by Day Leclaire
All around Cole, cars were wrecking in chain reaction to the braking ahead of them or because they caught a piece of the various accidents. She watched anxiously for Jamie and Lucas. Jamie appeared out of the smoke, swerving to hit pit lane to avoid the wreck. Lucas was right on his bumper. They darted past their pit boxes and back onto the track, blending in with the other drivers who’d slowed behind the pace car.
After nearly twenty years in the business, she would have thought she’d get used to the wrecks and to waiting to see whether her driver was involved. But it never ceased to get her heart racing, sending the nerve-wracking adrenaline crashing through her system. She worked to keep it from showing, switching from one driver’s frequency to the next and listening in on their comments through their headphones.
Her son was talking excitedly to his crew chief, Lucky, and to Paps. If her adrenaline was skyrocketing, her son’s was in orbit. She smiled, listening as her dad calmed him with a story about one of Jinx’s near misses. Then Lucky took over, discussing how the pit stop would go. She caught the tail end of the same discussion between Lucas and his crew chief, Dipstick.
Cole was busy giving a blow-by-blow description of the wreck, his voice calm and droll. “Oh, and the right front’s going down. Must have caught a piece of the debris.”
“Slow ’er down. Don’t want to knock the fenders off,” his crew chief, R.J., replied. “We’re going with four new and a round of left rear wedge to tighten you up.”
The pit stops went smoothly, each driver hitting their marks perfectly. To her delight, Lucas and Jamie came out together, the Number 121 car nipping right in front of her son’s Number 56. He’d learn a lot if the two could draft together, because he’d been correct in his assessment at their pre-race meeting. Not many drivers trusted an inexperienced rookie enough to draft with him. Not at Daytona. This was the big leagues and Jamie hadn’t proven himself, yet.
The race restarted, this time without incident, and the miles began to pile up. Midway through the five-hundred-mile race, all three of her drivers hooked up, with Cole in the lead. The timing couldn’t have been better since they were coming up on green flag stops. This would be a true test of Jamie’s skill and ability, she knew.
And yet when she focused her binoculars on her team cars, for some reason it was Lucas’s car that filled the lenses.
“OKAY, JAMIE, just follow your teammates and match your speed to theirs. We can’t afford a speeding penalty. You got it?”
“Sure thing, Lucky.”
“Now, because of how we qualified, your box is ahead of the others. You’ll be peeling off first. I’ll count you down and you stop in the center rear of the box, just like we practiced. Careful you’re not outside the box and we want extra space in front in case Carl pits at the same time we do. He’s right in front of us. Understand?”
“We’re hitting pit road right now.”
“I’ve got you, Jamie. In five. Four. Three. Two. And stop.”
His pit team leapt into action, scurrying around to his right side. The car jacked upward and he heard the air gun shrieking above the throaty idling of his engine. An extension pole dropped, swiping at his grill. And then his team jumped up and pelted around to the left side of his car. Jamie revved his engine, preparing to leave the instant the jackman dropped the jack, which would be his signal to go. The seconds ticked by.
“Lucky?”
“Hold it! Hold it! Don’t go, Jamie. We’ve got a lugnut hung up.”
Tension tied his stomach in knots. Please, don’t let me be jinxed like my father. “Hurry up,” he urged. “I’ll lose the draft. They’re going to leave without me.”
“You’re clear. Go, go, go!”
He smoked the wheels, fishtailing the car as he left the pits. “Watch your speed, son,” he heard Paps warn. Jamie checked his RPMs and swore. He eased up on the gas, praying he hadn’t gone far enough over pit road speed to incur a penalty.
“Listen to me, Jamie.” The sound of his crew chief’s voice came through his headset. His voice was so calm. Soothing. And he found himself instantly relaxing. “You’ve missed the draft with Cole and Lucas. Don’t worry about it. There’s still a lot of race left and plenty of time to catch them again. You have two other drivers coming off pit road with you. I’m going to talk to their people and let them know you’ll be the caboose on their train. Just stay directly behind them and follow where they lead. Don’t try to pass in order to catch up with Cole and Lucas. Got it?”
