Dawn shook her head. “Aunt Maeve told you everything. Let’s let it go at that,” she said, her bottom lip starting to quiver.
Randy lowered his eyes and stared, a part of him not wanting to discuss it either. The part that ached at the thought of her being raped, and that would never come to grips with it. He stared a long time. “You know,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ve got everything Maeve told me gagging me right here.” He pressed a clenched fist to his chest. “But I think there’s more, Dawn. And that’s what we have to talk about.”
Dawn shook her head and turned away, unable to bear the tears in his eyes.
“Dawn...” he insisted. “Tell me about your father.”
“Father?” She looked at him. “He was the best.”
Randy hesitated. “The day he died, what did you fight about?”
Dawn shrugged, and stared into the fire.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” Randy said, when it was obvious she wasn’t going to answer. “So you tell me if I’m right. I think that even though years had passed, the argument was about the rape.”
Dawn looked at him.
“Am I right?”
She nodded, tears flooding her eyes again and with the same request. “Randy, please. Let’s just let it go at that.”
“I’m sorry, Dawn. But we can’t.”
Dawn looked at him, wiped her face and got up and walked to the other side of the room. “Oh God.”
Randy moved to get up, to go to her, but she turned, held up her hands, and he sat back down. She drew a deep breath then, prayed for strength to get through this, and started. “To understand, you have to understand my father. For days after the rape, he would come to see me and cry by my bed. I’d never seen him cry before, Randy, ever.” She hesitated, wiping her eyes again, and had to clear her throat. “Over and over he would say, they’re going to pay for this. They’re going to pay.” She turned then, stared at the wall, her body trembling.
“Go on...” Randy said.
Dawn heaved her shoulders, turning back to face him, and hesitated again. “Father’s men caught up with one of them.”
Randy nodded.
“And...” Again Dawn paused, unable to continue, and bit at her bottom lip. “And...”
Randy waited, and waited, and finally, because it was breaking his heart to see her struggling like this, asked, “Did your father kill him, Dawn?”
She looked at him, searching his eyes. “I wish you could’ve known him. That way maybe...” She brought her hands to her mouth, a sob sounding from deep inside her throat. “Father had arranged to have this man brought back.”
“Back to where, Dawn?”
“I don’t know. He called me at the hospital.” Her voice got thick, her eyes distant. “And he said... He said, I have one of the men that hurt you. I asked where. He was crying again, Randy, and he said here. I have him with me now. What do you want me to do with him. What do you want me to do...? I said kill him. And then I heard the shot.”
Randy swallowed hard.
“I know he deserved to die. They both did. They hurt me so bad. I begged them to stop. I begged them, Randy. I knew them.” She choked on her tears, wiped her eyes and her nose, and once more, held up her hands when Randy started toward her. “No...” she said. “And I almost got away too, but they’d locked the door. They just made me think I could escape. And then they laughed.”
Randy had heard enough, walked over and wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, and said only one thing. “He deserved to die; they both did.” He rocked her gently, kissed her forehead, and looked into her eyes. Dawn stepped back then, shivering, determined to tell him everything, and wiped her face again and again.
“We did fight about the rape,” she said.
“What was there to fight about?”
“I don’t know.” Dawn shook her head. “Guilt. I couldn’t get over it. Father refused to talk about it, like it never happened. But it did. We killed a man.”
“Dawn, your father killed him. Not you.”
“Randy, that’s the toughest part. Because I know in my heart had I not said kill him, Father wouldn’t have. Why else did he have the other man jailed?”
Randy shook his head, and for a second, a split second, could almost see Charles Fioritto in Dawn’s eyes. And knew.
Dawn turned and stared into the fire. “The day my parents died was the first and only time Father and I...” She hugged her arms to her sides, stared and stared and stared, and started rocking back and forth.
“Dawn...?”
She drew a breath and pushed her hair off her face. “I wanted to go to the authorities. I’d been researching similar cases, where the parties were found innocent on grounds of temporary insanity. I had this thing, this feeling, that somehow the pain, the anguish, and the guilt we never talked about, could be relieved if, if...” She paused and looked at him. “Do you know what I’m trying to say?”
Randy nodded.
“So, we fought. I can still see him. He was so angry. He kept holding his hands up to his ears, and screaming. And my mother was crying. Oh God...” Dawn covered her mouth, started rocking again. “And I left. I left and came up here. I was supposed to go with them.”
“Dawn, it was an accident. It happens. You were raped; that wasn’t your fault. Neither one of them was your fault.”
Dawn looked at him. “When Aunt Maeve called me...”
Randy shook his head. She needn’t tell him anymore.
“No,” she said. “No more secrets.”
Randy stared at her, a feeling of dread washing over him, a feeling that what she about to reveal...
“I went home and in my room was a letter.” She walked over and took it out of her wallet and handed it to him. “I kept it.”
Randy looked up at her, watched as she walked back across the room, then unfolded it and read it.
