“All right,” Race said. “You can pay me, but only if you start charging me rent.”
* * *
That afternoon Kasey closed the shop at a normal hour so we could go out to the track. As Race and I were loading the jack and tools into the van, she came up behind us.
“You might find this useful,” she told Race, holding out a Bell Helmet box.
His eyes went wide. “You bought this?”
“Not exactly. Your mother wanted you to have it, but she was confused by the choices. She asked me to order it.”
Gaping like he’d learned Dale Earnhardt was hiring him as a relief driver, Race broke loose the cardboard flaps and pulled out a black, full-face helmet.
“She knows you better than you seem to think,” Kasey said. “She predicted you’d be back out there before the season ended.”
Race couldn’t seem to find any words.
* * *
We swung by Denny’s house on the way to the speedway. When Race backed up to the trailer hitch on his first try it was clear he was making progress.
“Are you scared of getting back in the car?” I asked as we pulled away.
“Not half as scared as I am of not getting in it.”
At the track I unchained Big Red and backed her off the trailer while Race pulled his firesuit on over his clothes, resigning himself to letting Kasey help with the zipper.
“Maybe I oughta take her out for a few laps first,” I suggested, leaning out of the car. “You know, just to make sure she’s running okay.”
“Let’s not give Denny a heart attack,” Race said.
Reluctantly, I wiggled through the window of the Chevelle. “You’re gonna let me drive yours when it’s finished though, right?”
“In your dreams. But maybe one of these days all the stars will line up and we can think about building you a Street Stock.”
“Seriously?”
Race looked at me as if he were about to make a solemn vow. “I would never joke about something as important as a guy’s first race car.”
I stared open-mouthed as he maneuvered around me to climb into Big Red. While I’d fantasized about getting on the track, I’d never considered it happening in a car of my own.
Kasey waited for Race to belt himself in then handed the new helmet through the window. “Be careful.”
With his eyes saying he knew how hard it was for her to watch him do this, Race gripped her fingers. Kasey smiled sadly and squeezed back then pulled away so she could fasten the window net.
“He’ll be okay,” I said as she stepped aside and Race cranked the Chevelle’s engine.
“I know.”
I understood what she was feeling. Even though I’d been pushing to make this happen, it was kinda freaky, seeing him get in that car. “What we want isn’t as important as what Race needs,” I reminded her.
Kasey raised an eyebrow at me, but a flicker of humor played across her lips.
As Big Red pulled away, my conviction wavered. What if I was wrong about Race getting back on the track? What if he couldn’t do this? The disappointment might strip away his newly recovered confidence and make things worse than before.
The Chevelle whined down the backstretch, building up speed. I let the sound steady me as I sucked in a breath, hunting for my center. If Race had found the nerve to face that possibility, then I could, too.
For the first few laps he took it easy. I expected him to cut loose as soon as he had the tires warmed up, but after ten laps he was still backing off too soon going into the turns.
“You think he’s scared?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you be?”
The Chevelle decelerated down the front stretch and pulled into the pits. Kasey dropped the window net.
“I don’t even want to know what kind of times I was turning,” Race said, his voice heavy with disgust.
“It’ll come back to you,” Kasey encouraged.
“It better do it soon, because I’m running out of steam.”
Kasey helped Race wrestle off his helmet then offered him a bottle of Gatorade. He reached for it with a shaking hand.
“I feel like such a wuss.”
“Take your time. Denny said you could borrow the car as much as you like. We can always come back tomorrow.”
Scowling, Race thrust the bottle at her and jammed the helmet over his head. Kasey barely had a chance to help him with the chin strap and secure the window net before Big Red roared away.
“Way to get him psyched,” I said as the Chevelle screamed toward the pit exit, stirring up a cloud of dust.
“That wasn’t exactly my intention.”
“Whatever. It worked.”
Back out on the track Race pushed the car to the limit, slinging it through the corners like he still believed he was invincible. My nagging fear evaporated as it became clear he still had whatever it was that made him so good. Then, coming out of turn four, he got on the accelerator a little too soon and broke the back tires loose. The Chevelle’s rear end whipped around, nearly smacking the wall. When Race tried to correct, Big Red spun, coming to rest facing backwards in the middle of the front stretch.
My heart felt like it was firing on all cylinders at once, then none at all. I glanced at Kasey, who looked equally rattled. Was this what we could expect every time he spun out?
The Chevelle sat quiet and motionless on the track, indicating Race was engaged in a struggle of his own.
“Well, that shook him up,” I said as my heart fell back into its normal firing order. “But it’s nothing a little pep talk won’t fix.”
I jogged onto the asphalt to peer through the square holes in the window net. “You okay?”
Race was gripping the wheel so hard I figured it would take a hacksaw to get it out of his hands. He turned to face me, too flustered to hide what he was feeling.
“Guess you’ve still got your edge,” I said.
“I’m beat, kid,” he stammered. “I’m ready to call it a day.”
It wasn’t like I didn’t understand. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to get out there to begin with. Still, I was disappointed.
“All right,” I sighed, making no effort to hide my feelings. “Come on in and we’ll get her on the trailer.” I turned and headed back to Kasey.
