Blind Spot (12 page)

TIM STRUGGLED AT THE
top of the stairs. His dad had never taught him to fight. He didn’t have to. Tim could handle kids a lot bigger than him just by using his arms and legs. He wasn’t muscular, but he was wiry and quick. Once, when he was emptying some trash behind a truck stop, a couple of guys had jumped him. There were glass bottles in both trash bags, and when he swung them, they clinked against his attackers’ heads. He’d tossed the bags into the Dumpster and backed away as they stumbled in the dark.

Now one of Jeff’s buddies held Tim’s arms. He tightened his stomach and took several punches to the gut. Jeff moved left, cocking his arm and aiming for Tim’s face. Tim lifted his feet and kicked Jeff’s chest. Jeff lost his balance and tumbled backward, grabbing the
railing. He scraped his forehead against the blocks, and blood trickled from the wound.

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that,” Jeff growled, scampering back up the steps.

“You oughta wish you hadn’t stolen my tickets,” Tim said.

“Hold him!” Jeff yelled.

The stairwell door burst open, and one of the pastors ran through, Kimberly right behind him.

“Let him go!” the man said.

The two dropped Tim, and he fell hard to the floor.

“He started it,” Jeff hollered, holding out his shirt. “He attacked me with a mop, and we were just defending ourselves.”

“Three against one?” Kimberly said. “You gotta be kidding me.”

The pastor told Jeff and his friends to go back to the senior high room.

“I don’t want any part of this church,” Jeff scoffed. “You hire thugs and turn them into janitors. You ought to control them.”

“Just settle down,” the pastor said.

“No. My dad knows a good lawyer. We could sue this church for being attacked by one of your employees.”

Kimberly helped Tim up as the three headed down the stairs and out the side entrance.

The senior pastor opened the stairwell door and stared at Tim. “You okay?”

“Little more excitement than I wanted,” Tim said, holding his stomach. “I’ll be all right.”

The senior pastor closed the door to his office and sat across from Tim. Services were over, and the church was basically empty. The look on the man’s face gave him away.

“You don’t have to say it,” Tim said. “I know what’s gonna happen.”

“You’ve done a good job in the short time you’ve been here, Tim. You’re a hard worker, and I’m sure if your dad were here, he’d say he was proud of you.”

“If my dad were here, I’d never be caught dead here. No offense.”

“None taken. If I could roll back the clock and bring your dad back, I’d do it in a second.”

“But . . . ,” Tim said.

“Yes. But. I wanted to help you as much as I could and stuck my neck out to get you this job. Several on the elder board were here tonight, and they heard what happened. I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.”

“I understand.” He pulled out the $100 bill and put it on the pastor’s desk. “I’ll still pay you the rest.”

The pastor waved a hand. “You keep this. As far as I’m concerned, we’re square.”

“I’m real sorry about your tires.”

“I hope you won’t let this whole thing cloud your thoughts about God. He cares more for you than you know. I’d like to talk with you about that sometime.”

Tim rose, his ribs sore and his face swollen. “I’m sure you mean well, but I don’t think God wants much to do with me.”

The man’s eyes watered. “Tim, I believe everybody is put on earth for a purpose. God made you. He has a destiny for you. I can tell it just by spending a little time with you.”

Tim shoved the $100 into his pocket. “You don’t know me. If I could’ve thrown those guys down the stairs, I’d have done it. So don’t tell me how much God loves me or has a purpose for me. He doesn’t care about me, and I don’t care about him.”

Tim left the office, the pastor in his chair, staring at the floor.

Kimberly waited for him in the hallway. She wrung her hands. “This is all my fault. I was the one who introduced you to Jeff.”

“You didn’t know he was a skunk. I should have realized it when I got in his car.”

She followed like a puppy to the janitor’s closet
as Tim put away his tools. “I hope you won’t let this make you not want to come to church.”

Tim couldn’t hide a grin. “No, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than praise the Lord by getting beat up. It’s a real worshipful experience.”

IT TOOK AN HOUR
for the people to leave the Maxwell house after the race was over. Jamie stayed in her room until the last car left. Everybody seemed really sad at the outcome of the race, but she could hear them encouraging her mom as they walked to their cars.

When Jamie’s dad called, she got on the phone and listened from upstairs. He was staying in California and heading with the crew to Las Vegas for the next race—a place he hated, but it was too expensive to travel back and forth.

A few minutes later her mom yelled for Kellen to pick up.

“I’m sorry you heard about this from somebody else,” her dad said.

“You’ve always said we’re a team,” Jamie said. “Why wouldn’t you let us in on your plan?”

“What plan?” Kellen said. “What are you guys talking about?”

