Nora's Promise

by Sedona Hutton

  Steph’s chest flooded with purpose. She and Nora had been destined to find one another. She squeezed Nora’s hand. “I’m glad your grandpa guided you here.”

  “You don’t think I’m crazy?” Nora gaped at her. “You believe me?”

  Steph smiled at Nora. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Nora’s eyes filled with tears.

  Steph gently rubbed her palm over the top of Nora’s hand. “I believe in communicating with those in the spirit world. I see a medium in Knoxville on a regular basis.”

  “You really believe,” Nora whispered in an awed voice.

  “I do. Wow—I might be a grandma,” Steph said, unable to contain the giddy joy in her voice.

  “I guess we won’t be sure until we talk with Davey, but it looks that way.” Nora grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “Sorry for losing it.”

  “You never have to be sorry for feeling.” Steph’s lips curved. “That came straight from my guru.”

  Nora’s eyes lit with interest. “I’d like to hear about him one day.” She glanced at her watch. “But I’m gonna have to head out in a couple minutes. So what do we do next? Can you call Davey and let him know?” Nora asked. “Or arrange a time for us to meet?”

  “Of course,” Steph agreed, still overwhelmed with emotion. As she blinked aside her tears of joy, reality set in. Based on what Nora had shared, it seemed highly likely that Davey was Ben’s father. But could she really help Nora connect with Davey? Anxiety snaked through her insides. The only time Davey had spoken with her during the last decade had been at Tuck’s funeral ten months ago. He’d only spoken with her then because she’d been persistent and because Cruz, bless his heart, had quietly encouraged him. In the end, Davey had agreed he would touch base with her after the NASCAR season ended…which was in a couple of weeks.

  She’d planned on inviting Davey to Serenity after his season ended in hopes of forming a new relationship. This news probably wouldn’t help. Learning that he might be a father was likely the last thing Davey wanted to hear. But it couldn’t be helped; the truth needed to be unveiled. If Davey was a father he needed to know.

  She put on a confident smile for Nora. “I’ll reach out to him this week.”

  Davey Johnson couldn’t stop staring at the message in his inbox. Was this some kind of sick joke, he wondered? He’d like to think his mother wouldn’t joke about something as monumental as parentage, but he really didn’t know much about her. He doubted he’d be able to pick her out of a police lineup. Until his father’s funeral last January, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since he’d been fourteen years old.

  That had been eleven fucking years ago…not that he was counting.

  She’d attended his dad’s funeral, claiming it had been to see him. But it had been way too little, way too late. At the time, he’d been dealing with shock over his father’s sudden passing and he had been gearing up for the new season. But she’d been unrelenting so he had exchanged email addresses with her. He had also promised to connect with her after the season ended. At the time, he hadn’t wanted the distraction. But the end of the season was tomorrow, and afterward, he’d have to honor his promise.

  He’d left Phoenix on Monday after a major win that put him second in the series and within striking distance of the championship. He had traveled to Florida in his motorhome along with Cruz and his Golden Retriever, Daisy. He could have flown like most of the other drivers and would have gotten to Miami quicker. But Cruz and Daisy were his family and he preferred to travel with them when he had the time. It had also given him the chance to work with Cruz to get mentally prepared for the last race of the season.

  Why he’d thought it a good idea to look at emails the night before the most important race of the season was beyond him. Pressing a hand to the back of his neck, he forced his gaze away from his laptop. Damn it! He didn’t want to think about this now. He heard his father’s voice in his head. Stay focused. You can’t afford the distraction.

  Sound advice, but easier said than done.

  Why would his mother leave this message, and why now? Again, he wondered if it she’d thought it was funny. He knew nothing about her or her sense of humor or lack thereof—not his fault, but it was damn pathetic. But what if she was serious? His gut clenched as he re-read the email one more time.

  Davey, it’s Mom. Sorry to send this message via email but I have no other way to get ahold of you. I think you’re a daddy. Call as soon as possible and I’ll explain.

