AN: It's been a while! Life has punched me in the faaaaaaace. Ugh. Things are looking good, though, so hopefully I can get more consistent with updating this again.
April 1955
Emily looked up from the stacks of forms she was organizing in preparation for the final meeting before the first race and regarded her brother silently before finally giving in and speaking.
"I'm sorry, what was the question?"
"The season opening dinner. What was the date again?"
She looked at the large calendar on her desk while sliding folders in to the drawer beside her. "The eighteenth. Next Friday."
It wasn't as large as the end of the season banquets and Emily had attempted to explain to Alex repeatedly that it wasn't even an official Piston Cup event. It was a small formality that a few individuals had been interested in putting together to acknowledge the start of another year. Anything else would have been a little callous in light of the events of the previous season.
It was more so put on by sponsors and employees than anything else. She didn't think her father was planning to be in attendance.
"Are you going?"
Emily looked up again, straightening a few pages that refused to cooperate. "What?"
"Are you going to the dinner?" Alex repeated with forced patience. He looked over her desk with arms crossed before meeting her gaze finally. "Or are you going to sit around the offices because your boyfriend won't be there?"
She leaned back slightly in offense, startled by his comment. "Excuse me?"
"You've been moping around the offices since last summer."
Emily sat up straighter, pursing her lips and glaring at the work in front of her before looking back up at him. Her tone was laced with feigned sweetness when she spoke, months of frustration barely held in check. "I've been tasked with keeping this headache under control. While you wander the offices, day in and day out because you have nothing better to do with your time, I'm making sure this doesn't all fall apart."
"Fall apart..." He muttered in disbelief.
"You sit around waiting for these new regulations to be announced but who is the one making sure they're being communicated to the drivers? The teams? The car companies? Who is the one questioned when someone needs referencing? When the same question has been asked a dozen times because for some reason, grown adults can't do their own research or even think for themselves on how to answer the question on their own?"
Alex didn't reply. He only continued to stand in front of her desk and shrugged his shoulders, watching her expectantly.
"If that's what you consider moping, then yes, Alexander. That's exactly what I'm doing."
"You know you're at fault for this..."
Silence reigned over the makeshift garage bay after Jesse's statement and he looked over his shoulder with a flash of irritation while putting some of the tools away. The few makeshift bulbs they'd wired up only provided so much light in the evenings and it made it difficult to get any work done after a certain time. Harsh shadows fell through the exposed framework of the Hornet, the vehicle nearly stripped to the skeleton to then piece back together. Parts had been strategically placed throughout the space to keep track of, making the barn floor a maze to sort through. Jesse and Henry had both tripped countless times already and their shins were paying the price for not always paying attention to where they were walking.
The roof of the Hornet had been hammered back in to a somewhat recognizable shape, otherwise, there wasn't much of the vehicle to compare to the images in the newspaper clippings back on the kitchen table in the house.
"Don't give me that look, this was a fifty-fifty deal, pal."
Jesse still received silence in answer. Throwing the last tool in the chest, he turned around and eyed the Hornet sarcastically. "At least you can get put back together fairly easily...and painlessly."
"You have finally lost your mind."
Jesse jumped, not having expected to get any kind of response. It didn't matter if it was Henry standing in the doorway to the barn.
"He's being unreasonable."
"Uh-huh..." Henry inclined his head while looking between Jesse and the Hornet. "Do I need to separate the two of you?"
"Do you think it would help."
"Might help you. You're the one with bleeding knuckles, cuts and bruises."
Jesse was pushing it, and he didn't like it. Working on a car usually ended up in nicks and cuts but the kid had just finally been cleared by Dr. Horner to return to usual activities and exercise. He'd be more comfortable if Jesse would just slow down.
Jesse flexed his fingers and looked over the cuts that had stopped bleeding some hours before. He muttered a soft agreement before putting his attention back on the car.
The work was going surprisingly quickly, but with little else to do they had been able to focus a good majority of their time on getting the Hornet back up to standard. It would only be a few more days, maybe a week before they could try to get it started.
Henry remembered what he had returned to the barn for in the first place and emptied his pockets of the few smaller tools he'd taken in to the house with him before herding Jesse toward the door.
"Day's over. We'll pick it back up tomorrow."
He'd expected Jesse to argue with him but was pleased when he only turned off the lights and followed in to the natural light of the evening.
Once cleaned up and having gotten something to eat, Jesse stood on the back porch, leaning his shoulder against the beam at the top of the steps. He glanced vaguely to the side when the screen door closed and Henry joined him.