Her dad cleared his throat. “There’s a kid down in Florida whose father died at Talladega.”

“The Carhardt guy?” Kellen said.

“Exactly. We’ve talked to his social worker and found out that he’s not in a really good place. He’s 15, so it’s not going to be long before he can be out on his own, but over the last few weeks, your mother and I have felt like God’s calling us to give him a home.”

“Wow, a big brother,” Kellen said. “Would he change his name to Maxwell?”

“We don’t even know if he’ll want to live here,” Mom said. “But we want to give it a shot.”

“This whole thing is contingent on you two, though,” Dad said.

“What’s
contingent
mean?” Kellen said.

“It means you should be quiet,” Jamie said.

“You guys can vote against it if you don’t like it. We’re not going to push this on you unless you agree. You’re as much a part of the decision making as we are.”

Jamie fumed. “Okay, so you go through all these classes and then say it’s up to us?”

“Jamie—”

“No, you’re saying God is telling you to do this, but we can veto it. That’s great. God’s on your side, and we’re on the other.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” her dad said. “I’m just trying to shoot straight.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Kellen said. “He can help me with my homework. And he’s probably better at math than Jamie too.”

Nobody laughed.

“What do you think, Jamie?” her mom said.

Jamie thought about the Devalon team. Her car. Her dreams. Did her parents care more about this guy in Florida they didn’t even know than about her?

“Fine,” she said, then hung up.

TIM DIDN’T TELL TYSON
or Vera about what had happened at the church or with Jeff. He hoped they’d never find out. When he saw Lisa’s car outside their trailer, his heart sank. He liked the woman, but every time she came around it seemed like trouble followed.

He walked near the front window to see if he could overhear any of the conversation inside, but the hum of the air conditioner drowned everything out.

He moved past a window and heard Vera say, “Here he is now.” She opened the door and told him to come in. “What are you doing hanging around out here?”

“Thought I lived here.”

“Not for long,” Vera said.

Tim walked inside. Lisa looked out of place with this family, like a nice piece of furniture sitting next to a trash can on the curb.

She smiled at him and asked him to sit. “How’d you like Daytona?” she said. “Everything go okay?”

Tim stole a glance at Tyson and his wife. “There were a couple of glitches with that. But thanks for the tickets.”

“Miss Lisa has some news for you, Tim,” Vera said with a surprisingly sweet tone.

“We’ve been contacted by someone who’s asked if you’d like to come live with them,” Lisa said.

“They volunteered?”

Lisa nodded. “The parents know about you and talked with their two kids, and everybody agreed they’d like to have you move to North Carolina.”

“But they’re not family,” Tyson said. “Blood’s always thicker. You’re our relative, and we want you here.”

“The father is a driver,” Lisa continued, ignoring Tyson.

“What’s he drive? Truck series?”

Lisa’s eyes widened, and her face got tight, as if she’d forgotten to study for an important test. “I’m not sure. I know he was on TV last weekend. He drives the #14 car.”

Tim’s jaw stiffened. “Maxwell?”

“You know him! That’s awesome. He and his wife sound really nice. They’ve already qualified as a foster family and—”

“Not interested,” Tim said. He grabbed his backpack and headed outside.

“Tim, why not?”

“Leave the boy alone,” Tyson said. “He’s made his decision.”

Lisa followed Tim outside and caught up with him at the little park near the edge of the forest. “Hey, don’t run away like that. I’m not the enemy here. I’m
for
you. What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to move to North Carolina.”

“You don’t have to do anything, but I’ve got to think their place would be a lot better than here. Help me understand.”

“I’m not living anywhere close to that guy.”

“What’s the problem with Dale Maxwell?”

Tim set his jaw and finally looked at Lisa. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. He’s the guy who ran into my dad. He’s the one who killed him.”

JAMIE’S DAD FARED A LITTLE
better in the next race in Las Vegas, finishing 23rd. She was just glad he finished rather than blowing an engine or crashing. In the next three weeks in Atlanta and then the short tracks of Bristol and Martinsville, he managed to finish in the top 20, but there were still rumblings from the main sponsor, and since money fueled the teams and cars as much as the gas, home was tense. Dallas was a disaster. He blew out a tire to some track debris and lost second gear heading out of the pits. By the end of the race he’d lost third gear as well and was penalized for going too fast in the pit area.

Jamie’s car went unsold, and she pulled out of several races. She heard through some friends that Chad hadn’t raced yet but was burning up the local track with practice time.

A flurry of phone calls had come from a woman in Florida. Jamie had been on her way to her job at the car-parts store when she called, asking for her mom. Jamie said she’d take a message.

“Are you Jamie?” the woman said.

“Yeah.”

