Checkered Flag

by Chris Fabry

  She hit the Mute button and they watched the race. Kellen came back about midway through and ate just about everything Mrs. Maxwell had set out on the coffee table.

  Though Tim was interested in the race, it was hard to concentrate. He wondered if something had happened to his mom. Or was she preparing a place where they could live? What would it be like to actually live with her?

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he jumped up and ran to the next room to answer it.

  “Hey, Tim,” his mom said. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call earlier. You doing okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. We’re just watching the race at Phoenix.”

  “Oh, how’s Maxwell doing?”

  “He got a penalty for going too fast on pit road, so they sent him to the back, but he’s making his way up.”

  “Good. Say, listen, is there any chance you’ll be traveling with the family to Florida next week? I have an idea how we could meet up and start our new life.”

  Tim gulped. “They’ve been talking about this place they’re going to stay down near Miami. But if you go back to Florida—”

  “I’m going to get all that worked out. Don’t worry. I just need to know if you’re serious about coming with me. Are you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I just don’t know how it would work.”

  “Leave that to me. Now, I’ll call you before you get down there and get the address. Don’t tell the Maxwells anything about this.”

  “Mom, I talked with Mrs. Maxwell, and she said—”

  “I have to go. I’ll see you in about a week, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. Bye.” He hung up and thought about what she’d said.

  Kellen gave a whoop from the other room, and Tim returned.

  “Dad made it back into the top 20,” Kellen said. “He’s moving up.”

  Tim tried to focus on the race, but it was difficult. He wondered where he’d be staying next Sunday. Would his mom get a good job somewhere and have them move into an apartment—or even a house? Would they be on the road like he had been with his dad?

  A crash marred the ending of the race, taking out half a dozen cars. Dale wasn’t in the pile and he finished 11th—a good showing for all the trouble he had. The results flashed on the screen. The top four drivers were separated by only 10 points. Dale was in the fourth spot. He’d have to jump over three other drivers to win the championship.

  “He’s going to do it,” Kellen said, hugging his mother.

  She smiled, but Tim could tell something was bothering her. Something about him.

  Chapter 38

  Bungalow

  JAMIE WANTED TO FLY down with her dad earlier in the week, but her mom said she’d missed enough school already, so the rest of the family arrived Saturday morning. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing at the house with interview requests and people from the church wishing her dad well. The media played up the “little guy” angle about her dad, and it seemed like everyone in the country who wasn’t rooting for the top three drivers was rooting for Dale Maxwell.

  Of course, the fact that Butch Devalon was in the #1 spot didn’t help quell the talk about the feud between Butch and her dad. Some made a big deal of the Tim angle, while others focused on the differences the two had on the track. The one that surprised her most was an article by Calvin Shoverton about a romance between Butch and her mom that Jamie had no idea about.

  “We were young and I was foolish,” her mom said. “I thought Butch was cute back then, but the few dates we had never went anywhere.”

  “Why not?”

  Her mother gave her the look. “Because Butch liked to talk about his favorite subject all the time.”

  “Racing?” Jamie said.

  “No. Butch. His favorite subject was himself and how many championships he was going to win and how much money he’d make. I wasn’t a Christian back then, so I fell under his spell for a little while before reality came to me.”

  “Did you kiss him?” Jamie said, smiling.

  Her mom rolled her eyes. “A couple of times, but your father is the only one I’ve truly kissed. Now can we change the subject?”

  /////

  The house near the beach was called a bungalow, which meant it was only one story, but it sprawled along the property. There was a private, in-ground pool in the back that was as big as the country club pool back in Velocity. Kellen’s eyes widened when he saw it, and he ran into a room and changed into his bathing suit. He came running through the house, and seconds later they heard a splash.

  Tim seemed preoccupied to Jamie, always fidgeting with his phone and not eating much. He jumped in the pool with Kellen with his T-shirt on. Later, when her dad came home and they went to the beach, Tim just walked along, looking at the water and kicking at the waves like a kid who’d never seen salt water before.

  Jamie had never seen her dad so keyed up before a race. She talked with him about the points and different scenarios, but he always came back to, “We’ll just have to see how it turns out.”

  The whole family (including Tim) was walking together when Jamie said, “I can tell you’ve got that calculator of a brain working up there. What’ll it take to win the championship?”

  Her dad smiled. “Well, let’s say we all get the points we normally get for leading laps and such. It’s complicated, but I pretty much have to finish several spots ahead of the other leaders.”

  “What about Butch?”

  “I have to finish at least three spots ahead of him to beat him.”

  “So you’re going to run it full tilt,” Jamie said.

  “What do I have to lose?” he said.

  /////

  Tim went to church with the Maxwells on Saturday evening at a big church with “Welcome NASCAR Fans” on the sign out front. The pastor had asked Dale to speak at the service. The family was led up front to a pew that was roped off for special guests.

  The band played a couple of songs that had the people clapping and singing. Then the pastor got up and read a verse or two and introduced Dale. There was a lot of applause for him as he walked to the podium.

