Pole Position (23 page)

The weather was foul for the next few days. High winds and squally showers battered the house, so we stayed in. It was idyllic.

We took long baths, made love in front of the fire and spent most of the time with our bodies entwined. Jon was insatiable. Perhaps a near-death experience made him more aware of life? As his body strengthened and healed, his capacity for lovemaking expanded even more.

At one point, we sprawled in front of the open fire, the remnants of a bottle of wine beside us. We were playing strip poker, and I was losing, badly. He was still almost fully dressed, while I only had my knickers. I laughed so hard my sides ached. Maddie stared at us; the cats were fully occupied trying to inch even closer to the warmth. The wind rattled the roof tiles, but inside, we were warm and cozy.

I took a sip of wine and regarded him over the top of my glass. I was mildly drunk. Easily achieved since I rarely touched alcohol.

He’d started shaving again. His cheeks were smooth and soft, and his eyes twinkled in the flickering firelight. I was happier than I’d ever felt before, but with an ache, an awareness of what was to come. It made the moment even more poignant. I knew loving Jon was like playing with fire. I could only hold him for a short time.

Danny was right, Jon was ethereal; he burned hotter than most people, with a zest and capacity for life that made everyone else dull in comparison.

I wondered with a pang if I’d ever be able to love anyone after him.

He gazed back at me, his eyes dancing across my almost naked body. “Do you really want to finish the hand?” His voice sounded husky. I wanted to hold him close, never let him go, bind him to me. The alcohol made me daring.

“Do you ever wish you could capture a perfect moment? What would yours be?”

He considered, his lips curling up as he thought. “When I won my first F3 race. I was the rookie, the new boy that came across from Indy cars, and nobody expected it. Nobody except me. I knew I could do it. And I stood on the podium and took the applause and knew it was mine.” He looked away for a moment, and then focused on me. “What would yours be?”

Oh God, dare I say it?

I took another swig of wine to bolster my courage. “It would be now. You and me here—the firelight and the wine. It won’t last forever, but just now, this is it. For me.”

Jon stared at me for a long time. I willed him to acknowledge it. Eventually he moved toward me and took the glass out of my hand. “No, this isn’t perfect. Yet.” He gazed at me steadily, dared me to look away. “
This
is perfect.” He dipped his head to my breast and moved his hand between my legs. I was lost.

It was Saturday morning, and everything felt different. I lay in bed, Anita snuggled beside me as usual, while I tried to decide what had changed.

It was quiet. Instead of a howling wind, I could hear birdsong, and sunlight peeped through the curtains instead of the cold gray light of the past few days. I kissed Anita’s neck, ran my hands over her breasts, and willed her to wake up. She grunted, tugged the covers higher, and stayed resolutely asleep. Oh well, she’d had more wine than usual last night. I’d let her sleep longer.

The two cats, Noah and Thing, had taken up residency on our bed, while Maddie lay guarding the doorway. I admired her persistence. She was getting bored with being confined to the house while the storm raged and we stayed in the warmth. If it looked nice today, we’d take her on the beach. I’d felt confined too. I missed my running. I normally ran an hour each day, but my doctor had been adamant I could do no vigorous exercise for at least a month.

I lay back and flexed my arms, feeling the muscles stretching and tensing. I’d drive today. I hadn’t been behind the wheel since, well since Spa, now a week ago. I thought briefly of Pedro. There was still no change in his condition. I contemplated how upset my mother had been when they eventually caught up with me in hospital. She’d begged me to give up racing, while Dad stood by, stony-faced with worry. I couldn’t do that, not now, not this close to everything I’d worked for.

I looked back at Anita and kissed her again, wondering how long it would be before she made demands like that. And how I’d react when she did.

****

Over breakfast, I suggested we go out and explore, for Anita to show me some of the places she loved, and she jumped at the chance.

“Let’s take Maddie for a walk first, and then we’ll go out for the day.”

She kissed me, her pretty eyes dancing, delighted with my suggestion.

After spending almost two hours throwing sticks on the beach, Maddie was finally tired, and we headed back to the house. Anita picked up her purse and the car keys while I collected our coats. As we tossed the coats on the back seat, along with my camera, she went to climb into the driver’s seat.

