Sweet Carolina (3 page)

Russell twisted his ancient baseball cap in
his hands. “I don't know, Caro. I just don't know. Now, your daddy,
God rest his soul, he would've whipped the kid into shape – “

“Thank you, Russell, for pointing that out.
However, my father isn't here anymore. I'm in charge and I'll
figure out something – preferably something that doesn’t involve
whipping.”

Russell apologized for overstepping and
exited, hat in hand, leaving Caro alone in the small office. She
peered out the window overlooking the darkened garage. Everyone was
gone at this hour, home to families and softball practices, and all
those other things people did when they had a life.

Ever since she started looking more woman and
less little girl, her dad saw to it she was kept as far from the
garage and the tracks as possible. That meant boarding schools
where they'd never heard of NASCAR, and served tea in china cups.
Stewart Hawkins believed it would keep his daughter away from
racing, teach her about the finer things in life, things he knew
nothing about. But he didn't know anything about his daughter
either.

Caro stared at the pristine garage. It was
miles away from the greasy, disorganized shop she'd hung around
instead of drinking tea, and though it was only a short walk from
her dorm, it was light years away in every other aspect. The old
mechanic who owned the place hadn't wanted her there anymore than
her father would have, but she'd gradually worn him down. Her
questions and book knowledge of automobiles eventually won him over
and he'd taught her what he could about internal combustion engines
and how to work on them.

She'd been complimented more than once at
school about her well-manicured fingernails, but no one knew she
kept them polished to cover the grease stains underneath, which no
amount of scrubbing could erase.

Another four years away, studying engineering
and every subject related to racing, and she'd come back to North
Carolina, ready to be a part of Hawkins Racing. A year later, and
she was running the family business, but not because Stewart
Hawkins saw the error of his ways. No, up until a massive heart
attack cut short his life, he kept Caro “in her place” – sitting
around, pretending to be a lady.

“Well, Daddy,” she said. “I'm Hawkins Racing
now, and we're going to do it my way.”

Caro turned her back to the empty garage and
stared at the financial reports on her desk. There was only one
driver with the ability to turn things around for Hawkins Racing,
but he also had the ability to drive the final nail in their
coffin.

She'd known Dell Wayne her entire life.
They'd ridden their bicycles around the infields together, and
painted used lug nuts for checkers on the old game board they'd
found in her daddy's hauler. Dell was different then. He was happy.
Fun to be around.

She hadn't seen or spoken to him in years,
but she followed his career. Racing was as much in his blood as it
was hers. About the time she'd gone off to boarding school, Dell
took to racing anything with wheels. He was good. Really good. All
the track announcers talked about him as the heir apparent to his
father's legacy. Some speculated he would surpass his father in
wins and records.

But that was in the past. Before Caudell
Senior wrecked at Darlington.

They called him Madman now, and with good
reason.

Caro sat at her desk, twirling a pencil
between her fingers. Dell was the only Cup driver who didn't have a
ride, and the reason for that was the same reason she shouldn’t
even consider offering him her ride. She leaned her head against
the high back of the new ergonomic chair she got to replace her
dad's old, worn out one, and closed her eyes. Which was worse?
Taking a chance on Jeff Wilson manning up on the track and becoming
the driver they needed before Hawkins Racing ran out of money? Or
taking a chance on Dell Wayne? Dell either wrecked or won. The
winning part was what they needed, the wrecking – not so much. Too
many of those, and Hawkins Racing would redline for good.

Dell had one more week on his suspension. If
someone else had offered him a ride, they were keeping it mighty
quiet – not an easy thing to do in the small world of professional
stock car racing. Everyone knew everyone else's business. Just like
their moonshining forefathers knew what all their neighbors and
competitors were doing. Not much had changed since driving moved
from necessity to sport.

Caro contemplated her situation. It was
possible Dell was off the market. There were a few people in the
business who could keep their mouths shut. She stashed the grim
reports in her briefcase, flicked the light switch, and shut the
door behind her. With nothing more than the illuminated exit signs
to light her way, she made her way to the front of the building,
past trophy cases gleaming with evidence of past glories.

