Race scowled. He was starting to get that glassy-eyed look that meant his pain meds were wearing off. Grandma had picked the wrong time to tangle with him.
“No,” he said.
“Race—”
“I’m not taking your . . . money. And Kasey’s already done more than enough for us.”
“Race, you have to be practical.”
“It’s out of the question.”
Grandma continued to badger him, but he refused to discuss the subject any further. Finally, Grandma gave up and left.
“You’re being stupid, y’know,” I said.
Race gave me a warning look. “Kid, don’t even start.”
* * *
Late that afternoon Kasey was showing me how to do a brake job when Denny stopped by the shop.
“My wife thought you could use these,” he said, handing Kasey a Tupperware container full of cookies.
“Thank you, Denny. I’ll take some to Race tonight. He keeps telling me he’s desperate for real food.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Race was usually too nauseated to eat much. He just didn’t like us worrying about him, so he tried to make us think it was because the hospital food sucked.
Kasey passed the bowl to me and I hastily wiped my hands on my jeans before popping the lid. Mmmmm. Chocolate chip. Denny’s wife had a new fan.
“So how’s he doing?” Denny asked, parking his butt on the edge of the tire machine and stretching his enormous feet out over the dusty concrete. He hadn’t visited since Tuesday because Kasey’d told him how wiped out Race was in the evenings. Too bad the other people from the track couldn’t seem to take the hint. When they showed up Race felt obligated to talk to them, and that really drained his energy.
“Better than anyone expected,” Kasey said. “So far there seems to be minimal impairment, which is amazing, considering how serious they initially thought the injury was. He’s very fortunate.”
Shaking his head, Denny laughed. “Leave it to Race to come from behind and surprise everyone. I’ll try to get by to see him tomorrow, but if I don’t, let him know that when he’s ready, I’ll help him get the car together, okay?”
“I appreciate the offer,” Kasey said. “But it’s not necessary. We can do the work during the off-season.”
My mouth went dry around the cookie.
Denny frowned. “You don’t think he’ll be back this year?”
“It’s highly unlikely.”
I looked hard at Kasey, knowing better than to confront her with Denny around, but she avoided my eyes.
When Denny left, Kasey immediately got to work. “All right Cody, why don’t you see if you can get these return springs back on.” She handed me the brake spring tool.
I didn’t take it. “Why’d you say that to Denny?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“Race would be pissed if he found out you were telling his friends stuff like that.”
“Race doesn’t need to know.” Kasey gave me a look that suggested she could make my life miserable if I told him. “I know you want things to go back to the way they were before the accident, but it isn’t that simple. It can take months, even years, to fully recover from a brain injury.”
“But it won’t! He’s a lot better already. You keep saying how lucky he is, how it could’ve been worse.”
Kasey’s face went stiff. “Cody, Race is in denial, and the sooner the two of you accept the fact that he’s not getting back out there this season, the better it will be for everyone involved.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. How could she say that? “You’re the one who told me he never gives up without a fight,” I reminded her. “You’re the one who said it’s in his blood. If Race thinks he can get back out there this season, who are you try and stop him?”
“It’s not about whether he can, Cody, it’s about whether it’s safe.”
I glared at her. I knew what this was about. She was scared. “You can’t protect him by keeping him off the track, y’know. He could get hit by a truck walking down the street. It’s not fair, getting between him and his friends.”
Kasey shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. You’re no more capable of seeing reality than he is.”
“You’re the one who can’t see reality! If Race thinks he can do this, then he can. Why don’t you believe in him?”
Sighing, Kasey got to work replacing the brake return springs herself. “I have to hand it to you, Cody, when you’re on your game you’re loyal to a fault. But Race has a lot of work ahead of him and it’s not going to be easy. I just hope when things get rough, you’ll be as supportive as you are now. I hope you won’t give up on him.”
I chilled her with a scowl. “You’re the one who’s giving up on him. You’re wrong and he’s gonna prove you wrong.”
Kasey shook her head sadly. “I certainly hope you’re right.”
Chapter 22
The minute I walked through the door Saturday morning, Race started to laugh.
“Kid, where did you get that shirt?”
“Dad sent it,” I said, looking down at the lettering. It read: I have animal magnetism. When I go outside squirrels stick to me.
It had come in the mail the day before, confounding my feelings about my father. He’d never given me anything except on Christmas and my birthday. I was still ticked at him, but after reading the letter that came with the package it was hard to go on hating him completely.
Cody,
I saw this and thought of you. Sorry it took me so long to get it in the mail, but good job pulling up your grades. It seems like you’ve finally found what you need.
I know I haven’t done the best job as a father. Maybe if I’d stood up to your mom years ago things never would have come to this. I put myself first, and there’s no excuse for that. I don’t blame you for not being able to forgive me.
I was sorry to hear about Race. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help and please tell Kasey to keep me updated.
Dad
“So Kasey’s been picking up the mail?” Race said.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I need you to bring me the bills. The end of the month’s coming up, and I’ve gotta figure out how to get everything paid.”