Behind me the starter cranked and the Chevelle pulled around, rumbling toward the pit entrance. At the last minute, it swung wide to cut through the grass at the edge of the infield. The tires gave a little squeal when they bit into asphalt. I grinned and shook my head as Big Red ripped through the turn, coming out onto the backstretch wide-open. Race was so easy.
“Apparently your pep talk worked,” Kasey observed.
“It’s all in the delivery.”
For the next half hour Race abused that car as if it were his own. He pushed it to the edge and beyond, sliding, spinning out, and getting so close to the wall I expected to see sparks. The more he lost control, the less it bothered me. Finally, he pulled off the track. As Big Red growled to a stop beside us, it looked like the only thing keeping Race from sliding to the floorboards was the safety harness.
“Am I gonna have to use the come-along to get you out of that car?” I asked, watching his trembling fingers fumble with the helmet strap.
“I might take you up on that if I’d remembered to bring it.”
Kasey motioned me aside so she could assist him. It occurred to me the attention she was giving him made up for the humiliation.
With considerable effort, Race heaved himself out of the Chevelle. Then, leaning against the car, he broke into shaky laughter. “Damn!” he said. “That’s gotta be one of the most profound experiences of my life.”
Kasey put her arm around his shoulders and directed him to the open side door of the van so he could sit down. “You looked good out there.”
“I feel like I just won the Daytona 500.” Race focused that crazy-assed grin of his on her and for few seconds they got lost in each other. “Thank you,?
?? he said softly, reaching for her hand.
Kasey smiled. “Welcome back.”
After that workout, it was all Race could do to climb up in the passenger’s seat, so I got Big Red back onto the trailer and Kasey drove the van.
“I owe you guys an apology,” Race said as we pulled onto West 11th. “I know I haven’t exactly been easy to live with.”
“Race, you’re a master of understatement,” I observed.
He ignored the sarcasm. “I figured if I just worked hard, everything would come back, but that’s not how it’s been.” He glanced apologetically at Kasey. “It’s gonna take a lot longer than I thought.”
“We don’t care how long it takes,” she assured him. “Cody and I are in this for the long haul. The only thing we care about is that you stop hiding yourself from us.”
With a slight shake of his head, Race turned away. “It’s not that easy. I know you guys think I should be okay with how things are different—how I’m different—but I feel like . . . like damaged goods.” He hesitated, struggling with the words. “It seems like everyone’s watching everything I do and feeling sorry for me. I hate it.”
“We love you for who you are, not what you can do,” Kasey said.
I figured humor stood a better chance of making an impact. “If you want, you can have my As is T-shirt. Then you wouldn’t have to explain yourself.”
“Cody!” admonished Kasey. But Race broke into exhausted laughter.
“That’s a good one, kid. I might have to take you up on that.”
* * *
The next day Race discovered a whole new meaning to the word “frustration” as he took a stab at organizing Kasey’s books. Remembering the receipts I’d found the day I’d cleaned the shop, I gave him a heads up about Kasey’s filing system. He made a broad sweep of the building, looking in every nook and cranny, but just when he thought he’d collected all the receipts, Kasey told him about the ones in the glove box of the Charger.
“That reminds me,” Race said. “Where’s your vehicle mileage log?”
“What vehicle mileage log?”
“The one you should be keeping to record the trips you make to get parts or haul cars. You can deduct that stuff, you know.”
“Oh,” said Kasey, “I didn’t even think about that.”
Race shook his head and retreated to the office, where he got to work transferring the information from the receipts to a spreadsheet he’d created on the computer. The keyboard presented a challenge to his compromised motor skills, and he swore at it under his breath until he came up with the idea of jabbing the keys with the eraser-end of a pencil. Creating ways to compensate for his limitations was one of the tricks he’d learned in therapy.
While Race was shocked by Kasey’s lack of business sense, both Kasey and I were equally astonished at how good he seemed to be at that stuff. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
“Grandpa would be so proud of you,” I taunted.
Race snorted. “You underestimate his capacity for disapproval.”
* * *
That night Kasey dropped me off at karate practice then went to Race’s shop to help him and Denny work on the Dart. I was torn, wanting to be in two places at once, and expected to have trouble concentrating. It surprised me that once I got through the warm-up exercises, my thoughts zeroed in on the lesson.
“That’s how it should be,” the sensei told me after class. “You’re developing harmony between your mind, body, and spirit. By practicing the moves and breathing, along with the philosophy, you’re gaining control over your whole self.”
The word “whole” resonated with me the rest of the night. Until all the pieces had started coming together, I’d never realized how scattered I used to feel.
* * *
Kasey and the guys got a lot accomplished, but not enough for the 8 car to make practice the next day, so Race borrowed Big Red again.
It was a small crowd Wednesday night—just us, Denny, Holly Schrader, and a handful of drivers from the other divisions. I didn’t know half the people, but they knew Race and made a big deal about welcoming him back.
Considering how wheezed out the Chevelle was, Race turned some respectable times. To everyone else it must’ve looked like he’d taken up right where he left off back in June. Only Kasey and I knew what a struggle he’d had Monday. At least this time he wasn’t quite so exhausted when he climbed out of Big Red at the end of the night.
