by Chris Fabry
“We need to come in for a final push, Dale,” T.J. said. “Your right side is really getting thin.”
“Just hoping for a yellow,” Dale said.
On the next lap, the team got what it wanted, though it was at the expense of a friend. The #47 car spun in turn four, then came back down the track, causing the car in third place to clip the second-place car. Dale pitted under the yellow and picked up several spots. There were 15 cars on the lead lap.
“I hate like the dickens that those guys are out,” Dale said. “Are they both at the garage?”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of damage to both cars,” T.J. said. “I doubt either one will make it back.”
Dale had moved into the top 10, chasing Butch Devalon and several others by the end of the race. After some lead changes at the end, the #11 car took the lead and held off the field for the win, putting him in first place in the Chase. Dale finished eighth—a great race for having to use the backup car.
“After starting a lot lower than we wanted, we’re happy with that finish,” Dale said to an on-track reporter after the race. “We kept making adjustments and doing what we had to do.”
“You’re sitting right now at fourth place, 10 points back of the leader, but with three other drivers to jump over by the end,” the reporter said. “Can you do it?”
Dale chuckled. “I guess we’re going to find out, aren’t we?”
In the hauler, the whole crew met, and it made Tim feel like old times with a team. Usually he had to pack up and tear down for the end of the race so they could get on the road, but a few times when the team had done well, Tim joined his dad and the others for a debriefing about the race.
“We couldn’t have done this without you guys in the pits today,” Dale said. “I felt like every time we came in, you were as fast if not faster than any team out there. That builds a lot of confidence and makes me excited to come in rather than dreading it.”
“Scotty kept us out of a couple of wrecks,” T.J. said. “And Dale’s been driving like he was 20 years old.”
“Don’t forget the contraption Tim made at Talladega,” Chloe said.
Everybody clapped, and Tim thought his head would explode with pride. Someone mentioned Jamie’s feat at Denver that put them in position to even get in the Chase.
That’s when Tim’s cell phone rang. He moved out of the hauler so he wouldn’t disturb the team and looked at the display. He didn’t recognize the number. He answered and waited a minute because there was noise on the line.
“Timmy?” a woman said.
“Yeah, this is Tim.”
The woman gasped. “It’s Alex. I’m here in Dallas. I want to see you.”
“Alex? How do I know you?”
“Alexandra,” she said. “Your mom. I’m sorry I’ve been such a ghost. If you don’t want to see me, I’ll understand.”
“Wait,” Tim said, remembering Chad’s trick. “Tell me something about you nobody else would know. Or something about Dad.”
“What for?”
“I just need you to tell me something.”
“Okay,” she said tentatively. “Let’s see. Your dad had a scar on his left shoulder. Do you remember that?”
“He said he got it from an alligator in the Everglades.”
She laughed. “He got it crawling through the attic of the first house we rented. There were squirrels up there, and he was trying to flush them out. Cut it on an old, rusty nail.”
“Really?” Tim said.
“He was a good man. I’m sure you know that.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you still at the track?” she said.
“They’re getting ready to pack up. The Maxwells are staying one more night, and we’ll get a flight out in the morning.”
“Let me come see you,” she said. “Where’s your hotel?”
Tim told her and she asked him to repeat it so she could write it down. In the background was the clink of plates, the hum of voices, and music that sounded like some honky-tonk.
“I’ll call you from the lobby. I’ll let your cell ring once and you come down. Oh, and Timmy?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t tell the Maxwells, okay?”
“Why not?”
“Well, they might not understand, you know? Let’s just keep this between you and me for now.”
Tim was a nervous ball of energy at the hotel. The family had a late dinner and went to the Maxwells’ room to watch TV coverage of the race and the interviews replayed. Tim put his cell phone on vibrate and kept his hand in a pocket, holding it and hoping it would ring soon.
He and Kellen went to their room and flipped on the TV, but Tim just stared out the window. Mrs. Maxwell called and said it was time to get some sleep, so they turned off the TV and Kellen was out like a light. He was a mouth breather and slurped and gurgled most of the night.
Tim lay there looking at the electric clock numbers that clicked by as fast as cold molasses. He put his pillows (the bed had about a dozen) up in a pile and tried to stay awake, but the lull of Kellen’s breathing and the fatigue of the day caught up with him.
He closed his eyes for a minute and dreamed that his dad had come to Texas and his mom was riding with him in his truck, her arm around him. They were laughing and talking and having a good time. They couldn’t see it, but Butch Devalon came up to a street beside them and T-boned their truck.
Tim woke up to find his cell vibrating. He jumped out of bed, still fully clothed, and ran to the elevator, not remembering he’d forgotten his key card on the nightstand until he punched the down button on the elevator. He got off at the lobby and tried to straighten his hair. In the elevator he had seen that he had the fuzzy chicken look.
The hotel was a fancy place with all the help dressed in uniforms or suits. Tim walked to the front lobby, where there were a few couches and chairs that looked so comfortable he thought he could sleep here if there wasn’t so much noise of the door opening and closing with people coming in and out all night.
