Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) (26 page)

Abbie sighed happily, leaning back against the seats behind her. “It seems like forever since I’ve been here, watching Jesse race. It’s a shame, about ASA and all.” She glanced subtly at Marti’s belly. “But he told me the sponsor is building a second car so he has another chance. I’m so happy for him. It must be hard to come back to this after getting so far.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind that much,” Marti said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. Hell, she wasn’t even the one who’d gotten pregnant and stolen his chance away.

“I think he does.”

“I know he does,” Marti said, refusing to have Abbie know more about Jesse than she did.

Abbie watched Jesse with a wistful expression. “He could do anything well. I told him I could watch the baby while he travelled the ASA circuit, and eventually NASCAR. The kids and I could even travel with him sometimes. The boys would love it, and—”

“Don’t you know you’d only be second?”

Abbie’s smile disappeared when she pulled her gaze from Jesse and her sons, torn from her happy reverie. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing is going to mean as much to him as racing. Especially since the setback. He’s not going to let anyone stand in his way of his dream. Not his baby, and not you. You’ll always be second best.”

Abbie smiled. “A good wife doesn’t stand in the way of her man going after his dreams. If that means being second, that’s all right by me.”

A good wife…her man
. Abbie’s proposal wasn’t just a marriage of convenience on her part; she was in love with Jesse. Marti watched him joking around with a group of men.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

She was startled to hear Abbie voice her own thoughts. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m sorry, I should have realized it when we talked in the kitchen that first night. But I didn’t see it then, the way your eyes follow his every move, the way they drink him in. I wonder if you even see it yourself.”

Marti shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench. Of course, she saw it; that didn’t mean she was going to admit it. And she didn’t want to explore it much, in any case.

“You think because I appreciate him physically that I’m in love with him?”

“All I know is that you walk in, screw up his life by getting pregnant, and now you want to leave. I’m not condemning you. It’s just that, any other woman in that position would be feeling some amount of guilt. So when someone like me comes along and offers him his dreams again, you should feel relieved. But you obviously don’t, and there’s a reason. Or maybe you’re not planning to leave anymore.”

Marti felt trapped, searching for an answer to give Abbie—and herself. When she looked up to see Helen, Caty, and Dean walking toward them, she stood and waved, effectively ending their conversation. Then she further insured it wouldn’t start again by directing Caty and Dean to sit between her and Abbie.

“Why don’t you race, Dean?” Marti asked once everyone was settled.

“I do.”

She waited for him to explain why he wasn’t out there, but he seemed content with his answer.

“So-o-o, why aren’t you racing today then?”

“Oh, I don’t race cars. I race frogs. Big, warty ones. They don’t give you warts, you know.” He nodded knowingly. “It’s all a myth.”

Marti started laughing, but Dean obviously didn’t realize the depth of his humor. Or even that it was humor.

When Dean was involved in a conversation, of sorts, with Abbie, Marti leaned over to Caty and whispered, “So, did you ask him about the flowers?”

“Yes. He said he did it because she looked depressed the day before when he took his hounds in for their shots. I guess I don’t have any reason to get mad at him. I don’t own him or anything. Not that it matters, really.”

“But it does,” Marti finished and turned to Helen. “This is probably a pretty familiar place to you.”

“Oh, yes. I try to come whenever I can. Still, it’s hard sometimes.”

Marti grew silent for a moment, realizing that Helen lost her husband to this sport. “Was it here that Bernie died?”

“No, this track didn’t even exist then. He travelled all over the state. I couldn’t go with him, not with three kids to raise.”

Marti wanted to tell Helen that was Abbie’s plan, but she kept quiet about it. She wondered if Helen knew about the proposal. That probably depended on how seriously Jesse was considering it.

Then the other woman plaguing Marti these days showed up: Desiree. Wearing her standard boots, jeans, and tank top, she settled in two rows behind them. Marti bit her lip, trying not to let her presence bother her.

