Sponsored to race. Every available chance, Harry practiced. Mr. Delaney provided a fast, agile go-kart and Harry qualified for the next local race.
If every dream came true, he would have won his first race, but he felt a winner’s triumph even with his tenth place finish. He’d taken a hammering from the other drivers and kept his kart on the track. He’d been up to sixth for three laps. Most important, he’d seen what the others could do, and the electricity in his veins whispered he could do it too—and better—if he gave it everything he had. Sweaty and triumphant, he flashed both his father and his sponsor a wide grin.
A few months later, Aaron Delaney paid for him to attend an exclusive racing school in California. Harry threw himself into learning—even classroom learning, which had always bored him. But it mattered now. Angles, vectors, physics, strategy became necessary tools to enhance performance. He loved the hands-on practice best. The more he learned to get from his vehicle, the faster he drove, the greater the thrill.
Back in Mooresville, he logged hours of practice time to catch up with his more experienced competitors. Karters were like any other group. A grab bag of talent, ego and personality. It didn’t take long to learn who to avoid.
Harry watched the leaders, the naturals. One of the girls, Kara, had this trick of getting right beside another kart, close enough to crowd, then executing a little zigzag in the other driver’s peripheral vision. When it worked, the other driver drifted off the racing line and she shot past.
It worked on Harry twice. The next time, he let it happen so he could learn the timing. First chance in a race, he used it on her.
When they’d parked the karts, she strode over to him, helmet under one arm. “Slick one, Harry. You got me this time. Don’t count on it happening again.”
He grinned. “Thanks for the lesson.” Good thing she wasn’t mad. It was a good trick, and he’d use it again. A few karts away, one of the other guys flashed a thumbs-up.
Apart from his karting friends, Harry spent most of his weekdays around the Team Delaney base, or at the practice track, surrounded by adults. Over the summer holidays, the children of the other team members often hung around the complex. Mr. Delaney’s grandchildren usually put in appearances as well. Harry grew used to visitors, but he didn’t waste any time on them.
To him, testing and practice were essential for sharpening and blending individual talents into a perfect team unit. These visiting kids just wanted to laugh and fool around. They intruded on the single-minded focus needed to craft a winning team. Even the tourists had more sense, although sometimes they went overboard the other way, as if they were on a religious pilgrimage or something.
Harry returned from a second stint at racing school to find two of the Delaney grandchildren staying for the whole summer. Their parents needed space to work out some cracks in their marriage, if the rumours were true. The reason didn’t matter to Harry. He dismissed the golden-haired girl as non-threatening and shy, and gritted his teeth every time he met the smouldering black eyes of her older brother.
Luke Brooks was seventeen, a year older than Harry and almost a head taller. He resented his grandfather sponsoring a pit mechanic’s son, and his antagonism grew each time Harry bested him in the go-karts.
Mr. Delaney didn’t seem to notice the undercurrents between the two boys. “I’ve arranged for you and Luke to drive together this summer. You’ll sharpen one another. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten.”
Harry swallowed an ocean of resignation. “I’ll be ready.” He could ignore Luke’s attitude long enough to get to the track, and then it wouldn’t matter as much. But it looked like a long summer.
When the silver Cadillac pulled up the next morning, Mr. Delaney’s granddaughter, Tracey, gave Harry a shy smile from the front passenger seat. He smiled back by reflex. Why’d she have to tag along? She’d never shown any interest in trying a kart herself, and it meant he’d have to sit with Luke all the way to practice.
He climbed into the back seat, the familiar heaviness settling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Luke’s curled lip. “Thanks for driving me, Mr. Delaney.”
Luke cut him a sidelong glance. “Couldn’t get a summer job this year?”
Harry focused on the seat ahead of him. Wisps of Tracey’s long blond hair fluttered around the headrest in the air-conditioned breeze. “Team Delaney’s sponsorship of my karting makes this my job.”
“Or a handout.” Luke’s words came out too low to reach the front seat. Harry clamped his jaw and ignored the heat creeping up the back of his neck.
