“Not until December twentieth.”
He smiled, obviously surprised and pleased that she remembered his birthday. “You’re right. Ancient thirty-four-year-old.”
“So if it’s thirty-four and out the door, does that mean . . .”
“What?”
The conversation had taken a serious turn, one she hadn’t planned or wanted. Especially now, right before Nick’s race. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”
“Hopeful, I know you. A fact you seem to forget often.”
He did know her. Even with all the time and distance that had existed between them, he still knew her better than anyone else. But that didn’t mean it was the right time for this conversation. “Let’s talk about it after the race.”
“After the race I plan on stripping you naked and keeping you in bed for as long as you’ll let me. Plus, for the next few hours, you don’t want me doing anything but driving. Especially not thinking about what you didn’t say.”
“Dirty pool, Mr. Fortune.”
He gave her a wry grin. “Never said I played fair. I’m the guy who used our children and your best friend to get you down here.”
“True.” She worried on her bottom lip. “If it’s thirty-four and out the door, does that mean you’re thinking about retiring?”
It took him a few moments to answer. “No. I’m not. I want to keep racing for as long as I can, but I know that is causing problems between us. I want to find a way to make us work, Hope.”
She turned in his arms, angling up to look at him. “I must want to, too. I’m here.”
“I love you, Hopeful,” he said simply. “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen years old. I haven’t said anything before now because I didn’t want to rush you.”
Time slowed. The people, the noise, the confusion and commotion . . . all of it faded away until it was only the two of them.
“I love you,” he said again.
They were the same three words he’d said to her long ago, when they’d been teenagers. Then, they’d meant everything to her. Now, they meant even more.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “You love me,” she said, not quite believing it.
“I do,” he said, brushing a tear from her cheek.
“I love you, too. But I’m still scared. I—”
He bent forward, kissed her softly and slowly.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, let the softness of his lips on hers, the warmth of their mingled breath, and the beauty of this newfound love infuse her.
“For now,” he said, drawing back, “that’s more than enough.”
“Nick. Nick!”
A voice intruded.
“Here you are.” Dale Penshaw, Nick’s crew chief, half jogged, half walked to where they stood.
Hope thought maybe she should feel embarrassed being caught in Nick’s embrace, especially since she’d met Dale only once before and that had been earlier today, but she didn’t. Especially not when she felt Nick’s arm tighten around her.
“I’ve been running all over looking for you,” Dale said, bracing his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath. “You forgetting we have a race to run? Come on. You need to get ready.”
“Dale,” Nick said, clapping the older man on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I feel so good I think I could run five races today.”
“Well, hot damn!” Dale grinned, smacking his hands together with all the excitement of a child. “Now there’s the driver I haven’t seen in a while. ’Bout time you found your way back. Hope,” he said, turning to her, “I think I have you to thank. Come on, you two. We have a race to win!”
In less time than seemed humanly possible, they were back at the car and it was all hands on deck. Anticipation thickened the air. Nick’s pit crew was a blur of color as they swarmed around Nick’s car, checking, rechecking, and checking everything once more. Hope stood a short distance away: far enough to be out of the way but close enough to see all the action. Nick wanted to include her, but she waved him off with a smile. She didn’t want his attention anywhere but on the job at hand. And just watching him was enough. She looked on as he oversaw each detail, discussed the car in depth with Dale and other members of the pit crew. He was a man who left nothing to chance. Nor did any member of his team. He was laser-focused and in complete control. The noise level kept rising, not only from Nick and his team but all the others around them. More than once Hope found herself covering her ears with her hands.
“Here,” Dale said a short while later. He handed her a headset. “Nick wanted to make sure you had these before the race starts. It’s about to get loud.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the headset. “But what do you mean about to get loud? It’s already deafening.”
He chuckled. “Honey, you haven’t heard loud yet, but don’t worry. These,” he said, tapping a finger against the black ear protectors, “will keep most of the noise at bay. There’s also a built-in radio. You’ll be able to hear us during the race.”
“Us?”
“The team. Me. Nick. The pit crew. The spotter. A handful of others.”
On her trip down, Hope had used her phone, calling up Google, to learn all she could about Nick’s world. She remembered reading that a spotter was a trained team member, usually positioned high above the track for the best vantage point, whose job it was to relay information to the driver and alert them of what was occurring on the track.
“So I’ll be able to hear Nick during the race?”
“Absolutely,” the older man said. “And me. Don’t forget me.” He chuckled again as he hustled away.
Nick walked over to her a few moments later, his helmet in his hand. “Good, Dale got you set up with a headset. I’ll try to keep the dirty talk down so the crew doesn’t get distracted.”
She smiled at his teasing. “Keep your head in the race, mister. Though I don’t know how you can think with all this noise.”
Nick bent down and brushed his lips quickly against hers. “No worries. Besides, there’s no time to think. Just act and react. If you pause to think, you’re in trouble. Now give me a kiss.”