Caty leaned over. “Don’t worry. She always comes to cheer Jesse on, always has. Even when she’s seeing one of the other racers.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Marti said, almost too fast.

“But you are,” Caty quipped, turning to intently watch something in the pit and ignoring Marti’s glare.

When Jesse climbed in the car through the window, she realized that there wasn’t any outside hardware on his car or any other racecar. Door handles, hubcaps, and trim were all missing. The doors were welded shut. Even the headlights were gone. Some of the cars were like Jesse’s, shiny and nice looking, with only a few dents. Others looked like inner city victims, stripped for parts and left for dead. Except for the sponsor names, mostly body shops and mechanics. One had
T&A Racing
painted on it; another had
Crash and Burn Racing
, which fit the dented car well.

The menagerie of old cars assembled on the track, and before long the qualifying was underway. After a while, when her butt was half-numb from sitting, and her hearing half-gone from the announcer’s speaker above them, the first race began.

Jesse nearly went into one of those spins he had told her about, and she found herself clenching her fists. Paul’s gold car purposely bumped him in the third turn, and Jesse’s backend slipped before he got it under control.

He retaliated by passing him on the next lap. She spent most of the time tensed up watching the cars all clustered together on the turns. One car went into a spin, hitting another and sending it toward the wall. The man who did his flag dance in the box way up high jumped up and down with the yellow flag.

Could she be one of the wives vehemently cheering on their spouse or boyfriend, chasing the stray baby, attending every race? Or would she get bored, become a straying wife? If only she could be sure that things would be different with Jesse.

With Jamie, she had been swept away by his good looks, money, everything. Jesse was good looking in a different way, not glamorous, but strong, warm, and carefree. He hadn’t meant for her to fall in love with him; it had just happened. Thinking back, she realized it was inevitable.

That was Jesse, a cowboy, willing to do anything for the woman he allowed himself to love. Not that he loved her, she thought, startled by the direction of her daydreams. Leading her down the path of the broken hearted.

She couldn’t bear to see a betrayed look on his face, like the one that day when she was talking to Paul at the gas station. Her heart would shrivel up and wither if she caused Jesse real pain. And she would; it was inevitable as falling in love with him had been.

CHAPTER 15

The drone of the engines continued throughout the evening, and heat off the racetrack made Marti think about the day she had gone swimming in the cool river with Jesse. She was now more relaxed, more confident in his driving abilities. He was just finishing his feature race, and he’d be done for the night.

Only the very close calls made her tense and grimace. With Paul out of the race, after his car started making guttural noises, she relaxed even more. The first group of four cars raced around for the last lap, and Jesse roared beneath the checkered flag first. Their whole section, and a lot of other people, stood and cheered.

Bugs swarmed around them, dive-bombing the bright lights above. The smells of French fries and onion rings permeated the air.

“I’m going down to get a soda. Anyone want anything?” Marti asked, standing and stretching. Really she just wanted to walk around.

After getting everybody’s orders, she carefully walked down the steps to the concession stand near the entrance. Before the girl loaded six cups into a carryout container, Marti wolfed down a greasy, forbidden hot dog. Then she balanced the drinks with four more hot dogs for the others. When she turned around, she nearly dropped everything. Paul stood there, his face ashen, not a trace of his usual arrogance.

“Can I talk to you a minute?” he asked.

“We shouldn’t be talking at all.”

“Marti, I did not break into your house last week, nor did I attack you the first time. I wish to hell I knew who did. And if Jesse wants to keep investigating, fine, I hope he finds the guy. But it isn’t me. How can I get you to believe that?”

“I can’t talk to you,” she said, hurrying away with her load.

Helen wouldn’t have talked to him in the same situation, and Marti wouldn’t either. As she walked up the stairs, she realized she was doing that more often lately: asking whether Helen would do this or that in the same situation. Her own mother’s antics seemed like some long-ago movie now. California, beaches, Jamie—all a dream. She made a mental reminder to get some travel literature on California to remind her of her destination.

