The Legend (48 page)

It was
true. Most people wouldn’t come see me anymore because I usually kicked them
out.

I was
moody. It had nothing to do with anyone in particular. I was just moody. I
guarantee if it were them spending nearly nine weeks in the hospital, they
would be moody too. I also, well; I was starting to get my sex drive back. I
wanted my wife. I wanted to be alone with her. I wanted to not have broken
bones and blinding headaches and I want to show her how much I missed her. I
wanted to kiss every inch of her, feel her sweat on me, watch her move above me
as I filled her and pushed her to her limits. I wanted to hear her scream my
name with her hands buried in my hair.

Fuck!

Those were
the times I had to physically stop the reactions I was having. The first time I
got hard since the accident was when Sway showed me her boobs one morning. God,
I wanted her so bad that morning but simply kissing her was painful because I
couldn’t stop, I wanted more. I wanted more so bad. It even got to the point
where I tried to take care of the intense erections I would get when I was
allowed to shower. I would get half way there and a nurse would check on me and
then it would throw my concentration, or the mood, and I would be left with the
desire. And then when I would get there and be able to feel some sort of
release, it wouldn’t happen. I wanted my wife. I wanted the closeness that she
provided and the warm comforting feeling of touching her skin against mine. It
was torture of the worst kind both mentally and physically.

The nurses
took the brunt of it but they deserved it with the stupid comments.

One
afternoon, the one I despised the most, was not very nice with needles. I
couldn’t understand why they needed so much blood from me anyway. Where they
trying to clone me?

Well she
came back after taking blood and missing my vein four times. I now had a huge
hole
the size of a dime in my goddamn arm.

“So it
looks like you blood pressure is great.” She said with the same enthusiasm she
used when she said. “Oh, look, we finally found the vein.”

I looked
at Sway while the nurse smiled at me.

“Oh
great
Sway, I have a cracked pelvis. I can’t have sex for months. I see double
vision, my entire body feels like someone beat the living shit out of me with a
fucking bat and she says I have good blood pressure.” I took a deep breath.
“Wow, I guess I have nothing to worry about.” I finished with a particular sour
edge.

“Jameson!”
Sway scolded with wide eyes as if I just committed murder. She turned to the
nurse. “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be
...
he told me to get the hell out earlier. I’m
getting used to it.”

“Obviously
not, you came back.” I added.

I wasn’t
sure who wanted me to leave more, the hospital staff or me. Either way, I
couldn’t wait for my time to be up here.

Visitors
came and went but one person who stayed away was Spencer. He wasn’t dealing
with the death very well. Hell, none of us were but Spencer had a lot going on
with the Cup team and trying to keep everything going.

He was no
longer on the pit crew, instead he took over as the car chief so Mason could be
back at the shop ensuring all the mechanics there were done correctly. After
the mishap in Homestead last year, we made a lot of changes back at the shop.

Our entire
lives had shifted because of this one incident. It left little time for
mourning but there were the occasional conversation of remembrance that took
place. It took weeks before anyone would indulge on the details of the incident
that I could remember. And when they did, it hit me just as hard.

Through it
all, the needs, the wants, the changes, I was making ground. I was feeling
better and getting the set-up that I needed. That right set-up that my family
needed.

22.
          
Arm Restraints – Sway

Arm Restraints
– Straps attached to a driver’s arms to limit range of motion and keep the arms
and hands inside the car in case of a flip.

Jameson
was released from the hospital forty-eight days after the accident. The broken
bones had healed aside from his shoulder. Along with breaking it, he tore his
rotator cuff and that seemed to be causing some discomfort for him so he wore a
sling.

The pelvis
was healing but he wasn’t allowed to have sex for another three weeks. You can
probably imagine his mood. Though he didn’t give any inclination that he wanted
to have sex other than a few heated kisses we shared, I think that sex was the
last thing on his mind when he was released.

His head
was also a concern. He got dizzy quickly, had headaches that would literally
take his eyesight away and then there was the occasional slip and he would
stumble when walking. That was a concern and they sent him home with a cane to
assist in his balance.

The night
we came home, everyone came over and I made Jameson’s favorite fried spaghetti
only to have him not be able to taste anything. Since his head injury he
frequently told me food didn’t taste the same to him anymore.

After a
week of having him home, more of Jameson began to come out and I saw the man I
fell in love with.

I will say
that having Jameson at home and not having to divide my time between his
hospital bed and everywhere else was easier. Only problem was, he was
constantly sending me text messages. Not just any text messages. Dirty text
messages. It was now the middle of March and he had been released from the
hospital but activity was something else entirely.

After two
weeks of being home, it was apparent sex was on his mind, a lot. I caught him
staring more often, his touches lingering longer than before and the want
radiated from everything he did.

It. Was.
Fucking.
Sexy!

He knew he
was in no shape to be having sex though. We tried after they released him from
the “no sex thing” and he actually stopped me because he was in too much pain. For
Jameson to stop during sex meant he was in an extreme amount of pain. I did
more micro polishing and piston stroking during the last month than I’ve ever
done in my life. That he wasn’t too sore for.

Physically
he was recovering and a full recovery looked promising. Emotionally, I would
say he had taken the edge off the pain but it wasn’t gone. Not for any of us.
And the fact that we still hadn’t had the funeral was the biggest obstacle. We
all knew when we did; the pain would be just as real again.

The night
before the funeral, I finally made it home around eight to find Jameson nowhere
around after his physical therapy session. We now had a trainer coming to the
house four times a week to get him back in physical condition.

