The Widowmaker

by Amy Gallow

"I thought you two were old enough to know it's better in private.” It was Jack Welch tapping on the side of the car.

  Lexie muttered a rude name under her breath as Glenn's arms relaxed and she shifted back into the driver's seat.

  "The Doc says you're mad, but he's cleared you to ride and Lionel won't let me arrest you, so you've got my official blessing ... provided you stop making a spectacle of yourself in public.” Jack was grinning at them. “My people know you're Lionel's boy and they have the number plate of this car. Let them know if you need to get anywhere in a hurry."

  "Thanks.” Glenn was being gracious. “Is he still at the Douglas house?"

  Jack nodded. “See you at the track.” He stepped away from the car as Lexie started the engine.

  "Home instead?” She was looking at Glenn.

  He nodded.

  "My bed's soft enough to not hurt your back.” She raised an eyebrow.

  "We'll see.” He was laughing at her persistence, but his eyes were gentle with understanding.

  The remote opened the gates and, as Lexie turned into the drive, the two sets of parents came out onto the patio.

  "Jack called to say you were on your way.” Lexie sensed a warning in Lionel's voice.

  "Talk about the Blue Mafia.” Glenn's nod confirmed he'd received his father's message.

  "They look after their own.” Judy frowned as she saw how gingerly Glenn exited the passenger seat. “I'm beginning to wonder whether we shouldn't have accepted his offer. A day in the cells might force some sense into a certain head."

  Neither father nor son chose to respond, which made Lexie smile. She'd have an ally in Judy.

  She pushed aside the uncomfortable proviso ... as long as Glenn survived.

  "How much time do you have?” Sandra was the practical one.

  "An hour or so. There's a parade for the fans at eleven forty-five a.m., but its only ten minutes."

  "Time for a cuppa then.” Sandra led the way towards the kitchen.

  The others waited at the top of the stairs as Glenn followed Lexie's lead, each assessing his freedom of movement.

  "Satisfied?” He reached the top and paused, waiting for a comment.

  When none came, he followed Lexie into the kitchen.

  Were it not for the shadow of the race, Lexie would have enjoyed watching the way Glenn dealt with their parents as they sat around the kitchen table. His reassurances were never direct, each cast to suit its recipient, actions more than words, proof that neither injury nor bandages restricted his movements.

  Having reached an uneasy accommodation with her fears, she could watch others doing the same and understand their struggle. There was no single step; each element had to be dealt with separately. She'd tried to walk away from him and had failed. Her unconscious emotional blackmail had shamed her when she realized it existed. Something deep in Glenn needed to prove he could match it with the best riders and she had to accept it. It would diminish him if he didn't and she loved him too much to allow it.

  Her final stumbling block, the fear she was a jinx, wasn't rational. She'd laughed when Harry Doherty had suggested it after Billy disappeared off Express Point. Stewart Barton and then Charles had cut a niche for it in the back of her mind. She could still laugh at the suggestion, but it lurked, ready to ambush her thoughts when she felt low. If something happened to Glenn, it would strengthen.

  "Has Salvatore called?” Glenn's question caught her unawares.

  "N-No!” Her voice, after an initial stumble, was sharper than it needed to be, focusing Glenn's attention.

  "You all right?"

  Lexie forced a smile. “Just wool gathering.” He didn't need her formless fears. He'd enough of his own, for this was no unthinking hero.

  Being with him was like passing through a looking glass. Everything was different on this side. Things, invisible before, could be seen clearly. Weighing the options and deciding what had to be done, not the perceptions of others, motivated Glenn. Fear was accepted, used, channeled into achievement. It carried no shame. It was the badge of intelligence.

  "Another cup?” Sandra claimed her attention, her hand on Lexie's.

  A glance at Glenn evoked a nod. “Yes, please.” She drained her cup and held it out.

  Sandra took it and went through the ritual of tea making. The new Lexie could see it providing comfort. The familiar sequence occupying her mother's hands, diverting her mind from her fears, allowing her to offer oblique aid to her loved ones.

