Hart's Victory (3 page)

“I know,” Hart replied, and seconds later he heard the front door close. He leaned back and sighed. Then he simply listened: a clock ticked, the fan on his computer blew.

There were times, such as now, that he actually preferred the silence, at least for a little while. The brief solace meant that, for a moment, no one was demanding anything from him.

No one screamed his name, no one asked for his autograph, no one wanted to be with him just because he was Hart Hampton, earner of over fifteen million last year.

Hart closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the blackness. His headache ebbed away. Finally he opened his eyelids, letting those green orbs of his focus on his surroundings. His office contained many items of sentimental value, all strategically placed by the decorator he’d hired when he’d built the building.

The decorator had been young and sexy, and Hart had enjoyed a brief one-month interlude before she’d started to make demands. In his world, racing was top priority. Females who dated him often pretended to understand that, at least at first. Truth was that usually they really didn’t, and, once they started making requests for more time or more attention, Hart found himself with an immediate urge to move on. Racing was as essential to him as breathing. Nothing was more important.

His father had felt the same way, and while his mother hadn’t loved racing, she had understood her husband’s passion. She and his father were perfect together, the ultimate complement of beauty and the racing beast. They’d had one child, Hart, who had been a fixture each weekend in the motor home as his father built Hampton Racing and carved out a legacy of NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series wins.

Hart sighed again, an exhale that really didn’t have any real purpose except to let the surrounding four walls hear his frustration. Okay, maybe not frustration. Perhaps simply a longing for something that he didn’t have. He felt…melancholy. He frowned. Was that the word for what he was feeling? And if so, why was he so blue?

Probably because as a driver he was still missing the elusive wins he craved. Unlike his father, Hart didn’t seem to have the magical touch that brought pole positions and consistent wins. So far, Hart had failed to achieve what he’d set out to do.

That irritated him. Gone was the kid who’d once bagged groceries for minimum wage because his father insisted he be a self-made man instead of a pampered child. Gone was the high school boy who’d raced whenever his schedule allowed, often missing things such as the prom or football games. In that boy’s place was the jet-setting superstar whose life was cars and driving, and the lifestyle that came with.

Hart liked to think he was still humble, but the paradox remained that it was hard to remain humble when you were Hart Hampton, celebrity, used to having people screaming your name and handing you anything you wanted.

Cynthia was right. He’d hit a funk, and his current mood had affected his driving. Maybe a weekend off would allow him to come back recharged and reenergized. He could focus on racing, and why he loved it. He now understood what his father had said: “Racing is your life and you want to win, but once you do win, the expectations quickly change and the pressures increase.”

Hart’s fans expected him to win, and the need to win had overtaken Hart’s desire to race. Racing wasn’t only about the 180 miles per hour and the checkered flag thrill. He now worried about points. He worried that his car wouldn’t pass inspection. He worried about his image, about his merchandising and about pleasing his sponsors. His family had benched him from an upcoming race. He’d have to battle uphill to regain the lost points, although this early in the season it was probably doable. He’d have to crunch numbers, run scenarios. The headache returned and Hart stood to clear his mind.

He entered a room that was set up with stacks and stacks of items for him to autograph. Hart grabbed a permanent marker and began to sign
Hart Hampton, #413
over and over, holding the black thin-tip marker like a paintbrush so as not to wear out his wrist.

Everyone wanted a piece of what they saw as Hampton magic. For a second, Hart wondered if there really was such a thing. Heck, if there were, he wouldn’t be recovering from a wreck. He’d have points, and already have that NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Championship, which so far had eluded him.

He wanted to join his father. He also wanted join NASCAR’s iconic legends and earn his own place in the history books. Heck, Hart figured he’d settle for even half of the current front-runner’s magic right now. He’d won the championship last year, when Hart hadn’t earned enough points for a top ten finish.

Hart could see the writing on the wall�all it would take would be a few more lousy seasons and he’d be demoted from the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series to the Busch Series, which was basically NASCAR’s second division. While Hart had occasionally still run a Busch Series race, he wasn’t ready to go back full time at the expense of his Cup status.

As much as his uncle, aunt and parents loved him, Hampton Racing would replace Hart as a driver, no matter how popular he was with the fans. Hart had already lost ground to many of his teammates, who were outperforming him on the track. That had to stop.

And Hart had no desire to be downgraded until he was at least fifty. Driver Number 413 had to find his groove and get his luck back�and fast.

T
HEY
’
D BEEN WISE
to come. From the moment they’d arrived at camp about an hour ago, Kellie could tell enchantment existed here. That magic had already transformed Charlie’s face; he hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d stepped out of the car. She’d checked his temperature before they’d left Myrtle Beach, and he’d been normal. Having leukemia meant Charlie could often run fevers, experience nausea and suffer overall body pain and muscle cramping.