  “When I was a kid,” he said, “I dreamed about being in contention for the championship. When I actually became a driver, it was so real I could taste it. I’ve had some success over the years. I’ve lived the dream so many would love to live. But I’ll tell you this: I wouldn’t trade all the success I’ve had and even that trophy they’re offering tomorrow for a second of knowing Jesus Christ as my Savior.

  “Now that’s a lot easier to say than it is to live. But to know that I have a relationship with the Creator, to know he has forgiven me, that I don’t have to be afraid of what comes after this life, and that I can be excited about what’s to come . . .”

  Tim’s cell buzzed, and he slipped to the side of the church and into the hallway.

  “I’m here in Miami,” his mother said. “Where are you?”

  He told her.

  “And where are you staying?”

  He opened a piece of paper he had jammed into his pocket and read the address to her.

  “Could you be ready to leave in the morning?”

  “You mean before the race?” he said.

  “Yeah, I want to get an early start. Can you be ready about nine?”

  “Okay. I’ll get my stuff together.”

  /////

  The next morning, Tim was up with his suitcase by the door when Dale was ready to leave. He turned to Tim. “Your mom coming to get you?”

  Tim nodded.

  Dale stuck out a hand. “I can’t tell you what a pleasure it’s been to have you with us. You’re like another son to me.” He opened his wallet and pulled out a few bills.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Tim said.

  “I know. Take your mom out to dinner when you’re on the road. If anything happens . . . well, just remember you have a place with us.”

  “I appreciate all you’ve done,” Tim said, grabbing Dale’s h
and.

  “And there’s a spot for you on our team,” Dale said. He stopped and looked like he wanted to say something else, then gave Tim a hug and walked out.

  Later, when everyone else was ready to leave for the track, Mrs. Maxwell gave Tim a big hug and wiped away a tear. The water in her eyes brought a mist to his own.

  “I knew this day would come,” she said, “but I didn’t think it would be this soon. I’ll be praying for you every day.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jamie hugged him and Kellen stared. “I thought you were going to be my big brother. Forever.”

  “I will be,” Tim said. “I’m just going to do it from a distance.”

  “Where?” Kellen said.

  “I’m not sure. But I’ll call and tell you. Maybe I can visit or something. We’ll e-mail.”

  Kellen looked up at Tim. “I’m going to miss you.” He hugged him, and Tim couldn’t find any place to put his arms. He hadn’t counted on feeling like this. Finally he put his arms around Kellen and gave him a hug he’d never forget.

  “You’re not coming to the race?” Jamie said to Tim.

  “We could get your mom in if she wants,” Mrs. Maxwell said.

  “She wants to get on the road. I’ll wait here for her if that’s okay.”

  Mrs. Maxwell nodded. “Just lock the door when you leave. You have our phone numbers on your cell. Call us if anything goes wrong or if you need something.”

  Tim nodded. As the door was about to close, he reached out and stopped it. “Mrs. Maxwell, can you tell Dale something?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Tell him to beat Devalon, okay?”

  She smiled. “This race is for your dad.”

  Chapter 39

  Homestead-Miami

  JAMIE STOOD beside the car as her parents hugged and prayed. Her mom handed her dad a folded piece of paper, and Jamie moved closer to read it.

  However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace. (Acts 20:24, NIV)

  Her dad smiled. “That’s it, darlin’. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

  Her mom said something, her face buried in his fire suit.

  “I know,” he said. “I miss him already too.”

  Her dad climbed into the car, and soon they lined up behind the pace car. Jamie put on her headphones and caught sight of Chad Devalon three pit boxes away. He was laughing with one of the crew members, but when he turned and saw her, the smile faded.

  Her dad had qualified in the seventh position to start the race, and he said it was the perfect number. When Jamie asked him to explain, he said, “Seven is the biblical number of completeness.”

  “I’d rather be number one,” Jamie had said.

  The first few laps were tentative for everyone. Though the top four drivers were in line for a possible championship, all 12 Chase drivers wanted to make moves, and the other 31 drivers wanted to finish the season well and end on a good note looking forward to Daytona in February. But no one wanted to be the person who knocked a potential champion out of the race.

  “Butch Devalon moves forward two spots now and takes the lead on lap 12,” the announcer said. “He’s the favorite to win another championship, but there are a lot of guys behind him who want to stop him.”

  “Yeah, and one of those is in the #14 car there,” a commentator said. “Dale Maxwell is looking for his first championship, and you can bet he knows exactly what he has to do in order to jump over the other contenders.”

  Jamie switched the radio to her dad’s frequency. “. . . feels a little loose at the moment. I want to try an air pressure adjustment on the left side.”

  The #14 car was in fifth position, and the other two cars in contention for the cup, #11 and #76, were now in the middle of the field.

  “Long race, Dale,” T.J. said. “Don’t push it here at the front.”

  “I want to lead a lap while I’m running well,” her dad said.

  He went on the outside around the three cars ahead of him and caught up to the #13 car. It looked like Devalon could feel him coming, and Jamie switched to the channel and heard Butch’s voice.

  “Yeah, I see him,” Butch said.

  “At your bumper,” the spotter said.