Both boys shot out of the car as soon as it stopped. Luke grabbed his gear from the trunk and strutted toward the practice arena. Harry rolled his eyes and shouldered his own bag.
He walked with Mr. Delaney and Tracey to the entrance, then they headed for the spectator seating. When he strapped into his kart, confidence filled his spirit. He was ready for anything. Even Luke Brooks.
Three karts growled past before Harry slotted his own onto the track. The second driver’s helmet looked like Kara’s. His lips twitched. She didn’t love Luke any better than he did. Probably because Luke assumed she should. Harry’d keep an eye out to see how she put Luke in his place this time.
The karts circled in free practice, slaloming, finding their apex lines, testing brakes. With room on the track, Harry pushed the kart past his limits to help him find precisely where those limits lay now.
He tromped the brake too deep into a corner. The tires chirped, the engine note dropped, and the kart’s rear shot sideways. He eased off on the brake to get control, but he ran out of room and tagged the wall.
Luke Brooks slowed for a fist pump as he passed Harry sitting sideways on the track. Harry shook it off and slewed the little kart back onto the racing line. He picked a spot marginally earlier into the corner next time around, came off maximum throttle, and braked hard. Chirp. Wiggle. Re-take control. Power through the turn. Better. Twice more, and he’d nailed it.
A kart pulled into his peripheral vision and started crowding sideways with Kara’s trademark zigzag. Harry held his position and started pushing back. They roared along the straight side by side, but he had the racing line into the corner. She dropped back.
If it had been Luke, one of them would have hit the wall on that corner. The guy didn’t know when to back off. Kara—and most of the others—had sense on top of their skill.
On the ride home, Mr. Delaney stopped to buy them each an ice cream cone. Harry was too hungry to refuse, hard as it was to stomach anything in Luke’s presence. He’d already downed a granola bar and a full bottle of sport drink. They’d worked hard today. Spectators didn’t realize how much competitive driving took out of a driver.
Luke’s dark eyes glittered at him. “I saw you lose it on the track a few times. You need to watch how I do it. A lot is natural talent, but some things anyone can learn.”
Harry bit a hunk of ice cream and cone. The cold made his front teeth ache, but it beat taking a piece out of his rival—and losing Delaney’s sponsorship.
Each practice, Luke found new ways to get in Harry’s space. The others took their fair share of grief from him too, but with Harry it was personal. Harry ignored what he could and never gave Luke an opening. If he had to back off, he did. Practice was for improvement and strategy, not for rivalry. Come race day, Luke Brooks would get what he had coming.
In their next race, Harry took an early lead while Luke got tangled in a pack of karts. By about half distance, Luke rode hot on his tail. Harry led into a tight turn, holding the racing line. Luke tried to push through on the inside.
Harry refused to give ground. The other kart pulled even with his. Harry muttered a curse inside his helmet. Here it comes. Luke’s kart jerked sideways, slamming its tires against his. Harry braced his hands on the steering wheel and rode out the impact. Somehow Harry stayed on the track. Luke spun off.
Harry won the race with a savage satisfaction that Hotshot Brooks had put his own kart out of action in
stead of forcing off the leader. The backslaps from his competitors suggested the pleasure wasn’t uniquely his.
He didn’t look forward to the locker room, though. Should he stall and hope Luke didn’t hang around? No, the jerk would wait. And he’d have more time to rant about Harry to the others. Some of the out-of-town racers even listened. Couldn’t they see Luke was all words?
At least with a group of his own karting friends—who saw Luke for what he was—Harry would have support. They might even put Luke in his place. One on one... Harry didn’t trust himself not to try that with his fists.
Luke wasn’t in the locker room. One of the locals looked around, “Hey, where’s old Hotshot?”
A few of the others snickered. A boy Harry didn’t know said, “He cleared out pretty fast. One ankle’s taped up.” The speaker looked at Harry. “I was behind you guys. He’s got a whole different story than what I saw.”