Caro ran her fingertips over the hood of the
display car, standing sentinel in the middle of the lobby – a
testament to the heyday of Hawkins Racing, when nearly every car on
the circuit ran a Hawkins engine. The garage was busy around the
clock to keep up with the demand, as well as field their own
drivers. Plural. When she left for boarding school, Hawkins Racing
ran three cars in the Cup Series, and twice that many in the lower
series.

It was time for new trophies and past time to
replace the relics of days gone by with something new. Something
that would represent the future of Hawkins Racing.

A warm breeze caressed her cheek and lifted
the single strand of hair dangling from her sleek updo as she
turned to lock the front door. No use dwelling on it any longer.
When it came to options, no matter how she tried to convince
herself otherwise, there was only one thing she could do.

* * * *

She didn't know what she expected, but this
wasn't it. Even though she'd seen Dell on TV dozens, hundreds of
times since he'd grown up, nothing could prepare her for the sight
of him in person. He stood framed in the doorway, lit from a light
somewhere in the cavern of his house, while Caro stood on the
darkened porch, staring. Dell Wayne. All grown up. And
scowling.

“Hello, Dell,” she said.

“Carolina?” His scowl turned to a smile as
recognition dawned.

“How have you been?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said stepping back and sweeping
his arm in invitation. “Come in, come in.”

Caro stepped past him into the marbled
entryway. The door closed behind her with a solid thunk, and she
turned to her host.

“My, my. Who would have thought little
Carolina Hawkins would turn out like…” He eyed her up and down.
“This.” He shook his head. “It's good to see you, Caro.”

“It's good to see you too, Dell.”

Silence descended as Dell stood smiling and
staring at her as if he couldn't believe his eyes. “Oh, hey…come
in.” He led the way and Caro followed him to the source of the
light – a large den furnished with comfortable, overstuffed brown
leather furniture and a flat-screen TV that would rival the giant
HDTV at Charlotte Motor Speedway.

“Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Beer,
soda, water?”

“No, thanks,” Caro said as she sank to the
edge of the long sofa. “I'm good.” In better lighting, Dell was
even more striking than he was on TV. He'd been a cute kid, but
back then, she hadn't given a thought to the man he would become.
He was tall for a driver. Nearly six feet, she guessed. His body
was lean, and the way he moved suggested a well-toned musculature
that obeyed his every command. His dark hair was in need of a trim,
but on him, it looked good. The laughing blue eyes she remembered
were still startlingly clear, but now there was something about
them, a depth that wasn't there when he was younger. She supposed
it went along with growing up.

Dell wasn't a kid anymore. He was a man. A
good-looking one with boatloads of money and he drove racecars.
Women probably showed up on his doorstep every day, offering
him…anything he wanted. Caro swallowed hard as she thought about
the things she might be inclined to offer him if things were
different. If she weren't here to offer him a job.

Dell flopped into the chair across from her
and was almost swallowed up by the billowing cushions. “Wow,” he
said. “I can't believe you're here. I mean… in my house. After all
these years.”

“Well…”

“Hey,” he sat forward and his smile vanished.
“I'm sorry about your dad. He was a great guy.”

“Thanks. He liked you too.”

Dell's smile returned. “Maybe. I seem to
recall him threatening to paddle my butt a time or two.”

A little of the anxiety that tightened her
shoulders slipped away and she smiled at the memory. This was
familiar territory. Between them, they shared thousands of
memories. “Yes, but you always talked him out of it, even when you
deserved it.”

“I did.” Dell seemed to focus on something
only he could see. His tone turned somber. “Those were good
times.”

“They were. I loved every minute of being at
the tracks. I loved the giant campground, the smell of barbecue
grills and the constant roar of engines. It was great place to be a
kid.”

“We had fun.”

