Total Control
Page 23
He met Benjamin’s gaze. “Thanks for that, kiddo.”
Benjamin smiled. The audience applauded. Todd had to wait for things to quiet down before speaking again.
“I was going to stand up here and list everyone by name who helped me get here, but I realize now that that would be impossible. It took a team of dedicated individuals to get me here tonight, and it took another team of completely different individuals to get me to this level.”
He smiled at his family. They knew who they were.
And then he looked at Indi. The breath left him again. She was still smiling at him, but it was one of those bunched-up grins that told him she was trying hard not to cry. He knew how she felt, could feel his upper lip quiver as he stared down at her. He knew why she was here. He could see the reason in her eyes. The love in her gaze was as bright as the spotlights that lit the stage.
“Many of you know that I’ve dedicated this year’s championship to a little boy who’s shown me the true meaning of courage. But what you don’t know is that there’s another person who’s taught me the meaning of unselfish love.”
The room went quiet. It was odd how he noticed that. Odder still that it seemed as if he and Indi were the only two people in the room.
“Indi Wilcox,” he said, his voice suddenly raspy. “You’ve taught me so much this past year. You’ve taught me how to love someone other than myself. You showed me the meaning of self-sacrifice. You’re a champion of children, and you’ve taught me what it means to be a true winner.”
Tears poured down her cheeks, the look in her eyes so profound, Todd found his chest expanding in pride. He glanced around the ballroom, raising an eyebrow at his fellow competitors. “She also got me so mad one day that I vowed to win at least four races of the Chase.” The audience laughed. A few people applauded. “But nobody’s perfect.”
And then he sobered again. He stared into her eyes, pouring everything he felt into his gaze.
“I love you,” he said softly.
Tears continued to stream down her cheeks. He could see them sparkle beneath the overhead lights.
I love you, too, she mouthed.
It felt as if he grew ten inches taller. And he knew for a fact that his grin probably blinded the viewers at home.
“I won those four races of the Chase, a feat that’s unequaled in this sport. And so I’m going to do something else that’s never been done before. I’m going to ask someone in the audience a question.”
He held out his hand to Indi, stepped to the left of the podium.
She looked suddenly frozen.
Come on, he mouthed.
She shook her head.
He leaned toward the mic. “Get up here,” he ordered.
She probably wouldn’t have done it but for the fact that Linda just about pushed her up. Benjamin urged her on. His family clapped. The whole place erupted into cheers, especially when he went down to her and started to tug her to the stage.
“Todd,” he heard her say.
He turned back to her. “You owe me this much, Ms. Indi Wilcox.”
And she knew she did. She probably suspected what was coming, too. Or maybe she didn’t, because when Todd got down on one knee, he heard her gasp.
“Indi Wilcox,” he asked her, the audience going dead quiet in order to hear his words. “Will you marry me?”
Her eyes closed. He saw her shoulders begin to shake. It was only when she met his gaze again that he realized she was sobbing, the joy in her heart visible to all those who watched on TV.
“Yes,” she said softly, her arms slipping around him. “Oh, Todd. Yes.”
The cheer that erupted was the loudest in NASCAR’s awards banquet history. Never again would such a sound be repeated. But to the two people up on stage all they heard was the beating of their own hearts. That is until Todd said, “I love you,” in her ear.
“I love you, too,” she said just before he kissed her.
Feet stomped in approval. The network broadcasting the event went to commercials—much to viewer’s disappointment—and at the table near the front of the stage Benjamin Koch looked up at his mother.
“I told you this would happen,” he said.
“Yes,” Linda said with a grin and a nod. “You certainly did.”
“Just like I told you I’d beat this disease.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to talk to them about being a surrogate for Indi, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
Benjamin glanced back at the stage, Linda leaning to the left so she could hear him better. “They’re going to live happily ever after,” he said softly.
And you know what?
They all did.
Dear Reader:
As many of you know, I lost my father to cancer this past year. Watching him fight for his life was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to endure. When he finally lost the battle on June 20, 2006, I was beyond devastated.
The irony is that I’d long since planned to write a book centered on a terminally ill child. I just didn’t know the child would have cancer, or that I would be pouring my heart out onto each page. Much to my surprise, the experience turned out to be cathartic because in this book, the story ends happily.
I’d like to thank my oldest friend on the planet—and I don’t mean old-old, just that I’ve known her since before bras and panty hose. Jaime, your help on this one was invaluable. Although, come to think of it, you were a pretty big help with the last one, too. Hmm. This is getting to be a trend. But I still refuse to call you doctor.
Dr. Michael Figueroa at the Cancer Care Consultants in Redding, CA, spent a good half hour with me on the phone helping me to understand the ins and outs of CML (chronic myelogenous leukemia). Thanks for all your insights on how to fight this terrible disease.
I’d also like to thank the Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital for spending time with me on the phone. One person in particular was extremely helpful. She didn’t want to be named, but thank you so much. (Enjoy the books!)
Lastly, I’d like you to know that a portion of TOTAL CONTROL’s royalties will be donated to the Victory Junction Gang, a camp for terminally ill children founded by NASCAR’s Petty family. If you’d like to help, too, you can visit www.VictoryJunction.org where you’ll find information on this very worthy cause.
All my Best,
Pamela
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0511-0
TOTAL CONTROL
Copyright © 2007 by Pamela Britton
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