He spotted a blonde woman on one of the couches with a phone to her ear. It wasn’t what he pictured his mom looking like, but he approached the couch and stopped to listen.
“I know,” the woman said with a Southern twang. “I told Donna the other day that I didn’t want to hear any more excuses, but they keep coming.”
The woman had a nice dress on and a ring that would choke a Clydesdale. Not exactly what he thought his mom would be wearing.
“Excuse me,” someone said behind him.
Tim turned and immediately knew the woman was his mother. She had short, curly hair, and a vague image flashed through his mind from a picture he had kept. She had a pleasant face, with not too much makeup but enough to obscure some freckles. She seemed a little self-conscious about the space between her front teeth, because she didn’t smile too wide when she saw Tim. Her eyes looked tired, like they’d been open way too long and had seen way too much, and there were lines at the corners, like a road map crossing the sides of her face.
She wore a buttoned shirt over a T-shirt and jeans that were torn on the leg. There were lots of kids who wore those kinds of jeans at his school, but they did it as a fashion statement. Tim had a feeling these were the only jeans she had.
They moved to a stone fireplace, out of earshot of anyone else.
“You’re so tall,” she said. “It’s hard to think of you any bigger than when I last saw you. You had your little blanket and your favorite bear. What did your dad do with those?”
“He probably threw them out,” Tim said. “I wore that cover out, and the bear fell apart.”
“And your voice is so deep.” She looked him over and smiled, keeping her lips together. “I can’t believe I’m actually seeing you again and that you’re not running away.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Just because it’s been so long and you’re probably mad that I never came back. I wouldn’t blame you for being angry.”
“I’
m not angry.”
“You sure?” she said.
“Yeah. I mean, you’re my mom.” Tim studied the carpet. It had huge swirling designs in it. Interesting, for carpet. “I still have questions, you know. Like where you went and what you did and why it took so long to come see me. And why Dad would have Tyson and Vera take care of me, which they didn’t.”
“I’m the one to blame about that,” she said. “We didn’t have a ton of people to choose from, but I thought if anything happened to your dad, the closest place to me would be in Florida, and they were the only relatives down there.”
“You knew you were going to Florida when you left?” Tim said.
“That was my plan. I wound up staying there longer than I wanted in a place I didn’t want to be. But that’s another story.”
Tim looked at the carpet again, then back at his mom. He wasn’t going to squander a chance to find out everything he could. After all, he had no idea if his mom would take off after this meeting and he’d never see her again. “Why did you get sent to prison?” Then, when he saw her face, he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“No, it’s okay. I was wondering how to tell you anyway. How’d you find out?”
Tim told her.
“It’s a long story. The truth is, I got hooked up with a group of people who weren’t good for me. I had a job as a chauffeur, driving people around and getting big tips. But I got into some financial trouble, and a friend offered to bail me out if I’d help him, just once. I agreed and I got caught.” She held up both hands. “No excuses. I knew better and I let it happen.”
“And you went to jail and did your time.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then why did you skip your parole? You were supposed to meet with an officer once a week, weren’t you?”
She rubbed her hands together like there was something wrong with them, worried, looking around. Was she searching for an exit in case some police officers tracked her down? “Look. I’m not perfect. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But I’m here to ask you something important. That’s why I came.”
“How did you get my phone number?” Tim said.
“Tyson gave me the number of that social worker, but she wasn’t much help. After I saw the magazine article, I spoke with Charlie Hale. He got your number from Maxwell. He didn’t know he was giving your number to Charlie to give to me, of course. That’s how I got your address too.”
“What do you want to ask me?”
His mom looked scared, and it was a weird feeling for Tim to watch someone older go through what he experienced in class every time he had to give a speech. “I was wondering . . .”
“Tim?” someone said behind him. He turned to see Mrs. Maxwell. She had puffy eyes, like she’d been asleep, and wore her bathrobe. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Tim said. “I just . . .” He looked back at his mother, then got tongue-tied. He checked the clock. It was one thirty in the morning.
“Kellen called our room and said you weren’t in your bed. Dale was sound asleep, so I came here.” She looked at Tim’s mom. “Do I know you?”
“Not exactly, ma’am,” his mom said, extending a hand. “Alexandra Carhardt.”
The look on Mrs. Maxwell’s face was priceless. If she’d have gotten the crown jewels of England as a birthday present, her expression wouldn’t have been any more surprised. “Tim’s mom? I’m so glad to meet you. Oh, you two have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll leave you alone.”
“No, it’s okay,” Tim’s mother said. “I’m sorry I came so late. I just wanted to know if Tim would like to come live with me.”
Chapter 36
Letting Go
JAMIE DIDN’T GET TO SEE Tim’s mom because she left shortly after seeing him at the hotel. On the plane ride back to North Carolina the next morning the family was tight-lipped about the visit. Kellen and her dad played a racing video game together while Tim read. Jamie tried to talk with her mom about the situation, but her mom was clearly upset.