Kellie heard the door to her and Charlie’s half of the cabin thud and she turned from where she’d been sorting clothes. Two boys skittered to a stop in the doorway to the bedroom, both wearing baseball caps.

“This is Brad Muldoon,” Charlie announced as he introduced the taller but younger boy beside him. “His family’s staying on the other side of the cabin. His dad’s going to take him exploring before dinner. May I go with them?”

“My mom’s doing what you’re doing,” Brad said, pointing at the open suitcase. “Charlie’s welcome to come with me.” Both boys grinned at her hopefully.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Kellie nodded, delighted that Charlie had already made a friend. At home, all his friends were cyberbuddies, just names and postings on the Internet of people he’d never meet. “Charlie, how about you meet me here before we have to go to the Pit Stop.”

“Fuel Stop, Mom,” Charlie corrected, giving her the official name of the dining hall. He rolled his eyes at Brad as if to say, “Mothers.” “Let’s go,” he told Brad.

Feet scampered and the front door thudded again, indicating the boys had gone back outside. Kellie turned her attention back to making their part of the cabin home for the next two nights. She smiled to herself. Pit Stop. Fuel Stop. She might not have gotten the name right, but the dining hall was where the weekend’s activities would officially start.

When she was wrong, Kellie admitted it. She’d been extremely skeptical and unsupportive about attending camp. Charlie’s fever could spike at any time; his blood counts could rapidly change. But the camp had top-notch medical facilities in case of emergencies.

Her mother had refused to come, instead taking the opportunity to enjoy a weekend all to herself. Kellie knew deep down that Anita needed this break. Both women had put their own lives on hold as they supported Charlie.

But Anita had been right to insist Kellie sign the application�this place was great, everything a camp should be, as it was complete with buildings to delight any race fan.

The staff had worked to place families with similar aged kids in the same cabins, and each family was assigned a crew chief, which was a fancy name for the camp counselor who would help each family plan their day’s agenda. Tomorrow would find parents and children traveling as a family unit to a wide variety of activities.

Charlie had already indicated he wanted to do everything, although Kellie had no idea how he’d work in all the camp’s opportunities before Saturday night’s closing dinner. She wasn’t certain he’d even be up to the challenge, but so far Charlie seemed to have a new lease on life, if only from excess adrenaline and excitement.

She heard a knock and went to greet her visitor, a woman who appeared to be about forty. “Hi, you must be Charlie’s mother. I’m Sue, Brad’s mom. It’s nice to meet you.” A leather headband held back Sue’s short brown hair, revealing a round, friendly face. She extended her hand.

“I’m Kellie,” Kellie said, shaking Sue’s hand. “I take it you already met Charlie.”

“I did,” Sue said with a wide smile that immediately put Kellie at ease. “He’s a lovely boy. Very personable.”

“Thank you,” Kellie said, her heart warming at the compliment.

Sue gestured around the room. “So are you like me? Have you stopped second-guessing yourself and decided that you were right in applying?” Sue asked.

“You know, I was just thinking that,” Kellie said with a laugh. “My mother filled out all the paperwork. I wasn’t very agreeable with her decision, but I bit my tongue and signed. I’m so glad I did.”

“I know. There’s such an uplifting feel to this place,” Sue agreed with a nod. “It gives hope, and solidarity that you aren’t alone. So where are you from?”

“Myrtle Beach,” Kellie said. “I’m a teacher there, but I’m on a long-term leave of absence as of last December.”

“I can understand that,” Sue said empathetically. “I stopped working about three years ago. Brad has cancer, obviously, or we wouldn’t be here, and it was too hard to work even part-time and still be with him at the hospital.”

“My mother and I share a lot of the duties.” Kellie saw Sue quickly mask a curious expression. “My husband died five years ago,” she explained. “He was an overseas contractor in the Middle East. A roadside bomb. He died instantly.”

“I’m sorry,” Sue said with genuine compassion. “You have had a difficult time, haven’t you?”

“Challenging,” Kellie substituted, finding herself a little surprised that she’d owned up to her feelings. She never shared these things, much less with a perfect stranger. But Kellie felt an immediate connection and knew that Sue understood. “Charlie’s such a great boy. He never whines or complains. He’s always been mature for his age, and he has such an inner strength even when the treatments are rough and…”

“He’s not doing well, is he?” Sue asked as Kellie’s voice dropped off mid-sentence. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. It’s in my nature to be everyone’s sounding board. Ed always tells me I shouldn’t be so open, but I can’t help it.”

