Sweet Carolina(31)

She reminded herself she'd always been a “glass-half-full” kind of person. Dell gave her some excellent feedback regarding her new engine, and there were a few things she wanted to try. If they worked, this engine could be the one that would make Hawkins Racing a force to be reckoned with on the circuit, provided she could keep her driver alive, and her car in one piece. Caro sifted through the stacks on her desk, looking for her notebook.

She flipped through it until she found what she was looking for. She wasn't ready to give up on her dream yet. As long as the doors remained open, there was still hope of saving her family legacy, and creating one of her own.





Chapter Nine





Dell stood in the middle of the track, his hands fisted on his hips, his eyes masked by dark glasses. He made it a point to arrive a day earlier than everyone else to this particular track – a bi-annual, grim pilgrimage of sorts. Dubbed, “The Lady in Black” because Darlington was the first track to be paved with asphalt, the moniker seemed more fitting to Dell than the newer, “Too Tough to Tame” nickname. This track, more than any other, would always remind him of dark times. It was here he had his last, harsh argument with his father, and here, on the final turn, where his father's life came to an end.

He put one foot in front of the other until he stood on the exact spot where Caudell Wayne drew his last breath. Dell looked at his feet. Heat from the sun-baked asphalt radiated up through the soles of his shoes. The wall had been repainted dozens of times since the wreck, but still, Dell found it hard to look at. He took a deep breath and raised his eyes to the section of concrete in front of him, not for the first time wondering if Caudell sensed in the split-second before he hit that it was the end.

Dell didn't see the wreck. He'd been too far out in front on the final lap. He still remembered his spotter's voice congratulating him on the win, and in the next breath, telling him Caudell crashed.

“There's a crash behind you, turn four. Your dad's involved,” he said.

“Anyone else?” Dell asked.

“No,” he hesitated, “it doesn't look good, Dell.”

By that time, Dell was around the track on his victory lap. “I see it.” The last cars were dodging the wreck. A silence Dell couldn't explain filled his car. He heard nothing. No engine noise. No crowd yelling. Not even his spotter or crew chief. Caudell's car sat perpendicular to the wall, utterly still except for a cloud of steam curling up from the crushed radiator. Dell braked, coming to a stop with the nose of his car a few feet from the passenger side door of his father's car, giving him a clear view inside.

He knew before he unfastened his restraint system, before his feet hit the asphalt, before he rushed around to the driver's side. It was too late.

The Lady in Black, silent as the night, wrapped herself around him as he stared through the window net at his father's lifeless body and tried to find some emotion within him stronger than the anger coursing through his veins.

Dell raised his eyes to the sky, as flawlessly blue today as it had been dark that night. “Stupid, fucker. You never did listen to reason. It was your way, or the highway, and look where that got you.” Silence answered him. He turned to go when the glint of sun on metal caught his eye. He bent down and picked up the nickel-plated washer. It was hot from the sun-heated asphalt. Dell pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. A sign? Yeah, he chuckled to himself – a sign someone else fucked up on this stretch of track. He palmed the coin-sized piece of metal and curled his hand into a fist.

He turned back to the wall, and with every ounce of strength he possessed, he chucked the washer at the wall. It hit with a metallic ping and ricocheted across the track, out of sight.

“Take that, you goddamned hard-headed son-of-a-bitch.”

* * * *

“Can I see you for a minute?” Caro asked.

“Sure,” Dell said, taking the seat next to her in the golf cart. “I've got a few minutes.”

Caro set the cart in motion. Dell admired the lines of her legs and arms as she steered the cart. “Where're we going?”

“Someplace we can talk,” she said.

The further she drove away from the relative civilization around the track, the more worried he became. When she'd passed the last row of motor homes in the fan parking area and kept on going, Dell realized nothing good could come of this conversation. He looked around at the empty field that would fill in the next few days, but for now, was nothing more than pastureland. “I'm beginning to think this may be a one-way ride for one of us,” he said.

“No. I'll give you a ride back.” She finally stopped the cart, but she didn't seem in any hurry to start the conversation she said she wanted.