Harry shrugged. Luke was his sponsor’s grandson. No way would he risk words that might come back to hurt him. Sweaty and thirsty, he chugged a bottle of orange sport drink before changing back into his street clothes.
Luke might have spouted off here in the locker room, but he wouldn’t be getting too fancy with his take on the accident to his grandfather. The old man had watched it happen. Still, Harry didn’t want to keep them waiting. Better to get the miserable ride home over.
The car was waiting outside. Luke sat in front. He powered down his window and glared at Harry. “What took you so long? Gloating over your win, I suppose. My ankle’s killing me.”
Harry ducked into the back seat with a cautious glance at Luke’s sister. She didn’t look hostile, so either Luke hadn’t been too poisonous about him or she saw through it. Living with the guy, she probably knew not to take him seriously.
Mr. Delaney turned from the driver’s seat. “Congratulations, Harry. I’m sorry we can’t go out to celebrate, but the track medic advised Luke to keep his ankle elevated for a few days.”
“Thank you, sir.” And thanks for not putting him through any more time with Luke today.
It was a quiet ride home. Tracey didn’t say a word, and Luke fumed. Harry could almost see the waves radiating around the boy’s headrest.
When they reached the apartment, Mr. Delaney congratulated him again. “Luke will sit out a few practices and probably the next race. We’ll still drive you. Hands-on learning is best, but Luke can observe tactics and strategy from the stands.”
“Yessir.” Harry ducked out of the car, grabbed his bag, and headed for the apartment entrance. Too bad Dad hadn’t been there today to see him win, but one of the Team Delaney cars blew an engine yesterday. The whole crew pulled an all-nighter to rebuild it for tomorrow’s race.
The next race fell on his father’s day off. When they arrived, all three of the Delaney clan already sat in the stands. Luke’s glare could peel paint. Mr. Delaney left his seat and walked toward them. Over his shoulder, Tracey met Harry’s eyes with a quiet smile. Harry grinned a quick response and shifted his attention to his sponsor, trying to ignore the sudden tingle in his veins.
The old man clasped Harry’s hand. “Do us proud today, son.”
“I’ll give it my best.”
Harry’s kart came in second after a hard-fought race. He caught himself searching for a face—a smile—among the spectators as he pulled his helmet and balaclava off his sweat-soaked hair. Tracey’s grin was a little wider this time, and her eyes held his longer before he reluctantly broke the connection.
One hand raked his tousled bangs back from his face. Had she looked at him like that before? Why hadn’t he noticed how beautiful she was?
Harry marvelled at the sweet thrill stirring inside him. He was used to—maybe addicted to—the wild rush of adrenaline from competitive racing. This felt different. Quieter. As the days passed he realized it would endure.
Any excuse would move his feet in Tracey’s direction during the daily test sessions. She was easy to talk to, always rewarding him with one of her special smiles. Her warmth touched the hidden part of his heart that had frozen with his mother’s death.
Luke, on the other hand, continued to torment him. The boy was back in his go-kart for the next race, more aggressive than ever. He bulled his way through the cluster of karts between them and stuck as if magnetized behind Harry, in first place.
But aggression wasn’t enough to take the lead. Pushing his vehicle’s limits around the next corner, Harry opened some space between them.
How could two siblings have such opposite effects on him? Dark-lashed blue eyes sparkled, unbidden, in his mind. Even as he wrenched his focus back to driving, the steering wheel spun madly in his grip as one front tire licked the wall. He had no warning, no chance of recovery as the kart spun.
By the time he reached the stands in his street clothes, the blue and gold Team Delaney Racing jacket hanging limply from slumped shoulders, Luke Brooks was basking in the attention of his first win.
As Harry apologized to his sponsor, the blond boy strutted over. “Skill wins over tricks at last. And don’t give me any dirt about oil on the track. You couldn’t take the pressure.”
Harry ground his teeth together, heat rising in his cheeks. This jerk was Mr. Delaney’s grandson, and Tracey’s brother. He took a deep breath, then matched his accuser’s stare with his own.
