Winning It All (28 page)

R
ACE MORNING
in Homestead, Bryan leaned against his motor home counter and sipped coffee.

Today the championship would be decided, and his brother and everybody at GRI would either walk away elated or devastated. With Cade in the points lead, the trophy was theirs to lose. Any mistake—from a bad spark plug to a missed lug nut on pit road—could cost them everything.

The whole season was down to four hundred miles. Anticipation over the gravity of what the next few hours would bring tightened his stomach muscles.

“Morning.”

He glanced down the hall as Darcy walked toward him. “Morning,” he said, feeling that tightness loosen a bit.

Dressed in one of his old souvenir T-shirts, she shuffled toward him.

Since she was rarely the slow-moving one in the morning, he savored the pleasure of watching her wake up.

She slid her arm around his waist and leaned against him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He kissed the top of her head and inhaled her vanilla-touched scent. “It’s a big day.”

“When does the garage open?”

He glanced at his watch. “In twenty minutes.”

“I’ll get in the shower, so I can come with you,” she said as she pulled away.

“You don’t have to do that.”

She tossed a grin over her shoulder. “Who’s gonna feed all your guys, then? I’m betting you’re not the only one up before sunrise.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was pouring coffee in her bright red No. 56 Huntington Hotels travel mug and ready to head out the door.

Self-conscious, but not so much to resist the impulse, he stared at that number and said a silent prayer. There wasn’t much left he could do now. The day was up to Cade, Sam and his team.

He focused on Darcy. At least she was a sure thing. “Is this speedy getting ready stuff part of the honeymoon period, or can I count on this for the next sixty years?”

“Honeymoon period? We’re not even married yet.”

Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her against him. “I told you we should have gotten the minister to do the ceremony in Victory Lane last week.”

“Oh, no. I want a ceremony on the beach and a real honeymoon—with no race cars, wrenches or dyno
numbers in sight.” She slid her hand up his chest. “And you all to myself.”

“You will. After today.”

“For a few days. Until you start thinking about Daytona next year.”

Feeling guilty, he nodded.

“And I know you’re doing that already.” She kissed him lightly. “Hey, I’ve got this owner’s wife thing down pat.”

Wife.

She’d only been his fiancée a few weeks. But nobody, including them, thought they were rushing into a commitment. Darcy had really been a member of the family for months. Making their bond official was easy.

Which they were doing behind Parker’s oceanside hotel tomorrow afternoon. As long as the team, their friends and family were around, they might as well take advantage of the moment.

If the beach was what Darcy wanted, then she’d get it. As long as he had her, Bryan wasn’t worried about anything.

Well…except today’s race.

Cade had to finish ninth or better and lead a lap to win the championship.

Seemingly reading his thoughts, Darcy squeezed his hand. “He’s going to w—”

He laid his finger over her lips. “Don’t jinx it.”

“Fine,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t you the one always talking about not upsetting the universal balance?”

She pulled his hand away so she could talk. “You’re the one who said he was going to w—” She stopped, clearing her throat.
“You know,”
she whispered, “at Indy. And look what happened there.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not risking anything today.”

“What about tomorrow?”

His gaze searched hers. The golden sparks that he knew he’d see the rest of his life were shining bright and sure. “No risk there, either. You love me.”

“I certainly do.” She puckered her lips. “One last kiss for luck.”

No way he was turning down an invitation like that.

“Poor Parker,” she said when they reluctantly separated.

“Parker?”

“Yeah. He probably didn’t get any sleep last night with Cade calling every five minutes to make sure he still had the lucky penny.”

Bryan felt the blood drain from his face. “He
does
have it, doesn’t he?”

Laughing, she steered him out the door. “I’m sure he does, but let’s go make sure.”

Fall, two years later

A
MID THE CELEBRATION
in Victory Lane, Isabel Garrison pulled her vibrating phone from her pocket.

Baby coming. Get here ASAP.

—P

She glanced at the date and time the message was sent. Today, basically ten seconds ago. That couldn’t be right.

Even though Parker was a new dad, she couldn’t imagine him forgetting his son arrived yesterday. In fact, he, Rachel and Patrick Mitchell Huntington—named for both grandfathers—were still at the hospital in Charlotte. What baby could—

Oh, boy.

Or, more accurately,
oh, girl.

Darcy’s in labor?!? she texted back to Parker.

