by Jim Cangany
Gabrielle cracked a half-smile. Progress, perhaps? Now that he thought about it, back then she’d mentioned once or twice he needed a haircut.
“Since this is the real world, all I can do is try to make up for wronging you the way I did.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s been like, carrying that guilt around with me all this time? I felt like I’d killed one of my best friends.”
“But everyone said it wasn’t your fault.”
“Except you.” She turned away from him and her shoulders started to heave. “You were my best friend, my . . . well, your opinion mattered more to me than everybody else’s. And then you wouldn’t even look at me at the hospital; what was I supposed to think?”
“That was unforgiveable of me. I know that now.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. Words seemed as inadequate as a flat tire.
She wiped her cheeks with her shirt and faced him. “That’s why I left racing.”
The words were like a punch to Brad’s kidney. “You quit because you thought I held you responsible for the crash?”
“You have no idea how hard it is to be a woman in this sport. The support you and J.P. gave me kept me going on a lot of long, lonely nights. And then, bam, that support was gone. I’d killed one friend and damn near killed the other.”
She ran her hand through her hair, then scratched at the inside of her right wrist. There was some sort of ink there. A tattoo, maybe?
“What’s that on your wrist?” Brad took her hand so he could get a better look. It looked like a dot and a comma.
“It’s a semicolon. At my lowest point after the crash, I seriously considered suicide. The ink is a symbol of the choice I made. To pause and then continue my life instead of ending it.”
He put his arms around her. “I realize I can never erase the pain you’ve had to live with, but if you’ll give me a chance, I’ll do whatever I can to take some of that weight off your shoulders. Would you like to talk about it?”
She picked a blade of grass and stared at it. “After the crash, I couldn’t cope, so I went home. It didn’t matter that there were two races left in the season. I needed to get away. Instead of getting better, things got worse. It got to the point I couldn’t get behind the wheel of my parents’ Honda.”
With surgeon-like precision, she peeled away portions of the grass blade, as if perhaps she was trying to peel away the pain and hurt inside of her.
“At my lowest point, I spent a day plotting my,” she squeezed her eyes shut, “suicide. I had it all worked out. Thanks to the after-effects of the crash, I had the pills I needed in my medicine cabinet. On a day Mom and Dad were both at work, I’d take a few extra pills, get into the car and start the engine with the garage door still closed, and let the pills and carbon monoxide do the trick.”
“What happened?”
“There was a picture in the family room. It was of me and the family at my high school graduation. We were all so happy in that picture. I looked at the picture for ages, it seemed. And I thought of how much it would hurt my parents and Rafael. I’d hurt enough people, already. I couldn’t do it.
“A few years back, I read about a woman who started an effort called the Semicolon Project as a way to show suicide doesn’t have to be the answer. The next day, I went to a tattoo parlor and had this done. It helps, but sometimes . . . ” She was unable to go on as the tears came as hard and fast as a summer thunderstorm.
He held her while she cried liked Bridget had the night Paul didn’t come home.
After a while, she raised her head and smiled. Using her thumb, she brushed a tear away from her cheek. “Do you miss him?”
“Every day.” And with those two words, for the first time since the accident, Brad’s own tears began to fall.
He’d shed no tears when he first learned of J.P.’s death. He was too angry. Then he focused on his rehab. As time went by, he held the loss of his friend close to his heart and used it as a motivational tool to succeed. The pain never went away, though. It remained a part of him, a tumor that no medicine could eliminate.
No more.
After a while, they found a soft spot in the grass and traded stories about their friend while their tears dried. Each word they exchanged drove home how stupid he’d been in turning his back on Gabrielle. It also made it clear how much he missed her friendship.
And how much he wanted her in his life again.
“Can I ask you something?” When she nodded, he took a deep breath. “I saw a counselor yesterday morning. I have some issues I’ve avoided. It’s time I faced them. Will you help me?”
Despite her bloodshot and puffy eyes, Gabrielle looked like an angel when she smiled. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
Chapter Twelve
After rereading the same paragraph three times, Gabrielle closed her paperback. Brad was in the building across the street, meeting his counselor for the first time, and she was anxious to get a report.
The night before, they’d had another long talk, this time under Lightning’s supervision on the porch. She told him everything, from seeking help when it got to the point she couldn’t even get in a passenger car, to deciding to get back in a racing cockpit, to her final test—reconciling with him.
He’d listened with undivided attention and without interrupting her. When she was finished, there were no tears, like she’d feared there would be. Instead, she felt relief and, for the first time in a decade, at peace.
Their talk got even better when Brad brought up the one subject Gabrielle had avoided.
“Sooo, about that kiss. It was an accident.” He took her hand, his hazel eyes alight in the soft glow of a nearby overhead light. “But I don’t regret it.”
His words had sounded better than a Miles Davis and John Coltrane collaboration. Before the crash, she’d lain awake imagining what a first kiss with Brad would be like. After the crash, the guilt, depression, and loneliness had left her unable to sleep.
Was it a case of good things coming to those who waited? She didn’t care. All that mattered was he’d said them.