“No problem.”
But it was a problem, and the race went downhill from there. No matter what he did, or how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get ahead. Every time he hooked up with a pack of cars, he’d get booted out of line and lose the draft.
“Patience, Jamie,” Paps would reassure him. “This isn’t Saturday night dirt tracking. You have to pace yourself.”
And that would be fine, if it weren’t for the close calls. They came from every direction, without pause. Cars that ran up on his rear bumper and got him loose. Cars that edged within inches of his door, so close he could have shook hands with the other driver. Cars that slid into a gap in front of him where only half a car would fit.
On top of all that, the speeds were incredible and took every ounce of focus he possessed. If he dared take a hand off the steering wheel, he’d have felt for Stephanie’s locket. But he didn’t dare, not as daylight faded and darkness crept over the track. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, amazed at how different Daytona looked under the lights. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it a different venue altogether.
In the final quarter of the race, he took a chance and slipped into the middle of a pack of cars moving forward and managed to drive to within sight of Cole’s199. Just a few more laps and he’d be able to drop in behind and help push his teammate toward the front. Once they made it into the lead pack, he and Cole could battle it out to the finish line.
Jamie shifted ever so slightly in his seat, just enough to feel the press of Stephanie’s locket through his uniform. The image of her in his arms in the middle of Victory Lane flashed through his mind again—the vision so real, he could practically taste the sweetness of her kiss, smell the champagne and see the whirlwind of confetti filling the air. The shouts and cheers would deafen him and the press would all be jockeying for an interview. His mom would be there, beaming in pride. And Cole and Lucas would run up, whomping him around the back and shoulders as they congratulated him. He’d grin at them, knowing that he fit in. He was one of them. He was an honest-to-goodness NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series regular and deserved to be there, even at the unheard-of age of eighteen.
The bump came from behind, sudden and wrenching, catching him at his most vulnerable, when he’d foolishly allowed his attention to waver from the task at hand. It was a critical error with disastrous results.
It all happened in a split second. Jamie tightened his grip on the steering wheel, struggling to catch the car, but his distraction proved to be a major mistake. The car darted toward the wall so fast it was little more than a blur. He vaguely heard Paps in his ear, issuing a sharp warning right before he hit.
Slamming the wall at 178 miles per hour hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before, knocking the breath clean out of him and jarring every bone in his body. He rebounded off the wall and shot straight toward a pack of cars riding low on the track. He had time for one brief thought…he was going to hit them, and hit hard. And then he did.
Stock cars ricocheted like billiard balls, brilliant splashes of twisted metal spinning in clouds of smoke across the forty-foot width of track and onto the apron before hitting the grass that separated the front stretch from the pits. All Jamie could do was hang on and brace himself as the car began to roll.
CHAPTER FIVE
KELLIE WATCHED in horror as the front valence of the Number 56 car dug into the grass along the front stretch. Her son’s car went airborne. It landed square on its tailpipe, twirled in a perfect spiral before cartwh
eeling end over end. Twice. Three times. Four. After the fifth flip, it crashed down on its lid and skidded for what seemed like an eternity before coming to rest at the exit to pit road.
Kellie knew she was shrieking Jamie’s name, though no sound escaped the knot that held her throat closed. She could hear her father’s voice booming in her ear.
“Jamie?” It amazed her that he could maintain such utter calm. “Talk to me, boy.”
Silence.
“Son? Are you injured?”
Silence.
Darrell keyed the mike once more. “Come on now. How about reassuring your poor old mother before she suffers a conniption? You okay, or should I start panicking, too?”
There was a second’s worth of static, and then, “’ Kay. I’m okay.”
