Page 193 of The Champion

Our community, my racing family, had lost members oftheir family today and though I knew deep down it wasn’t my fault, it didn’tstop from taking a piece of me.

Just as a reciprocating engine is made up of systems thatkeeps it running so is the racing community. There’s one that keeps the pistonsmoving, one that keeps the belts moving, one that keeps oil flowing and onethat creates spark. They are all connected. Take one out of the equation andguess what, that engine that kept you going is no longer there and everythingfalls apart.

Take drivers from the series and you feel it.

That checkered flag you saw in the distance becomes ayellow flag. Until they fail, or one is taken from the equation, you don’trealize how much you depend on those pistons, cylinders, belts, and oil.

Poppet – Sway

Death is such a surreal thing to me. It lies and waitsunder the surface waiting to consume. It’s noticeable but hovering and ready totake victim at any moment.

I didn’t waste time in Elma after I heard about theaccident. Arie and I flew back to Mooresville that night and helped with thedevastation. I knew I couldn’t offer much but I’d help in any way I could.Those drivers, those crew members and pilots all had family and I could bethere for them.

Tate’s teammate, Andy Crockett, one of the drivers on theplane, was married and had kids the same age as Arie and Casten. My heart achedfor his wife Erica and I wondered how in the world she was managing right now.I couldn’t comprehend the feeling I had when I thought that Jameson was on thatplane and the relief, though incredibly reassuring, was immediately forgottenwhen I realized that just because Jameson, my world, wasn’t on that planedidn’t mean that there wasn’t a handful of others on it who had family.

When I got to the shop where Alley told me Jameson was, Iheard the sounds of screaming and destruction coming from inside his shop. Icould hear things being smashed and destroyed over his pain.

Opening the door, it pushed open but with resistance fromthe parts that had been hurled against it.

He stood, in the middle of the shop, bent forward withhis hands resting on the wing of a sprint car.

He turned slightly, his body remained in line with thecar, and just his head moved at the sound of the door. His brow furrowed, linesforming in the outer corners, his expression boarding painful, his eyes dark tomatch his lashes.

When he noticed it was me, he turned to meet me walkingtoward him. He was scared and he was angry. He also had every right to feelboth.

“Honey, you really shouldn’t be in here.” His voice wasfirm but breakable as he stared down into my eyes, his face an unreadablecontrast to my own. He scratched the back of his neck slowly, his head hung indefeat. Regret and sadness were easy. Moving forward wasn’t. I knew that justas Jameson did. But I’d be here for him.

Just the same as I’d heard those very words back inCalifornia all those years back, I ignored them because he was a man, myhusband, needing me again.

When I looked at him, I could see the same fire I’vealways seen but it was trying to go out with the winds created.

I felt him lower his face to mine, his breath hitting mylips.

Jameson’s lips trailed across my jaw stopping in theirpath to kiss my lips and forehead, his nose delicately nudging against mine.

His lips were there next, brushing lightly against mine,soft and feather-like.

When he finally closed the distance, pressing gentlekisses to my lips, a sigh of contentment and relief fell from me.

My hands soon found their place in his shirt, immediatelyfisting it in my hands.

“I love you.” I told him over and over again. My wordsfelt pathetic, they meant something but nothing of comfort or even an answerfor him.

I told him this because that’s what he needed toremember. He needed to remember that I was here for him despite his pain andanguish.

Tears were streaming down my face with an unstoppableforce along with choking, bone rattling sobs.

“I love you too. You can be sure of that.” He assured mewith steady palms cradling my face.

That’s when we both dropped to our knees and he wasoffering me anything he could to provide for me. Comfort me in any way hecould. But it wasn’t me he needed to comfort. I was crying to him. For hissuffering that he wouldn’t show.

He tried to detach himself from it but not feelinganything was the last thing he needed right now.

“It’s going to be okay.” I whispered to him finding aplace against the rear tire of the sprint car

“Sway,” his voice cracked, eyes glistened with remorsefultears. “My team, members of my racing family were...”his eyes shut trying to stop the few tears that slipped by. “So you see,” hecontinued, refusing to look at me. “Nothing is as easy, or as simple, as itshould be.”

He lifted me up, setting me on his lap to wrap his armsaround me.

---