On the way home we dropped off Denny’s car before hitting the closest convenience store so I could get a sugar fix. Race bolted down a package of Twinkies under Kasey’s disapproving eye then tried to bum some of my M&Ms.
“Forget it,” I said, clutching the bag to my chest. “You coulda got your own.”
“I only want a couple.”
We tormented each other the rest of the way home, trying Kasey’s patience with our banter. I was surprised Race had the energy to goof off, but like a turbo kicking in, the change in his mental state seemed to provide him with an extra boost of horsepower.
“So when’s Addamsen taking you on a tour of the Hamm’s Brewery?” I asked as we got out of the van at the house. “I hear they’re giving out free samples.”
“Nah, they stopped doing that after the government forced them to print the number for Poison Control on the cups.”
I winged an M&M at Race as he started up the stairs. It missed and rattled off the handrail. He turned around, barely ducking in time to avoid having the next one hit him in the face. Instead, it bounced off Kasey’s back.
“Stop it, you two,” she said, going into mother-mode without even looking at us. “Someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Yeah. You could put an eye out with one of those things,” Race deadpanned. With one hand clutching the railing in his only concession to fatigue, he ignored my ongoing barrage of candy-coated chocolate and plodded up the steps.
“That wouldn’t slow you down any. You’re The Legend. Race Morgan, the guy who can out-drive Death, who drinks Hamm’s beer and lives to tell about it, who—” I reached the top of the stairs and Race snatched my M&Ms.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said. “Stealing candy from a kid!”
Inside the house, the phone began to ring. As Kasey scrambled to get the door unlocked, I made a grab for my M&Ms, but Race yanked them away, backing against the railing and dangling them out of reach.
“If you want ’em so bad why don’t you just take ’em?” he mocked. “Or have I been wasting your dad’s money on those karate lessons?”
“I could, but I’d have to knock you on your ass, and Kasey’d kick me out if I hurt you.”
“Guess you’re outta luck then, huh?” Race shook the bag.
“Not necessarily.” Foregoing karate, I resorted to a sneakier tactic—tickling. It caught Race completely off guard. He dropped the candy, grabbing at my hands to ward off the assault.
“That’s enough!” Kasey stood in the doorway, something in her expression implying she was upset about more than our horseplay. I stopped in mid-tickle and Race pulled away from me, gasping.
“What’s wrong?” he panted.
Kasey glanced from one of us to the other as if unsure of how to deliver the news. “That was your mother, Cody. She’s coming into town on Friday. Somehow she seems to have gotten the impression you’re going to Phoenix permanently. She said to be sure you had everything packed.”
Chapter 31
Race stared at me, eyes wide with pain and bewilderment. “You’re leaving?”
“No!” I swear, I would’ve rather been run over by a Super Stock than have him look at me like that. “She wanted me to visit, and all I said was I’d think about it. No way am I gonna go live with her.” I turned on Kasey, feeling betrayed by both her and my mother. “You see? This is how she is. You can’t trust her.”
“Cody—”
“I shoulda known better! I can’t believe I fell for it again.”
“I think you’re overreacting. She must h
ave misunderstood you. Or maybe I’m interpreting this whole thing wrong.”
“What’s going on?” Race demanded.
Sighing, Kasey sank into one of the deck chairs. “I thought it might be a good idea for Cody to get away for awhile, just until you had more of a handle on things. When Saundra told me she wanted him to come visit, it seemed like the perfect solution.”
“You were gonna send him to his mother? She ran out on him. She’s a selfish, manipulative—”
“Race, you aren’t helping matters, treating her as though she’s evil incarnate. I realize she’s let both of you down, but if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be together.”
Race snorted. “One moment of misplaced kindness hardly qualifies her for Mother of the Year.”
“She went to bat for Cody when he needed her. She didn’t have to do that.” Kasey filled him in on what she’d told me the other night.
“That’s not the story I got,” Race said, standing with his chin thrust out and his arms across his chest. “She never once mentioned my mother. According to Saundra, the thing at the zoo was a big fuss over nothing. She’s always been an expert liar. She probably told you what she thought you wanted to hear.”
“Except that your mom confirmed the story.”
That zinger totally derailed Race. He eyeballed Kasey without saying a word, jaw clenched and shoulders rigid.
I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to believe Kasey was right, but Race and I had experience on our side.
“The two of you need to give her a chance,” Kasey said, staring hard into Race’s eyes. “I’ve seen firsthand how obstinate you can be about your mother. I can only assume you’re being equally unfair to your sister. It would hardly hurt Cody to stay with her for a few weeks.”
Race’s face was darkened by more than just the night’s shadows. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled. “Your family’s normal. When you’ve got screwed up relatives butting into your life, the best thing to do is walk away.”
“If you want to go on letting your resentment eat at you, that’s your business,” Kasey said. “But you’re not being fair to Cody. That’s something you might want to think about.”
* * *
Kasey’s reprimand hit home with Race. When I asked him for advice later that night, he wouldn’t give me any. “You need to figure this out for yourself,” he said. “I’m obviously not an impartial witness.”