Boardwalk Summer

by Kimberly Fisk

  “Anywhere. Everywhere. But for starters, how about to Sunday’s race?”

  “Nick. That’s impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible. The race is in California. I could have you there and back within a few hours. Don’t answer. Not yet. Think about it, please. Think about giving us a chance. I don’t want to miss out on another sixteen years.”

  He left the room before she could say anything more.

  Twenty-two

  “YOU missed the turn. This isn’t the way to the hospital.”

  Dana flicked on her turn signal and merged into the right lane. I-5 was all but deserted on this early Sunday morning. The blush of a sunrise was only a hint on the horizon. “Hitchhikers can’t be choosy,” Dana said, spearing Hope with a quick glance.

  “I’m not a hitchhiker.”

  “No,” Dana agreed. “But you are stubborn.”

  “Yes,” Susan said, piping up from the backseat. “Very.”

  “Anyone who refuses to drive their beautiful new SUV relinquishes their right to dictate the course.” Dana accelerated.

  “I wasn’t dictating, I was only pointing out you missed the turn. And you know why I won’t drive it. It’s—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Dana said with a tired sigh. “I know. He shouldn’t have. It’s not right. It’s too extravagant. I’m capable of buying my own car. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda.”

  “You do listen to me! I knew there was a reason you’re my best friend. But aren’t you going a little fast?”

  Dana pressed down a little harder on the gas. “No dictating course or speed.”

  “Bossy and stubborn.” This from the backseat again. “And if you won’t drive the Nav, I will. License in T minus fifty-eight days and counting.”

  Hope looked at her daughter. “You’re not driving her, no one is.” Hope swore she heard Dana mumble We’ll see, but she chose to ignore her friend. “And ‘the Nav’? Seriously?”

  “Cool, huh? Josh and I picked out the name together. And the Nav is a he, not a she.”

  “Very cool name,” Dana said, flipping her arm back toward Susan, palm up. “High five.” She and Susan slapped hands and then finished with a fist bump.

  Hope shifted in her seat. “Aren’t you two a barrel of fun this morning.”

  Susan scooched forward until her head peeked through the middle of the front seats. “Mom, I love you but you’ve been a terror all week.”

  Hope frowned. “I have not.”

  Dana passed a large semi and then swerved back into the right lane. “Yes, you have.”

  Hope tugged on her seat belt, trying to loosen the restraint. All of a sudden she was feeling claustrophobic. “So let me get this straight. Not only am I stubborn and bossy but also a terror? Some besties you two are.”

  “And Josh,” Susan said. “He agrees with us wholeheartedly.”

  “So now you’ve been discussing me?”

  “Always,” Dana and Susan said at the same time.

  “Well, that’s great.” Hope rotated back forward and looked out the front window. She knew she’d been more on edge lately, but she definitely didn’t think she’d been that bad. There was a lot going on in her life. Her son was in the hospital, for heaven’s sake. It only made sense she’d be a little more tense than usual. But she knew that wasn’t the only reason.

  “We’ve all agreed,” Dana said, getting in to the far right-hand lane. “What you need is a change of scenery.”

  “What would you call this?” Hope gestured to the outside. “Since you missed our exit, this is a change of scenery. Wait.” She straightened. “Wait a minute. This is the exit for the airport.” She swiveled in her seat, facing her friend and her daughter. “Just what is going on?”

  “We’ve been talking.” Dana slowed on the off-ramp.

  “You, Susan, and Josh?”

  “Me, Susan, Josh, and Nick.”

  Nick. The other reason she’d been so edgy. “What does he have to do with this?”

  Dana stopped at the bottom of the off-ramp. Before turning left, she leveled Hope with a look. The look. “Everything.”

  Hope looked the other way. She was starting to get a bad feeling. “Okay. You’ve had your fun or whatever this is. Time to head to the hospital. Joshua is expecting me.”

  Susan’s outstretched legs had replaced her head. They were stuck through the middle of the two front seats, her orange sneakers bouncing to a beat only she heard. “No, he’s not,” she said in a voice loud enough to guarantee Hope heard.

  “Of course he is. I have been at the hospital every day—”

  “Exactly,” Dana and Susan said in unison.

  “Exactly,” Dana said again, quieter. “Every moment possible, you’ve been in that chair by Joshua’s bed. It’s taking a toll. Before the transplant this week and then Joshua’s recovery following, you need a break. To get away for a few hours—”

  “You’re kidding, right? There is no way I’m going anywhere.”

  Dana handed Hope an airline ticket. “It’s all arranged.”

  Hope refused to take the ticket. “What’s all arranged?”

  “You. Nick. His race today.”

  Nick’s race! “This is preposterous. I’m not going anywhere except to the hospital.”

  “I told you,” Susan said, withdrawing her legs and sticking her head back through the seats. “Josh, are you hearing this?”

  “Josh? How can he hear this?”

  Susan lifted her phone and wiggled it in front of Hope’s eyesight. “Uh. Speakerphone, Mom.”

  “Hey, Mom,” Josh said.

  “Hi, honey. Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”

  “No.” Josh’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear. “I want you to go to the race today. All four of us do.”

