Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  “I think Branden needs to be turned out. He’s sour.”

  “Did you tell Dave?”

  Tom shook his head. “He’s not gonna listen. He thinks he just got a bad ride last time out.”

  “Tell him.”

  Tom scratched the back of his neck and then crossed his arms. “It’d be different if you were telling him, Ben. He has no reason to believe me.”

  “He has no reason not to believe you. Tell him.”

  There was more optimism today regarding Ben’s condition, and Tom and Dawn were still there when he got the news. “You’re being moved to another floor.” A regular room.

  Ginney was waiting for Dawn at the barn when she and Tom returned. “You’re not going to believe it. They postponed the trial again. I don’t believe this.”

  Dawn stood looking thoughtfully at her.

  “And you know what else? Someone called the house this morning and told me to fucking back off or else.”

  “What?”

  Ginney nodded. “This is scary! I know who it is. Who else would know to call my house that early?”

  “Did you recognize the voice?”

  “No.” Ginney shook her head. “I didn’t have to.”

  “Did you call your attorney?”

  “Yeah, that’s when he told me about the trial.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said it could be just kids, pulling pranks.”

  Dawn stared in disbelief.

  “I told him I was scared, and he asked me if I wanted to drop the charges?”

  “What?”

  “He said he would understand if I wanted to, and talked about how humiliating the trial was going to be, and...”

  Dawn shook her head. “Come here.” She took Ginney by the arm and led her into the tack room and sat her down. “What do you want to do? What do you want?”

  Ginney stared at the floor and shrugged. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth all the trouble. I was a slut. Who’s going to give a shit if the first time I say no, some bastard won’t take no for an answer?”

  Fred, the new kid, started into the tack room. Dawn gave him a look, and he backed out. “Sorry.”

  “Listen,” Dawn said to Ginney. “You do what you want. It’s your life. But I for one care, and a lot of other people do too.”

  Tears sprang to Ginney’s eyes hearing this, and the two of them just sat there a moment. “Fuck ‘em,” Ginney said. “Fuck all of them. I’ll just get an unlisted phone number.”

  Dawn smiled. An attorney with some backbone wouldn’t hurt either, she thought. She related the story to Randy when he stopped by the barn on his way to farm calls, and asked him to phone someone for her once he got off the track. It was post time for the first race, and as was the rule, all the phones on the backside were turned off to prevent any booked betting activity.

  She wrote down the name and number on his clipboard. “Tell him I need to talk to him, the sooner the better.”

  “Why? Who is he?”

  “My attorney.”

  Randy nodded, and looked around. “So where’s the new kid?”

  Dawn glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know. He was just here. We’re not running till the seventh.”

  “Where’s Tom?”

  She didn’t know where he was either. “Someone paged him, and he hasn’t been back.” She didn’t think much about it at the moment, but started getting concerned after a while. Just about the time she really started worrying, Tom returned.

  “Where have you been?”

  “The hospital.”

  “Is Ben all right?”

  “Yeah.” He sat down to catch his breath. “But the shit’s hit the fan.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Tom looked at her. “Have you been paying for Ben’s physical therapy?”

  Dawn just stared, an admission of guilt if he’d ever seen one, and Tom nodded. “Well, the old man found out. And he’s pissed. He wants to see you. Now, he said.”

  Ben was in his new room, sitting in a chair next to a bed facing the window when she got there. She smiled tentatively at his roommate, who seemed to be expecting her from the expression on his face.

  “Ben?”

  He turned and looked at her. “Tell me,” he said, without hesitation. “How did you come about deciding to pay for my therapy?”

  “I’m not paying it,” Dawn replied, gripping the leather strap on her shoulder bag. “I’m just supplementing it.”

  “Don’t quibble with me. It’s the same thing, goddamn it!”

  Dawn swallowed hard. “I wanted you in the rehab program here. Dr. Martin said it was the best in all of northeast Ohio.”

  “But you don’t decide for me. I’m an old man, a cripple,” he emphasized vehemently as he grabbed his weak leg. “But it’s still my life, and I pay my own way. I’m not dead yet!”

  “Ben, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you. I just wanted you to get better, and I wanted you to have the best care.”

  Ben glared at her. “You should’ve come to me about this.”

  “But...”

  “No,” he said. “Me and Meg have always paid our way and I won’t tolerate strangers and outsiders telling me what to do every moment of my life. I don’t need charity!”

  Dawn stared and took a step back. The reference to charity didn’t bother her, that was just Ben, but outsider? Outsider? She steeled her eyes and raised her chin. “Are you done?”

  Ben didn’t answer, too angry and too choked up to utter another word. Dawn turned and walked out. Tears streamed down Ben’s face, as a moment later he started pounding his leg, once, and then again, and again, and again, harder and harder. His roommate rang for the nurse.

  Dawn drove around for hours, thinking, agonizing, and finally headed home. She pulled into her parking place at five thirty-five, turned the key off, but stayed in the car. It was so quiet, a kind of cocoon away from the traffic, the world, a place to hide. A vacuum. Inside her head she could hear a soft roar, then pounding, a pulse, throbbing. Her steering wheel became her focus, and for some reason, seemed too small, and after that, the seat next to her, the wrong color. She felt as if she were sitting in a car that wasn’t hers, and quickly got out.