At the end of the day, the races ended amid cheers and drunken catcalls. One heavy woman ran down the stands to a middle-aged man wearing a holy T-shirt and a cap. When Marti expected her to run into his arms and congratulate him for coming in second, she smacked his shoulder.

“You idiot! What were you doing down there? My heart stopped! I made a fool out of myself!”

With all the racing done, they opened the gate to the pit area again. Marti headed down with the rest of Jesse’s cheering section to congratulate him. She had to admit that he didn’t look all that thrilled and realized he had probably won many, many times. She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, a gesture that raised Caty’s eyebrow. Well, Caty probably kissed Dean’s cheek when his warty frog won.

After the ruckus was over and the cars were all loaded up, Marti and Jesse walked out to his truck. She shivered in the cool evening air, after getting too much sun during the day. He walked behind her and rubbed her arms, giving her more goosebumps than warming her.

“I don’t think I could handle watching you race all the time. It’s too nerve wracking.”

He stopped, leaning down to look at her. “Are you thinking about staying?”

She realized what she’d said. “No, no. Just talking theoretically. I don’t know how those women do it, watching their men in dangerous situations all day every week.” She tried hard to look neutral. “How would these guys feel if their wives raced in the Lady Warriors?”

“I don’t know about the rest of ‘em, but I’d find the best damned car we could get and cheer you on louder than anyone else.”

He’s way too good for you
. But from somewhere deep inside, a tiny voice asked,
But can you live without him?

The following Saturday, Jesse was at the garage working on his car. Only with Bumpus’s protection and her promise to use the shotgun was she able to stay at the house alone. A small ad in the local newspaper gleaned three new decorating jobs. She had given two of Helen’s friends’ estimates, and one had called this morning telling her to get started. The idea was taking shape in her mind, a budget decorating service.

Bumpus, sprawled out beside her, rolled onto his side. He often stayed close, making her feel safe.

“Here, boy.”

He lurched up into a sitting position, looking at her expectantly.

He’d grown on her over these months. She’d never quite gotten used to the drool, but she wasn’t all
that’s so gross
about it anymore.

She patted her knees, and he jumped up and planted his paws on them. She leaned over and hugged him. He licked her cheek.

“Do you like me?”

He licked her again, and she didn’t jerk back or even grimace. Much.

“You do, don’t you? And I’m not the one who feeds you or anything. You like me because I’m…me.”

His tail wagged, and he gave her an adoring look.

Jesse was right. Having a creature love you just as you were was special. Accepting love was, too.

“You always liked me, even when I didn’t much like you. I hope you sensed something good in me. Because I’m beginning to feel like there
is
something good in me.” She rubbed his head and kissed the top of his nose where it wasn’t wet.

Over the “Phantom of the Opera” music that poured through the rooms, she heard the front door close. Bumpus tore out of the room, barking. She grabbed the shotgun, trying to remember all the things Jesse had taught her, and walked into the living room.

She saw his truck parked outside and heard the bedroom door close. A few seconds later, the shower kicked on. She went back to her sewing machine but found her concentration lost now.

She looked into the mirror opposite her, tilting her head. The brown hair did suit her better. This was who she was now, not Marti, not Hallie either. Thank God. She was somebody new and surprisingly strong.

Whenever the Phantom hit a low note, the baby kicked. She put her hand where his foot had been, wondering how big he was. Would he look like Jesse, or more like Marti?

“What is going on around here?”

Jesse’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts. His hair was wet, and he was wearing nothing but a dark blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“What do you mean?”

“This…
music
blaring again. It’s awful.”

“Well, now you know how I feel about your country music. And anyway, your son sure likes it. He’s been kicking up a storm.”

Jesse sat down on the bed beside her after moving the sewing cart aside. “He’s protesting.” He put his hand over her belly, and when the bass sounded again, the baby kicked. “He’s going to make a great dancer.”

“You’re thinking of the two step, maybe?”