“Dude, the end of the month came and went. It’s July first. Anyway, Kasey’s taken care of that stuff.”
“She paid my bills?” Race’s brow furrowed in annoyance. One thing I’d noticed since the wreck was how much more emotional he was, flipping from one extreme to another. I hoped it was just stress, and not one of those personality changes the doctor had warned us about. I counted on Race to be laid-back.
“Chill, dude. She’s keeping track of everything. She knows you’ll wanna pay her back, she just thought it would be easier this way. She talked to Dad, too, and he’s sending his checks to her now, so my room and board is covered.”
Race shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. His face still had that tautness, but other than that he looked better today—stronger and less drained.
“Well, I’ve got a little money in the bank,” he said. “Do you have any idea where my wallet is?”
“Kasey has it.”
“Get it. I’ll give you my ATM number. Just remember you’ve gotta leave five bucks in the account. The rest you can give to her.”
I sunk down into the chair. “She’s not worried about it and you shouldn’t be, either.”
The commercials that had been airing on the TV came to an end, allowing regular programming to resume. I cringed as Pee-wee Herman took over the screen, encouraging everyone to, “scream real loud!”
“Jeez, Race, don’t tell me this is one of your dirty little secrets,” I said, glancing at him suspiciously.
“Nah, I’m not watching, it’s just on.”
“So why don’t you change the channel? It’s not like you’ve gotta get up. Here, hand me that remote.”
Race grabbed at the device, fumbling like it was
a wet bar of soap. Finally I took it away from him and silenced the television. I noticed some new flower arrangements on the windowsill and examined the cards. One was from the Davis family, signed by Robbie and Laurie, but Jim’s name was in the same handwriting as his wife’s. Stupid bastard. He couldn’t even be bothered to jot down his own name. What kind of friend was he?
“Have you thought any more about what Grandma said?” I asked, plopping back into the chair.
“Not at all. And I’m not going to. You shouldn’t either,” he added, mocking me.
“So what are we gonna do about money?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“How?”
“I just will. It’s not your problem, okay?”
I noted the irritated twitch of his jaw and cut to the chase.
“Maybe I could help. Kasey’s paying me for the work I’m doing at the shop. I told her she didn’t have to, but you know how she is.”
Race grimaced and rubbed his forehead. “Look, kid, I’m glad you’re giving her a hand, but I’m not taking your money. Anyway, you’re gonna need it for the Galaxie. It’ll prob’ly be a while before I can help out with that. Okay?”
I shrugged. It bugged me that he had no realistic idea of how we were gonna handle things, but what could I do?
Not wanting to leave Race alone to stew about what was going to be happening at the track that night, I spent the whole day with him instead of taking off at lunchtime. As usual, he began to fade in the afternoon, another reminder that he was worse off than he wanted us to believe. The memory of what Kasey had said the day before flared up, but I snuffed it out. She was wrong. Race would be fine.
I’d brought along my writing notebook, so when he started dozing, I pulled it from my backpack. I was working on a new story, my first attempt to write about racing. Words swirled in my head, drawing me in, and it was a relief to get lost in them.
Late that afternoon, Denny dropped by on his way to the speedway. Race pretended sitting out was no big deal to him, but he didn’t fool either of us. I was glad when Kasey showed up at five-thirty, even though she was blown out from squeezing interviews into her schedule. In spite of the effort, she still hadn’t found a decent mechanic. She didn’t dwell on it in front of Race, but on the way home that night she gave me the details.
“The difficult part is finding someone who can weld as well as work on cars. That puts a lot of potential candidates out of the running. I suppose that’s why I tolerated Harley’s poor work habits for so long. He was a good fabricator.”
I flexed my sore hand, feeling that stiff, itchy pain that meant it was healing. “Why don’t you just hire a mechanic and a welder?”
“Because I don’t have enough work for two people, and anyone with those skills isn’t likely to be interested in a part-time position.”
It seemed like everyone had problems that weren’t easy to solve. Kasey couldn’t find help, Race kept letting his pride overrun his good sense, and my mom couldn’t get it through her thick skull that there was no way in hell I’d ever move to Phoenix. All that unfinished business left me uneasy. How was I supposed to relax when I didn’t even know where I’d be living in another week?
As we cruised up Spring Boulevard, I told Kasey about my failed attempt to reason with Race that morning. “I don’t know why he’s so hung up about money.”
“It’s not that hard to understand,” Kasey said. “Race sees money differently than you or I do. To him it’s a form of leverage. His father gave or withheld it as a means of control, and even though his mother doesn’t treat it the same way, it’s clearly very important to her.”
“He needs to get over it. How does he think he’s gonna manage without help from you and Grandma?”
Kasey pulled into the driveway, silencing the Charger’s mammoth engine with a flick of the key. “I told you, Cody, he’s in denial. It’s a natural part of the process. Sooner or later he’ll get to a point where he can accept what needs to be done.”
“I sure hope so.”
* * *
The next morning Kasey went to the shop even though it was Sunday. Race scowled when I told him where she was.
“She’s working too hard,” he grumbled.