Jamie sounded groggy. He had to have taken a hard, hard hit. And with all those flips, his head was probably still spinning. Kellie forced herself not to consider the worst.
“Give me a status report, Jamie,” Lucky ordered crisply.
“Car’s a bit wrecked.”
Tears of relief welled into her eyes.
“Yeah, we sort of figured that. How about you?”
“Oh, hanging in there. Upside down, as a matter of fact. As for injuries…” There was another momentary silence. “Everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. Everything moves that’s supposed to move. Maybe even a few things that shouldn’t.”
“What things?” Darrell asked sharply.
“Kidding. I’m kidding. Lighten up.”
“Jamie. You’re hanging upside down in a wrecked car. We’ll lighten up, but it won’t be any time soon,” Lucky said.
Darrell’s gruff laugh sliced through Kellie’s headphones. “Christmas would be a good bet.”
The emergency vehicles raced up to Jamie’s race car and the EMTs hopped out, bellying into the grass so they could unhook the trapped driver. Five minutes later, they had him freed from the wreck.
“WELL, FOLKS, the biggest crash of the race has just happened and it was one of the most serious we’ve seen at Daytona in many a year. The thirteen-car pileup occurred on lap 160 of 200, precipitated when young Jinx Junior was bumped from behind by fellow rookie, Davy Ellis, who sent the Number 56 car careening into the front stretch wall.
“As if that weren’t enough, Jinx Junior then shot down in front of the field of oncoming cars before he hit the grass and flipped end over end a staggering five times. Fans were on their feet cheering this intrepid young driver when he crawled out of his wreck. As of yet, we have no official word on his condition. Stay tuned for more information….”
CHECKING THE TV screen on the console in Lucky’s war wagon, Kellie watched as the emergency crew helped brace Jamie as he stood. It appeared to her as though his legs weren’t quite solid beneath him. After taking a minute to catch his breath, he got his knees locked in place. Unfastening his helmet, he yanked it off.
Cheers erupted around him, and the camera tightened its angle, revealing the momentary confusion that swept across his face. It also showed the instant he realized that the cheers were directed his way, surprise widening his blue eyes. He lifted his arm in a tentative wave and the volume increased dramatically. That elicited a broad grin, and he gave the crowd a thumbs-up. A minute later he was ushered into the waiting ambulance and whisked away.
“I’m going to the care center,” Kellie informed Jamie’s crew chief, Lucky, as she tore off her headphones. “Let me know how Lucas and Cole finish.”
“Will do.”
By the time she arrived at the infield care center, the doctor had completed his examination and stepped out of the room to consult with her. “Aside from a few bruises, he’s come through the accident in amazing shape,” she was informed. “But we’re going to play it safe. We’re about to have him transported to the hospital for some scans. I assume you want to go with him?”
Kellie nodded and closed her eyes in a brief prayer of gratitude. She could feel the reaction settling in as the initial shock of adrenaline subsided, causing her to tremble uncontrollably. She could have lost him. She could have lost her son. He could have ended up in a wheelchair like Jinx. He could have had bones broken, broken beyond repair. A thousand worst-case scenarios whipped through her mind, each more hideous than the one before, the brutal images lashing at her deepest vulnerability.
She steeled herself against the onslaught of fear, fighting back for all she was worth. She’d been in this business a long time. True, she’d seen injuries, but they were few and far between. NASCAR had worked miracles providing for safer racing conditions, from head restraints to softer walls to roof flaps, as well as carbon fiber seats. Every last one of those improvements had done their job and protected her son. Now it was time to do her job.
She took several deep breaths and forced a smile to her mouth. She could do this. Sure, she could. From the time Jamie had first set eyes on a race car when he’d been little more than a toddler, he’d been hooked on the sport, working with the sort of focus and dedication that bred champions. She’d seen that light in his eyes, that light she’d seen in countless drivers over the years. It was as though the stock cars called to them on some subconscious level, weaving a siren’s song around their heart and mind and soul.