  “Joshua, I’m not going to leave you alone in a hospital room and go to a race.”

  “Who said I’d be alone?”

  “Yeah,” Susan said. “What am I, chopped liver?”

  “Pâté, sweetie. We’re pâté.” Dana pulled alongside the curb at departures, shifted her Honda into park, then faced Hope. “The brats and I have the whole day planned. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Cafeteria raids. Wheelchair races. Binge-watching our favorite show—”

  “Game of Thrones,” the twins chorused, the pair of them always in sync.

  “A completely inappropriate show for fifteen—”

  The twins cut Hope off. “Almost sixteen.”

  “And puh-leez, Mom.” This from Susan. “If you knew what kids our age watch.”

  “Yes, but I’m not their mother, I’m—”

  “Going to save that argument for another day. Now here,” Dana said, trying once again to force the airplane ticket into Hope’s hand. “Nick wanted to send his plane, but I told him you would absolutely say no to going if he did that, but he wanted me to make sure and tell you his jet could have you back home in what would feel like minutes if need be.”

  Hope stared at the first-class ticket in her hand. “I am absolutely saying no.”

  “We like Nick,” Josh and Susan said. “We like him a lot.”

  “And he likes you,” Dana said. “He likes you a lot.”

  Hope leaned against the headrest. “I’m trapped in a Dr. Seuss book.” She rolled her head to the side, looked at her best friend and daughter, then to the phone that connected her to her son, then to the ticket Dana still held. “Thank you. All of you. I understand what you’re trying to do. And I appreciate it. But I’m not leaving.”

  “Mom?”

  Hope leaned closer to Susan’s phone. “Yeah, Josh?”

  “You keep telling me I’m going to be okay.”

  “You are.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything. You know that.”


  “I need you to show me you believe I’m going to be okay. I need to believe that you believe, Mom. Please. It’s only for a few hours. Besides, you’ve kinda been driving me nuts.”

  “Driving us all nuts,” Susan added.

  “Please,” Josh said.

  Hope wanted to argue, but something in his voice stopped her. But how could she leave him?

  “Please,” Josh said again. “Please, Mom, do this for me.”

  The tenor of his voice left her without any doubt that he really did need this from her. “Okay,” she said, taking the ticket from Dana, still not believing what was happening. What she had just agreed to. “Okay.”

  * * *

  “HAVING fun yet?” Nick asked as he came up alongside her. Dressed in his black-and-silver racing suit, with his sponsor’s bright red-and-green logo emblazoned across his chest, he looked every inch the champion he was.

  “It’s incredible,” Hope said, unable to keep the awe out of her voice and not wanting to. They stood in pit road, behind a thick, concrete barrier that came up to Hope’s thighs. With so much activity going on around them, Hope could see the need for such a barrier that did its best to separate man from machines. The place was swarming. Racecars lined the opposite side of the wall, while on the side where Nick and Hope stood, pandemonium ensued. Literally hundreds—if not thousands—of people rushed around, and the race wasn’t due to start for another hour. It took a lot more than the forty men behind the wheel turning left for three hours to orchestrate this show.

  When she’d first arrived a little less than an hour ago, she’d tried to keep up with all the activity. She’d soon learned that was an effort in futility. From drivers, to crew chiefs, to pit crews, to officials, to sponsors, to reporters from all the different media outlets, the spacious area began to feel almost confining. And that was before you added in all of the family and friends. It was chaos in the making. But, surprisingly, chaos was far from present. While it was true there was a palatable excitement in the air, there was also a controlled purpose. The majority of the people present were skilled professionals performing technical jobs with a high level of proficiency and efficiency.

  “I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Nick said.

  “Finally? I can’t believe I am here. It’s crazy. If I had more than two minutes to think, I would have never boarded the plane.”

  “Then our plan worked.”

  She looked up at him, shielding a hand over her eyes. Even though it wasn’t even eleven, the sun had made its presence known. The thermometer had already hit eighty-two. As the day wore on, she knew temperatures in the midnineties were expected. “Just how long have you four been concocting this?”

  “About two minutes after I asked you.”

  A warm wind blew her hair across her face; she brushed it away. “Waited that long, did you?”

  He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  Before Hope could respond, a photographer appeared out of nowhere and snapped at least a dozen pictures before moving on. All morning, whenever she and Nick were together, the same scene played out over and over. “Doesn’t that bother you?” Hope asked.

  “In the beginning, but not anymore. Does it bother you?”

  “It’s different. And that’s how I feel before the pictures are printed or posted or whatever they do with them. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  Nick pulled back on her shoulder until she was looking up at him. “I know how I’ll feel when pictures of you and me together hit the media. Proud. Happy. Happier than I’ve been in years. I never want to lose you again. I hope you know that by now.”

  “Nick, I . . . I’m here. I’m trying.” And she was. Nick’s choice of career still frightened her, but she couldn’t deny her feelings for him. She owed both of them this chance.

  “That’s all I can ask.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “By the way, our son and daughter have told me if you text or call one more time, they’re turning off their phones.”

  “Oh, they are, are they?” She laughed, then chewed on her bottom lip. “Have I really been that bad?”