“No, it’s okay,” Kellie said, realizing that sharing solidarity with Sue was affirming. It meant Kellie wasn’t alone. “I don’t mind, especially since you’re right. We’re almost out of options and nothing’s sent the leukemia into remission. He seems so healthy this weekend, but overnight everything can change.”

Sue reached out and grasped Kellie’s hand. “You’re strong. I admire that. It’s going to help you both pull through.”

“Thanks,” Kellie replied. Sue squeezed Kellie’s hand once before letting it go.

“So isn’t this place great? They really took the race stuff to the extreme,” Sue said, changing the subject to something lighter. She glanced at her watch. “We should probably head to dinner. It’s almost that time.”

“I told Charlie I’d meet him here,” Kellie stated. Camp meant no cell phones, so they’d turned them off and tucked them away.

As if sensing Kellie’s worry, Sue said, “Oh, my Ed’s great. He’ll figure out where we’ve gone and bring Charlie along if we aren’t here when they get back.”

But that was unnecessary, for Kellie and Sue ran into Ed and the boys on the way out of the cabin.

“Mom, this place is so cool,” Charlie told her, and he began to tell her all that he’d seen as the two families wandered to dinner and sat together. Racing banners hung from the high, vaulted ceiling of the dining hall, and an almost tangible energy permeated the expansive room that put most hospital and college cafeterias to shame.

Before dinner started, the staff went over the rules and expectations, and then suddenly the camp director said, “And we’re going to have a big surprise for you all after dinner. Something that we hope is really going to make this weekend truly memorable, something that wasn’t scheduled until early this week. In fact, it’s so rare, that all the other family weekend participants might get jealous.”

“Tell,” someone shouted, but the director simply grinned and gave the order to begin dinner.

“I wonder what it is?” Charlie asked as he began eating.

“Maybe a famous actor to play Zeus,” Brad guessed. “This weekend’s theme is ancient Greece. Maybe they found someone to come in. Aren’t they filming a Civil War movie not too far from here?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie said.

“We’ll find out what it is right after dinner,” Sue said, passing Ed the pepper shaker without even being asked. Her glance at her son had Brad taking another bite.

“I wonder if we get to roast marshmallows at tonight’s campfire?” Brad asked after he swallowed.

“That’d be cool to make s’mores,” Charlie added. “I’ve never had real ones, only the kind Mom makes in the microwave. Do you think we’ll wear togas at all, like tomorrow night?”

“Probably not,” Ed said as he lifted his fork to his mouth and gestured at both boys to eat a little more.

Sue and Kellie shared a secret smile across the table. Their sons were having a great time. Dinner ended, followed by fifteen minutes of learning camp songs, the singing led by the counselors.

Then the camp director was back. “Are you ready for your surprise?” she asked, her voice booming through the audio system so loudly that it gave Kellie a little chill.

“Yes!” everyone screamed and the noise echoed off the ceiling. Kellie rubbed her ears and grinned. Charlie reached over and squeezed her hand. The anticipation was like being at a rock concert moments before the main act took the stage.

“Okay, let me first say that I’m more than a little bit excited about this weekend’s special guest. When I learned that he agreed to come here, I screamed. Didn’t I?” she glanced at the female counselor next to her, who nodded.

“Now, before I bring him out, I do have to tell you that he’s agreed to give every family one autograph this weekend. Every family will be scheduled into their own time slot so that you can meet with him. So don’t crowd him. Be respectful. Treat him as if he were just like everyone else.”

Kellie glanced around the room. No one had any clue who the guest was. The room buzzed in expectancy, a humming noise as people whispered their guesses amongst themselves.

“Who do you think it is, Mom?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know. Obviously someone famous,” she said. Both turned their attention back to the front of the room.

“Okay, without further ado, let me welcome our guest. In our midst this weekend, we’ve got a very special NASCAR driver.”

“Probably someone retired,” Charlie said as the crowd oohed and cheered. “Everyone’s racing at Darlington.” Beside him, Brad nodded, signaling his agreement with Charlie’s assessment.

“Shh,” Kellie said. Both boys fell silent.

“Our driver, though, isn’t just any driver. He’s won Daytona. Richmond. He was Rookie of the Year, and you voted him your favorite driver last year.”

It couldn’t be.

Kellie’s face paled while next to her, Charlie’s expression grew animated. No way. Only one man fit that exact description, and he wasn’t retired. Far from it.

He should be at the track.

Yet, he was striding across the Fuel Stop floor right now, waving to the crowd. Beside her, Charlie shifted in his seat and rose to get a better view. “Mom, it’s him! He’s not at the track. Mom it’s…”

But the applause drowned his voice out as the dining hall rocked with cheers. Even the camp director caught the fever as she shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a big round of welcome to Hart Hampton, driver of the Elementals Number 413 car!”