“Just tell her Lisa called from Tallahassee.”

“Are you the one trying to get a home for the Carhardt guy?”

“That’s me. But I’m not having much success. How are things in your world?”

There was something about the woman’s voice that seemed inviting. Like she was someone Jamie could trust. “Pretty good. Looks like I might get my car sold.”

“You have your own car?”

Jamie told her about Maxie and all she’d done to it.

“Sounds like a member of the family,” Lisa said. “Won’t it be kind of hard to get rid of?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to start racing on my own soon, and this is what it takes.”

“So racing runs in the family, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Well, tell your mom I called. Nothing urgent.”

/////

Jamie raced the next weekend, but there was something missing. She won easily, but not having Chad behind her to push her was a loss. She drove the track like a pro and nearly lapped the field, but she lost her concentration and almost forced the guy into the wall. He was a friend of Trace Flattery’s.

“Sorry about that,” she said to Trace after the race.

“What’s up with you, Jamie?” Trace said. He winced as he ripped his headphones from his rather large ears. “You act like you’re in some other world.”

I want to be
,
she almost said. She apologized again and went back to the garage and the solitude of her car.

If she’d been told a year earlier—or even a few months ago—that she wouldn’t have Chad breathing down her neck, she’d have been ecstatic. But that wasn’t true anymore. All she could think of was his move up. She heard he was going to qualify for a race near Atlanta the following weekend. He was doing what she wanted to do.

Easter had come and gone. Her mom had bought her a new dress from Kohl’s, and she felt like a little kid with a basket of candy. True, it seemed like a bribe to get her to go to church willingly, but it was a good one. She got stares from the guys in the back row as she walked by.

Trace had approached her in Sunday school and nervously said, “You look real pretty today.”

She rolled her eyes. “And that’s a change?”

“I just meant, you normally don’t dress up like that and . . .”

“I know what you meant,” she mumbled. She felt bad shooting him down, but what did he expect?

/////

Jamie drove the white auto-parts truck to the Devalon garage in nearby Mooresville for a delivery late one afternoon. The sun was staying up later as winter let go of its subtle grasp on the Charlotte area. People imagined tons of snow when they heard North Carolina, but the winters were generally mild. When spring hit, though, all of nature budded and sprung full force.

She stepped out of the truck with the package of parts and walked up the brick walkway lined with shrubs and finely manicured grass. It looked like a golf course. The Devalon garage was a rambling complex that seemed more like a car museum compared to her dad’s garage. Huge bay doors lined either side of the structure, and at the front was an opulent office, complete with a case of trophies and a gigantic picture of the lead driver in his all-black leather outfit.

The girl at the front desk smiled and signed the delivery form. Her smile was sticky sweet, like a prom queen who hated her date. The woman probably felt like slapping a puppy, but it was her job to show her teeth and be pleasant. “Thank you,” she said.

The familiar sound of air wrenches and the smell of hot oil filled Jamie’s senses as she walked past the garage. She was checking her clipboard for her next delivery when someone came up behind her.

“Hello, Jamie.”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Devalon. Thought you’d be getting ready for Phoenix.”

He nodded. “Headed out tomorrow.”

“Congrats on the All-Star Challenge. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Been there before and hope to be again. Your dad ever make it?”

She knew
he
knew that her dad never had. It was just another instance of him trying to put someone in their place. “I don’t think so. And it doesn’t look like he’ll make it this year.”

“He’s had some tough luck. I’m sure he’ll overcome all this adversity. Always seems to.”

Jamie nodded and turned to the truck.

“Hold up there.” Mr. Devalon walked to the truck and leaned against the door, covering the logo. “Our owner’s coming to the track next week. Chad’s been
making progress, getting ready for his first race in the new division, and he wants to take a look at him and his times. How about you coming over and giving it a shot?”

“I would, but I don’t have a car yet. I’m trying to sell my—”

“Use ours.”

“Chad’s?”

“Sure, why not?”

“How’s he going to feel about it?”

He laughed. “You let me take care of that. He’ll be fine. What was it you said about him pushing you to be your best? Now you can return the favor.”

Jamie tucked the clipboard under an arm and kicked at the gravel in the driveway. “Why are you doing this, Mr. Devalon? Why are you being so nice to me?”

He pulled out a piece of nicotine gum, crossed his arms, and looked off toward the lake behind the garage. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m trying to change my image. Maybe I want to be known as kind and gentle to the weaker sex.”

Jamie rolled her eyes.
Maybe he’s up to something. But what?

Mr. Devalon uncrossed his arms and opened the truck door. “Or maybe I see talent and figure the only way it’s gonna get noticed is if I give you a little help. Five o’clock next Tuesday.”