“I just did.”
“Yeah, but this one has to last for four hundred miles.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down to hers, and gave him a kiss that left him with no doubt as to how she felt.
“You’ve done it now,” he said after they’d reluctantly separated. “You’re my good-luck charm, I can feel it. I won’t be able to start another race without you by my side and a kiss to send me off.” He flashed her a final smile as he put on his helmet and made his way toward his car.
Her smile stayed firmly in place, but as he climbed in through the driver’s-side window and settled into position, she couldn’t help the worry that pleated her brow.
No time to think.
If you pause to think, you’re in trouble.
“Come on.” Dale was at her side, taking her elbow. “Let’s find you a good seat, and here’s a pair of binoculars. You’ll need them too.”
Before she knew it she was watching Nick take off from pit road. The cars roared past, stirring up dust and debris in their wake. On the track, they formed a line two cars wide. She could all but feel the drivers’ impatience at the restrained pace, the unwelcomed control, like tigers straining against the leash, waiting to be set free. They wove back and forth, back and forth, warming their tires. Yet another fact she’d learned from her research. Just like she’d learned that their starting positions depended on their times achieved during the qualifying laps they’d run the day before. She remembered Nick mentioning something about that during their dinner. Nick hadn’t won pole position—the coveted starting position given to the fastest time—but he’d earned a respectable third-place spot.
High in a tower overlooking the track, an official stood, th
e green flag in his hand.
She almost sent a text to the twins before remembering their DO NOT TEXT warning. The flag went up.
Anticipation built, swelling through the packed stadium. Engines revved. Thunder rose from the crowd. The loudspeaker crackled. She felt it building and building, sending a vibration through her. She couldn’t sit still. She scooted to the edge of her seat. Then further forward still. She clutched her hands over the headset that covered her ears but couldn’t have said why. The noise level was unbelievable, but instead of being unbearable it was the beat to which everything danced. It became the heartbeat of the race and the smell of fuel, warm asphalt, and hot tires, its blood.
The green flag whipped down. The race was on! The drivers were off!
Thunder like nothing she’d heard before electrified the crowd.
She jumped from her seat, grabbed the binoculars. She focused on the front of the pack, searched for number five. Nick’s car. Everything was a blur. The cars moved at an alarming pace, and it was all but impossible to find Nick. But she could hear him. His voice and those of his teammates erupted through the radio built into her headset. She tuned out all the voices except for Nick’s.
Car’s good.
No longer loose.
Good adjustment on the rear. Tightened her up.
Back and forth the comments flew. Hope had no clue as to what they meant, but that didn’t matter. She spotted his car, kept her binoculars focused, then all but growled in frustration when he went across the backside of the track and she lost sight of him. But soon he was back. Headed around the far turn.
And on and on it went.
Minutes sped by as fast as the laps. She lost all sense of time.
Cars roared onto pit road only to roar back out within mere seconds. Each time Nick brought his car in, she watched in fascination as his crew worked at a furious pace of pure precision changing tires, adding fuel, making adjustments, or doing all three. The chatter across the headset was a shorthand, rapid-fire succession that everyone understood except her.
Sometime during the day a young man in a T-shirt with Fortune Enterprises embroidered across the upper left side in small black letters brought her an ice-cold bottle of water. She hadn’t realized how hot the day had become or how thirsty she was. She thanked him before uncapping the bottle and taking a healthy drink.
Lap after lap after lap, cars thundered past. Chatter continued to fill her headset.
Watch eighteen! He’s on your left. LEFT!
Oil on corner two. Stay high.
She’s running hot. Keep an eye on the temp.
She, Hope quickly learned, meant Nick’s car.
Two more times that same nice young man who’d brought her the bottle of water appeared to see if she needed anything. She always thanked him and said no. It had been hours since she’d last eaten, but even the tantalizing aroma of hamburgers on a nearby grill couldn’t tear her away from the race. There was no way she was going to do anything as mundane as eat while Nick was racing.
Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. The cars sped past.
Then everything happened in slow motion.
The crowd jumped to their feet.
The announcer hollered through the loudspeaker: “Jarrett in the twenty-four car pushes into Mayer in the fifty-five.”
Dale’s voice blasted across her headset. Contact, Nick! Contact on turn two! Go high! Go high! GO HIGH!
The announcer: “Twenty-four is in trouble! Twenty-four is in trouble!”
Hope rose to her toes, straining to see through the crowd and the binoculars. Frantic to see what was happening. Desperate to see Nick.
“Jarrett into the middle of the pack and over! Jarrett has flipped!”
She didn’t know who was talking. She didn’t care. All she could focus on was the track. On the nightmare being played out before her.
Cars slammed into each other.
Flipped end over end.
Crashed into the concrete wall.
Metal screeched. Crumpled as easily as tinfoil.
Smoke billowed.
Parts flew.
Nick! Nick! Nick!