Dawnetta,
I understand what you are going through, but I can
not let you experience that pain again. It would destroy you,
as it has done to me. I don’t fear the legal system, I fear
only the increased pain. Please forgive me.
I would have given my life freely so that you would never be hurt. I have failed.
On my memory, let it go.
Love, Father
Randy read the last line again, and then again, folded the letter and raised his eyes to Dawn’s. He didn’t know what to say. Dawn took the letter from him, and sat down on the hearth.
“I don’t know what to do, Randy,” she said. “I’ve never shown that to anyone, not even Aunt Meave.”
Randy shook his head. “There’s nothing to do.”
“There has to be.”
“No,” Randy said. “There’s nothing to be accomplished by it. A man is dead, and the man who killed him is dead. What would going to the authorities and confessing your part change? Nothing. Listen to your father, Dawn.”
She looked at him.
“Let it go.”
“I don’t know how,” Dawn said. “I thought maybe with time.” She shrugged. “But then lately...”
“I didn’t help there, I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t just you. When Ben...” Tears welled up in her eyes again. “When he had his stroke and I thought he was going to die, and then with Ginney’s trial. I wanted to be there for her, for her, not me, but then it started feeling wrong somehow. Like...” She shook her head. “It felt like everything I did was a lie. The fight with Ben, and when he was so angry with me, and...” She stared down at the letter in her hands, started to unfold it again, to read it again, and that’s when Randy walked over and asked her to give it to him.
“Here,” he said, and glanced at the fire. Dawn watched him toss it into the flames, watched as it caught fire, and watched as it disintegrated into ashes. She just watched.
“I’m going to get us some coffee,” Randy told her, and left her alone a while. When he returned, Dawn reached fo
r the cup, took a sip, and smiled at him.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, the ashes from the letter no longer distinguishable from the rest. “I’m not sure.” But she said it with another smile.
“Just promise you won’t run away from me again, okay? No matter what?”
She nodded. “No matter what.”
Randy leaned over and kissed her, sat down, and after a moment, had to ask. “So how’s the book coming?”
Dawn sighed and glanced at her typewriter. “Not very well. But while we’re on the subject. Why does it bother you so much that I’m writing it?”
Randy shrugged.
“The truth,” she said, and he laughed.
“Well, I thought you were using me for research. And that when you finished it, we’d be through.”
“What?”
“Hey, you asked.”
Dawn shook her head.
“I thought Ben and Tom, and then Ginney, and even James...”
“Randy...”
“Sorry.”
Dawn smiled and took another sip of her coffee.
“When are you coming back?” Randy asked.
“I don’t know. How long can you stay?”
Randy smiled. “Just a day or so.” His smile faded then. If they were clearing the air, there was one more thing they needed to discuss. “Dawn, about the filly...”
She shook her head. “I’m still having trouble with that. Randy, you never even tried. I wanted you to fix it so badly, and you never even tried.”
Randy looked at her, just looked at her, and nodded. “I hope you come back soon.”
“I will. But...”
“But what?”
“I’m not going back to the racetrack. I don’t think I’ll ever go back.”
“If that’s what you decide, fine. Just come back to me, okay?”
“Okay. But I’m not going to finish my book either. I can’t.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Are you sure she’s okay?” Ben asked, looking earnestly at Randy.
“She’s fine; she’s just trying to sort some things out. She’s had some really tough kicks in her life, a lot of things she’s kept bottled up inside that she has to deal with.”
Ben nodded. He’d seen that in her the first time he met her. “When is she coming back?”
“Soon, I hope. I just left there this morning and I miss her already. I’ll tell you, Ben, it’s beautiful up there.”
“Did she finish her novel?”
“No, I brought it back with me. She told me she wasn’t going to finish it. She also said she’s not going back to the track.”
“She’ll go back,” Ben said, smiling.
“You sound sure of it.”
“Positive.”
Later that night at his apartment, Randy propped his feet on the coffee table, opened the folder, and started reading the manuscript. It was morning before he put it down. He re-read the last page, laid it on the cushion next to him, and leaned his head back. She’d captured it all, the excitement, the heartbreak, the passion, the competition. At times when he’d been reading it, he could almost feel the rain hitting
his face, taste the mud in his mouth, smell the shedrow in the air...
He rubbed his eyes and yawned. She’d taken the sport of kings all the way from Kentucky to the bush tracks in the small towns; telling, relating, forcing you to see and feel what it’s like to lead a horse to the paddock, and what it took to get to that point. It was all there. All but the ending.
A week from Thanksgiving, Randy still hadn’t heard from Dawn, and though he’d promised to give her time, he was starting to worry again. Ben had hoped to be discharged by now, but was still having difficulty building up the strength in his right leg. Tom called regularly from Florida, and Charlie and Gloria visited at least once a week. Even Ginney and James visited him occasionally.
“Don’t you be billing me,” Ben would tease each time, and James would always laugh.
Randy walked down the corridor, nodded to the nurse, one of the ones Ben liked, started into his room, and stopped. Just like the day she’d gone…without warning, Dawn had returned. He smiled and wrapped her in his arms and swung her around.