“It’s all part of running your own business. Or at least that’s what Kasey says.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not making it any easier, sucking up all her time in the evenings.”
“If you’re that worried about it, you oughta take Grandma’s advice. It would really take a load off Kasey’s mind if she didn’t have to worry about you.” I knew Grandma had been coming by every afternoon and telling him the same thing, but I figured hearing it from a second source couldn’t hurt.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Race said.
Since he hadn’t said ‘no’ I figured I was making progress. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, not wanting to press my luck. It was too easy to make him cranky these days.
As I flipped through the channels, rejecting educational programming and fire-and-brimstone televangelists, Race changed the subject. “Seems like you haven’t been smoking as much lately. You didn’t leave once yesterday to have a cigarette.”
I shrugged even though I was proud of my abstinence. “Kasey won’t let me smoke at her place. I guess I could go out on the deck, but she gives me these disappointed looks that make me feel like I peed on the rug, so I’m trying to quit.”
Race laughed. “If Kasey’s disappointed looks are that effective, I need to get her to give me lessons.”
I found an old movie that wasn’t completely worthless, and the two of us settled in to watch. It was almost over when a familiar yet completely unexpected figure appeared in the doorway.
Jerry Addamsen.
“Well, now. You don’t look so bad,” he said. “Rumor has it that a few days ago you were swappin’ paint with death.”
Race and I stared at his nemesis in silence until I finally found my voice. “He was,” I said, looking Addamsen straight in the eye. “But he ran the bastard off the backstretch into a tractor tire.”
The driver of the black #1 Camaro regarded me for a long moment, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he laughed. “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“What are you doing here?” Race asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Just paying my respects.” Addamsen leaned against the door jam, looking strange in a T-shirt, work boots, and jeans rather than the black firesuit I was so used to seeing. “Denny said you had surgery.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly something that could be fixed with duct tape.”
“Amazing,” said Addamsen. “I thought everything could be fixed with duct tape.”
The two of them continued to stare at each other.
“I guess you’ve got the championship wrapped up now,” Race said after several long moments. “Must be nice.”
Addamsen’s expression stiffened. “Well, I can see where you’d think that, but you’re wrong. I like a challenge. You’re the only one who’s been able to touch me in years.”
“If you like a challenge so much, why’d you run me off the backstretch?”
Addamsen laughed. “I didn’t say I never lost my temper.”
The silence resumed, Race still obviously not trusting his rival, and Addamsen looking like he thought it might’ve been a mistake to come.
“They’re saying you won’t be back this season,” the older man said after the quiet had stretched out for a good thirty seconds.
“They’re full of shit.”
A grin spread over Addamsen’s weathered face. Then he looked at the floor. “Y’know, Morgan, you probably think it doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, but the fact is, I hate seeing this happen to you. This kinda thing shouldn’t happen to anyone.”
“You came here to tell me that?”
Addamsen nervously tapped the heel of one of his grubby work boots against the toe of the other, flaki
ng dried mud onto the hospital floor. “I don’t know why I came,” he admitted. “I want to win the championship, but not like this.”
“What does it matter? Isn’t a win a win?”
“You know better than that.”
Race grunted, but the wariness faded from his eyes.
“Well, I’ve gotta get going,” Addamsen said, pushing away from the doorframe. “If you need help getting your car back together, give me a call.”
Race’s expression made it clear he’d sooner juggle cats than dial Addamsen’s number. Stone-faced, Addamsen dug his wallet out of his back pocket and removed a business card.
“Here,” he said, thrusting it at me. “I know your uncle’s too damned stubborn to ask for my help, so you hang onto this.”
Chapter 23
Monday morning Kasey needed me at the shop, so it was almost twelve-thirty by the time I got to Sacred Heart. Knowing how tired Race was getting of hospital food, I caught the bus that went down Franklin Boulevard so I could grab a pizza at Track Town. It was a good thing, too. Race looked like he could really use a pick-me-up.
“Here,” I said, depositing the box in his lap. “It’s a get-well pizza. I didn’t want to be like everyone else and get you some lame card.”
“You should market that idea,” Race said.
Seeing him struggle with the cardboard flap, I reached out and popped it open, allowing the tantalizing scent of tomato sauce and hot cheese to waft up from the pie. I’d gotten it half and half because I believed pepperoni stood on its own, while Race preferred everything but the kitchen sink, including nasty stuff like mushrooms.
Race was already slopping sausage and bits of green pepper all over the bed—another reason to avoid overloading a pizza—so I grabbed him a towel from the bathroom to use as a tablecloth.
“Kid, I owe you my life,” he said after consuming half a slice. “The only thing that would make this better was if we were eating it at Track Town. I am so ready to get out of here.”
Race might think he was ready, but I knew he wasn’t. Every time he stood up he got so dizzy he had to clutch the IV pole to keep from falling over. The vertigo was better than it had been a few days before, but it was still scary to see.
“Y’know, I appreciate you coming by every day to entertain me,” Race said. “It must be pretty boring.”
“That’s all right. Nobody’s charging me admission to get in.”