  "I could do with a refill.” Her father knew. His eyes betrayed him, cherishing his wife for her concern.

  "Me, too” Lionel joined in.

  "I'll help.” Judy made it unanimous.

  Lexie glanced at Glenn and found him looking at her. He didn't have to speak. She knew he understood. She smiled and his lips curved in response, but his eyes held his answer. She felt his love envelop her and the gibbering idiot of her fears fled.

  "How do you do that?” she asked, turning to the others so she became the centre of attention.

  He didn't ask what she meant. “I don't. You do."

  She saw nothing but his eyes, oblivious to four smiling faces as she weighed his answer. A slow nod signaled her conclusion, but she wasn't aware of it. Communication at this level required receptiveness. She understood his messages because she was ready to understand!

  The others resuming their activities brought Lexie back.

  "Are you eating at the track?” Sandra asked, placing the cup in front of her daughter.

  "Yes,” Glenn answered for her. “They put on a spread for us after the parade."

  "I think we'll eat before we join you.” Kieran looked a question at the Smallwoods.

  Lionel glanced at his wife. “A good idea. A little of the noise goes a long way with me."

  Another revelation. Lexie was sure the noise was irrelevant to Lionel, just as she was certain Judy didn't enjoy it.

  This was exhausting. She wanted to close her eyes and concentrate on her own pain. Sensing what others felt as well was too much! She picked up the cup, cradling in both hands, happy to be distracted by the physical pain. It wasn't hot enough to do more than divert her mind.

  Glenn glancing at his watch and draining his cup was her signal to do the same.

  "There's something I need in my room.” She sent a message with her eyes.

  "I'll come with you.” He read her mind and came to his feet.

  The others remained seated, the ghost of a smile on Judy's face suggesting her son's abilities were inherited.

  Lexie concentrated on finishing her drink, not acknowledging Judy's smile, the undisciplined part of her mind screaming its need. The rest of her could accept the inevitability of Glenn racing, but this snarling creature remained, bargaining constantly for a kiss, an embrace, or a touch before it would be quiet. It lay in ambush, just below her conscious thoughts.

  The cup rattled on the saucer when she replaced it and might have fallen had not Sandra reached out and steadied it, giving Lexie's hand a squeeze in the process.

  She fled before tears could betray her.

  Glenn took her in his arms as soon as they reached the privacy of her room, holding her close till her need lessened, whispering words into her hair until the quiver in her body faded.

  "I'm sorry.” She had to make him understand. “I'm okay most of the time, but it sneaks up on me when I least expect it."

  "Sh-sh-sh.” Glenn shushed her. “You've no need to apologize. I know exactly what you mean. We have to deal with this one minute at a time."

  * * * *

  The temptation to confess tore at him. It wouldn't help her. There'd still be today's race...

  Glenn disciplined himself. Lexie's pain would be for nothing if he weakened now. His arms tightened around her and he whispered, “Forgive me,” knowing it was too soft for her to hear.

  His back had eased in the last half hour, the unguent soaked pads softening the crusted blood so it no longer pulled with every movement. It shou
ldn't restrict him any more than the racing leathers once the race began, although getting into them was going to be uncomfortable.

  She moved in his arms to demand a kiss and thought was suspended.

  The alarm of his wristwatch brought them back to the present. “Damn!” he said, reaching awkwardly to stop the noise without letting her go. “I forgot I set it after coming back from the hospital."

  Lexie, who'd frozen at the sound, started giggling. “It's probably just as well. I was thinking how close we were to my bed."

  "We'd best leave before the temptation returns.” He smiled at her knack of reducing everything to its simplest terms, yet his mind balked at imagining life without her.

  His priorities had shifted!

  The realization stayed with him as they left her room, made their goodbyes and began the drive to the track, forcing a reappraisal of his plans. Was his need worth more than her fears? The deal with the Japanese wasn't.

