The Widowmaker

by Amy Gallow

  He smiled. His father had fostered a sense of responsibility akin to his own in a boy naturally disposed to the feeling and it had stuck. Raul frequently teased him, saying he didn't need a family because he manufactured one wherever he went. It was odd. He was never entirely comfortable in groups, but gathered good people around him who needed just the little help he could provide and, judging purely from the fact these people remained as friends, his efforts must be successful. The recurring situation worried him. There was an uncomfortable arrogance in the belief he knew what was best for others when he was drifting along with no long-term goals himself.

  He'd lost his way with the riding, forced to accept his limitations, and Salvatore's death would end his stint as team manager. There might be other teams, but that was, at best, a temporary solution. He was tired of wandering and wanted to come home.

  Raul would find him a place in the factory, but Bagnelli's, if it survived Salvatore's plundering, would never be greater than a local manufacturer. Aside from that, there wasn't much demand for a failed rider with a formal qualification he'd never used in the workforce.

  His Dad would hint at the police force, but it didn't appeal.

  Glenn put the future aside. He had enough immediate problems without borrowing more. It was time to check Pit Six.

  Angela looked up as he entered and hurried over. “Tony's bike will be ready for the afternoon practice slot. There's no news from the scrutineers.” She was seeking reassurance.

  "Excellent.” He gave it. “Where's Raul?"

  "Lexie took him up to the hospitality tent again. He was getting underfoot. Did Salvatore reach you?"

  "Yes.” He could see she knew the subject of the call. “He did."

  "Glenn!” Raul entered the pit area. “Did my father reach you?"

  "Yes.” Glenn repeated his answer to Angela. “He did."

  Lexie was at Raul's shoulder and Glenn surrendered to an urgent need to be elsewhere. “Lexie, can your duties be stretched to driving me somewhere?"

  She brightened at the prospect. “They can."

  "I need a break, Raul. I'll be back before Tony's ride."

  "Take as much time as you like.” Raul's response was immediate. “You've earned it."

  Glenn wondered what Raul would think if he knew what was in his mind, but didn't comment, turning instead to Lexie. “Are you ready?"

  She nodded and they left, walking to the station wagon in silence.

  "Any recommendations?” he asked Lexie and she brightened noticeably.

  "I suppose it's pointless to suggest my bedroom.” Her grin was cheeky.

  "I was thinking in terms of a relaxing meal, far from the track."

  "Just a minute.” She reached into her bag and took out the cell phone her father had given her, selecting a speed dial number. “Julie, do you have a table on the balcony?” She listened to the response. “In twenty minutes.” Another pause. “Great!"

  She ended the call and turned to him. “They're holding a balcony table at the Churchill Island Visitor's Centre. Julie's the caterer and a school friend."

  "Sounds marvelous."

  He reclined the seat and lay back with his eyes closed as Lexie drove. Her silence told him the subject of Salvatore's call was no secret. Everyone's concern was flattering. They expected him to be disappointed. He had to keep his counsel. Too much talk could compromise the riders. Lexie's suggestion popped into his mind. It would have been nice to lose himself in an afternoon of lovemaking. His mind wandered, exploring the thought...

  "We're there."

  He woke with a start. “Sorry. I didn't mean to drift off."

  "Perhaps my bed wouldn't have been such a good idea. I didn't have sleeping in mind."

  It was her nature to keep challenging him, pushing for a response. He had to divert her, at least until after the race.

  "What did you feel when we kissed for the first time?” His question caught her unprepared. It was too serious, so Glenn took pity on her wariness. “I felt something beyond my experience, a promise beyond the ordinary. It took me by surprise.” Lexie nodded reluctantly. “Our second kiss was pure lust and we almost lost what we'd found. I don't want to lose it again, even if it means hastening slowly, having the patience to nurture something worth the effort."

  Her eyes were shining and there was a wonder in them. His final touch must be delicate.

  "I can't promise where it will take us.” He measured his words. “Because I've never been this way before. My instincts are it will be worth our best efforts and I trust them."

