’t, she made extra meals and froze them. She started marking the dates on the containers then too, something she’d never done before. And when she put them in the freezer, she’d make sure to put the newest ones on the bottom.
Ben reached into the cupboard for a can of potted meat, opened it and set it on the table, then walked back and got some crackers and a can of tomato juice. It would have to do. There was still a frozen container of Meg’s lasagna in the freezer. He’d looked at it a hundred times. Once he even took it out, set it on the counter, and lit the oven. But then that would be it. He couldn’t do it. He put the container back on the bottom where she had it, and to this day, whenever he opened the freezer, he just looked at it. Meg’s lasagna. His favorite
meal.
Ten minutes after he ate the potted meat and heavily salted tomato juice, he got indigestion, and went into the bathroom for an antacid. It tasted like chalk.
He’d hauled wood in earlier for a fire in the fireplace and was glad he had, because he was too tired to go out and get it now. It wasn’t that cold out; besides he could’ve turned the furnace on. But it was nights like these he and Meg enjoyed a fire most, the warmth feeling so good on their tired legs.
He remembered how she would sit for hours in her chair by the hearth, knitting or working on her needlepoint. And how he loved to sit next to her and smoke his pipe, listening to the sound of the yarn being pulled through the pattern and the crackle of the fire. A sound so soothing, that it often put him to sleep.
He closed his eyes and could hear her humming, in a dream. She often hummed when she was working, and in a voice so soft, he could still hear the sound of the thread as she wove it in and out. He could smell his pipe tobacco in his dream. He could see Meg with her legs stretched contentedly on the hearth. When she dropped her needle, he reached down to get it for her. “Why thank you, Mr. Miller,” she said softly, raising her eyes to his. “It’s nice to know you’re still looking out for me after all these years.”
Randy suggested they drop Dawn’s car off at her apartment and go to the restaurant in his truck. Since he was on call, Dawn agreed, providing he promised to bring her home.
Randy grinned. “I may and I may not.” He phoned his answering service from her apartment while Dawn wrote Linda a note.
Linda,
Went with Randy. We’re going for dinner.
Won’t be late. My stomach is killing me.
Dawn
P.S. You should see him in a bathing suit!!!
She left the note on the floor in front of Linda’s door and came back into the living room as Randy slammed the phone down. “What’s the matter?”
“My pager’s been out,” he said, pounding on it and wishing he could smash it to pieces.
“Are you sure it’s the pager? Maybe it just didn’t work when you were at the club. Did you have it in a locker?”
“No, I left it with the attendant. He said it never went off.” He pounded on it again, took the battery out, put in back in, and for good measure pounded it once more. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I have an emergency. You want to come with me?”
“I don’t know. What kind of emergency?”
“The Durans’ Queen’s Court mare is foaling and apparently having some trouble,” he said, as he headed for the door. “We can eat on the way back, if we don’t starve first.”
“I’ll get some fruit.” Dawn hurried into the kitchen and grabbed what they had, an apple, two oranges and two bananas, and off they went. In the truck, she peeled an orange for Randy and a banana for herself.
“I should’ve been there hours ago,” Randy said, worrying out loud. “If something happens to that mare...”
“I feel really bad about this.”
“Why? It’s not your fault. It’s the pager’s. I’ve had nothing but trouble with them.”
“Maybe you should get a car phone.”
Randy looked at her. “Oh sure. I’ll get one tomorrow. This may come as a shock to you, Founding Daughter, but they’re expensive. Very expensive.”
Dawn turned and stared out the window, and it was Randy apologizing now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Okay?”
Dawn nodded, and peeled another banana. Randy ate half and she ate the rest.
Mr. Duran paced back and forth in front of the mare’s stall while his wife stood watch for Randy at the barn door. When his truck turned into the drive, she rushed out to greet him.
“Oh, Dr. Iredell!” she said, panting and trying to catch her breath
. “We’re so glad you’re here! We were just about to call someone else!”
Randy smiled reassuringly. “Well, let’s go take a look.”
The Durans were new to horse breeding. This was to be their first foal, and understandably they were nervous. Randy was called often to their farm. Mr. Duran jokingly had even started referring to him as one of the family. Randy regretted that closeness now as he looked in at the mare. She was lathered in distress, her enormous sides heaving with each labored breath, and stood pawing.