I stood in her way. “My turn. Keys please.”

She hesitated. “But…”

“But what? I’d like to drive now, please.”

Anita relinquished the keys and got silently into the passenger seat. Heaven only knew what she thought I was going to do.

I flexed my wrists again. The car was an automatic. I could easily get it into gear and operate the indicators, and my hands were nearly back to normal anyway. We fastened our seatbelts, Anita absorbed herself in the contents of my iPod, and I started the car. Into reverse, turned round on the parking area, and I pointed it down the track. Then the oddest thing happened. The wrist muscles in my right hand went into a spasm.

“
Shit
.” I stopped, and flexed my right wrist. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What? What’s the matter?” Anita abandoned the iPod and stared at me, her eyes wide and startled.

I huffed a short laugh. “My muscles locked, it’ll be all right in a minute.” I let the brake out, and we moved forward again, my right hand resting in my lap. As we turned onto the drive, my left wrist started trembling. I stared at it, horrified. It was just from keeping them strapped up all week. I stopped the car again and ripped the elastic supports from both wrists, tugging them off with my teeth. Anita stared at me in increasing alarm.

“There.” I forced a confident grin. “That’s better.”

We took off down the track, bumping on the uneven surface, and I pulled to a stop at the road.

“Okay, which way? Right or left?”

“Umm, let’s go right.”

“Right it is.” I lurched out onto the road, my right hand still resting on my lap and my left trembling even more.

What the fuck?

I gripped the wheel harder, while tightening and relaxing my fingers a few times to get the blood flowing. We cruised along the road a short way, and Anita indicated a left turn.

“Let’s take this one, South Stack Road. I’ll show you the lighthouse. You get some fabulous views.”

We approached the turn and my left wrist sent a shock wave up my arm, the muscles going into spasm. “
Fuck
.” I howled in pain and pulled to the side of the road.

Anita stared, her face white as I nursed both hands in my lap. “What’s the matter?”

I was sweating, my heart pounding. For a moment, I thought I was hyperventilating. I forced myself to breathe normally. “My fucking left wrist has gone as well. Shit.” I released the seatbelt, yanked the door open, and scrambled down from the car. I heard her following me.

Breathing heavily, I walked a few yards to a ditch and feeling suddenly nauseous, bent over it. I held the contents of my stomach, but only just. I slowly straightened up and looked back at the car. Anita stood there, worry written all over her face.

What the fuck had happened to my hands? Could it just be muscle spasms? Or something more sinister?

Driving meant everything to me and had since I first whizzed round the garden in a pedal-kart. I wiped a mostly numb hand across my face and took a few breaths. Conjuring up a smile, I walked back to the car.

“I must have had too much wine last night, I just felt a bit off. Are you okay to drive for the moment?”

Anita gazed back. I could tell she didn’t believe me. I waited for her to challenge me, but no. She ducked her head, as though thinking, then gave me a quick kiss.

“Of course. Shall we go to see the lighthouse?”

I didn’t know what to think, so I chose not to. Instead, I drove us to the car park at the base of Holyhead Mountain where we admired the view of the South Stack lighthouse, then on through Holyhead, and back toward the mainland. It was a Saturday, so there would be no flying from the air base today. Where else should we go?

I headed for the pretty town of Beaumaris, close to the Welsh mainland. The half-hour drive would give Jon time to get his composure back. By the time we pulled onto the sweeping car park overlooking the Menai Straits, he’d started smiling again and asking questions.

“This is Beaumaris.” I pronounced it again slowly. “Bow-morris. It actually originates from the French words beau—beautiful—and marais—marsh. The Normans named this lovely town as it was an important guard post in the border wars between England and Wales.”

“History lessons too?”

“I told you, my dad is really into local history. For as long as I can remember, he’s been telling me the stories of everywhere we’ve been.”

Jon nodded and pointed to a towering stone building, opposite the car park. “Is that where we’re going?” His eyes lit up with interest.

I nodded. “You wanted to go to Conwy Castle, and this is much smaller, but it’s just as beautiful. I thought you might like to see it.”