  He watched her expression change from surprise to understanding, but then it softened into the face of a woman discovering the marvel of love. She'd leapt beyond his fumbling attempt to slow the pace.

  "To hell with appearances and to hell with waiting!” Lexie had slipped her seatbelt and was reaching for him.

  "Damn!” He gave up and met her half way, cooperating wholeheartedly until her need for kisses was sated temporarily. He'd tried to separate Lexie and the race, and failed. Now, he'd have to manage both—a prospect to daunt the boldest.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 6

  Lexie led the way through the car park to the restaurant of the visitor's centre in a state of euphoria. She'd kissed, been kissed in return, and had her world painted anew in colors she'd never imagined. Every half-understood feeling since they'd met had coalesced into a certainty. This man was the one she'd waited for all her life. The world was hers for the taking.

  She beamed as Julie paused long enough to show them to their table on the balcony before hurrying away to other customers and took the menu their waitress presented, reading the print without comprehension. She'd imagined this day, but never in detail, recognizing it would be different from the casual liaisons she'd known until now. The reality was as far beyond those imaginings as Glenn was different from any other man.

  "What would you like?” His voice warmed her.

  "I don't think it's on the menu.” She looked over the top of the plasticized folder, daring him to go on.

  "I was talking about eating.” He was shaking his head, but his smile embraced her.

  "So was I."

  "Hi Lexie, I heard you were back.” Julie had found time to visit their table. “Have you ordered yet?"

  "No. Any recommendations?” Julie had been the best cook in the school.

  "The steak and kidney pies come in individual ramekins with a pastry top. There's a fresh batch coming out the oven in five minutes."

  "Sounds good.” Lexie saw Julie's interest shift. “This is Glenn Smallwood. He's with one of the racing teams and a friend.” The unsubtle warning she added because Lexie couldn't remember if Julie was married. They'd competed for boys at secondary school, Julie's vivacity a match for Lexie's appearance, plus she had no elder brothers to daunt eager suitors.

  "He'll be there tonight then?"

  Lexie glanced at Glenn. Julie was challenging her claim by asking whether Glenn would be at Kieran's party. A casual friend wouldn't be invited, a close friend would. She'd heard Sandra invite him, but not his reply.

  "At the party?” Glenn won her undying gratitude by following the exchange. “Yes. I'm going."

  "We're doing the catering, so I'll see you there."

  He nodded, Julie took their orders and left; with every table occupied, people were waiting.

  "You two must have made life hell for the others.” Glenn shook his head at her. “I could see the sparks flying. The schoolyard must have been a battlefield."

  "We weren't that bad,” Lexie protested feebly, suppressing the memories of a dozen contests fought with guile and celebrated with glee.

  Glenn smiled his disbelief and changed the subject. “They chose this spot well."

  Lexie agreed. Sheltered from the cold south-west winds, the open verandah overlooked green pastures running down to Westernport Bay, with the rolling hills of the mainland beyond it to the northeast. The bird life was abundant wi
thout invading the tranquility. Even the chatter from the other tables seemed muted, swallowed by the space around them.

  Glenn's body language was relaxed. He looked at peace with the world. Lexie would have liked to claim the credit, but suspected there was more to this man. From nowhere came the memory of a World War I photograph in her family's album she used to study for hours when she was young. It showed one of her great grand uncles in the uniform of an Australian Digger sitting in a sunlit trench. The caption on the back said he was resting fully armed, waiting for the next assault. His expression had the same quiet confidence she could see on Glenn's face. Salvatore's phone call had postponed the next assault indefinitely, but there'd be other battles for this man. It was his nature.

  Lexie was unused to analyzing her male companions quite so deeply. It had rarely been necessary. They'd reacted to her, rather than vice versa. Loving Glenn was going to change many things, and this was not the least of them. She leaned back in her chair, aping his appearance of relaxation. There'd be time for many things...

  The waitress served their food and it lived up to Julie's recommendations.

  Glenn was in no hurry. He didn't glance at his watch and ordered a second coffee, so Lexie did the same. Their conversation wandered from topic to topic without a pattern, a very low-key follow-up to what had happened in the car park, but Lexie was content.