“I lost concentration for a second. It’s my fault, and I paid the price. It won’t happen again.” He lifted his chin. “If you have a complaint about my driving, take it up with the race officials.”
Spinning away, Harry almost collided with Tracey, who’d lagged behind Mr. Delaney as if to give the two debriefing time. He stiffened at the troubled look in her clear blue eyes. She must have heard him. He’d blown his chances for sure, now.
She touched his arm. “Harry? Are you hurt?”
A tight smile cracked his face. “Only my pride. I’m not used to messing up.”
The relief on her face caught his breath. Time stretched as their eyes met in deepening understanding.
Luke’s voice broke the moment. “See, Trace, I told you I’d win. Did you see that pass?”
Harry arched his eyebrows at Tracey, his back to the winner. “Go congratulate the hero. I’ll see you later.” He winked at her and walked away.
Chapter 24
Harry started test-driving for Team Delaney near the end of his final year of correspondence school. The stock cars’ power made up for the kart races he left behind, and he expected to earn a spot racing when a seat opened up.
He and Tracey had been a couple for nearly three years, their future unspoken but understood. While he saved for a diamond, she started a science degree at UCLA. Maybe distance learning had spoiled him, but Harry couldn’t understand leaving what you loved to go to school. She was smart though, and he wanted her to be happy.
At least they’d be together for the holidays. Mrs. Brooks and her children lived with Tracey’s grandfather now. And by the time Tracey graduated Harry would be well enough established at Team Delaney for them to get married.
Four years. They stretched ahead into forever. Here and now, driving the test car while she was gone, he felt like a lost soul. Her emails showed she felt the same.
December came at last. Harry knew Tracey’s exam schedule and her flight arrival time without having to check the calendar. He took the day off work and roamed the apartment, waiting. When Mrs. Brooks insisted on meeting Tracey’s plane, he’d declined the invitation to accompany her. He could wait until after the family reunion for a more intimate one.
Harry watched the blue Monte Carlo pull into visitor parking. Tracey stepped out, her blond hair catching the sunlight. He finger-combed his bangs off his forehead and hurried to open the apartment door. The elevator was slow, but she always took the stairs.
Her smile made his heart flip. Her hair swung loose over her shoulders, and she wore a cherry-coloured jacket. She ran into his arms, and they clung together in a long kiss. Harry turned t
hem slowly around and closed the door with one foot.
“Tracey, I’ve missed you so much.”
His mouth found hers again, his pulse drumming in his ears. He loosened his hold long enough to help her wriggle out of her jacket, then drew her to his chest. One hand worked its way under her sweater and fumbled with the fastener on her bra.
Tracey stiffened in his arms and stepped back, her eyes troubled.
He winked. “Dad’s not home for a few more hours. Let me give you a proper welcome.”
She pulled back her hair and let it fall. “Remember, I said I had news?”
“News can wait.” He grinned and reached for her again.
“Harry... Now isn’t a good time.” She caressed his shoulders, easing her words with a smile.
Typical. He shrugged. “Timing’s everything. Well, if we can’t have it all, we can still have a little.” He took her hand and drew her toward his bedroom. “Come on.”
Her soft mouth tightened. “It’s not that. I think... maybe we should start saving ourselves for marriage.”
He stared at her. “Trace, you know I can’t marry you yet. Test drivers don’t make that much, and what about your degree?” He grinned. “Besides, your mother would have a cow.”
“I’m not proposing, silly. It’s just... can we sit down? I need to tell you something.”
Her eyes sparkled, but her voice only went breathy that way when she was nervous. Harry sat beside her on the couch. Uneasiness slithered in his stomach.
Tracey clasped her hands in her lap and gave him a crooked smile, as if she was starting a rehearsed speech. “I’ve made some great friends on campus this year.”
“You want to break up with me.” His voice cut hers, harsh and flat.
“I love you.” She took his face in her hands. “Being away from you nearly killed me. It’s just—I’ve spent a lot of time talking with some of my friends, and—well—I’ve become a Christian.”
Harry opened his mouth but nothing came out. His tongue, his voice, his very soul froze solid.
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