  She left her cell phone number, followed by, Love, Mom, which was laughable considering she’d walked away when he’d been fourteen and had never looked back.

  Blowing out a breath, he ran a hand through his hair which was a couple inches past a much-needed haircut. But his hair was the least of his concerns. His mother couldn’t be right. He was beyond careful when it came to birth control. He only had sex with women he knew were on the pill and he also used a condom. Every single time, without fail.

  A long time ago he’d vowed to stay solely focused on driving. No way was he about to bring a kid into this cruel world, an innocent child who could be abandoned by his mother and, if he was a chip off the old block, smacked around by him.

  He sent back a curt reply. Not possible. I always take precautions. If this is a joke, it isn’t funny.

  He considered calling Monica, the only ex-girlfriend he had stayed in touch with, a practicing psychologist. He talked with her occasionally about this or that. Picking up his cell, he flipped to her number, then tossed the phone back on his bed.

  Why call when he already knew what she would say. He was an emotional suppressor and if he dealt with his feelings instead of holding them inside, he’d be happier. She would tell him that he needed to have an open, honest discussion with his mother to get over his Abandoned Child Syndrome. Monica claimed he’d never have a normal family life until he did so. But that was the thing. He didn’t want a family life—normal or otherwise. He could get a date anytime he wanted. He enjoyed a little companionship and a lot of sex, and that was all he needed. More importantly, it was all he wanted.

  He closed his email, booted down, and locked his laptop inside the safe along with his thoughts and feelings on the matter. At least that was the plan.

  But his mother’s email had dredged up old memories—unwelcome recollections of when they’d been together as a real family. He didn’t want to think about those times. But his mind didn’t get the memo because he dreamed about his childhood. How his mom had kissed away his hurts, held him through thunderstorms, and gently encouraged him to be whoever he wanted to be. While his dad had been a hard-ass, his mother had been loving and nurturing.

  He got up bright and early the next morning and went through his pre-race day routines. An early morning jog with Daisy, followed by a big breakfast with Cruz and his motorhome driver, Art. He tried to keep thoughts of his mother at bay in order to stay focused on the upcoming race. But despite his best efforts, she kept popping into his head. He had to admit—if only to himself—that she’d been a good mom before she had taken off. He understood why she’d divorced his dad. His dad had been cruel and condescending toward her for as long as Davey could remember. But he didn’t understand why she had left him too.

  He had chosen to stay with his dad only because he’d had little choice if he wanted to continue racing. He had a heap of regret over things he’d said to his mom, but he’d been a stupid, angry kid. He hadn’t thought she’d take them to heart and disappear from his life as if he meant nothing to her.

  Shoving thoughts of her aside, he listened to music and played video games to keep his nervous tension at bay. While passing time, he allowed a splash of hope to course through him. If he did well in today’s Ford EcoBoost 400, he could win the coveted championship he’d worked toward his entire career.

  Around noon, he and Cruz made their way to the garage and met up with their crew. As he headed toward his car, he tapped the large red and white banner hanging overhead, like he
did before each race. Stay focused. It was his mantra. The words his father had drilled into him since his very first race. The advice had served him well over the years.

  Heading toward his car, his team called out words of encouragement.

  “Watch your speed in turn 3,” said Thomas, his spotter.

  “Kick ass, Davey. This is the big one,” from his manager, Wade.

  “Go get ‘em, son,” Cruz said, patting his back. Cruz was always the last person to wish him well.

  Climbing into his Ford Fusion, optimism rushed through Davey. Mentally, he was in the zone and his car was running better than ever. He brushed a hand along the car’s dashboard. “Come on baby, let’s do this.”

  He heard chuckles in his headset as he pulled into his pole position. His qualifying lap of 177.582 mph around the 1.5-mile track had earned him the fourth spot. But he was better at racing than he was at qualifying, and he was more than ready to get this show on the road.

