Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  “And that somehow changes the fact that she’s your daughter and that she looks up to you as her father. And you, Loretta, she looks up to you as her mother. How does she stop being a daughter because she’s with child?”

  “With child?” Tony said, on his feet now and standing in the tack room doorway. “Don’t try and make it sound like she’s right out of the Bible.”

  “What would you rather I say about this grandchild of yours that she’s carrying? Shall I call that child names instead? Shall I damn that child to a life of hell?”

  Silence….

  “Should I turn my back on Lucy too? Should I call her names? Shall I curse her? You’re both turning your back on her. Maybe I should too. Why should I care?”

  More silence except for the sound of Loretta crying.

  “Maybe nobody should be supporting them,” Pastor Mitchell said. “Maybe nobody should be standing up for them.”

  “No,” Loretta said. “That’s not right.”

  “Loretta?” Tony cautioned.

  “I’ll walk her down the aisle, Pastor, and I’ll be proud. You tell her that.”

  “Loretta?”

  “No, Tony. No one’s going to tell me I can’t stand up for my daughter. And no one better ever tell me I can’t hold my grandchild. No one.”

  Tony threw his food in the trash and walked past her down the shedrow. “Don’t expect me to be there.”

  “Fine. But I’ll be there,” Loretta told Pastor Mitchell. “Tell her I’ll be there. And if the Lord willing, her father will be there too.”

  Tony turned and looked at her.

  “Then we’ll both walk her down the aisle.”

  ~ * ~

  Dusty walked up the ReHab and ReHome shedrow to the feed room, mixed feed for his one and only horse, and was startled when he heard someone behind him. It was the young girl, Hillary. “Oh! Hello,” he said, hand pressed to his heart. “I didn’t see you coming.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, walking down to grain the horse.

  Hillary followed him. “I’m not sure.”

  “Everything okay at Shifting Gears?”

  She nodded, looking in at the horse.

  “I have very little to do here,” Dusty said, in case she came to help. “It’s just this one horse at the moment.”

  “He seems happy,” Hillary said, puzzled by that fact.

  Dusty glanced at her. “I think I have a direct home for him.”

  Hillary nodded, but then shook her head.

  “What?” Dusty said.

  She shook her head again. “It’s not him.”

  “What’s not him?”

  She pressed hard against the bridge of her nose and shook her head yet again. “Did you call me?”

  “No.”

  “Not by phone, you know….” She pointed to her head. “Did you...? Never mind. It wasn’t you. I gotta get out of here.”

  “Wait!” Dusty said.

  She turned.

  “Do you want to take a walk with me?”

  She lowered her eyes. “Knees, knees,” she said, appearing to be in sudden pain. “My shoulder.”

  “Come on,” Dusty said.

  “Okay, just give me a second.” She dusted herself off everywhere, including her head. “It’s the only way I’ll get through the barn area,” she said. “Otherwise….”

  “That’s got to be hell,” Dusty said.

  “It is.” Hillary nodded. “But if I can help.”

  The two walked down through the barns to Hannity’s shedrow. The man was standing outside the tack room talking to a middle-aged couple; perhaps two of his owners. Dusty smiled. “Good afternoon!”

  The couple returned the greeting.

  “Just out making my rounds,” Dusty said. He introduced himself. “My name is Dusty Burns. I’m the Nottingham Downs Liaison Official. I’m here to make sure everyone in the neighborhood is happy.”

  The man and woman chuckled. Even Hannity chuckled.

  “Nice day,” Dusty said, glancing around the barn area. “Will we be seeing you all at the HBPA banquet tomorrow?”

  “Definitely,” the woman said. “We’re new to horse racing this year. We’re looking forward to it.”

  Dusty nodded. “It’s a great sport.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Hillary. She’d been petting the horses and was now standing in front of Jackson’s horse.

  “Is he for sale?” she asked.

  “No,” Hannity said.

  “Oh?” She looked into the horse’s eyes, ran her hand down his nose, pressed her cheek against his muzzle.

  “He may bite you, you know,” Hannity said.

  “No, he won’t,” Hillary said. “Of course I came,” she told the horse, patting him on the neck. “I understand. I’ll see you again.”

  Hannity fidgeted and probably would have said something objectionable, had it not been for his owners standing there.

  “Well, we’d better get going. See you all tomorrow,” Dusty said. He and Hillary walked over to the next barn, up that shedrow then down the other side, and then back toward the ReHab barn. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said, strolling along.

  “What about the horse?”

  “He’s getting better physically.” Hillary looked at him. “He’s worried about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You and someone named Sir.”

  “Sir?”

  “That’s what he said. He said he misses him. And that he is causing you both distress.”

  “Distress? Horses actually say that word.”

  “If they’ve heard it before.”

  Dusty nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “He says he doesn’t understand why Sir doesn’t come to see him anymore. He doesn’t feel at home. That’s why I wondered if he was for sale.”

  Dusty walked her to the gate.

  “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  “Duh!” she looked at him. “The horse, Sunrise Sam.”

  “You know his name?”

  “He knows his name. Why wouldn’t I know his name? He is why you called me here, right?”