  “Not for long,” Butch said.

  With a burst of speed, #13 pulled ahead and her dad fell in behind him, following a car length away.

  “That’ll teach him,” the spotter said.

  “Got that right,” Devalon said.

  Jamie went back to her dad’s channel and listened as he bided his time. When Devalon pitted under green, her dad stayed out and led a lap.

  But two laps later, Scotty shouted into the microphone, “Stay low. Stay low. Come on. Come on! You’re clear. . . . Good job.”

  “Think I picked up some debris back there,” Dale said. “I’ll need four tires when I come in.”

  His right front was nearly shredded when he slid into the pit stall. A jammed lug nut extended the pit stop, and when he returned to the track, he was in 15th place. Butch was just ahead of him in 11th place with cars #11 and #76 moving up to the third and fifth positions on the track. Both worked their way up to lead a lap, gaining precious points toward the championship.

  “What would happen if we finished right now?” Kellen yelled over the noise.

  “There’d be a lot of angry fans,” Jamie said, chuckling.

  “I can’t watch,” her mom said.

  Jamie put an arm around her. “Finishing the race is not just for drivers, you know,” she said, winking.

  At lap 130, a rookie driver moved right, then came sharply down the track and collected the #11 car, sending him into the wall. The #11 driver climbed out, throwing his helmet onto the pavement. Everybody in the pit area said, “Ooooh,” knowing how much helmets cost. Though Jamie was glad to have one person out of contention, she felt bad for both drivers, especially the rookie who got out of his car and almost crawled back to the garage.

  Butch Devalon moved back into the top 10, and her dad remained farther back, staying between the 15th and 20th positions. It was a strategy he’d used before—conserving his engine and tires and waiting to pounce. The only question was whether he had enough time to make it work.

  One of the seven caution flags came out on lap 249, and the leaders came in for tires and fuel.

  “You should be good for the rest of the way, Dale,” T.J. said.

  “Ten-four.”

  The #14 car exited pit road in the 12th position. On a single-file restart, her dad shot low and went around two cars that were slow to the line. One of them was the #76. Jamie about jumped out of her skin when she saw that.

  Butch Devalon had made his way back to first place and seemed to be pulling away from the field—not a good sign for the Maxwell crew. The only glimmer of hope was that her dad was matching his lap speeds almost exactly.

  “He’ll slow down in a few laps,” T.J. said, and Jamie could hear the wishful thinking in his voice.

  By lap 257, the #14 car had closed the gap and was racing in third place. The #76 car had backed off into the 20s.

  “Looks like it’s Butch vs. Dale now,” the commentator said. “And if they finish one and two, Butch is going to take the cup again.”

  “Ten laps to go to see who will win the cup—”

  “And Dale’s in the second position now, about five car lengths behind Butch. They’ve both run clean out here today, and it looks like they’re only getting stronger.”

  Her dad closed the gap to two car lengths on the next lap. With six laps to go he was at Devalon’s rear end.

  “If Dale steals the air from him, he could spin Butch out,” the commentator said. “If it were the other way around, Dale leading, I’d bet Butch would do that, but I don’t think Dale will. Look at that—he’s moving down on the inside.”

  Her dad’s car was at the
door of #13 and pulling even into turn one. He accelerated into the turn, trading paint with #13 as he went a little high. The rest of the field had fallen back, and Devalon and Maxwell were passing lapped traffic. Her dad pulled half a car length ahead. In turn four, he cleared Devalon and #13 got behind #14.

  “Watch and see if Butch tries to get him loose in one of these turns,” the commentator said. “Five laps to go.”

  “Butch should just back off here,” the announcer said. “He’s the cup champion as it stands. The last thing he should want to do is chance a crash.”

  “You don’t tell a guy like Butch to back off,” the commentator said. “He wants to win this race. That’s in his blood.”

  Her dad held a slim lead, and the rest of the pack fell back. It was #14 in front of #13 as they came down the back straightaway.

  The crowd stood and cheered as the engines roared, and Jamie got a little misty-eyed. If things stayed the way they were now, her dad would win, but he’d be in second place in the Chase. “We need some help,” she said to Kellen.

  “Want me to run onto the track and throw a shoe at Devalon’s windshield?”

  Jamie shook her head and smiled. “There’s nobody close enough to block him or get in front of him.” She looked at the sky, darkening now. Did God care about the outcome of NASCAR races? Did he care who came in first, last, or was the lucky dog?

  “Four laps to go as Dale Maxwell tries to hold off Butch Devalon for the win here at Homestead,” the announcer said. “And unless something drastic happens, Butch is going to be the cup—”

  “Look at this coming up behind them,” the commentator said. “The #76 car got a burst of speed, and he’s closing the gap on the leaders.”

  They were on the backstretch when #76 pulled behind Devalon to make it three cars, single file. In turn four all three cars were within inches of each other.

  “Oh, look out!” the commentator said. “Dale got loose out of turn four, and he did a good job of hanging on. But here comes—”

  “Oh! Devalon went low on the apron, and it looked like he overcorrected.”

  “Yeah, he did.”