Neither spoke for a moment, lost in the past.
Caro broke the silence. “I'm sorry about your dad. I was away…at
school.”

Dell sat back and the chair engulfed him
again. “Don't worry about it.” He dismissed her concern with a wave
of his hand and the gravel in his voice.

“It must have been hard on you.”

“So, Caro, why did you come here
tonight?”

Chapter Three

Caro accepted the change of subject. Dell and
his dad were at odds more than they'd ever agreed. Dell wanted to
race, and Caudell didn't want him to. Dell did it anyway.

“I heard you lost your ride.”

“Old news, Caro.”

“Do you have any offers?”

“Nope. There isn't much call for a Cup driver
after the season starts, unless…”

“Someone gets injured, or dies,” she finished
for him.

“Exactly.”

“I'm running Hawkins Racing now. I need a Cup
driver. Someone the other drivers will respect. Someone who can win
races.”

Dell studied her from his plush leather
cocoon. She hadn't expected him to jump for joy, but she did hope
he'd say something. His silence, this scrutiny from those blue eyes
chipped away at the fragile wall of confidence she'd pinned her
hopes on.

“What are you saying?” he asked – at
last.

Air rushed back into her lungs. She tried to
hide her relief behind what she hoped was an I-know-what-I'm-doing
expression and plunged on. At least he was listening, instead of
laughing his head off. She couldn't think of many drivers who would
listen to a word she said. As far as most were concerned, she had
two strikes against her: first – she was a woman: second – she was
young. Too young, and too female to run a race team. She gulped in
fresh air and laid her offer on the line.

“I want you to drive for me. For Hawkins
Racing.”

No laughter. Not even a hint of amusement.
Dell studied her some more and she did her best to keep still while
every cell in her body squirmed.

“What about Jeff Wilson?” he asked.

A legitimate question. “You've seen him
drive. He doesn’t have the confidence to compete at this
level.”

“So, he's going to lose his ride?”

“If I can find someone to replace him, I'll
move him down to a lower series or keep him on as a spotter. I'm
hoping he can learn from you. He needs a mentor.”

“You've never seen me drive.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You were away at school. Television doesn't
count. It's not the same as seeing it in person.”

“I saw you win at Pocono, what was it? Four
years ago? I saw your fifth-place finish at Watkin's Glen. And your
DNF at Pocono last year.”

“How? I can't imagine your dad was happy
about you being there.”

“He didn't know. I bought a ticket and sat in
the stands. A friend loaned me a car. As long as I brought it back
with a full tank of gas and no dents, I was free to use it whenever
I wanted to. I couldn't see all the races up north, but I made it
to a few. Enough to know you're a good driver.”

“You don't know anything, Caro.”

“You're turning me down?”

“No. I didn't say that.”

Caro tried to repair her confidence that
slipped several notches when she thought he was going to turn her
down. She seized on his lack of refusal, deciding to treat it as a
victory for her. If she acted like he'd accepted, he'd have to go
along, or clearly state otherwise. She was counting on the former.
“Good. Then…as soon as your suspension is over, I want you in the
garage. I'll have the lawyers draw up a contract for you to sign,
and I'll have a fire suit made up for you. Is there anything else
you need?”

“Money?”

Caro hesitated. There was no avoiding the
subject. She held the top of her purse in a white-knuckled grip and
looked him in the eye. There wasn't any way to gloss this part
over, and she couldn't bulldoze her way through it either. Her
confidence slipped another notch. “I can't match what you were
making. I can't even come close.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Negotiate. He wanted to negotiate. She could
do this. Really, she could.

“I was hoping you would take a percentage of
the winnings, and of course, the sponsor will be generous.”

One strong eyebrow lifted in tandem with one
corner of his mouth. Caro braced herself for the belly laugh she'd
been expecting ever since she voiced her proposal. “Meaning all the
barbeque I can eat?”

“It's a bit more than that, but yes, all you
can eat. I know Marvin's Barbeque Pit is a step down for you, but
they're good people.”