  "You've gone quiet?” Lexie's voice brought him back.

  He nodded. “Thinking about the future."

  "We agreed to take it one step at a time ... remember? Don't go changing your mind now."

  He nodded again, realizing she was right. One step at a time it had to be!

  Toby Gerrard met them as they walked from the competitor's car park. “The parade's in fifteen minutes. You'll ride the first car. Lexie can go with you.” The change in his manner suggested senior management's displeasure had surfaced and he was trying to make amends.

  "Thank you.” Nothing would save the man if Kieran's plans bore fruit and Glenn felt sorry for him.

  Lexie's expression suggested sympathy was not dominant and she stepped between them, making Gerrard take a pace back, a sobering reminder she didn't forgive easily. Glenn allowed her to lead him away.

  "He annoys me,” she said. “Can't understand why the promoters keep him. He'd last five minutes in Europe.” Glenn made the mistake of smiling, thinking how similar father and daughter were, and she rounded on him. “It's all right for you. Try working for the fool."

  He raised his hands in surrender. Any other response would lead to minefields he wanted to avoid. It failed.

  "Why are you buttering me up?"

  "Why are you looking for an argument?” He knew the answer, but she mightn't ... and making her think might help.

  "Because he reminded me why we're here and I'm afraid."

  Her pain tore a hole in Glenn's defenses and he gathered her in his arms, ignoring the interest of passers-by. He'd have promised her anything, heedless of any need but hers. Lexie buried her face in his shoulder and her body quivered on the brink of tears. He held her close, his eyes daring anyone to comment, until she was quieted.

  "Lexie.” Her head tilted back until she could look in his face. “I..."

  She wouldn't let him go any further, her hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Don't say anything.” She shook her head to reinforce her words. “Forget my fear. Go out and do what you must do. I love you too much to allow anything less.” She buried her face again. “Just hold me for a little while first."

  One of the Japanese riders passed them with a smile, triggering a train of thought that startled Glenn.

  Had Lexie guessed?

  Twice now, he'd been on the point of confessing the arrangement with the Japanese was secondary and she'd forestalled him both times. In neither case had her words been specific, but their sense was the same. He'd expected a challenge to the fantasy of a riding contract, but not this.

  "Hi, Glenn ... Lexie.” It was Angela. “They're waiting in the pit lane. You're in the first car."

  "We'll be there in a minute.” He felt Lexie stir in his arms, her arms relaxing their embrace.

  "We'll come now,” she said, stepping away from him. “I'll meet you at the car."

  Glenn watched her hurry away and turned back to Angela. “No problems?"

  She shook her head. “Everything's ready. Tony's been driving me mad. Got here an hour ago and I was glad when they came to take him to the parade."

  He smiled and it drew a response from Angela. “How's your back? Raul made it sound serious."

  Another smile and a demonstration of his mobility didn't fool Angela. “You wouldn't let any other rider on the track in your condition."

  "No."

  "The riding contract is a fiction. What do they want?"

  "It wasn't my idea.” He was buying time.

  "I never believed it was. You'd tell a better lie."

  They turned together and began walking towards the entrance to the pit lane.

  "Are you going to tell me?” Angela was persistent.

  "They want the suspension and need to tighten up the patents before it becomes common knowledge.” He enjoyed the initial shock of realization. “The fiction of a riding contract buys them time."

  Angela took the several steps before replying. “It also means you can't hold back in the race. Any suggestion that you're not trying would blow the story apart."

  He nodded and let Angela process the information, walking head down at his side.

  "Does Salvatore know?"

  "Yes. It will bear his name, clear the debts and provide operating capital to keep the factory solvent.” He saw no point in having her drag the information from him. She'd conceal her knowledge and anyone watching would assume they were discussing race tactics.

  "The perfect solution.” He saw her glance at him. “Except for you and Lexie. What does she think of it?"

  His silence drew another glance.