I checked
the gym and he wasn’t in there so I checked the movie room, the kitchen, and
even the kids’ rooms. They weren’t home either so I went upstairs intending to
find my phone to call him.

I walked
inside our bedroom to find all the lights were on and the French doors leading
out to our balcony overlooking our private lake open.

The draft
coming in was a little too cold so I walked over to close them when Jameson
said, “Don’t close that.”

“Oh—sorry!”
Covering my heart with my hand, I jumped when I heard him speak. “I didn’t know
you were in here.”

The room
was a dark blush tint. He was sitting slouched in a chair on the balcony. A
cool breeze danced throughout, the curtains flowing with each shift.

He
shrugged but didn’t say anything. He looked rough, the bruises had healed and his
hair was growing back but he still didn’t look like himself. The distant cold
demeanor took over most of the time but Jameson was there, underneath of it. I
hated seeing him like this but there wasn’t anything I could do for him right
now.

After the
accident, I wanted him to react the way he used to. I wanted him to feel the
things he used to but he didn’t. So many times his anger would flare and he
would simply walk away. I wanted him to punch something, throw a transmission,
and fight us but nothing. That’s when I knew that he wasn’t okay. The Jameson I
knew wouldn’t react like this but I also knew that he had a severe brain injury
that he was recovering from and he had lost his dad. So much was still
confusing to him and frustrating that his body wouldn’t respond as quickly as
he wanted.

“I’m tired
honey.” He said softly watching the lake.

I glanced
down at him as I stepped outside. “You should take a nap.” I said coming into
his line of sight. “Do you need more pain medicine?”

“No,
that’s not what I meant.” His fixated gaze turned to mine. “I’m mentally
exhausted.”

I already
knew that. I saw the warning signs even before the accident. I’ve seen it
before. There’s only so long that you can live a lifestyle like he had.

“Do you
want to talk?” I knelt down beside him only to have him shake his head and pat
his lap indicating he wanted me to sit with him. Taking off my boots, I slipped
onto his lap carefully.

“This
doesn’t hurt, does it?”

His head leaned
into mine. “It’s fine. Just don’t smack my shoulder.” He let out a light
chuckle, his body shaking mine.

“I miss
you.” I said to him knowing he understood what I meant.

“I know.”
He whispered against my temple before kissing it softly. My head tucked under
his chin sinking into him.

We spent a
good hour out there before Jameson said he was tired and decided to take a
shower before he went to bed.

The kids
were with Spencer and Alley in Bristol watching the NASCAR race, which I’m
sure, was part of Jameson’s mood swing as well.

Making my
way downstairs, I heard the shower turn-on and then I cried.

I must
have sat in the kitchen for close to another hour when Van came by. He seemed
concerned.

“Van,” I
sighed handing him a cup of coffee. “I’m worried about him. I just want my
husband back and right now he seems so distant.”

“Maybe
after the funeral he will have some closure?” Van suggested. “When are they
doing it?”

“Maybe.
I guess
that could help.” I said taking a drink from my own coffee. “Axel, Spencer and
Lane already spread the ashes on Grays Harbor Raceway but the funeral in
Bloomington will be on Wednesday.”

We were
quiet, when Van sensed I needed some advice. “I’ll tell you what I told you
outside Jamestown in the hotel.” His eyes focused on me. “I don’t know if he
will ever be the same. I hope that he can and I think that he will but I don’t
know for sure.”

Nodding, I
poured more coffee for us when Van cleared his throat. “There’s something that
I need to speak to you about.”

“What?”
His demeanor, his voice, the look in his dark eyes, all reminded me the time he
told me about his family and what Darrin had done to them. My blood ran cold
thinking of what he could possibly need to tell me.

“It’s
about Grady.” Van began, his eyes remained cold but he looked at the cup in his
hands as he spoke slowly. “Jimi had come to me when the engine went missing and
asked that Clint and I look into Grady. He seemed too familiar but I couldn’t
place the face.” His eyes darted to mine, wide and weary. “I knew there was a
connection, it was just too familiar not to be.”

“Oh god Van!”
I
gasped moving away from the counter. “Please tell me he’s not related to him!
Please tell me he’s not alive!” 

Van caught
me in his arms, his jaw clenched. “No, he’s not alive
...
but Grady is
...
his son.”

I couldn’t
breathe. The worst part, the sickening part, was that Jameson trusted him.

“How do
you know?” My heart was pounding thinking of how close he was to our family, my
kids, my husband, a place where we called home.

“Clint
found his birth certificate and traced him back to Kannapolis where Darrin was
from. Grady was born there to Leslie Andrews. From there Clint found out that
there was no biological father listed on his birth certificate but that Darrin
had requested a paternity test of Grady Andrew’s three weeks before he went
after you.”

“And he
was the father?”

Van let go
of me backing away from me to lean against the counter. “Yes.”

“What are
we going to do Van? What do we tell Jameson?”

“We tell
him Grady was fired. Tell him I did it
...
I don’t care but you can’t tell him
...
shit,” Van dropped his head, his chin nearly touching his chest.
“There’s more
...
and you might
want to sit down for this.”

It was
about that time that I nearly had a heart attack. Van told me everything that
had been happening over the last two month. He told that Grady had altered the
welds on the roll cage in Jameson’s car and that he intended for Jameson to get
hurt. He claimed to have never touched Jimi’s car but none of us could be sure.