She hadn’t realized she’d shouted his name until she heard his voice through the headset. I made it. His voice was solemn. But it’s bad.
Bad still hung in the air when Hope heard the wail of an incoming ambulance.
* * *
SERENE paintings of landscapes and oceans hung on the wall. Large artistic pots held lush, vibrant foliage. Plush chairs were clustered in pods, some positioned toward flat-screen TVs. Magazines were fanned across tables. Water trickled over mosaic tile in a strategically placed wall fountain. It was an area designed to offer solace and comfort, but Hope found none. Hospitals offered her nothing but anxiety and fear.
Still holding her hand, Nick walked straight to the large U-shaped desk positioned in the center of the spacious entryway. A sign above read Receptionist.
At his approach, an elderly woman looked up and smiled. “Hello. How may I help you?”
“We’re here to see two men that were brought in earlier. Jarrett and Mayer,” Nick said, giving the receptionist the drivers’ last names. “They should have been admitted a few hours ago.”
Two. Two hours ago.
Hope still couldn’t believe it. Even after the horrific accident that had sent Rick and the other man to the hospital, the race had continued with what had seemed only a fraction of a delay. Cars had been towed. Debris had been cleared and Nick had continued to race.
The receptionist clicked away at her computer. “Are you a relative?”
“No.”
She halted, looked at Nick. “Not a relative of either of the men?”
“No,” Nick answered again, chafing at the questions.
Compassion softened the older woman’s features. “I’m sorry, but I’m unable to release any information unless you’re a member of the family.”
“But—”
“I truly am sorry.”
Hope could see the inner battle Nick fought. Jaw clenched, stance rigid, he wanted answers but knew that questioning this woman further wouldn’t give him any.
With determined strides, he led Hope to the large waiting room. He stopped next to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and, ignoring the many signs that asked for cell phones not to be used in the area, fished his from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He let go of Hope’s hand long enough to place a call.
“Dale, Nick. We’re at the hospital but haven’t learned a thing. They won’t release—
“What?” There was a pause. “Shit!” His curse was explosive. “Yeah. All right. Yeah. I’ll stay in touch.” He ended the call as quickly as it had started.
He didn’t move for several long moments, then turned and stared out the window, out into the blackness of the night. “Shit,” he said again, his shoulders slumped. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. And then again. Slowly, he turned back around.
One look at his expression and Hope sank onto a nearby chair. “How bad?” she asked, though she feared she already knew.
“Dale had just received word. He was calling me as I was calling him. Mayer is going to be fine. A busted rib and a few scratches. Nothing serious.”
“And Rick? How’s Rick?”
“Jarrett,” Nick started, then stopped. He sat down next to her, taking her hand gently in his. “The doctors did everything they could, but his injuries were catastrophic. Rick passed away a little over a half hour ago.”
“Oh God.” She tried to draw in a breath, couldn’t. Her chest was frozen and then on fire. She gulped for air, found none. She clawed at her jacket, needed to get it off her. Needed to feel space. The room tilted, began to spin.
Nick knelt in front of her, holding her shoulders in his strong hands. He gave her a gentle shake. “Breathe, baby. B
reathe.”
Frantic, she sought his gaze. Gulped for air, once more.
“That’s right. Breathe. Just breathe.”
She focused on his eyes, the soft pressure of his hands, his strong, steady voice telling her to breathe. Just breathe.
“I’m s-s-so sorry, Nick. He was your f-friend. W-we just saw him. And his wife. And a b-b-b-baby . . .” On the last word, she lost it. Sobs racked her body, shook her so hard she would have fallen if Nick hadn’t wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. He cradled her head in the palm of his hand, rested it in the crook of his shoulder. Tears poured out of her. “How could this happen?”
Nick took her literally. “From what Dale was able to find out, looks like Jarrett hit an oil slick that caused his car to bump into Mayer.”
Bump. Such an innocent word. Bump hips. Bump noses. Bumper cars.
“Y-you said he was a g-good driver.”
“He is.” Nick cursed softly, raking a hand through his hair. “He was. What happened today was an accident that could have happened to anyone.”
Happened to anyone . . .
“Ssshhh, Hope. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”
“N-n-ooo.” She shook her head, unable to stem her tears. “No, it won’t. What are they going to do?”
“Who, honey?” Nick asked softly, still holding her tight.
“Amber and their little Garrett Jarrett. What are they going to do now?”
Nick stroked her back, created a soothing rhythm. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of them.”
Hope drew back, sniffled, ran a hand under her nose. “What do you mean?”
“We’re a family. I thought you understood that. Not in the sense that this hospital recognizes but a family in our own way. The racing community,” he said, in case she needed extra clarification.
“I know, you’ve mentioned that before, but I still don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Nick unfolded, stood, grabbed a small box of Kleenex off a nearby table, and handed it to Hope. She took it gratefully. “If they need it, Amber and Garrett will be well provided for. We take care of all the widows and their children.”
Boardwalk Summer Page 29