  Dusty stood staring down the road between the barns. “I guess so. I’ve been really worried about him and his situation. I have been rather ‘distressed’ as he put it.” He laughed. “I can’t believe this conversation.”

  “Dusty, you hear the horses. Maybe in a different way than I do, but you hear. You hear them loud and clear.” Hillary walked to her car and waved. “You need to find Sir, whoever that is. And you need to find him now.”

  Dusty watched her drive away and walked to the Secretary’s office. He hadn’t seen Jackson for days. He looked up his owner information in the files and sat down and phoned the man.

  “Hello.”

  “Jackson?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Dusty from the track. I have a really odd question for you. Does the name Sir mean anything to you?”

  Jackson hesitated. “It’s a nickname my father called me, after Stonewall Jackson. He called me Sir.”

  Dusty nodded to himself.

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Oh, that’s a long story. Are you coming to the banquet tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. I think if I run into Hannity, I’d probably shoot him.”

  “Then don’t bring a gun,” Dusty said. He told him about the wedding. “It would mean a lot to Junior and Lucy if you come.”

  “I’ll think about it. What time?”

  “Seven. It’s Come as You Are. No dressing up.”

  “No chance of that,” Jackson said, laughing.

  Dusty paused, a momentary silence between then. “You okay?” Dusty asked.

  “I don’t know, Dusty,” Jackson said. “It’s like my will to live is gone. That horse was my life. Me and him were partners.”

  “I know. He’s doing ok
ay, by the way. I just thought you’d like to know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good-bye. Thank you.”

  Dusty hung up and looked around the room. Joe Feigler was watching him. Dusty walked over and sat behind the counter next to him and crossed his arms and sighed.

  “What’s going on?” Joe asked, happy Dusty wasn’t avoiding him.

  “Nothing, I was just talking to Jackson. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “He came in and cleared his account out.”

  “He did?”

  Joe nodded. “Yep. Down to the penny.”

  ~ * ~

  Putting all sixteen rectangular cakes together to become one big cake became a challenging family affair. Some of the cakes decided to stick with apparently no intention of coming out intact. Carol and Liz recalled the old round cake pans that had a metal bar on the bottom that slid all the way around to loosen the cake. “We could use a version of that now.”

  They carefully loosened each one, with only a few pieces in each cake falling apart. “Get out the glue,” Liz said.

  Glenda laughed.

  Señor had made a fine platform. Dawn covered it in a white linen tablecloth, folded it neatly on the back, and taped it securely. The white cardboard Señor found after going to five different stores was cut to size. It was just a matter now of picking the cakes up, turning them over, and not having them fall apart anymore than they already had. “What we need is an industrial-sized spatula,” Liz said.

  Carol nodded.

  “We have one of those pizza oven thingies.” Glenda said. “You know, the thing you put the pizza in and out of the oven on.”

  “That might work.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Off Glenda went. George came back with her.

  “All right, let’s get‘er done,” George said. He and Señor held up clean hands, ready to flip the first cake over. Liz sprinkled powder sugar on the pizza board.

  “Stand back,” Señor said.

  They all laughed. George held the pizza board tight to the cake while Señor gently but quickly flipped the cake and put it in place. Then they slowly, with the women holding their breath, nudged the cake while pulling the board out from under it.

  “Perfect.” They repeated the process with seven more of the cakes, creating a big sheet cake. Liz, Carol, and Wendy applied the icing. “Professionals peel off the crumbs.”

  “What a waste,” Carol said.

  “That’s what I say,” Liz said.

  When they got the first layer all covered in frosting, George and Señor repeated the process with the top layer. “Oops.” One fell apart.

  “No problem,” Liz said, motioning for them to keep going. “We’ll fix it with icing. It’ll be the bonus piece.” They pieced the cake back together and when all eight top layer cakes were in place, the real icing process began. They used flat metal spatulas.

  “Can we help?” Señor asked. “I have plenty of drywall spatulas in the garage.”

  “Get out of here!” Liz said, laughing. “Go! This is serious business.” The women worked for well over half an hour getting all the frosting on, even, and smooth. “Now comes the fun part.”

  Glenda had the steadiest hands for the roping around the base of the cake.

  “Oh, how pretty.”

  Carol was really good at making leaves. She practiced with a few on a saucer, transferred them over, and got brave and started making one for every inch around the bottom of the cake. Meanwhile, Liz started making the roses.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Glenda asked.

  “Actually I taught myself. Some of my earlier attempts were very interesting looking.” She pointed at Señor. “Don’t say a word.”

  He laughed. “I’d seen piles of chicken shit that looked better.”

  “Go on! I said get outta here.” Liz gave him a shove, everyone laughing.

  “What’s for dinner? Does anybody know?”

  “Pizza and salad at Dawn and Randy’s,” Glenda said. “If it’s still warm enough we’re going to eat out on the deck.”

  “Cassada cake too?”

  “Yep.”

  The three women worked on the cake for the next forty-five minutes, then stood back to admire it. “It’s beautiful, Liz.”

  “Thanks to you two,” she said. “Wow!”

  “It’s a good thing we don’t have to refrigerate it,” Carol said of the size. “We don’t have to refrigerate it, do we?”

