Nine Lives - Danielle Steel Page 0,51

driver Paul Gilmore. She felt frozen to the spot when she heard it, and her eyes were riveted to the screen with even greater interest. Paul was being led off the track, but still walking under his own steam and limping. He had taken his helmet off, his face was blackened. She knew that their driving suits were fire retardant, but the arms of his had caught fire anyway. The fire on him was out by then, and parts of his suit were charred. She sat down heavily in a chair as the boys continued to chatter, and the scene at the racetrack was utter chaos. One of the drivers had been officially declared dead by then, and the second one was said to be in critical condition from multiple injuries. Maggie’s heart was racing.

“Gilmore is amazing,” Aden commented to one of his friends. “He’s the best driver I’ve ever seen, and I swear, he’s walked away from some of the worst accidents in racing.” Maggie had noted instantly his tone of admiration for Paul Gilmore. Most of the time she saw him watching hockey, football, or baseball. But he liked all sports to some degree. The other boys were talking about Paul then, and Maggie startled them when she spoke up.

“I went to high school with him. He’s from around here, or he was then. I just ran into him in Europe. I hadn’t seen him in thirty years.” Aden looked stunned and impressed.

“You know him? You never told me that.”

“I hadn’t seen him since we graduated from high school. I was your age.” She didn’t say that he’d been her first love. It wasn’t the sort of thing you’d tell a son, but more likely a daughter.

“Where did you see him in Europe?”

“I ran into him in Monte Carlo, and saw him again in London. He said something about a race in Barcelona.”

“This is it,” Aden said, his eyes bright from the excitement, and intrigued that she knew him and had seen him recently. “I’d love to meet him. Is he a cool guy?”

She smiled at the suggestion.

“By your standards, yes. He’s as crazy as all those guys.”

“He’s the best driver ever. He wins almost every race. I’ve seen him cross the finish line with his car on fire. Nothing stops him.”

“Yeah, I know that about him,” she said, as she stood up to go upstairs with the laundry. She’d seen enough. Paul had survived another near-death experience. She’d seen it firsthand this time, and she hoped he was all right. The boys continued talking about him when she left them. After she put Aden’s laundry on his bed, she went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and found that her hands were shaking. She felt sorry for Paul. He had no one, no wife, no family. In his solitary life, who cared for him when he was injured or hurting? After the adrenaline rush, she suspected that he would be in pain from the accident. The announcer said they had taken him to a nearby hospital to check him, but he had made a miraculous escape. She wondered which life he’d used up this time. What number of his nine lives was he on?

She waited another hour, and then looked up the number he had given her on her phone. It was a British number, he had said it was the cell he used most often. She also had his email and a Swiss number for him. She called the cell, not sure if she would reach him, but at least she could leave him a message, that she had seen the accident on TV and hoped he was all right. She hadn’t intended to call him again, but this was different, and she told herself that it wouldn’t hurt anything to tell him that she felt bad for him.

It rang twice, and she was waiting for his voicemail when he picked up and answered in Spanish. He spoke it fluently from his motorcycle racing days in Mexico, which came in handy when he raced in Spain.

“Maggie?” He sounded stunned when he heard her voice.

“Yes. Are you okay? We were watching the race on TV. My son was with his friends. We saw it happen. Are you badly burned?”

“My hands are pretty toasted. The rest of me is okay. I broke six ribs, though. Occupational hazard.” She was sure it wasn’t the first time. “I have time off now anyway for the next