  "I suppose we'd better free the table for the ones waiting.” Glenn finished his coffee to signal his intent and waited for Lexie to do the same. “Where else do you suggest? Tony's practice is two hours away."

  "My bed ... or yours?” Lexie didn't resist the temptation.

  "We've already discounted them ... for the moment, at least.” Glenn was smiling, but unmoved.

  "Seal Rocks?"

  "A bit blowy."

  "We could stay in the car.” Lexie struggled to keep her expression guileless. She'd already thought of the wind.

  "You're incorrigible."

  "Tell me what you want."

  "Somewhere away from the crowds, where we can sit and relax.” There was a hint of need in his voice, the whisper of a yearning for peace. He wanted to escape and wanted her with him. A compliment to confirm his halting words in the car park.

  Lexie took time to think. The control of traffic flow for the Grand Prix had made their journey longer and would determine her choice, even with the competitor's badge on the windscreen. The western end of the Island would give them the best run back to the track. She sifted possibilities, settling on Tommy's description of the changes to the Penguin Parade facility below his Summerland shack. She'd add her own touch, with her mother's help.

  "Just a second,” she said, taking out her cell phone and ringing home. “Mum, could you make a thermos of coffee and something for afternoon tea?” She listened for a moment. “Yes, for two. He likes your coffee. We'll pick it up in twenty minutes."

  Glenn had followed the conversation. His eyes twinkled. “Calling up the reserves?"

  She nodded. “I have a proprietorial interest in you now. You're to be kept well nourished and ready for action."

  Glenn paid the account and they left, Julie pausing a moment to wave goodbye.

  Traffic made the drive to Cowes slower than she anticipated and it was closer to half an hour than twenty minutes when they passed through the gates. Sandra Douglas met them at the steps leading up to the house, a wicker picnic basket in her hands. “I added ham, pickles, homemade bread and cakes,” she said. “Enjoy yourselves."

  "Thank you, Sandra.” Glenn kissed her on the cheek. “You make me feel at home."

  Her mother blushed, something Lexie hadn't seen for years. “Get away with you. You're as bad as Kieran when he wants something,” Sandra Douglas said. “He always gets what he wants too.” Glenn laughed and got back into the car.

  Lexie waved her thanks and followed the drive back to the gates. “We're going to Summerland Bay,” she said. “The Penguin Parade area is open to the public during the day. Tommy says there's a sheltered area at the western end."

  Glenn nodded and relaxed back into the seat, hardening Lexie's suspicion he was preparing himself for something. Tony's ride this afternoon didn't come into that category, nor did her father's party and Salvatore had ruled out a ride on the Widow-Maker. A flicker of suspicion at the edge of her perception made her wonder if Glenn was thinking of defying the Old Man, but there was the rider's ban as well. He might be able to ignore Salvatore's wishes, but not those of his fellow riders.

  The knowledge relaxed her. She was content in his company, contributing to a conversation that flowed easily, exploring mutual interests to discover common goals. She'd never talked like this with a man before. Hardly surprising, Glenn was the antithesis of every male stereotype targeted by promotions that depended on pretty girls to carry their message. Having met him, she doubted she'd ever be satisfied fulfilling the role in the future. A sobering thought, coming as it did in the pause of conversation while she negotiated the roundabout outside the Penguin Parade building and turned left into St Helen's Road.

  She parked beyond the driveway at the rear of the buildings. “You take the basket,” she said and Glenn knuckled his forehead with a grin. “Yes, Ma'am."

  Leading the way, she took them down the drive and along the boardwalk towards the sea, turning right at the main junction, heading to the more expensive viewing area. A shade-cloth sail covered a plank table and bench seat sheltered from the wind. “It's quiet here,” she said. “Most visitors don't realize this is open to the public outside the penguin viewing hours."

  "The advantages of having a local guide.” Glenn had opened the basket, laid the cloth and spread the contents. “Coffee?"