  Randy came home about an hour later and found her in the living room, lying on the couch, and staring up at the ceiling. He bent down to kiss her, and showed her that his cast was off. She smiled.

  “I really wanted to do it myself,” he said. “But they wouldn’t let me.”

  Dawn sat up and looked at him, cleared her throat. “Does it hurt?”

  He nodded. “A little. But I’ll make it.”

  She smiled. “Hold me,” she said, and he pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms.

  “You’re shaking. Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I’m okay. It’s probably just my period.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No, I was waiting for you.”

  Chinese was their choice. Randy went down and got it, and a short time later, the intercom buzzed. “A George Meredith to see you, Dawn,” the security guard said.

  “Send him up.” George Meredith was her attorney.

  Randy opened the door, showed him in, and the two introduced themselves. Randy was rather surprised to see the man. “When I called your office today, they said you’d be out of town until tomorrow.”

  “I got back early, and came right over,” George Meredith said, smiling as he turned to Dawn. “Dawnetta.”

  Dawn gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and motioned they sit down to talk. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Yes, please. Scotch.”

  Randy glanced at her, for some reason expecting her to ask him to get it, but she walked to the liquor cabinet close to the kitchen and prepared it herself. “Ice?”

  “No, thank you.”

  When they were all seated, George Meredith in a chair, Dawn and Randy on
the couch, George sipped his drink, set the glass on the table, and got right down to business. “What can I do for you?”

  Dawn explained Ginney’s situation as delicately as she could, the gist of it at least, and George took notes.

  He glanced up to comment on the frequent postponements. “That’s not unusual.”

  “I know that,” Dawn said. “But what I think is unusual is that her attorney seems to be trying to convince her to drop the charges.”

  George made a hmmm sound, and kept on writing. “Why do you think that is?”

  When Dawn hesitated responding, George Meredith glanced up again, waited, and then looked at Randy.

  “Ginney has a bit of a reputation,” he responded, and felt bad saying it.

  Another hiccup. “Still?” he asked, meaning now.

  Randy shook his head, and so did Dawn.

  “Was she indeed raped?”

  “Yes,” Dawn said. “There were medical reports.”

  George Meredith made a few more notations, asked Ginney’s attorney’s name, and closed his note pad. “Just so you know, even though legally it’s not supposed to be an issue, this young woman’s reputation is going to surface in one way or the other.”

  “What about the man’s?” Dawn asked.

  George Meredith smiled. She’d made her point, and one well taken, by both men in the room. “We’ll see what we can do.” He finished his drink, rose and shook Randy’s hand, kissed Dawn on the cheek, and said he’d be in touch.

  Randy was on call and a little while later had to go out, returned, and got another page just after four in the morning. “Do you want me to put on the coffee?” he asked Dawn, kissing her good-bye. She’d be getting up soon herself.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m not going to go in; I don’t feel well.”

  Randy felt her forehead to see if she had a fever, none. “What’s the matter?”

  “I still have cramps. Would you stop by and tell Tom,” she said, quickly adding, “not that I have cramps, please, but that I won’t be in.”

  Randy smiled and kissed her again. “Well, at least we know you’re not pregnant,” he said, referring to her menstrual agony.

  “Right.” When he left, Dawn lay in bed thinking about what he’d said, and then back to something years ago that her doctor had said. Not to her, but to her parents, outside her room at the hospital. Bits and pieces of hushed conversation. “The cervix is damaged. No, she’d not in any pain at the moment. We have her heavily sedated. But as for the future and her ever bearing children…”

  “Dr. Adler. Dr. Adler.”

  “We’ll talk later.”

  Dawn woke at nine, got dressed, and headed for the club, where she would spend the day, trying to pretend she didn’t have a care in the world. Linda was there for a while, so was Aunt Rebecca, and Dawn was back home at five when Randy returned.

  She looked at him from her chair in front of the television. “What are you watching?” he asked.

  “Donahue,” she said, and slipped her hand in his as he leaned down to kiss her. “How’s everything at the track?”

  He sat down on the couch and rubbed his arm. It hurt worse now than when he’d had the cast on. “Okay, I guess. Tom says you didn’t come back for the race yesterday.”

  Dawn looked at him. “Fred was there to help.”

  Randy nodded. “He says you and Ben had a tiff.”

  “No, that’s not correct. Ben tiffed, I was tiffed at.”

  “Did you go see him today?”

  Dawn shook her head, and rather indifferently, in Randy’s opinion.

  “Are you going to?”

  “No.”

  Randy studied her expression. “Ever?”

  When Dawn just looked at him, Randy found himself feeling sorry for Ben…and for himself. After all, if she could turn her back on a man who’d seemed most important in her life, where did that leave him?

  “Tom says you were paying his bill, part of it at least.”

  “Tom talks a lot.”

  “Is it true?”

  Dawn nodded and sighed. “I honestly don’t see what the big deal is. I have the money and Ben doesn’t. I know for a fact all of the available cash he had went into buying All Together, and I pushed that, remember? I thought this was the least I could do.”

