Checkered Flag (16 page)

JAMIE STOOD
beside the car as her parents hugged and prayed. Her mom handed her dad a folded piece of paper, and Jamie moved closer to read it.

However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace. (Acts 20:24, NIV)

Her dad smiled. “That’s it, darlin’. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

Her mom said something, her face buried in his fire suit.

“I know,” he said. “I miss him already too.”

Her dad climbed into the car, and soon they lined up behind the pace car.
Jamie put on her headphones and caught sight of Chad Devalon three pit boxes away. He was laughing with one of the crew members, but when he turned and saw her, the smile faded.

Her dad had qualified in the seventh position to start the race, and he said it was the perfect number. When Jamie asked him to explain, he said, “Seven is the biblical number of completeness.”

“I’d rather be number one,” Jamie had said.

The first few laps were tentative for everyone. Though the top four drivers were in line for a possible championship, all 12 Chase drivers wanted to make moves, and the other 31 drivers wanted to finish the season well and end on a good note looking forward to Daytona in February. But no one wanted to be the person who knocked a potential champion out of the race.

“Butch Devalon moves forward two spots now and takes the lead on lap 12,” the announcer said. “He’s the favorite to win another championship, but there are a lot of guys behind him who want to stop him.”

“Yeah, and one of those is in the #14 car there,” a commentator said. “Dale Maxwell is looking for his first championship, and you can bet he knows exactly what he has to do in order to jump over the other contenders.”

Jamie switched the radio to her dad’s frequency. “. . . feels a little loose at the moment. I want to try an air pressure adjustment on the left side.”

The #14 car was in fifth position, and the other two cars in contention for the cup, #11 and #76, were now in the middle of the field.

“Long race, Dale,” T.J. said. “Don’t push it here at the front.”

“I want to lead a lap while I’m running well,” her dad said.

He went on the outside around the three cars ahead of him and caught up to the #13 car. It looked like Devalon could feel him coming, and Jamie switched to the channel and heard Butch’s voice.

“Yeah, I see him,” Butch said.

“At your bumper,” the spotter said.

“Not for long,” Butch said.

With a burst of speed, #13 pulled ahead and her dad fell in behind him, following a car length away.

“That’ll teach him,” the spotter said.

“Got that right,” Devalon said.

Jamie went back to her dad’s channel and listened as he bided his time. When Devalon pitted under green, her dad stayed out and led a lap.

But two laps later, Scotty shouted into the microphone, “Stay low. Stay low. Come on. Come on! You’re clear. . . . Good job.”

“Think I picked up some debris back there,” Dale said. “I’ll need four tires when I come in.”

His right front was nearly shredded when he slid into the pit stall. A jammed lug nut extended the pit stop, and when he returned to the track, he was in 15th place. Butch was just ahead of him in 11th place with cars #11 and #76 moving up to the third and fifth positions on the track. Both worked their way up to lead a lap, gaining precious points toward the championship.

“What would happen if we finished right now?” Kellen yelled over the noise.

“There’d be a lot of angry fans,” Jamie said, chuckling.

“I can’t watch,” her mom said.

Jamie put an arm around her. “Finishing the race is not just for drivers, you know,” she said, winking.

At lap 130, a rookie driver moved right, then came sharply down the track and collected the #11 car, sending him into the wall. The #11 driver climbed out, throwing his helmet onto the pavement. Everybody in the pit area said, “Ooooh,” knowing how much helmets cost. Though Jamie was glad to have one person out of contention, she felt bad for both drivers, especially the rookie who got out of his car and almost crawled back to the garage.

Butch Devalon moved back into the top 10, and her dad remained farther back, staying between the
15th and 20th positions. It was a strategy he’d used before—conserving his engine and tires and waiting to pounce. The only question was whether he had enough time to make it work.

One of the seven caution flags came out on lap 249, and the leaders came in for tires and fuel.

“You should be good for the rest of the way, Dale,” T.J. said.

“Ten-four.”

The #14 car exited pit road in the 12th position. On a single-file restart, her dad shot low and went around two cars that were slow to the line. One of them was the #76. Jamie about jumped out of her skin when she saw that.