  “Hey, Nick!” A young man loped up to their side. Like Nick, he wore a racing suit but in a bright blue and orange.

  “Jarrett,” Nick said, extending his right hand. The men shook. Even in the crowd, with all the noise around them, Hope could hear the click-click-click of cameras.

  “Well, damn,” Jarrett said with a bright smile. “Knew it was too much to hope you’d also miss this race, old man.”

  “I figured you needed a handout so I bowed out of Bristol, but you’re going to have to grow wings if you think you’re taking today.”

  “Handout. Ha.” The young man flashed Hope a smile so full of flirtation she knew he had to be a favorite among the ladies. “Leave it to the elderly to think the younger and better-lookin’ need to be handed anything. We take what we want.”

  Nick chuckled. “You do, do you? How does Amber feel about that?”

  Jarrett laughed loudly. “Leave my wife out of this. I’m Rick, by the way,” he said to Hope. “Since he’s so old and addle-minded, we’ll forgive Nick for not introducing us sooner.”

  Hope was not immune to this young man’s charm. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Hope Thompson.”

  “Well, Hope Thompson,” Jarrett said. “The pleasure is all mine. About time Fortune brought a friend to watch him race. Let me know if Pop here needs to go to bed early; I’ll introduce you to some drivers who like to have fun. Stay up past nine.”

  “Knock it off, playboy,” Nick warned. “And the only late nights you’re pulling these days have to do with diaper duty.”

  Jarrett laughed. “True enough. True enough. My son, Garrett,” he explained for Hope’s benefit, “is one and a half. A speed demon if ever there was one. Can’t wait to get that boy behind a wheel!”

  “Garrett Jarrett?” Hope asked.

  “A hoot, right?” Jarrett laughed again. “Amber and I wanted a name nobody would forget from the first time it was announced through the loudspeakers.”

  “I think you succeeded,” Nick droned with a half smile.

  “Can’t wait till that boy is old enough to drive.” Jarrett continued to smile. “Hope, it was a true pleasure. Tell Nick to bring you around to the motor home after the race. Amber and I are gonna have a little get-together. Some of the other drivers and their wives are stopping by. We’ll throw some steaks on the grill, you women can gab, and Nick here can polish my trophies.” He cuffed Nick good-naturedly on the forearm. “No sulking after my win today, old man. I’ve eaten your dust too many times to count. Today’s my day. I can feel it.”

  The men shook again, but before Jarrett headed off, a crash erupted behind them. Purely on reflex, Hope covered her ears as she whipped around in time to see half a dozen men scrambling around what looked to be a fallen engine. “That doesn’t look good,” she said, turning back to Nick.

  “All part of racing,” he said calmly as he steered them a short distance away, where it was a bit quieter and less hectic.

  “Did I understand your friend correctly that his wife and son are at the race?”

  A fan stopped by. Asked Nick for an autograph.

  “Racing is a family affair,” Nick said as he shook the middle-aged man’s hand and signed his piece of paper.

  “Good luck,” the fan said in parting.

  “Thanks,” Nick said before turning back to Hope. He took up right where he’d left off. She’d seen him do it many times. Once at the restaurant and then too many times today to count. He appreciated the people who cheered him on; it showed in his interaction with them. “From February to November, a driver’s life belongs to the circuit. You spend so much time on the road, a lot of the wives and their kids choose to travel with their husbands. After the race, I want to take you around, introduce you to some of
the drivers and their wives. For all our competitiveness we’re a pretty close-knit group.”

  “I’d like that.” She hesitated, unsure of how exactly to ask the question that had been in the forefront of her mind ever since Jarrett had mentioned it. “Rick mentioned you’ve never had someone watch your race before.”

  “There’s a whole stadium that watches.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’ve been photographed hundreds of times over with too many beautiful women to count.”

  “First,” he said, taking a step closer, “I’ve never been with anyone more beautiful than you.” Hope wanted to argue that point, but the sincerity in his voice and the desire in his eyes stopped her. “Second, don’t believe every photo you’ve seen. Journalists just want a good story. But to answer your question, no. I’ve never had nor wanted anyone else by my side before a race.”

  A warm glow unfurled inside her at his admission. She leaned into him. “So, what was with all the old-man comments? You can’t be much older than he is. He’s what . . . twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “You say that like you’re ancient.”

  “In the racing world it’s thirty-four and out the door.”

  She gasped in surprise. “That can’t be true.”

  “No. But close.”

  “He’s awfully confident for someone so young.”

  “He’s cocky, that’s what he is.” Nick reached for her hand and held it in his. A simple gesture that felt anything but. “But in the kid’s case, he drives better than he boasts and that’s saying something. The kid’s got real talent.” There was a grudging respect in Nick’s voice.

  “More talented than you?”

  “Hell no.”

  Hope laughed. “Yeah, he’s the cocky one.”

  Nick smiled down at her. “Around here if you’re not confident, you’re not fit to be behind the wheel. To do what we do, to drive at those speeds, you better believe you’re a god for three hours on Sunday. But there’s confidence and overconfidence, and some days that gifted young man forgets that. But hell, what do I know?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m an ancient thirty-five-year-old.”