"Sometimes-..." He started, unsure if he should continue or not, half afraid his comment would upset his brother.
"Sometimes..." Henry echoed, encouraging him as he watched his profile in the fading light of the evening.
"I feel like I'll see her." Jesse tilted his head until it was nearly resting against the beam beside him, staring across the property. "Or I expect to see her." He clarified and gestured to the garden that still needed planting. "Whether it's outside...or sometimes when I come downstairs in the morning I just expect she'll be standing there in front of the coffee maker..."
Jesse stared at the untilled ground of the garden, working his jaw and biting at the inside of his cheek to keep from getting too emotional.
Henry wasn't oblivious, though, and even under the dim lighting of the porch it was easy to see the shine in his brother's eyes.
"Jesse."
"Grief is really a selfish thing." He whispered miserably, voice cracking as he straightened his posture suddenly.
Ruth wasn't in any more pain, why would he want to see her suffer just so that he could have her back with him? Why was it so hard to be the one left behind, knowing that she was free of the illness and limitations that had plagued her for so long.
But someday, someday there would come a time when he would forget what she sounded like, what Jesse Aaron sounded like depending on her mood. He'd forget what she looked like sitting on the couch helping him learn the Piston Cup rule book, or the flush in her cheeks when she'd tried so hard to get him to ice-skate with her in New York City. He'd forget the familiar feel of her leaning against his shoulder or how she'd playfully pat his cheek when trying to make a point. Someday he'd forget her best moments and only remember the worst...
He just wanted her back, and he felt awful for it.
Why had he healed so well when she hadn't?
Henry was silent, blinking rapidly a few times before reaching across and pinching the back of his brother's neck in a silent show of comfort.
"Alright, Jesse. Try 'er now."
They both waited with bated breath and muttered quiet encouragement as Jesse turned the key in the ignition, listening as the engine attempted to turn over. Henry watched with his hands braced on the newly replaced grill before shaking his head and motioning for Jesse to stop.
The entire body of the Hornet had been removed, and Jesse felt like he was looking at the vehicle version of one of those anatomy books from high school as he stood to the side and allowed Henry to make a few small adjustments. Belts, hoses and the exhaust system should be hidden away in the same way muscle and ligaments were. It was unnatural.
What parts of the side panels and body that could be repaired had been sent to a body shop, along with whatever parts from their spare car to be repainted. Once they got the Hornet running, they'd detail the interior and be able to get it back on the road. It hadn't taken nearly as long as Jesse had anticipated.
He kicked at the replaced driver's side tire while Henry worked, thinking over what the others had told him about some event before the start of the season. It wasn't Piston Cup officially, but it was just expected that most in the circuit would attend.
Jesse had turned the idea down, much like when he'd been ill in the spring of '53, he'd rather make sure his health was under control and his car back up to speed. He didn't need prying eyes or a laundry list of questions when he had more important things to worry about than a few hours in a banquet hall.
He was pulled from his musings when Henry got out of the car, or at least left the driver's seat because there wasn't a door. Jesse watched in silence as he left the barn, returning moments later with a jar of moonshine.
His brows lowered in bemusement until he realized what his brother was doing.
"Get me a funnel."
Jesse grabbed one from the shelf and handed it to him. "You think that'll work."
"Should burn off any debris we haven't been able to get to." Henry replied while emptying the jar.
He had a point, and Jesse took the key from him before trying to start it again.
He closed his eyes, willing the Hornet to start and he could hear Henry speaking.
"C'mon...c'mon. Give it some gas, Jesse."
Jesse opened his eyes, vaguely noting that the tachometer needed some tweaking. He was definitely not running at 4000 rpm. He let up on the gas a bit and tried again, listening as it coughed and sputtered, followed by a pretty intense bang before leveling out.
The idle was rough, and the steering wheel beneath his hand shook with a strange, nearly violent vibration, but the car was running.
Jesse grinned widely and a laugh escaped him as he tested the gas again, listening to the engine respond while looking through the clear windshield to see his brother and crew chief smiling back.
There was still so much to work on. The rear windshield needed replaced, a few places in the frame reinforced before the body panels were returned. Fine tuning would need to be done to the timing belts, and every filter would be replaced before Jesse would even take it from the barn.
They were back at square one as far as training and the vehicle went, but if Jesse could be cleared by doctors in less than ten months, then his car could do the same. As Henry was occupied with studying the engine, Jesse ran a hand over the steering wheel and read over the Hudson emblem with a fond look.
"Welcome back."