  "Later. It's customary to tip the guide."

  "I suppose money is out of the question?” The gentle humor in his eyes warmed her as she stepped into his embrace.

  Kissing was different now.

  She'd always enjoyed it, but never quite lost her self-consciousness, a small part of her mind staying outside the action. With Glenn, the world stopped, resuming reluctantly afterwards. There was no awkwardness, their bodies moved in synchronization, fused into one, and her consciousness focused completely.

  Soon, they must go further. For the moment though, Lexie was content with being kissed and kissing in return.

  * * * *

  Glenn lay on the bench seat with his head pillowed in Lexie's lap, his eyes closed, reviewing the impossible situation he'd created. He had no master plan for the Widow-Maker. All he was doing was keeping his options open. Putting off the moment when he'd have to admit to Salvatore that the dream was done.

  He didn't want to go back to the track today. The bargain struck with the rider's rep might be raised if he were available. Better it wasn't until after the morning practice. If he could prove the Widow-Maker was a serious contender for the title, they might rethink the situation...

  He disciplined his mind.

  He'd handled the moment in the car park poorly, triggering the situation he'd been trying to avoid. It was too late now. Lexie had catapulted them into unknown territory and there was no turning back. Sandra had guessed. Her manner was unmistakable. Tonight would be interesting. Would she share her knowledge with Kieran? How would he react to his daughter with a non-Islander?

  Love at first sight was nonsense! He and Lexie had come together at a moment when their needs coincided, nothing more. Tired of constant travel and faced with the changes that would come when Salvatore died, he'd needed something to carry him forward and found it in a beautiful face, half hidden behind zinc cream. If Lexie had been plain, or less vulnerable, nothing would have happened.

  He smiled at the rationalization. It almost explained the eagerness that had sent him early to their rendezvous at the restaurant, the emptiness he'd felt staring at her photograph later in the hotel, and the surge of feeling when she'd walked into Pit Six. The near fall at Turn Ten had been the product of his mind wandering back to the way her body m
oved in the promotion uniform when it should have been focused on the line into the turn.

  "What are you smiling at?” He opened his eyes at Lexie's question. The sunlit sky turned her hair into a halo.

  "I was congratulating the designer of your uniform.” She didn't understand. “He damn near killed me yesterday. I was thinking of you on the track and lost my line into Turn Ten."

  "I think there's a compliment hidden somewhere in there.” She was smiling now. “I shouldn't have to work so hard to understand them."

  His cell phone interrupted.

  "Yes, Angela,” he answered the summons. “Everything ready?” He listened to Angela's confirmation. “We'll be there. Tell him five laps to settle in and then try for a qualifying ride. It won't count officially, but it will give him confidence for tomorrow.” Another pause while Angela explained. “Put it at the back of the pit. If Tony's ride is good enough, I might use the morning practice to give it a last run, just for Salvatore.” He ended the call and turned to Lexie. “We need to be back by two-thirty. How long does that give us?"

  She checked her watch. “We'll have to leave shortly."

  "Time for a cup of your mother's coffee."

  * * * *

  Lexie poured the coffee, added sugar, milk, and took a sip to test it, studying him over the rim of the insulated mug. Something had sobered him, his expression changing as he listened to Angela on the cell phone. He'd controlled his voice, but the tension had come into his body. The context of the conversation suggested George Barton had returned the Widow-Maker with a provisional approval. The rider's ban must not include practice runs, for he intended to ride it one last time for Salvatore. A chill ran through her body.

  "You're going to ride the Widow-Maker.” He had his coffee mug to his lips, about to take a sip. “Salvatore has said not to, the other rider's have banned it from the track, but you know better.” She went on, unable to stop. “You'll kill yourself to prove everyone wrong."

  He took a sip before lowering the mug and looking at her: a deliberate, controlled purchase of time.

  "If Tony can achieve time for the front half of the grid this afternoon, I will take Salvatore's machine out for the last free practice tomorrow morning as a final gift to him. He needs to see what it can do, even if it can't be raced.” Glenn was neither arguing nor pleading.