Butch Devalon had made his way back to first place and seemed to be pulling away from the field—not a good sign for the Maxwell crew. The only glimmer of hope was that her dad was matching his lap speeds almost exactly.

“He’ll slow down in a few laps,” T.J. said, and Jamie could hear the wishful thinking in his voice.

By lap 257, the #14 car had closed the gap and was racing in third place. The #76 car had backed off into the 20s.

“Looks like it’s Butch vs. Dale now,” the commentator said. “And if they finish one and two, Butch is going to take the cup again.”

“Ten laps to go to see who will win the cup—”

“And Dale’s in the second position now, about five car lengths behind Butch. They’ve both run clean out here today, and it looks like they’re only getting stronger.”

Her dad closed the gap to two car lengths on the next lap. With six laps to go he was at Devalon’s rear end.

“If Dale steals the air from him, he could spin Butch out,” the commentator said. “If it were the other way around, Dale leading, I’d bet Butch would do that, but I don’t think Dale will. Look at that—he’s moving down on the inside.”

Her dad’s car was at the door of #13 and pulling even into turn one. He accelerated into the turn, trading paint with #13 as he went a little high. The rest of the field had fallen back, and Devalon and Maxwell were passing lapped traffic. Her dad pulled half a car length ahead. In turn four, he cleared Devalon and #13 got behind #14.

“Watch and see if Butch tries to get him loose in one of these turns,” the commentator said. “Five laps to go.”

“Butch should just back off here,” the announcer said. “He’s the cup champion as it stands. The last thing he should want to do is chance a crash.”

“You don’t tell a guy like Butch to back off,” the
commentator said. “He wants to win this race. That’s in his blood.”

Her dad held a slim lead, and the rest of the pack fell back. It was #14 in front of #13 as they came down the back straightaway.

The crowd stood and cheered as the engines roared, and Jamie got a little misty-eyed. If things stayed the way they were now, her dad would win, but he’d be in second place in the Chase. “We need some help,” she said to Kellen.

“Want me to run onto the track and throw a shoe at Devalon’s windshield?”

Jamie shook her head and smiled. “There’s nobody close enough to block him or get in front of him.” She looked at the sky, darkening now. Did God care about the outcome of NASCAR races? Did he care who came in first, last, or was the lucky dog?

“Four laps to go as Dale Maxwell tries to hold off Butch Devalon for the win here at Homestead,” the announcer said. “And unless something drastic happens, Butch is going to be the cup—”

“Look at this coming up behind them,” the commentator said. “The #76 car got a burst of speed, and he’s closing the gap on the leaders.”

They were on the backstretch when #76 pulled behind Devalon to make it three cars, single file. In turn four all three cars were within inches of each other.

“Oh, look out!” the commentator said. “Dale got loose out of turn four, and he did a good job of hanging on. But here comes—”

“
Oh!
Devalon went low on the apron, and it looked like he overcorrected.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“The #13 and #76 hit hard, and it looks like they both got into Dale a bit too, but he was able to hold on to it. The caution is out.”

“I would not want to be down there when Butch climbs out of that car.”

“We’re getting word that we’ll have one more try to complete this race when the debris is cleared from the track.”

Jamie watched in stunned silence. Devalon’s car wasn’t as badly damaged as the #76, and with four tires, he was able to come back onto the track, though way behind the leaders.

On the restart, her dad shot forward, and it almost looked like the field was giving him the championship.

“White flag, white flag,” a spotter said.

With tears in her eyes, Jamie watched her dad sail through the final lap, as if he were riding on a cloud. Butch Devalon limped home in 33rd place while her dad took the checkered flag. Jamie glanced at Kellen, then her mom, her mouth in an O.

“Hot dog, Dale did it!” the commentator said.

“And if my calculations are correct, Dale wins by the slimmest of margins, only one point over Butch Devalon.”

“Can you believe that? I’ll tell you what. This is the kind of racing the fans love to see, fighting and gouging right to the end. I hate to see Butch lose—he’s getting out of his car now, and he doesn’t look too happy.”

“Well, he only has himself to blame because he could have backed off and won the cup if he hadn’t pushed it. Here’s the replay now. . . .”