For forty humming seconds—which she counted, one-by-one—she tapped her foot and looked up at the risers, watching her husband and his team take another picture and switch ball caps to yet another
sponsor for the next picture. It was a ritual they’d shared many times over the last three years. In fact, she was usually next to him in those pictures. Just not today, when—

Yes! was Parker’s response.

On our way…she sent back, then stuffed the phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She had to get this circus moving. Racing was their business, but family was their life.

All the grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, etc. were at home, cooing over baby Pat, so there was only her and Cade to get to the new birthing party. And they needed to get moving.

For the first time ever, she wished Cade wasn’t so skilled behind the wheel. If he’d finished a little farther back in the field, they’d already be on their way to the airport by now.

“Let’s go, champ,” she said in her husband’s ear after working her way through the jubilant crowd. “We have to go meet your niece.”

Cade’s trademark Garrison blue eyes widened. “I just met my nephew yesterday. Or did I dream we were in the hospital last night?”

“These things apparently happen in pairs.”

“I thought it was threes.”

“Bite your tongue.”

To avoid NASCAR’s wrath for her taking their race winner without completing his media obligations, she invited other drivers, officials and several
reporters onboard the Garrison Racing Incorporated jet for the flight back home. Though her thoughts and her heart were with Darcy and Bryan, she knew her role as PR director for the company. She kept everybody in the party mood with food and champagne, while she encouraged Cade to entertain with stories of tough-as-nails champion Mitch Garrison misty-eyed over his first grandchild. When he included the tidbit that she’d cried more than anybody, she retaliated by sharing the story of Bryan and Darcy’s beach wedding two years ago, during which her newly crowned NASCAR Sprint Cup Series champion husband had spent so much time staring at his trophy the rest of the family had threatened to chuck it in the Gulf.

Heading into the hospital with every kind of media trailing in her wake—including a live TV crew, which Bryan certainly wasn’t going to be happy about—Isabel was thankful she’d had the foresight to send a message ahead, telling Parker to warn the medical staff about her unusual entourage.

“When are we going to do this?” Cade whispered in her ear as they rushed down the hall toward labor and delivery.

“Win another race or disrupt a major medical center?”

“Have a baby?”

Isabel felt the blood drain from her face.

Raised by drug addict parents who’d cheat their
own grandma out of her last buck to get their fix, Isabel didn’t think she was too well qualified to be a parent. But Parker and Rachel, and now Bryan and Darcy, seemed to think they were ready.

Maybe, after she’d watched her in-laws for a while—a decade or two—she’d find the courage to take that step.

“Ah, sure…eventually,” she hedged.

Cade slid his arm around her waist. His lips brushed her cheek. “Don’t go into panic mode, Izzy. I’ve got to win at least one more championship before we start our family. I can’t tie Bryan. I have to beat him.”

This wasn’t a comfort. The man was more than two hundred points ahead with four races to go until the end of the season.

Then she remembered something important. Bryan had one championship, so two would best him. But Cade’s father had two, so only three would get Cade to the top of his family.

She ground to a halt. “Don’t you think you should not only beat Bryan, but your father, as well? Think of the accomplishment, the family legacy, the pride of your fans…the glory at Thanksgiving.”

Cade cupped her cheek. “If I didn’t know you better, baby, I’d think you were scared of motherhood.”

She shook her head briskly. “But you know me better than anybody, so that can’t be possible. I’m just…” She searched her brain frantically for a logical
argument—which should have come naturally. “Thinking of you, and your career, of course.”

“Babies? Careers?” A reporter stuck a microphone near Isabel’s and Cade’s faces. “Do you two have an announcement to make?”

Though the reporter was a friend, Isabel glared at her. “We’re about to announce the arrival of another Garrison. You guys—” she pointed at the crowd behind her, then the waiting room off the hall to their left “—stay here until we do.”

Since laughs and cash were exchanged during the seconds when Isabel and Cade turned right and the media turned left, Isabel knew she’d been had. She was the most notorious control freak in the garage, so dealing with situations—like birth—where she had absolutely no say, was predictably driving her just a little bit crazy.

In the L&D wing of the hospital, they inquired about Darcy’s room and were told she was in 409. Only a few steps down that hall, Isabel realized she hadn’t needed to ask. All the Garrison men—Mitch, Parker, Grandpa Jack, even Bryan—were pacing outside the room at the end of the hall along with Darcy’s father and uncle.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she approached them. She popped Bryan lightly on the shoulder. “What’re you doing out here?”