“Are you back for good?”
“Yes.”
“See,” Ben said. “Didn’t I tell you he’d be here any minute. I tell you I can’t get any rest. No wonder I’m still in this place.”
Dawn and Randy laughed, gazed at one another, and instinctively grasped one another’s hand.
“When did you get back?”
“Just now.” She turned to Ben. “Ben was just telling me about Beau. We’re going to go see him tomorrow.”
Randy nodded, glanced at Ben, and looked at her again. Then, Ben told them to leave, insisting he wanted to take a nap before the Browns game. “Go on,” he said. “And don’t forget, tomorrow at one. Come to the side door, Randy’ll show you where.”
When Dawn gave Ben a hug, he held her tight. He’d missed her these past few months. “I hear you might not be going back to the track for a while.”
“I think I just need a little more time,” Dawn said, not wanting to disappoint him.
“We’ll see,” he said, he and Randy exchanging looks of concern. “Now go on.”
Randy kissed her in the hall and took her by the hand. “I read your book. It’s really good, Dawn. I couldn’t put it down till I was done. You have to finish it.”
Dawn smiled. “I think I will.”
Randy nodded, walking along, and then all of a sudden stopped. “Wait a minute. I just realized...I’m not in it.”
“I told you,” Dawn said, laughing. “But you never believed me.”
It was exactly three in the morning when Randy woke up, rolled over, and nudged Dawn.
She moved closer to him.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
“Randy...” She looked at him sleepily. “What if I can’t have children?”
“Then we’ll adopt,” he said.
Dawn smiled, shook her head, and kissed him.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
The next time Dawn woke, it was to the ringing phone. Randy’ll get it, she told herself, it’s on his side. But it kept ringing. She turned over, discovered he was gone, and squinted at the clock. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past six, let alone eleven.
“Good morning,” Randy said, in response to the groggy sound of her voice. “Rise and shine.”
She laughed. “When did you leave?”
“A little after seven. You’d better get a move on it if you’re going to pick up Ben on time. I’ll try to swing by and meet you there.”
Ben was waiting, pacing back and forth when she pulled up, climbed into the jeep without much of a problem, and told her the best way to get to the farm.
“It’s going to be good to go home once and for all,” he said. “There’s nothing like going home.”
“I know,” Dawn said, smiling and feeling the same.
Ben stared out the side window. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without Gloria and Charlie these past few months. Not to mention Randy. He’s a fine man, Dawn.”
Dawn glanced at him. “Ben, I hope you don’t think I let you down by leaving.”
“No, not a bit. Though I have to admit I did miss you. It’s not going to be the same at the track without you.”
Dawn turned into the drive at the farm, parked close to the barn, but instead of getting out right away, just sat there. And so did Ben. “On the way to the home to get you today, I was thinking about it. The racetrack.” She paused, looking straight ahead, her hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. “I was remembering something you told me a long time ago. It was when I was doing that story for the paper. You told me that it gets in your blood. You turned my hand and you pointed to the veins in my arm, and you said, it gets right in there. Do you remember that, Ben?”
She looked at him and smiled when he
nodded. “Well, you were right.”
Ben nodded again. “Some things you just know,” he said. “Now come on, we ain’t got all day. If I don’t show up when I’m supposed to, they’ll come looking for me.”
Dawn laughed, got out, and walked around to help him if he needed it. “I’m fine,” he said, bracing himself and pivoting on his good leg to gaze into the pasture. The wind was cold in their faces. “It feels like snow.”
George, Ben’s farmhand, walked out to greet them. He too said it looked like snow, and the three of them went inside the barn. Beau Born nickered at the sound of Dawn’s voice, came to the front of the stall, and pushed against her as she rubbed his shoulder.
“Did you miss me?” she said, over and over. “Did you miss me?”
Ben laughed. “They’re standing in line to breed to him. I’ll tell you, it even surprised me how many.”
“Well, that’s because he’s the best,” Dawn said, in that talking-to-the-animals voice of hers. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you?” she said again. And just like that, she got choked up. She pressed her face against Beau’s neck and tried to fight back the tears rushing to her eyes. Oh God, she said to herself, you’re supposed to have gotten over this. She turned away, stared at the stall across the aisle, and in an effort to focus her attention elsewhere, walked over to look at the horse.
It had its backside to her, a large gray horse with an already ample winter coat. She stared at its hip, tried to look at it the way Tom might, judging for conformation, and ran her eyes down over its legs, pausing as she looked at the right front, which was large and disfigured. She stopped, stared harder, and then looked quickly at the horse’s face. “All Together...?” She glanced at Ben, then back. “Ben, is it her? Is it All Together?”
He nodded, all choked up himself at this point, because right about then the filly turned around. And Dawn opened the stall door and went in and hugged her. “Oh my God. It is you... Oh my God,” she said, stroking her neck, her face, and hugging her again. And again.
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 48