  As the field of cars spread out, Davey got into his groove. By lap ten, he had made his way into second place. Now he focused on Bobby who was in the lead. He rode Bobby’s ass for three laps and was just about to slingshot past him when the caution flag came out. “Damn it,” he muttered, dropping his speed.

  “Don’t worry,” Cruz said through the headset. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

  “Stay in the zone,” Wade said.

  Before long, they’d cleared the debris from Keith’s accident—the poor bastard had hit the wall in the fourteenth lap. After the white flag waved, before Davey could even blink, AJ shot past him on the inside. It took Davey a few laps to get back in the zone, and then he, AJ, and Bobby jockeyed for first in the next twenty laps, with Davey leading more than a few.

  Now, he was getting ready to lap some of the slower cars. God, he loved this shit.

  Going into turn 3, he pulled up in an attempt to pass AJ on the high side when he spotted the Go Daddy car out of the corner of his eye. His mother’s crazy-ass email flashed in his mind. You’re a daddy.

  “Too much speed,” Thomas yelled into his headset. “Slow the hell down!”

  Davey attempted to cut into the turn but it was too late. The back of his car slammed into the wall as his heart leapt into his throat. No, no…this couldn’t be happening. He tried to control the car but he bounced back into traffic where he was nailed on the front end by a lapped car. His shoulder hit the cage and hurt like a mother-fucker. As his Ford rolled down the track, a cut on his arm bled red hot regret. By the time his car trundled to the infield, four cars had wrecked behind him and two of them were burning in the center of the track.

  Son-of-a-bitch. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, swallowed the lump of disappointment in his throat, and lowered his head in defeat. The red flag came out, signifying a temporary halt to the race and a permanent end to his season.

  “You okay, Davey?” came Wade’s concerned voice through his headset.

  He slammed his fist on the steering wheel again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “Yeah, he’s okay.” This time it was Cruz, his voice heavy with relief.

  A small fire rolled out of Davey’s engine and he could only shake his head at the colossal letdown.

  Yeah, he was okay. Except his season and every hope and dream he’d worked toward his entire life had just crashed and burned along with his car.

  They pulled out of Miami on Sunday evening after Davey had been cleared by the medical staff at the track. They said the cut on his arm was minor and his shoulder pain would subside in a few days. Unfortunately, his internal wounds—disappointment, regret, and anger—would take a lot longer to heal.

  It was an unusual end to the season. Last year he’d finished The Chase in fourth place. This year, despite not finishing in the last race, he’d placed second. After last season, he and his crew had hung around for a couple of days, celebrating their successes, analyzing, and planning for the next season. But this year, after the Miami race, they’d all stayed out of his way. He’d managed to pull himself together enough to thank each of them. Despite his embarrassing crash, this had been his best season to date and his talented team had played a large role in that.

  Still, the Miami loss had been especially difficult. Not only had he been closer than he’d ever been to the championship, but he had lost it all because he’d made a rookie mistake.

  He’d lost focus.

  His guys seemed to understand his devastation because they’d peeled out quicker than usual. He appreciated their understanding.

  The sole exception was Cruz. Completely unfazed by his mood, Cruz stayed close to him on the drive back. Their motorhome was huge and there was plenty of room for them to spread out. Instead, Cruz lurked around while Davey was in his office and then joined him in the living room.

  Davey understood that they needed to talk, but he wasn’t ready.

  Davey brooded, half-sprawled across the couch staring at the blank screen on the ginormous TV. It was blank because he didn’t want to hear post-race commentary or any other commentary for that matter. He absently rubbed Daisy while Cruz’s quiet presence loomed large.

  Cruz finally broke the silence. “It was a damn good season. You know that, right?”

  “Know it.” Davey huffed out a breath. “Don’t feel it.”

  Cruz leaned against the wall. “How much longer you need to pout?”

  “A few weeks should do it.” Davey let out a mirthless laugh.

  “I’ll give you till Georgia,” Cruz said, then disappeared into the back.