“How long has she been at this?”
“About three hours now,” Mr. Duran said helplessly, to which Mrs. Duran, wringing her hands and clutching them to her chest, added, “Oh, please help her.”
As Randy walked into the stall, the mare’s knees buckled. She went down with a moan then and laid flat out on her side. Randy squatted next to her and just watched her for a moment. “There now, Momma...” he said, stroking her neck. “There now.”
She moaned again, and following that, picked up her weary head and looked at her side. She did this twice, each time rocking her body hard, then lying flat out again.
Randy reached over and turned up her lip to check the coloring of her gums, watched her for another minute or so, then leaned close and listened to her stomach. He thought so. “Let’s get her up,” he said.
“What?” Mr. Duran gasped. “Shouldn’t we leave her be if the foal...?”
Randy stood up shaking his head. “I don’t think she’s foaling.” He motioned for Dawn to hand him the lead shank by the door, and gave the mare’s halter a tug. “Come on, Momma. On your feet.”
The mare rose slowly. Dawn put the lead shank on her, and Randy examined her. He listened first to her heart, then moved the stethoscope all over her sides.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Oh no!” Mrs. Duran cried, her hands to her mouth. “Is the foal dead?”
Randy shook his head. “No, the foal is fine. Moving quite a bit in fact. What I mean is there are no gastric noises. This mare’s colicked.” He took the shank from Dawn and led the horse out of her stall. “I’m going to give her a light sedative. I can’t give her anything stronger at this point, so we’re going to have to walk her through this.”
Randy administered the injection at his truck, and Mr. Duran started walking the mare around the paddock. She followed along somewhat cooperatively the first couple of laps, but then stopped and tried to go down. Randy rushed up behind her, clapping his hands, and urged her to keep walking. From then on, he stayed close, kicking dirt at her heels and making noise every time she tried to lay down.
Dawn meanwhile, sat with Mrs. Duran on the bench outside the barn. The two of them watched helplessly as Mrs. Duran rambled to keep from panicking. “Dr. Iredell is so very nice. I don’t know what we’d do without him. He always comes through for us. One time he had to come out for...”
The mare made another attempt to go down, this time with more determination, and Randy had to resort to kicking her in the rump several times to get her back up.
“Get me a broom.”
When Mrs. Duran hurried into the barn for one, Randy looked at Dawn and raised an eyebrow, shrugging as he shook his head, signs she interpreted to mean, rightfully so, that it was possible they were too late.
For the next fifteen or twenty minutes, Randy followed around behind the mare swishing the broom at her hocks, which she didn’t appreciate one bit. She kicked at him several times, pinning her ears and glaring back at him. But it served the purpose. She stayed on her feet.
“We’ve never lost a horse before,” Mrs. Duran said, beside herself and sounding close to tears.
“We haven’t lost this one yet,” Randy said, smiling hopefully. He stood back and watched the horse for a while. “Give her another turn and then let’s put her in her stall and see what she’s going to do. The sedative should be in her system by now.”
Mr. Duran led her inside, but had no sooner turned her loose, when she started circling the stall and pawing again, so it was back out to continue walking.
Randy took turns relieving Mr. Duran. They walked her for another thirty minutes, then put her back into her stall. She didn’t try to lay down this time, but it was obvious from the way she kept looking at her sides and shifting her weight from one hind leg to the other, that she was still in a great deal of discomfort. So they led her out to the paddock again.
Randy walked her first, then Mr. Duran, and Randy sat down with Dawn and Mrs. Duran. The poor woman by now was a tired, nervous wreck. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
Randy smiled. “Coffee would be nice.”
“You’re right,” Mrs. Duran said, as if he’d uttered a profound truth. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll make us some coffee.”
When she’d gone, Randy glanced at Dawn, and again there was that look in his eyes that maybe this was an effort in futility. “What are the possibilities?” she asked.
Randy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and hands in his hair as he spoke softly so Mr. Duran couldn’t hear. “Well, if she’s ruptured her gut...”
Dawn swallowed hard. “Do you think she’s done that?”
Randy sighed and shook his head. “No, but it’s hard to tell at this point. If she hadn’t been carrying on for so long...”