“I don’t regret it, either.” Since they felt the same way about their first kiss, there was only one thing to do.
She kissed him. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he pulled her tight against him, the heat between them burning with long-suppressed desire. It was a toe-curling kiss and better than her wildest dreams.
Now, as she waited under the shade of a sugar maple for the session to finish, Gabrielle couldn’t stop smiling. Her world had been turned upside down in the best way imaginable.
Would it stay that way?
She pushed aside the troubling thought. Many years ago, her psychologist taught her to focus on one day at a time. That was what she was going to do now.
A little while later, Brad stepped outside and waved. His tan was accentuated by a white polo shirt, while gray cargo shorts showed off his muscular legs. When he made it to the bench, he dropped next to her with a thud. “Man, my arms are tired.”
Not exactly the comment Gabrielle expected. “Why is that?”
“From carrying all this emotional baggage around for so long.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Let me tell you about it over lunch.”
They followed their noses to a Greek restaurant, where Gabrielle ordered a chicken kebab and Brad chose a gyro salad. While they dined, he recounted the session in minute detail, not unlike how he analyzed one of Gabrielle’s practice sessions.
“The long and short of it is the counselor thinks my issues go back to the accident and my refusal to deal with it. Your return to my life brought some of those things to the surface.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t be. If you hadn’t come back into the picture, who knows when, if ever, I would have done this. You coming back is the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
The words were like a cold drink on a steamy Florida afternoon and exactly what Gabrielle longed to hear.
“So, it all worked out for the best?”
He raised his iced tea. “Damn right it did. Want to talk about Chicago?”
The Streets of Chicago was a new race on the calendar. With a large portion of the track positioned so it overlooked Lake Michigan, hopes were high the crowds would match the stunning scenery.
“Actually, yes. I have an idea I want to run past you. What would you think if I spent time go-karting instead of preparing in the simulator?”
Brad’s eyes lit up. “That’s genius. We can make it a whole team thing. Let people have some fun while you keep your skills sharp.” He shook his head. “Man, I’m lucky you’re back in my life.”
• • •
By the time the transporter hit the road for Chicago, Gabrielle was itching to get back into her car. Between the team’s tireless effort to rebuild her damaged machine and the go-karting, which turned out to be every bit as competitive as her Continental Series racing, she was ready to capture the team’s first win.
Having Brad by her side didn’t hurt, either.
The shift was low-key enough that most people on the team didn’t know anything had changed. The ones who seemed to know something special was going on between them, Barbara, Scott, and Mandy, refrained from commenting. When they looked her way, their smiles were wider, though.
They were taking things slow, holding hands and stealing kisses whenever they could. Brad was like a rescue dog. He was skittish and a little afraid, but he had an enormous heart, and every day she was seeing more and more of it. It made her heart soar to think of how far they’d come and how far they could go.
Together.
At the Thomas farm, things were a little different. Okay, they were as different as a Continental Series car and a minivan. The day after Brad’s second counseling session, Bridget hugged her and thanked her for getting Brad to finally “man up” and talk about the crash. She also said something about a whopper of a kiss then laughed. Helen hadn’t been quite as animated, but the woman’s hug as Gabrielle left the house for the trip to Chicago was extra-long and extra-tight.
Brad was still reserved in public, but he didn’t hesitate to hold her hand, and his gaze lingered on her longer than before. The gaze was accompanied by a smile, too.
In the back of Barbara’s motorhome, Gabrielle reclined her seat and closed her eyes. The muffled voices of Brad and Scott plotting race strategy calmed her, and she drifted off for a nap. For the first time since she’d joined Gale Force Racing, Gabrielle knew the contentment of someone who was in the hands of people one hundred percent in her corner. It was a blissful feeling.
That comfort paid off behind the wheel. The first practice session was a little slow, but that was by design, as Brad wanted to make sure the rebuilt car was solid.
A few weeks ago, Gabrielle might have been discouraged by Brad’s request to take it easy during the practice session, anxious he didn’t have faith in her abilities. Now, she knew better. His precautionary measures weren’t a comment about her skills as a driver.
They were a commitment to keeping her safe.
When the practice session was over, Gabrielle went to every single crew member, thanked them for their hard work, and told them it was perfect. Barbara approached her while she was debriefing with Brad and Scott.
“I’d like to have a word with you and Brad, in private. Please drop by my motorhome when you’re finished.”
As she walked hand in hand with Brad, a bubble of apprehension grew in Gabrielle’s stomach. “Any idea why we’re being called to the principal’s office?”
Brad scratched his chin. “None. Hope you weren’t chewing gum in class.”
Nothing was wrong. In fact, Barbara had three glasses of champagne waiting for them.
“I have good news. First, don’t think I haven’t notice the change in dynamics, shall we say, between you two. I wish you both happiness and won’t interfere with your new relationship, provided it doesn’t interfere with your job performance. Fair enough?”
Gabrielle looked at Brad.
He took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Barbara. I’m happy to say we’ve found something special between us and couldn’t be more thrilled.”