  "You haven't told her!” Angela's head shook in bafflement. “She thinks the riding contract is for real?” She stopped and faced him. “You're a bloody fool! Salvatore dug his own pit and she's worth a dozen factories. You can't make yourself responsible for all of us.” She took him by the shoulders and turned him to face her. “We'll all survive, one way or the other. Don't make us responsible for you losing Lexie. I've seen you together and it's something special."

  Glenn didn't answer. Angela was right, but it changed nothing. Lexie may have guessed already and would have drawn the same conclusions about the race. His dream was too fresh in his mind and a superstitious streak, lurking somewhere in his mind, made its prediction of disaster hard to ignore.

  He was afraid and there was nowhere to run.

  Angela stopped suddenly and turned to him. “There's more, isn't there? You're too smart to let them maneuver you like this. You want to ride this race.” She was shaking her head. “You want this chance to prove them all wrong.” She paused, realization dawning in her expression. “It's not them. It's you. You have to prove to yourself it wasn't fear that made you stop riding and nothing anyone says will make a difference."

  * * * *

  Lexie didn't have time to change, so she stayed in her hostess skirt and blouse. She'd sit low in the back seat of the open car, her sole function to steady Glenn as he was driven round the track. There was just time for make-up and her hair before she hurried to join him in the pit lane. She heard the roar as he appeared and ran.

  She was lucky. National television had noticed Glenn and a cameraman took her place in the car, with the other two seats filled by a soundman and the current talking head—a woman of legendary beauty with neither morals nor ethics.

  Glenn acknowledged her arrival with an apologetic shrug, nodding to his new companions. “I'll see you back in the pit.” It was a suggestion, not an order, but she nodded her agreement and stood back as the car started its journey towards the track entrance. The others followed, each bearing a rider perched on the roll of the back seat.

  Angela joined her, offering a plastic sheeted hanger of clothes. “Your grid uniform. I fetched it for you.” Lexie took it, her eyes still following the leading car of the motorcade. “I need to brief you on what happens next,” Angela continued, dragging Lexie's attention away. “Your role is more than decorative."

  She waited until she was sure she had Lexie's attention. “Our race starts at three
. Some ten minutes before three, they open the pit lane and the riders go out for a sighting lap, a final check of the circuit. It helps warm the engines and allows them to see the condition of the track, tire marks, spills, etc. While they're out, we make our way to the starting grid and wait for them. They'll come back and take up their starting positions and the mechanics will put the bike on temporary stands for the last few minutes. The boys need to be as fresh as they can at race start. Your job is to help Glenn, shade him from the sun because the racing leathers are hot, give him a drink if he needs it."

  She paused and Lexie nodded.

  "At five minutes to three, we'll clear the grid and they'll announce the official track condition, dry or wet, and the starter will send them away for a final lap around the circuit to warm the tires for maximum adhesion at race start. It will be a fast lap and they'll come back to their starting positions on the grid. You go out as soon as he's there with the umbrella and a drink and stay with him until the starter clears the grid again. It won't be long, a minute at the most ... because they don't want the tires to cool. When the word comes, walk briskly back to the side of the grid where I'll be and we'll watch them away before heading back to the pits. I'll have the head phones and boom mike so we'll know what's happening."

  Lexie nodded. “I understand."

  "Our job is to send them away with the best preparation possible. Nothing must get in the way."

  Angela was serious. Lexie could feel her tension in the hand resting on her shoulder. She nodded again.

  "Good. I'm off to the pit. Change into the grid uniform and meet me there."

  Lexie watched her walk away and was about to follow.

  "Hi, Lexie.” It was George Barton. “The price of fame.” He nodded towards the passing cars. “They kick you out?"

  "Yes."

  "Rumor has it you'll have to get used to it.” George Barton studied her face. “A riding contract with the Japanese is a big step.” He was asking a question and Lexie had the sense of being tested. The whisper of secret knowledge startled her. George Barton knew ... or guessed ... some fact hidden from others and was probing to see if she'd done the same.

  "What are you hinting at?” A frontal approach seemed best.