  True to his word, Cruz gave Davey space, returning only after the trip tracker Davey had turned on to replace the dark wall indicated they had crossed into Georgia.

  Cruz handed him a beer, which was a first. As the son of an alcoholic, Davey rarely drank. Knowing this, Cruz who enjoyed a beer and an occasional shot, had never, ever offered to share.

  What the hell? But in this moment, it was more temptation than Davey could resist. He accepted the bottle, flipped off the cap, and took a long, satisfying sip.

  Cruz placed his bottle on the coffee table as he lowered onto an adjoining chair. Leaning forward, he slanted Davey a look. “You gonna tell me what’s up?”

  “It’s Steph,” Davey said, his voice more bitter than he had intended. One of his former flings had probably convinced his mother that she’d had his baby. Something similar had happened to his friend Cee-Cee last year, only Cee-Cee’s ex had taken her claim to the media.

  But there was no way Davey had a kid. He was highly disciplined when it came to birth control, maybe even anal retentive. At least that’s what he’d been told—on more than one occasion. Whoever had made this absurd claim was looking for money or fame and she had sucked his mother into it.

  He’d dated women who had wanted a slice of fame and fortune. It didn’t happen often because he was crystal clear at the start of any relationship. He was in it for the fun, not for the exposure. He didn’t do long-term and he didn’t do commitment. And he didn’t get involved with women who didn’t agree or who thought they could change him.

  He ran a hand through his hair and flicked a glance at Cruz.

  Cruz’s eyes went deep and dark like they did when the two of them spoke about Davey’s mother. Which they didn’t do often. “As in your mother?” Cruz asked, his voice lower than normal.

  “The one and only.” Davey lifted his bottle in the air, then took another big gulp. While this would be his only beer because he had iron-clad willpower, he understood the attraction of alcohol. It would be easy to let the booze take the edge off his pain. To let it wash away his anticlimactic season, his unacknowledged feelings over his father’s passing, his mother’s preposterous claim.

  Cruz popped the top from his beer and took a long, slow slug. “What does she have to do with this?”

  Davey puffed out a breath, then told Cruz about the email. Cruz didn’t say a word. Instead, he quietly took it all in. “When I saw the Go Daddy car, I thought about he
r email and lost focus.” He fisted his palms. “She made me lose the most important race of my career.”

  Cruz pinned a look on him. “You can’t blame this on your mother.”

  Davey opened his mouth to protest, but Cruz raised a palm. “Losing focus, regardless of the reason, is on you, not her.”

  Davey leaned his head back. Shit. Cruz was right. He was the one who’d lost focus. “I broke Dad’s golden rule.”

  “It’s good guidance when you’re racing, but not to dictate your life,” Cruz said. Davey’s dad had taught him that racing was all that mattered. If you lose focus off the track, you lose focus on the track. That was part of the reason why Davey didn’t get involved in serious relationships. Women were a distraction he didn’t need. “You could use more balance in your life.”

  Davey shrugged. He didn’t want to go there, so instead, he circled back to his mom’s claim by giving Cruz a litany of reasons why he couldn’t be a father. “There’s no fucking way.”

  Cruz was quiet for a long moment. “Shouldn’t we at least talk to your mother and see what information she has?” Without waiting for an answer, he buzzed for Art. “Fried chicken, next exit.”

  They stopped for dinner and the chicken was good. No matter where they were, Cruz found home-cooked food and it was always good. After they’d eaten, Cruz disappeared for fifteen minutes. When he returned, they hit the road again.

  Cruz grabbed another beer, but this time he didn’t share. He eased onto the couch and flipped off the TV Davey had just turned on.

  “Hey,” Davey protested, but only half-assed. He hadn’t really been watching.

  “I called your mother,” Cruz said twisting the cap off his beer.

  Davey gaped at his friend. He should have been irritated—this was his mess to handle—but it was relief that gushed through him.

  “We needed information,” Cruz said in way of explanation. “They boy’s name is Ben. He’s nine, going on ten.”