“She threw me out!” Bryan shouted, throwing up
his arms, then tossing a dark look at the closed door a few feet away. “She said this was all my fault, and I should be suffering as much as she is.” In a desperate and uncharacteristic move, he grabbed Isabel’s arms. He clutched her tight and bared his teeth. “You’ve got to go in there. I went through all the classes, all the disgusting and terrifying videos, I
have
to see my daughter born.”

She cast a glance at the men pacing—like some eerie 1950s flashback. Cade eased their anxiety a bit by handing out pink ribbon-decorated bubblegum cigars. They could probably all use a shot of whiskey or at least the promise of champagne, but she’d leave that in her husband’s capable hands.

Instead, she focused on the immediate crisis.

Holding Bryan’s desperate and bloodshot gaze, she nodded and pulled open the door.

She’d kick some butts. At the very least, she’d find the anesthesiologist and get him to tranquilize anybody who argued or who was in pain.

Inside, two L&D nurses and a doctor were hovering near Darcy’s feet, intermittently consulting about her legs bent in the stirrups and the electronic equipment standing nearby. Barb Garrison and Darcy’s mother, Hannah, were wiping Darcy’s brow and spouting encouragements, while Rachel, dressed in her bathrobe, held a blanketed bundle of newborn son and rocked back and forth, keeping up constant verbal encouragement.

Worse, Darcy looked scared.

“What the hell are you people doing?” Isabel burst out.

They all stopped and stared.

“You—” she pointed at Rachel “—get back to your own room. We’ll send Parker down to let you know when the baby is here.”

Rachel shifted her son upright to her shoulder, then nodded and headed out the door Isabel held open.

Isabel extended her hand in the direction Rachel had disappeared. “Grandmas, go outside with the grandpas.” When she saw the mutinous look in her mother-in-law’s eyes, she simply shook her head. “Out.”

With the room nearly clear, she pointed at one of the nurses. “You, go get the anesthesiologist.”

“Mrs. Garrison refused all pain med—”

In two short strides, Isabel had closed the distance between her and the nurse, during which the other woman had paled and stopped speaking. It was possible she’d stopped breathing. “You know what, Nurse…” She flicked a glance at her name tag. “Nurse Ellen, I think she’s changed her mind.”

Urged by common sense or the fire that blazed from Isabel’s eyes, Nurse Ellen nodded. “I thought she needed something an hour ago.” She rushed from the room.

Isabel caught the door before it snapped closed. She thought for a half a second and remembered to gentle her voice as she spoke to the man in the hall
whose whole life had been racing, then, after rediscovering his family, now knew his life could be both. “Bryan, your wife needs you.”

The doctor looked relieved and the remaining nurse sent her a wink as she waved Bryan in, then sailed out after a brief stroke of her hand against her sister-in-law’s sweaty cheek.

Once in the hall, Isabel joined the anticipatory pacing. Very little was said. After an hour, she joined Cade, leaning against the wall. They held on to each other, much as the rest of the family was doing. She checked on the media members a couple of times, who seemed perfectly happy to use the hospital’s wireless Internet connection to file their stories while they were hot on the scene, witnessing the next generation of Garrisons springing to life, undoubtedly destined to change racing’s next incarnation.

At 2:02 a.m., Hallie Barbara Garrison was born.

Dad Bryan burst from the delivery room with a light in his eyes and a flush on his face that Isabel was certain hadn’t been seen since he’d won the championship back in ’04. The family was ecstatic. The team, including Big Dan—who’d shown up during the wait with barbeque dinners, beer and sweet tea—vowed to party until 7:00 a.m., their report time for the next prerace meeting. The media sent out firsthand pictures for their reports, then relaxed into the plush leather limo seats provided by Huntington Hotels for their journey home.

Isabel, tears in her eyes, clutched her husband’s hand and followed the rest of the Garrisons into Darcy’s room. Looking down on the blue-eyed, pink-cheeked bundle, who would someday grow into a strong, compassionate woman worthy of the Garrison name, then around at the men and women she loved as she’d never imagined she could, she was certain they were all thinking the same thing—how lucky they were to have not only success but the bond of family they’d all cherish for generations to come.