Page 23 of Lightning in a Mason Jar
My heart softened. All signs indicated he was a good man. “Then you’re forgiven.” I touched the hood of the car. “Tell me about this vehicle you’re working on.”
“It’s mine.”
Now that surprised me. “But ... it’s a race car.”
“It sure is,” he said with more love than I’d heard in most men’s voices when they spoke of their spouse. “Grandpa kept her stored in the garage for me while I was in Vietnam. Now that I’m back, I’m giving her a tune-up. I don’t just drive trucks for the paper mill. I do a little dirttrack racing as well. And in between long hauls, I fill in when needed on pit crews for NASCAR. I’m hoping for a permanent spot as a gateway to getting behind the wheel one day.”
“NASCAR?”
“You look surprised.”
I didn’t know how to say what I was thinking. “It’s not an answer a person hears that often.”
“You mean it’s not an expected answer from aBlackperson,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s true there aren’t many Black NASCAR drivers. But it’s not unheard of. Elias Bowie back in 1955. Wendell Scott began in 1961 and has had hundreds of starts in the Grand National Series.”
“I’m sorry to have assumed.” And I meant the apology this time.
“You don’t know if you don’t ask.” Russell stroked the hood of the car with reverence, his hand skimming close to mine. “I’m following my dream.”
“I’d like to watch you race sometime.” The impulsive words fell out before I thought them through.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “How about Saturday? There’s a dirt track racing event. I can make sure you get the best seat in the house.”
Did I dare accept? I wanted to, and not just because the whole event sounded exciting. But because I was drawn to Russell. From his handsome face to his calm, kind voice. Not that I was by any means in a good place to act on the attraction, even if I had somehow managed to extricate myself from Phillip in a divorce. I was still too ... broken. I needed time to heal.
And what then? How could I consider a relationship when I was still married? Annette’s attorney friend had told me the answer wasn’t clear-cut as to how long it would take to be declared legally dead. If I’d made the evidence appear overwhelming enough that I’d drowned and if Phillip pursued it aggressively, the process could be fairly quick. However, the issue of my inheritance could slow it down.
All a nonanswer.
Annette had assured me she would do her best to find the information for whenever I might need it. Although the unspoken addendum to that? As long as finding out didn’t put the network at risk. It went without saying that she needed to ask questions with caution.
Which meant I was still in limbo. And if I never got the answer, I knew one thing for certain. I could take on that guilt for myself, but to let Russell become closer while unaware of my past ... That was a sin I wasn’t willing to commit.
“Russell, if you’re inviting me as a friend, then I accept.”
“Good. Very good.” He didn’t seem in the least deterred by the friend reference. “I’ll let Granny know you’re here for Keith.”
My head swirled with the implication of the discussion with Russell long after I’d walked away from the station, Keith’s little hand tucked in mine. In his other fist, he clutched a toy truck.
What did the world see as they watched us stroll past? Did we look just like the mothers and their children shopping on Main Street, others playing together in the front yard with a white picket fence?
I understood Keith wasn’t mine, but I felt like a very special aunt, closer than that even because of the way we’d come to Bent Oak. They say secrets don’t make friends, but in my opinion that wasn’t the case. Sometimes they make best friends, the necessary sort.
Keith looked like a regular kid with a Batman backpack. His brown hair was mussed like he needed it to be wet and combed back into place. He had a splatter of ketchup on his striped shirt.
Except he didn’t chatter like other children. Had his life experience robbed him of the chance to be a child?
I gave his sticky hand a squeeze. “What are you learning about in school?”
“Dinosaurs.” He kicked a stone along the sidewalk.
“Ah, I can see that now.” I pointed to a paper sticking out of his half-zipped bag. “That’s a very good drawing. Maybe I can help you finish coloring it when we get to the apartment?”
He shook his head. “I don’t need crayons. We don’t know what color they are. All they found was bones.”
“That’s a great point.” I wanted to keep him talking, to be a part of helping him open up. “I guess I just assumed they looked like green alligators and lizards.”
“What about chameleon lizards?”