  Randy listened and nodded, thinking of something else Tom said, and how as soon as he’d said it, how he’d tried to cover it up. “How much of All Together do you own?”

  Dawn turned off the TV. “Half,” she said.

  Randy stared. That was obviously the truth. “Why did you lie to me before?”

  “Because before, it wasn’t any of your business.”

  Randy smiled. She hadn’t said that sarcastically, so it didn’t offend him. Still… “So why tell me now?”

  Dawn looked at him, hesitated. “Because I love you, and I don’t like lying to you.”

  Randy leaned over, kissed her, and gazed into her eyes. “Wait a minute. Does this mean you didn’t love me then?”

  Dawn smiled and shrugged. “Sorry. I hardly knew you.”

  Randy laughed. “Not even a little?”

  When Dawn shook her head, Randy pretended to be crushed, and then had another question. “How did you pay for her? With this uh…trust of yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some trust.”

  Dawn looked at him. “I’m an only child.”

  Randy nodded and glanced at his watch. “I have to go back to the track in a little while. Do you want to stop and see Ben?”

  Dawn shook her head and glanced away.

  “What about the track? Why don’t you ride with me and we’ll get a pizza on the way back.”

  Dawn agreed to go, but not because she was hungry. She missed All Together. No one would be at the barn this late, and she could check on her.

  As they drove there, Randy kept thinking about Dawn’s attitude. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop and see Ben?”

  “Positive.”

  Hmph. This was hard for him to take; how she could turn her back so easily? She never ceased to amaze him, but even so, this didn’t seem like her. As a result, though he swore against it, he started thinking about the book again. All those old doubts and fears resurfaced.

  Ginney was walking to her car in the horsemen’s lot when they pulled in, waved her arms to stop them, and rushed over, talking so fast, Dawn insisted she stop, take a breath, and start over.

  “You’re not going to believe this.”

  Dawn nodded, that part she’d understood.

  “I just got off the phone with my attorney. I had a message to call him and came up as soon as the phones were back on. And boy did his story ever change. I got a new trial date, and this time he guarantees me it won’t be postponed.” She leaned against the truck, her heart beating so fast, and had to catch her breath again. “There’s more.” She fanned her face with her hand. “Someone in the media, he said, has picked my case out for some reason, and they’re gonna do a three-part special on it for the six o’clock news. Can you believe this?”

  Dawn smiled.

  “At first I thought, wait a minute, I don’t want to be on the six o’clock news. What the hell? Everyone’ll know then. But my attorney says this’ll work to my benefit. Everyone watching will make everyone pay better attention. I’m gonna get him. Can you believe it? I’m gonna get him!”

  Randy sat there and shook his head in utter amazement. George Meredith, it had to be. Yet Dawn never let on, the two of them talking as if this were some sort of divine intervention. His mind wandered. The book. The stinking book. The vested interest.

  “I’m meeting James for dinner. Do you guys want to join us?” he heard Ginney saying after a while.

  Dawn declined. “Not tonight, maybe some other time.”

  Ginney smiled. “Tom said you weren’t feeling well? You okay?”

  Dawn nodded and thanked her for asking. “I’ll be all right.”

  “He said Ben’s no
t feeling well either. Must be something going around.”

  “Must be.”

  “I want to read something you’ve written,” Randy insisted later when they were home.

  “Something recent?” Dawn asked, knowing he was referring to her novel, and knowing he knew she wasn’t going to let him read it until it was finished.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Anything.”

  Dawn smiled. She’d left him watching the news and had come into her library to write, her sanctuary. She walked to one of the book shelves and handed him a magazine. “There’s an article in here, though the subject may not interest you.”

  Randy sat down and looked for the right page. It was a women’s magazine, the kind sold at the supermarket.

  “I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written,” Dawn said, sitting down at her desk and watching him. “If not the best.”

  Randy began to read. It was a story of a young woman facing the decision of whether or not to have an abortion. A woman who one minute was brave and angry, and the next frightened, unsure, and clinging to her mother. Randy couldn’t stop reading. It had such compassion, such feeling. Twice it brought a lump to his throat, this story about a stranger, as the procedure was enacted. The lights in the examining room, humming slightly and ricocheting a glare off the stainless steel sink to the doctor’s left. The sounds of the instruments as they were placed on the tray next to the woman’s trembling thigh. The twitch in her knee, the muffled sob in her throat. When he finished the last paragraph he himself could’ve cried.

  Jesus, he said in his mind. He glanced over it again, and looked at Dawn. She was still typing, and had been, though all present sound had been blocked while he’d read. “This is good, Dawn,” he said.

  She looked at him.

  “You’re one hell of a writer.”

  Dawn smiled sadly and thanked him. “Tell me that when you read this book.”

  Randy nodded and studied her eyes. “This person, is she real?”

  “Of course, she is. She’s everywhere,” Dawn said. “It happens every day.”

  Randy hesitated. “How do you feel about it?”

  “Do you mean, am I pro-choice?”

  He nodded.

  “Yes.” Dawn asked him the same thing then, remembering back when they heard Ginney was pregnant. “What about you?”