Jamie had been born to do this. And based on the amount of talent he’d demonstrated to date, he was going to be part of this business for a long time to come. She could either accept that, or allow her fears to gain the upper hand, to control her every thought and drive all her decisions. Once she started down that path, she’d lose her way in some mighty prickly brambles. She’d never be the same again, and she flat-out wouldn’t allow that to happen. Time to suck it up and deal with this by setting the right tone for this and all similar incidents in the future. Clamping her back teeth together, she opened the door to the examination room and joined her son.
“Hey, there, you,” she greeted him with a teasing grin. “Just wanted you to know that the judges gave you a 9.9 on your stellar routine out there. It would have been a solid ten, but they deducted a tenth for that slide after you landed.”
IT TOOK A FULL HOUR after the race before Lucas managed to hitch a ride to the hospital and he was chomping at the bit to see for himself that the kid hadn’t damaged himself too badly. Darrell had gotten there fifteen minutes earlier, and he and Kellie were in Jamie’s room where the youngster was being held overnight for observation. Lucas paused in the doorway, smiling at the familial camaraderie the three exhibited.
“You held your own out there, son. Good job,” Darrell was telling his grandson.
“Before the crash, or after?” Jamie asked wryly.
“Both. You ran a good race, right up until you lost your focus.”
Jamie’s gaze jerked up to meet his grandfather’s. “How did you—”
“How did I know? You’re joking, right?”
Hot color streaked across Jamie’s cheekbones. “Sorry, Paps. Stupid question.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again. I don’t know where your head went. But you better make sure it doesn’t go there again.” He clapped a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “You handled yourself like a pro when you climbed out of that car. And you probably earned yourself some sympathy fans.”
That didn’t seem to make him feel any better. “To be honest, I’d rather earn a few fans who like the way I race,” Jamie said, “rather than earn fans who like the way I crash.”
“Get a few more races under your belt and you will.”
“Hey, Bad.” Jamie brightened as he noticed Lucas for the first time. He leaned forward with undisguised eagerness. “How’d you finish?”
“Fifth.”
“All right!” Jamie held up his hand for a high five. “How’d Cole do?”
“Nicked me by one.”
“Man, I wish I could have been there to see it.” He grinned. “Even better, I wish I could have been there and done it with you.”
“You will. Next time.”<
br />
Lucas spared Kellie a quick glance. Though she appeared relaxed, he could see the lingering echoes of distress in the tightness around her mouth and the weariness darkening her eyes. It wasn’t an auspicious start to the season and he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d handle an entire year of this sort of ongoing pressure. If she thought dealing with Jamie’s racing career would be similar to what she’d experienced in the past with Jinx and Cole, she’d just discovered differently, in the most unpleasant fashion possible. He could only hope that Jamie didn’t make a habit of crashing. He wasn’t sure Kellie could handle the strain.
The next hour whipped by and Lucas lingered, enjoying the give-and-take as the four of them conducted a lap-by-lap analysis of the race. After he’d assured himself that his youngest teammate had come through his wreck in reasonable shape, both physically and mentally, he stood to leave. Kellie followed him out the door.
“Thank you,” she said in an undertone. “He needed that.”
“The wreck wasn’t his fault.” Lucas shrugged. “Or not completely. Ellis hit him when Jamie was heading into the corner. If he were a little more experienced or a bit more focused, he might have been able to hang on to his car. But even an experienced driver would have had trouble avoiding the wall after taking the shot he did.”
“I haven’t seen the replay,” she admitted. “But that was my impression when I saw it unfolding.”
“It wasn’t the greatest career start. But it was far from the worst. Not all the errors were his.” He dropped a hand on her shoulder and studied her upturned face. The hint of tension he’d noted earlier was more apparent now. “You’re going to have to find a way of separating your emotions from your job or you’re going to burn out before Bristol.”