JAMIE JOINED
her dad, the rest of the family, and the crew in the winner's circle. Soda was in the air, and she couldn't hold back the smiles. Her dad was interviewed as soon as he jumped onto the ground, and he was all smiles as well.

“I want to pay tribute to Butch in the #13 and Rusty in #76,” her dad said. “They were fine competitors out there, and I just managed to squeak by. And the #11 car could have been right here too if it hadn't had a tough break. But I want to thank our sponsors and the crew and everybody back at the garage in Velocity. I'm proud to be standing here today and a giving testimony to God's grace. My wife gave me a verse before I started today, and I'll end it by thanking God for giving me the privilege of winning this. It's only by his strength that I can do anything.”

The reporter pulled the microphone back and asked about the wreck.

Her dad said that as soon as Butch got into him, he floored it and tried to punch through. “I got smacked in the left rear, and the car was a little hard to handle on the last couple of laps, but I wasn't about to let it get away from me.”

“How's it feel to be the new cup champion?” the reporter said.

“Well, it's a lifelong dream come true.” He looked at Jamie's mom. “And this is probably as good a time as any to announce something I've been thinking about for a long time. There's going to be another bay in our garage because I'm taking on a new driver next year.” He put his arm around Jamie. “She helped me get to this point, and I'm hoping we get to race together in the next few years.”

“What do you think about that, Jamie?” the reporter said.

Jamie grinned. “It's kind of hard to believe. I guess I should wait to see if there are any better offers, but okay. You're on, Dad.”

The two embraced, and Kellen and her mom jumped into the pile, along with T.J., Scotty, and the rest of the crew.

“David beats Goliath,” the announcer said.

“Yeah, and David's daughter might just be better than her dad,” the commentator said.

JAMIE HEARD
the phone ring the next morning and rolled over in bed to go back to sleep. It was her dad’s “What!?” that got her up. She ran into the kitchen, where her mom sat with an open Bible. Her dad’s Bible was in his place, and he was pacing the kitchen.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” her dad said.

“Is it about Tim?” Jamie said.

Her mother shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Kellen came out, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What’s all the shouting for?”

“So there’s nothing we can do? What about an appeal?”

“Maybe it’s about Tim’s mom,” Jamie whispered.

Her dad walked into the bedroom. When he came out he was shaking his head. He plopped into his chair like a dead fish.

“What?” the three of them said in unison.

“The car failed a postrace inspection,” he said. “We were too low on the left rear.”

“It was the accident!” Jamie said. “Devalon slammed into you, and it mashed the back end down. How can you control that?”

“They can’t take the win from you, can they?” Kellen said.

“Not the win,” he said. “But they’re taking the cup away.”

There was silence for a split second, then a trio of angry voices.

“That’s not fair!”

“They can’t do that!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Dad!”

“There has to be something you can do—file a protest or something. Write the president!”

When everyone had quieted, Jamie put her head in her hands and groaned. “Oh no, you know what this means, don’t you?”

“What?” Kellen said.

“Devalon gets the cup. Butch Devalon is going to win on a technicality.”

Her mom stood and rubbed her dad’s back. “I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Well, at least I won’t have the pressure of defending my title next year.
T.J. said there was a bad weld in one of the shocks. At least we didn’t get the penalty because we cheated.”

Jamie shook her head. “All that publicity, all those interviews for winning—I thought that was part of God’s plan. That you’d get to be up in front of all those people and get to tell them about God.”

He nodded. “That’s what I thought, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” Her dad sat and flipped through his Bible. Then he got up and poured Kellen a bowl of cereal. He paced through the kitchen, running a hand through his hair.

Jamie still couldn’t believe the turn of events. She felt numb.

Finally her dad said, “I think I’ll take a walk on the beach.”

“You want me to go with you?” her mom said.

“I think I need to be by myself for a little bit.”

When her dad had gone, Jamie and her mom just listened to Kellen crunch his cereal. Then he slurped his milk. Then he banged the spoon on the side of the bowl.

“Would you stop that!” Jamie snapped.

“What did I do?” Kellen said. He put his bowl in the sink.

All three of them sighed at the same time.

“I miss Tim,” Kellen said. “Can I call him, Mom?”

“No. Not yet. Let’s give him some time.”

“I just want to see how he is.”