****

After we’d swapped places in the car, I helped him replace the elastic bandages, and kissed his hands. “These were working fine last night,” I reminded him with a smile, thinking back to our lovemaking in front of the fire. Jon scowled at me, but let me hold him briefly. Thankfully, he was back to normal now, the bouncing lively Jon from earlier. Either that or he was a better actor than I thought.

The castle bustled with visitors, but there was plenty of space to explore, and I showed him all my favorite spots. His camera lay slung, unused, across his shoulder, and I wondered if it was because he thought he’d struggle to operate it.

“Could you show me how your camera works? I’d love to take some pictures.” He showed me which buttons to press to focus and zoom, and how to view the images on the little screen at the back. He was soon using it again and took some snaps of me, his fingers now moving easily again. I saw the relief wash across his face. Whatever was wrong with his hands had terrified him.

From that point, the day picked up. I took him to the cozy café opposite where I coaxed him into a sweet and sticky treat: toasted crumpets served with pats of local butter and golden syrup, along with tall glasses of cream-topped hot chocolate. From there, it made sense for me to drive back, since I was familiar with the roads, and I took the scenic route along the bottom of the island. Past the looming sand dunes and rabbit warrens of Aberffraw, over the headland, past the beaches along the Porth Trecastell road, and down toward Rhosneigr.

“This is absolutely one of my favorite places round here, apart from Bryn Dinas. We used to holiday in Rhosneigr all the time. It has the most amazing sandy beach leading into the dunes. We’ll come back next week as well, when the flying resumes. You’ll love that.” I drove through the streets, now quiet as we came to the end of the afternoon, and parked overlooking the sand. “There’s a fabulous ice cream shop, let’s go there first.” I took Jon’s hand and we strolled into the village, chatting happily about the castle we’d just visited.

The ice cream shop doubled as a café and was busy with a handful of customers choosing cakes and drinks. We pored over the ice cream cabinet while I tried to decide what flavor to have, and then I noticed Jon was staring into the shop.

“Hang on a minute.” He squeezed my hand and walked into the café area to where a man sat with a small toddler, an empty ice cream dish in front of them.

I watched, bemused, as Jon strode confidently up to them. The stranger was tall and powerfully built, a little older than Jon, and dressed casually. Handsome too—with longish black hair, glossy as a crow’s wing. Steely gray eyes glanced up at Jon as he approached, and then a beaming smile of recognition swept across his face.

Jon spoke first. “Jordan Merrill? I thought I recognized you. You’re about the last person I’d expect to see here.”

The stranger stood and held out a hand to him. “Jon. Good to see you again. What the hell are you doing here?” His accent was American, a southern drawl.

Jon turned to beckon me across. “I’m on holiday here, with Anita.”

I shyly held out my hand, and he shook it firmly.

He urged us to sit down with him. “This is my daughter, Poppy.”

He spoke with great pride as he pulled her onto his lap. The toddler stared up at us with huge, bold eyes and reached out to touch my hair. There was no doubt of their relationship. She looked like a tiny version of him.

Jordan smiled. “It’s good to see you fit and well. I watched the race at Spa, and you had me worried. I was only reading your blog last night.”

Jon shrugged, the confident man I’d fallen in love with again. “It looked worse than it was. But what are you doing here? I heard you’d left the company. What happened?”

Jordan grinned and tickled Poppy. “It’s a long story, but I live here now. Say, why don’t you both come over and meet Kate, my wife. We’d love to catch up properly. How long are you staying here?”

“Another week. We’re over near Holyhead.”

Jon must have realized he’d been ignoring me; he took my hand and flashed me a smile. “This is Jordan Merrill. His company is one of the sponsors of our team, but since they’re based in Houston, I didn’t expect to see him
here
.”

“TM-Tech is based in Houston, but I do freelance for them now. Look, we’ve just about finished. Kate sent me to pick up something for dinner and Poppy demanded ice cream, so come on back with us. I’m parked right outside. Do you wanna follow me?”

I glanced at Jon. “I’m happy if you are? We can get ice cream another time.”

“Yeah, why not. Are you sure your wife won’t mind?”

He looked enthusiastic. “Kate? She loves showing off our home, and she’d love to meet you.” He smiled at me. “Both of you.”