  “No,” Liz said. “But I am wondering how we’re going to get it there. It’s not like we can put it in the back of a pickup truck.”

  “One of us needs to have an SUV for occasions like this,” Liz said.

  Glenda agreed. “What were we thinking? Oh look,” she said. “There’s a little frosting leftover. We wouldn’t want to waste it, would we?” They scraped the bowl clean with their fingers.

  ~ * ~

  Everyone gathered on Randy and Dawn’s back deck for dinner under the starlit night. Tiny white Christmas lights twinkled throughout the landscaping. Soft music played from speakers hidden under the rhododendrons.

  Everyone had a story to tell. Dusty went first and they all marveled at his account of Hillary’s “perception” and collectively worried about Jackson. “You don’t think he’s suicidal, do you?” Liz asked.

  “I don’t know,” Dusty said.

  Both he and Ben and Tom had known Jackson for years, but admittedly didn’t know much about him outside of the racetrack. “I think he’ll be at the banquet though. He likes Junior.”

  “Speaking of Junior, I videoed him galloping Bo-T this afternoon,” Dawn said. “I sent a still shot along with an article to the Banter.”

  “How’d he go?” Randy asked.

  “Good!” George said. “He had a crowd.”

  Ben smiled. “Well, if for no other reason….”

  “He got a little rank with Junior coming back by the two-year-olds,” George said.

  “Pretty little fillies,” Tom said. “Junior get him okay?”

  “Yeah. Oh yeah.”

  “He’s a good hand,” Señor said, repeating the comment George made during Bo-T’s shenanigans. “I was surprised how everyone got real quiet.”

  “They know,” Ben said. “We could write a book about every one of them and their experience with horses. Jack was one hell of a jock. So was Frank. Frank getting hurt so young was sad.”

  “And look at him now,” Glenda said. “He sure is a happy guy.”

  “Speaking of happy guys,” Matthew said. “Señor took me to see my doctor today.”

  “Oh?” Wendy said. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was just getting an okay on the Appalachian trip.”

  “Does he say it’s okay?”

  “Yes,” Matthew said. “I’m going to hike the trail back.”

  Wendy looked hard at him. “Are you sure?”

  “He says it’s up to me. Right, Señor?”

  Señor nodded. “He didn’t exactly recommend it, but he said he understood why Matthew would want to do it.”

  “Why?” Wendy asked.

  “Well,” Matthew said, taking a big bite of pizza. “My eyes are about the same, no better, no worse. I told him I’d always wanted to hike the whole trail, and he agreed maybe now’s the time to do it.”

  Wendy let those comments settle in and looked at Señor.

  He nodded. “That’s pretty much what he said.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mom.”

  Wendy hesitated, thinking. “Maybe we can replace your phone and get one with a GPS like Mark’s. I don’t want you getting lost.”

  “It’s a trail, Mom, a well-worn path. Besides, I don’t want a cellphone.”

  Tom looked at him. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. There’s check points. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “How long does it take?” Liz asked. “A couple of weeks?”

  “Well, to do the entire trail, about five to seven months.”

  �
��What?” Tom said.

  “I’ve already done better than half.”

  “What if it snows before you finish?” Dawn asked.

  “I have gear. I have my backpack. There’s lodging along the way and I have my savings?”

  “It costs money?” Glenda asked.

  “Yes, I’ll need to eat. I don’t think I could get used to eating just seeds and roots,” Matthew teased. “Not with the way we eat here.”

  Everyone laughed and ultimately Wendy sighed. When he’d hiked the trail the first time it was with two friends. Now alone? And with his eyes the way they were? She bit at her bottom lip.

  Matthew looked at her. “Mom…?”

  She swallowed hard.

  “Seriously, Mom” he said. “I have to do this.”

  She nodded and for some reason thought of the phrase, “She wears busy-busy like a badge, and it’s so sad.” How busy she kept herself all those years….

  “So you just walk?” Randy asked, reaching for another piece of pizza.

  “Well, I’m going to sketch too. I forgot how much I enjoy it. It might take me a little longer that way, but….” He paused. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  ~ * ~

  Junior took Lucy to the mall to buy a dress. She tried on at least ten and finally found one she liked and that she could wear for a while as the baby grew. It was pink with an empire waist and had tiny white daisies on the sleeves and on the hem.

  “Do you need shoes?” Junior asked.

  “Yes.”

  They headed for the shoe department where Lucy found an inexpensive pair of white slip-ons. “They’re so soft,” she said, and cringed at the price tag. $19.99

  Junior took them from her and headed for the check out. “You have to have shoes.”

  “I have so many at home.”

  “Yeah, and I have a dress pair of boots at home. Lot of good they’re doing me there. I’ll clean these up.” Next, they went to the jewelry department and bought two thin gold wedding bands.

  The old-timers were waiting for them when they got home, all sitting in the living room and having all signed a card. “For the happy couple,” Vicky said, handing it to Lucy.

  Junior stood at her side as she opened it and looked around the room at each one of them. “We don’t want your money,” he said.

  “Why not?” Mim asked. “It’s a wedding present. Shut up!”

  Everyone laughed.