When they arrived at home, Jamie cornered her in her bedroom and closed the door. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“Tim’s mom wants him to come live with her. I think Tim is seriously considering it.”
“Why shouldn’t he?” Jamie said. “If I were living with some other family and you came back, I’d go with you.”
“You know that’s not the point,” her mom said. “This woman has been out of Tim’s life since he was little. Where’s she been? Why did she abandon him? And why should we believe she’s fit to be his mother now?”
Jamie shrugged. “I don’t think that makes a difference to Tim. He looks excited to have his mom back.”
“He’s just getting a little stability in his life,” her mom said in a huff. “I saw him reading that devotional we gave him. With all he’s been through, the last thing he needs is a flighty mother to take him away.”
Jamie sat on the bed and lay back on the lacy pillows arranged at the head. How many times had she and her mom talked about things like this? Only they were usually about Jamie—what choices to make, what path to take. She felt like somehow the tables were turning, like she was the one to help her mom see something instead of the other way around. She sat up and said, “How much of this is about what’s best for Tim and how much is about you? What you want?”
Her mom stopped putting away her clothes and turned. Her face looked pained. “That’s a fair question, and I’ll admit I’ve grown accustomed to Tim. I think we’ve been good for him, and he’s also been good for us. He fits here. It’s not a perfect arrangement, but it’s better than any of his other choices. I just don’t want to see him get hurt again.”
Jamie nodded. “I agree. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from you over the years, it’s that if God really is in control, we can trust him to work things out.”
“You observed that?”
Jamie smiled. “I think you need to give Tim the same amount of rope you gave me. Love him enough to let him go. Let him make a choice.”
Her mom shook her head. “You know what he’ll do.”
“But are you going to tie him up and make him stay here or trust that God is working on him?”
Her mom leaned against her dresser, balling some clean laundry in her hands. “I want to fight for him. Nobody’s ever fought for him.” Tears came to her eyes. “When I think of how lonely he’s been, how alone in so many things . . .”
Jamie hugged her mom, and tears came to her own eyes. “I know. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy to let go. And I agree with you that he’d be better off here. But this has to be his choice.”
Chapter 37
Phoenix
BEFORE TIM’S MOM LEFT the hotel, she had told him she’d call during the week. Tim checked his phone after each class and during lunch, but there were no messages. She hadn’t said where she was living, and he hadn’t pressed her about her troubles with the Florida authorities.
Even though Tuesday was his first day back (he had taken Monday off to return from the race), the week dragged by. Tim watched the coverage of the upcoming Phoenix race and listened to talk radio programs about who would be the winner. Everybody spoke of Dale Maxwell with respect, but nobody gave him a chance. The other teams had multiple drivers in the Chase, and Dale had such a small budget. It was David vs. Goliath, a bicycle against a souped-up motorcycle. Somehow Tim didn’t think that bothered Dale. It probably helped him.
Mrs. Maxwell acted strange around Tim most of the week, putting on a pleasant face. He passed her computer and saw an e-mail from a social worker with the subject line “Tim’s Mom.” He didn’t open it to read it, but he figured they were going over the legal deal about her.
Jamie went with her dad to Phoenix. Everyone would go for the final race in Florida. The Maxwells had a friend who owned a cottage on the beach, and they were going to stay there and celebrate Thanksgiving and the end of the racing season. When they discussed it, Tim said he needed t
o talk to his mom about Thanksgiving, which made Mrs. Maxwell turn away and work on the dishes.
After church on Sunday, Kellen went to a friend’s house, and Tim sat in the living room to watch the prerace festivities. Mrs. Maxwell brought some popcorn and other stuff to munch on. He took a plate of veggies and dip and some stuffed mushrooms she had cooked and stood.
“Where are you headed?” she said.
“Out to the garage to watch the race,” Tim said.
“You don’t have to go out there. There’s nobody coming over today.”
“Why not?”
“I told them we wanted to watch alone. There’s always a lot of activity around here.”
Tim sat again and popped the top on a soda. “Think he’s gonna win?”
“I think he’ll be okay, no matter what happens. Which is what I think about you.”
Tim looked at her. She had lowered her voice and turned on the couch toward him. He put the plate down and sat back when she hit the Mute button.
“They’re about to have the flyover,” he said.
Her face was serious. “I have strong feelings about your mom and her asking you to come with her. But I can understand how you’d want to go with her. She’s your flesh and blood.”
He nodded. “She seemed pretty serious about it.”
Mrs. Maxwell didn’t say anything, and Tim imagined she wanted to say, If she was so serious about it, why hasn’t she called you?
“I’ve checked with the social worker and made some calls and sent some e-mails. If you want to go with your mom, we’ll understand. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I hope you’ll stay. I think it might be better to have your mom come visit or work out something like that. But if you want to go, we won’t stand in your way.”
He couldn’t believe it was that easy. He thought he’d have to sign a billion papers and promise never to come back or something. “Thanks.”