“Wonder if he heard about the race,” Jamie said.

Her mom did the breakfast dishes. When Kellen started to turn on the TV, she stopped him. “We’ve had enough coverage of your dad. Let’s leave it.”

Jamie wanted to go home, but her dad insisted they take advantage of the beach house. On Tuesday they drove a short way to Everglades National Park. They rented four bikes and rode the extensive trails. Jamie liked the Long Pine Key ride, where they saw a few alligators sleeping along the sides of the path. At one point her dad got a little close, and a gator lunged at him.

By Wednesday they were feeling better about the loss of the cup, though the sting was still there for all of them. Jamie’s dad did a couple of interviews near the track about the season and the loss. Jamie watched the report late in the day and had to switch it off when she saw Butch Devalon’s face.

After her mom had prepared the turkey for cooking the next day, they played Scrabble with girls against the boys. Kellen kept playing words like
it
and
to
, and her dad couldn’t quit laughing. Jamie and her mom won going away.

/////

Jamie went for a walk on the deserted beach the next morning. She liked looking for shells and digging her
feet in the wet sand. She found herself praying, just talking to God as she walked along. She prayed for the people she knew who weren’t Christians—Vanessa came to her mind and Tim, of course. She also prayed for Cassie and some others in her youth group.

She stopped and looked out at the vastness of the ocean. A smile came to her face. “This is totally not what I expected to be doing,” she said out loud. “If you’d have asked me six months ago if I’d be walking on the beach, praying to you, and enjoying it, I wouldn’t have believed it. I think that’s what I’m most thankful for this year.”

When she got home, she helped her mom in the kitchen, making some stuffing. Her dad always made a fruit salad with cranberry sauce that everybody loved and cut the turkey. Kellen played a new NASCAR video game, and instead of racing to win, he spent a half hour smashing into the #13 car. Her dad laughed at him.

Kellen set the table as Jamie and her parents brought the food in. It was enough for a small army, like each Thanksgiving. Jamie’s mom looked at a fifth plate at the end of the table and Kellen frowned. “Sorry. I just got in the habit of setting five places instead of four.”

They joined hands, and her dad cleared his throat. “Father, we want to thank you for the things you’ve
brought into our lives this past year. For the successes and the failures. For the decisions you guided us through. For our family. And we think about the one missing from us. . . .” His voice caught and Jamie glanced over. Her dad had his chin down, tight against his chest.

“You love Tim even more than we do,” her mom prayed, picking it up from Jamie’s dad. “We thank you for what you taught us through him. We ask you to draw him and his mom to yourself. We give him to you. . . .”

There was an awkward pause again, and Jamie saw her mom bring her napkin to her eyes.

The next voice she heard was Kellen’s. “Lord, Tim’s had a lot of tough breaks. I just think he needs to be with us. So I pray you’d bring him back somehow.”

“Amen,” Jamie said.

“Amen,” everybody else said.

Jamie started with stuffing, turkey, and mashed potatoes, along with some of the fruit salad. She put butter on her roll and was about to dig in when someone tapped at the front door. They all looked at each other.

“Who could that be?” her mom said.

Kellen was the first up and to the door. When he opened it, Jamie gasped.

“Man, that prayer really worked!” Kellen said. “And fast!”

“Tim!” Jamie said.

He had his suitcase with him on the sidewalk, and he looked exhausted. “I was hoping you guys would still be here.”

“Where’s your mom?” Jamie said.

Tim put his suitcase down on the front step as Kellen dragged him inside. “Well, that’s kind of a long story. But to be honest, I don’t think it’s going to work for me to stay with her. At least not for now.” Kellen had Tim in the kitchen now, and Tim glanced at the food on the table. He looked as hungry as a wolf. “I was kind of thinking that if your offer was still good . . . I mean, I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but—”

Jamie’s dad took Tim’s suitcase and gave him a bear hug. “Welcome home, Tim. And happy Thanksgiving.”

“Get washed up and join us,” Jamie’s mom said. “We already set you a place at the table.”

“Really?” Tim said, taking a look at the empty plate.

Tears came to Jamie’s eyes. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she’d never understand what it was about Tim that touched her deep inside. But her dad had said it all in that one word.

Home.