HALF PAST MOURNING
by Fleeta Cunningham

Copyright 2012

Peter didn’t believe the speed Nina held as

she pushed the car into the final straightaway—she

powered the vehicle across the finish line and

stopped exactly on the final mark. Though it took

the judges a few minutes to post her time, Peter had

no doubt Nina had made a run that would hold up

across the remaining drivers.

Peter crossed the asphalt between them at a

lope. Nina slid out of the car grinning like a twelveyear-

old with a guilty secret.

“I guess I’m not going to give you back the entry

fee after all.” The laughter in her voice bubbled

through her words.

“Where in the hell did you learn to drive like

that, young lady?”

She shook back the curls that tumbled around

her face. “When I was twelve, my uncle taught me to

drive and let me practice in his parking lot. By the

time I was old enough to get my license, I could drive

anything I could get to run.”

“Some teacher, this uncle of yours. I’d like to get

a few lessons from him myself.”

Nina’s smile faded. “Wish you could, because

he’s the best. But he’s been out of the business for a

while. You may have heard of him. Eldon Lassiter?

He won at Indy a couple of times before he crashed

against the wall.”

Eldon Lassiter? Yeah, Peter and most of the

world had heard of him, the man who plowed a

furrow in the wall to keep from hitting a rookie

driver who lost control of his car. The crash put

Lassiter in a wheelchair for life but gave the rookie

only a broken collarbone.

Peter stared at the girl beside him. “And you

asked to drive my car? Why?”