Dawn slipped her arm around his, and when he looked at her, smiled supportively. “It’s not your fault.”
Randy shrugged, watching the mare, then nodded and stood up and walked over to give Mr. Duran a break. Twenty minutes or so later, they put her back into her stall and turned her loose. She just stood there.
“What do you think?” Mr. Duran asked.
“Let’s leave her be and see what she does.”
They walked away from the front of her stall as Mrs. Duran returned with a tray of coffee, cream and sugar, and some butter cookies. As couples, they sat down across from each other on straw bales covered with blankets, with an additional bale between them to serve as a coffee table.
“How cozy,” Mr. Duran said, blushing a little with anxiety and most grateful that Randy was still there, in case.
“So what’s new?” Randy asked, and they all laughed. He helped himself to a few cookies then, and offered some to Dawn. She shook her head no, which surprised him. It was the first time he’d ever seen her turn down something to eat. And for a while, as long as the mare’s stall just beyond them was quiet, conversation was rather lighthearted and pleasant.
When there was a noise, a rather heavy-sounding noise, Randy got up and checked on her. She’d laid down again, but was sedate, and breathing about as normal as her mammoth pregnant girth would allow.
“Do you think she’ll be all right?” Mr. Duran asked, walking over and looking in on her now too.
Randy nodded. “I’ll stay a little while longer though, just to be safe.”
When they sat back down, Dawn handed Randy his coffee, minus the cookies he’d had on the saucer. She shrugged innocently when he questioned her about them, and Mrs. Duran laughed and passed him some more.
This was when Mr. Duran glanced pointedly from Randy to Dawn then back, and Randy realized he hadn’t introduced them. “I’m sorry. This is Dawn Fioritto. And this,” he said, turning, “as you’ve probably figured by now, is Mr. and Mrs. Duran.”
Dawn nodded and smiled. Mrs. Duran smiled also. But Mr. Duran for some reason, just stared at her, the way one does when trying to place someone. “Any relation to Matthew Fioritto?” he asked.
Dawn smiled faintly. “I have an Uncle Matt,” she said, turning and explaining to Randy, “That’s Linda’s father.”
Mr. Duran sipped his coffee, gazing keenly at her over the rim of his cup. “Then you’re a Bask-Fioritto?”
“Yes, I am,” Dawn said, and to Mrs. Duran, “May I use your...”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Duran said. “Come with me.”
When they’d gone, Randy quizzed Mr. Duran. “What the hell’s a Bask-Fioritto?”
“Y
ou don’t know?” Mr. Duran waved a hand. “I’m sorry, I forgot. You’re new to the area. It’s the joining of the Bask and the Fioritto families.”
“No shit,” Randy said, rolling his eyes, and Mr. Duran laughed.
“Shhhh. Listen.” When he thought he heard someone coming, he motioned for Randy to follow him to the other end of the barn. “I want to show you a new horse we just bought.”
Randy walked with him to the new horse’s stall, and looked in at a flashy, little black colt, flat across the back and mean in the eyes.
“The Basks and the Fiorittos are old money,” Mr. Duran said, motioning to the colt as if he were pointing out something in its conformation. “A colleague of mine is her Uncle’s attorney. The corporate end. I thought I’d seen her before and maybe that’s where. Or maybe it was in the newspaper.”
Randy looked at him. “The newspaper?”
Mr. Duran shrugged, motioning to the colt again, and smiled at his wife and Dawn when they returned. “We’ll be right there,” he called to them. “I’m just showing Randy the colt.”
Mrs. Duran nodded, and she and Dawn tiptoed over to peek in at the mare. She was stretched out and snoring.
“The young lady’s father and uncle have different mothers,” Mr. Duran went on to explain. “I think there was a sister too. Maybe it was in a journal...a recent one, she looked so familiar.”
Randy sighed. Normally the Durans and their combined eccentricity was endearing. But not tonight.
“I’ll see if I can track it down.”
Randy thanked him, though he had no idea why, and turned to walk back, but Mr. Duran stopped him. “Let me ask you. What is she to you?”
Randy swallowed, glancing down the aisle at Dawn, and looked at him. “I think...everything.”
“Then for sure I’ll make a point of locating that article for you. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 17