“I promise, we promise, our new relationship will not interfere with the team.” Gabrielle laughed.
Rafael was going to have a field day when she told him she and Brad were actually together.
“In that case, I believe a toast is in order.” Barbara handed each of them a glass and raised hers. “To happiness and success, may they not be mutually exclusive.”
They clinked glasses and drank.
“I also have exciting news for you. Gabrielle gave me an idea that I’ve turned into an initiative to take advantage of her growing popularity within the circuit, especially among school-age girls.” She handed a purple T-shirt to each of them. The words “Racer Girlz” was screen printed on the front of the shirts in DayGlo yellow, with a lightning bolt underneath the words.
“Congratulations, Gabrielle. You are our ambassador to the next generation of girls interested in racing. You are Racer Girl number one.”
• • •
On the walk back to the paddock, Brad stole a look at Gabrielle. While he still was trying to get his head around the new venture, he couldn’t deny Gabrielle looked amazing in her new Racer Girlz shirt. Actually, he’d come to the conclusion she looked amazing pretty much all of the time, but even more so now.
“So you knew nothing about this?” Brad rapped a knuckle on the cover of a three-ring binder that contained everything they needed to know about the program.
“No. Swear to God. I remember she asked me what some of my long-term goals were, and I said I’d love to mentor female drivers someday, but that was it. My plate’s been full settling in with the team . . . and winning back your approval.”
Brad grimaced. That Gabrielle thought she had to win back his approval was a slap in the face and punch to the gut. He’d caused her so much pain, and now she was helping him finally deal with his issues. She didn’t need his approval, now or ever. Yet, the fact she thought she did put a white-hot spotlight on the injustice he’d done to her.
He stopped and put a hand on her forearm. The muscles were firm, the product of years of fighting steering wheels, and a sign of strength. Gabrielle was a strong woman, in more ways than one.
“I was wrong. For blowing you off back then. For ignoring you when you tried to contact me. For not speaking up for you when I had the chance. You never needed my approval. You never needed my forgiveness. You didn’t do a thing wrong.”
Her eyes misted up, and she looked away.
He put his index finger to her chin and turned her head until their eyes met. “I can never make up for what I put you through. I know I’ve got a long way to go. My goal is to earn your approval.”
After a look around to make sure they were alone, he brought his lips to hers. They were soft and tasted like cherries.
He pulled away and put his forehead to hers. “I have another goal, too. It’s to get you into the winner’s circle. Where you belong. As soon as possible. What do you think?”
She blinked twice to clear her eyes that had gotten watery. “We ought to get to work.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Onward and Upward?”
“At two hundred miles per hour.”
• • •
Gabrielle couldn’t pull off her second pole in a row, but she did qualify fourth. Brad breathed a sigh of relief when the session was over. He had faith in Gabrielle, but it was still gratifying to see such excellent results so soon after the crash.
The crew was improving every race. There hadn’t been any miscues in weeks. Gabrielle got more confident in the cockpit with each lap she turned. Barbara was hinting about plans for next year that involved a step up to the International Series, Open Wheel Racing’s highest level.
Brad was at a loss to see how things could get any better.
And then Gabr
ielle won the race.
It wasn’t easy, as all of the drivers had to cope with the circuit’s bumpy city streets. The conditions were so challenging that three cars smacked the turn five wall within the first half of the race.
Through it all, Gabrielle was composed and steady. It was clear in the first laps the Gale Force Racing car wasn’t the fastest in the field, and she dropped to P seven. Brad turned that inconvenience into an advantage. He convinced Gabrielle to focus on keeping the leaders within sight while driving as smoothly as possible. The hope was the approach would lead to better fuel mileage and less wear on the tires.
It took a long time, but the strategy paid dividends. With ten laps left, Brad let her loose, and it was like a bolt of lightning across the sky.
The greater amount of fuel meant she could go flat-out on the straights and catch the cars ahead of her with ease. The fresher tires meant better grip in the turns and helped her pass competitors almost at will.
With two laps to go, she made her final pass of the day. It was Jacobsen, who only a few months ago in Tampa had passed her as if she were standing still. She turned the tables on him by making the move in the rubber-marked turn five. When she took the white flag, she had a three second lead, insurmountable if she didn’t have any problems.
“Keep a steady line. Almost there.” Brad refrained from saying anything else out of fear Gabrielle would pick up on the tremble in his voice. It wasn’t just his voice that was trembling. It was his whole body.
As she came out of the final turn and streaked toward the finish line, Brad leaned on the work stand. His knees wouldn’t hold him.
The starter had a checkered flag in each hand and waved them in a beautiful double figure-eight pattern as Gabrielle crossed the finish line with her gloved fist raised in the air.
“You just won the Chicago Grand Prix. Congratulations, champ.” Brad put down his headset and collapsed into Scott as tears filled his eyes.
“Way to go, buddy. We did it.” Scott gave Brad a hug that squeezed the air out of him. It felt great.
He turned to Barbara and put his arms around her before she could protest. Behind her dark, fashion sunglasses, a tear appeared to be running down her cheek.