Chapter 33
The morning sky was overcast, too dark for Mack to see who was incessantly pounding on the RV door at such a cruelly early hour. She fumbled for the lock and when she finally yanked the door open, Laurie took a step back.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
Mack looked down at her body, ensconced in a neon pink-and-orange zebra-stripe pajama set with pink feathers on the cuffs.
Billie hadn’t said a word last night when Mack showed up at two a.m. in one of Leo’s T-shirts, and she’d stayed silent as she turned the sofa into a bed and handed Mack a pair of clean pajamas.
She’d treated Billie with suspicion and rudeness, and sometimes Billie deserved it with her weird kelp noodles and scented body glitter, but she’d done nothing worse than love on the Williams family with generosity and joy.
As she’d left a glass of water and two Advil on the table by Mack’s bed, Mack had decided she’d try to get to know her dad’s girlfriend.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Laurie demanded. “I tried you twenty times last night and I called and texted another twenty times this morning. Dad didn’t answer either.”
Mack motioned for Laurie to lower her voice as she glanced behind her at the RV’s interior. “My phone died,” she lied. She wasn’t about to tell Laurie about running away, driving Leo’s GTO, and then ending up at his motor coach.
“You can’t walk away from your phone, Mack!”
Mack stepped barefoot into the dewy grass and pulled Laurie away from the door. She’d close it but was afraid to lock herself out in these ridiculous pajamas. “Shh! It’s the ass crack of dawn and—”
“Didn’t you check your messages at all? It’s eight thirty! Get dressed!”
“Do you want my crap out of your apartment so bad that you’ll wake everyone in this parking lot?”
Laurie let out a squeal of frustration. She pulled out her own cell, tapped the screen, and found the text thread she shared with Mack. “I’ve been trying to tell you that your car was repaired overnight. You’ve got to get to the garage and get ready to qualify. Now.”
Mack flinched. “What the hell are you talking about? There’s no money—”
“I got the money! You’ve got one shot this afternoon to make the field. Get! Dressed!”
Mack stood perfectly still as the wet grass soaked into the satin fabric of her borrowed pajama pants.
It couldn’t be true. She’d seen the shattered pieces of the car, knew it was impossible to fix overnight, recalled every one of Janet’s words.
Mack stared at her feet, watching the damp climb her legs, small capillaries of water ruining clothes that weren’t hers.
“Aunt Laurie!” Shaw barreled through the door Mack had left cracked open, and Laurie took a step back to absorb the impact of Shaw’s tiny body hurtling off the steps.
“That true?” Wes appeared at the top of the RV steps and Billie peered out over his shoulder. “You paid Janet so Mack could qualify?”
Laurie spoke over her niece’s head. “I didn’t pay her anything. I’ll explain later.” She turned to Mack. “But you have to get to Gasoline Alley now.”
Mack shook her head. “No, it’s over.”
Wes waved the hand not leaning on his cane manically. “Someone tell me what in the hell is going on!”
“Swear jar, Pawpaw!”
Laurie yelled loud enough to make Shaw cover her ears. “Why is no one moving?”
Billie gently beckoned Mack toward the doorway. “C’mon, honey, let’s find you some clean clothes and go see what all the fuss is about. Sometimes, it’s easier to do the thing and ask questions later. You want a quick banana and some peanut butter toast?”
Maybe Mack did have a concussion and this was some kind of bruised-brain dream.
The wreck was real, her aching body and throbbing hand confirmed that truth.
But her cool, reserved sister showing up in the morning, shouting like a maniac?
Waking up in an RV wearing her dad’s girlfriend’s satin pajamas?
A second chance to qualify? It was easier to believe she had a brain injury than hope that she truly had one more chance at the Indy 500.
Numbly, Mack gathered her dirty gear from yesterday and accepted a slice of toast from Billie.
She moved on autopilot, not willing to think about what she was actually doing, until she noticed Shaw watching her from the corner of the couch.
She rubbed the tag of her blankie in the nervous way she had as a toddler.
“You okay, little love?” When Shaw didn’t answer, Mack sat down next to her. “You wanna talk about it?”
Glossy tears spilled down Shaw’s cheeks. “I don’t want to go!”
Had Kelley said something to Shaw about moving overseas? “Go where?” she asked carefully.
“I don’t want to go to the track. I don’t want you to wreck and get hurt!”
Mack exhaled and pulled Shaw into her side, careful not to put pressure on her hand. “Oh love, I know the wreck looked scary but the car is made to break apart like that. I didn’t even get hurt.”
“Yes you did!” Shaw pointed accusingly at the hand Mack held carefully away from her body. “I heard you say a swear word when you bumped it. And Pawpaw got broken too, and Daddy left and I don’t want you to go!”
Shaw was full-on sobbing now, liquid streaming from her eyes and nose.
Mack shifted and pulled Shaw into her lap even though she was almost too big for it.
She’d read that parents often don’t remember the last time they held their child a certain way—the last time a baby rested on a hip, the last time a toddler rode piggyback, the last time a child sat on a mother’s lap—but Mack felt it in her bones that this was the last time Shaw would lean into her just like this.
At ten, Shaw wasn’t a baby anymore, and Mack couldn’t keep hiding all the hard parts of the world from her.
“You’re right. There is a risk in racing.
But Pawpaw got hurt a long time ago when things weren’t as safe as they are now, and Daddy’s wreck was very, very rare.
There is so much technology today to keep drivers safe.
But even then, you’re right. There is risk.
” She paused, knowing she had to be honest. “So much of life is a risk, Shaw. Climbing the monkey bars or riding bikes with your friends or driving race cars or swimming in the ocean, all those things could hurt you. The things we love most usually have danger, but we do them anyway because the joy of doing them is worth the risk.”
Shaw considered that for a moment. “I want to swim in the ocean.”
“I know, love. And we’re going to do that, I promise.” She’d make it work if it took her last penny. “And it might seem a bit scary when you’re standing in front of all that open space, but once you feel that cold, salty water, it will be worth it.”
“Promise you won’t ever leave me? You won’t leave like Dad does?”
Mack waited until the thickness had cleared from her throat before speaking. “I promise I will never choose to leave you. Someday, you may want to go out on your own adventures, but I will always, always be right there waiting for you when you want to come back to me.”
They sat quietly, ignoring time and urgency, as Mack smoothed Shaw’s soft waves with her uninjured hand the same way she had since Shaw was an infant, focusing on the soothing, repetitive motion.
Not nearly enough time had passed when Shaw sat up and wiped her face.
“I like watching you race against all those boys.”
Mack grinned, not knowing she’d needed to hear those exact words from this exact person. “I like doing it. Are you going to be okay if Mama goes to the track and tries to beat all the boys again? Today, and maybe other times?”
Shaw nodded and hugged Mack again, and her heart filled and broke at the huge, easy faith children put in their parents.
Minutes later, Mack held Shaw’s hand as they walked toward the garages, followed by Billie and Wes, with Laurie marching next to her carrying a giant white paper bag.
“Finding a primary sponsor has been a nightmare, not because of you but because the men who hold corporate marketing wallets are arrogant asses. If you want to beat the tycoons at their own game, you have to think like a wealthy person. The rich get richer by investing. I’ve been looking for people—women, specifically—to invest in your career.
Angel investors, but you are the product.
There are some back-end ramifications—interests to be paid—but I protected you, don’t worry.
I’d been working my connections but yesterday pushed us into a now-or-never situation.
I asked Janet what number she needed and managed to raise enough to pull it off.
The crew worked through the night and Janet said they’d have it done by the time qualifications opened up.
Blah blah blah, technical stuff that made no sense to me, so you’ll have to ask her about that.
But there’s a car, it’s waiting for you, and if anyone can figure out how to make it go fast, you can. ”
Mack jerked to a stop. She thought of the light leaking from the garages last night.
Had that been her JJR team? Laurie took a few more steps before she realized she’d lost Mack.
She turned, breathing heavily from talking as she walked at a furious pace.
Mack noticed for the first time that her perfectly put-together sister wore leggings and a rumpled T-shirt.
“You . . . invested . . . in me?”
“Not me exclusively. A group of investors, including me, provided funds toward your career, like repairs on the car right now and some extra support cash, and in return, you’ll owe us a small percentage of your future earnings.
It’s a gamble. If you don’t qualify, we get nothing.
But when you do”—she looked pointedly at Mack—“we’ll get a return on investment.
” For the first time that morning, Laurie looked nervous, even a little timid, as she glanced at Mack.
“I promised that even if you don’t have a career in IndyCar, you have strong prospects in other future races.
That you’d have winnings, Indy or otherwise. ”
Mack studied Laurie, unsure what to say. Still unsure that she was headed back to the track for another shot at making the Indy 500. “How long have you been working on this?”
“I’ve been making calls, taking meetings, working to find any cash at all since you told me you were coming to Indy.
I’ve pitched sororities, women’s funds, book clubs.
” Mack thought of all those hours Laurie spent on her phone and computer, and how she’d disappeared yesterday.
Mack had assumed it was all legal work, but Laurie had been working for her, too.
“Turns out, lots of women are willing to support another woman trying to make it in a man’s field.
The Women’s Bar Association was particularly keen to help.
It’s high time I used my law degree for good. ”
Liquid welled in Mack’s eyes. She’d shut Laurie out, punished her for years without allowing any explanation, and yet Laurie had spent her time and resources on Mack.
Her sister had faith in her long after she’d stopped believing in herself.
Mack shook her head, knowing she couldn’t speak without breaking into sobs.
Her sister waved a hand as if it was all inconsequential and motioned for Mack to keep walking.
“I did it for you, obviously, but it felt good to do something more than making rich people more money. I don’t know .
. . maybe I can keep working with angel investors for causes I believe in.
For you and for other women in sports. We can do a second push to fundraise for a sprint car, if that’s what you choose.
” She glanced at Wes, who was laser focused on the conversation as Billie, in four-inch platform pumps, guided him across the uneven grass.
“You know Dad will help us make some calls, find some old connections to get you into races.”
“Laurie, hon,” Billie cut in, pointing to the track with a bejeweled nail. “Let’s focus on what Mack needs for today, mmm? There’s lots of time to talk about what comes after, but Mack needs to focus on the here and now.”
Of all the things Laurie had said, the ones Mack heard loudest were simple: we and us.
Above them, a flock of purple martins swirled, individual birds turning and swooping in one mass.
Mack’s thoughts were like those birds, lifting and swinging from side to side and moving forward at a pace that made her dizzy.
Sponsorship. Another shot at Indy. Other races.
Shaw holding on to her hand for dear life.
She’d been prepared to say goodbye to it all and now she was getting a chance to resurrect a life she’d hardly dared to dream of. Maybe even create a better one.
Mack was going to get another chance, and for the first time in years, she didn’t feel alone.
She was getting another shot at the Indy 500.
At living.