Twists and Turns in Monte Carlo: A Formula 1 Affair

{10.1}

"So glad you're here, my dear." Karen Blanchard pulled Joanne into a tight hug.

"I would never decline an invite, Mama Daisy." Joanne hugged her back, not knowing what felt more welcoming—the hug or the thick Midwest accent of Daisy's mother.

"I hope you missed me too, Mom," said Daisy with a pout on her face, still standing in the doorway, her arms open, waiting for a hug herself.

Karen laughed heartily, releasing Joanne and turning to embrace her daughter. "Of course, Daisy. You know I can't forget about my own flesh and blood." She pulled Daisy into a warm hug, the kind that only a mother can give, full of comfort and unconditional love.

The three of them made their way to the front porch, the heart of the farm where Daisy grew up. It was a picturesque scene with rocking chairs, potted plants, and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the old oak tree nearby. The smell of freshly baked cake wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of earth and hay.

Karen set a plate of homemade chocolate cake on the table. "Dig in, girls. I made it just this morning."

Joanne and Daisy didn't need to be told twice. They each took a generous slice, savoring the rich, moist cake. As they ate, they chatted about their lives in the city, sharing stories of their adventures and mishaps.

"You know," Karen began, her voice thoughtful, "I may be a Midwest woman, but I do enjoy hearing about your city lifestyle. It's so different from what I'm used to, but it sounds exciting."

"It's definitely different," Joanne agreed, nodding. "But there's something so comforting about being here. It's like a breath of fresh air." She skillfully pulled out a cigarette from her gold case and lit it immediately. Karen gave Joanne a disappointed look, and the young blonde stubbed out her cigarette after a moment's thought. If she had respect for anyone, it was Daisy's mother.

Karen then smiled warmly. "I'm glad you feel that way. Now, let me catch you up on some family news. Andy and his girlfriend just bought a house. They're so excited about it. And your sister, Daisy, just had her second child."

"Wow, that's wonderful!" Daisy exclaimed, her face lighting up. "I can't wait to see them all."

Karen looked at them both, a twinkle in her eye. "So, when are you two going to settle down and get married?"

Joanne and Daisy exchanged a glance, then burst into laughter. "The city is different, Mama Daisy," Joanne explained. "Things move at a different pace there."

Karen chuckled, shaking her head. "I know, I know. I'm just teasing. But you know I'll always hope to see you both find happiness, however it looks."

"G'day, my ladies," a deep voice boomed as Daisy's dad, Hank Blanchard, walked up to the porch. His accent was even thicker than Karen's, and his presence filled the space with warmth and authority. He wiped his hands on a rag and gave Joanne a firm handshake.

"So good to see you again, Mr. Blanchard," Joanne said, smiling up at him.

"Likewise, Joanne. Glad you could join us. You know you are always welcome here." Hank turned to Daisy, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Daisy, I could use a hand at the barn. Got some bales that need stacking. Get up, girl, and help your father."

Daisy groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Why me, Dad? You have two perfectly capable women here. And you know I always hated it."

Karen laughed. "Because you're the one who's always complaining about missing the farm life. Now, go help your father."

Daisy sighed, getting up from her chair. "Fine, but only because I love you all so much. I am an adult and my mother still tells me what to do when I am home, Jesus." She gave Joanne a mock glare. "Don't eat all the cake while I'm gone."

Joanne laughed. "No promises."

Karen gave her daughter a quick, yet intense glare due to her usage of the Lord's name in vain, shaking her head disappointedly. Her long dark curls swayed with her every movement.

Daisy and Hank made their way toward the barn, leaving Karen and Joanne to continue their conversation. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the rolling fields and the weathered barn that stood proudly in the distance. The chickens clucked softly in their coop, and the scent of hay and fresh earth filled the air.

Karen looked at Joanne with a motherly smile. "You know, Joanne, you are always welcome here. This place is as much your home as it is hers."

"Thank you, Mama Daisy," Joanne replied, feeling a warmth in her chest. "That means a lot to me."

"Now that my daughter is gone, give me one of your stupid cigarettes." She smiled at Joanne, holding her hand out expectantly. Joanne smiled back, oh how she loved that woman who picked her up back then and treated her like a child of her own.

Joanne willingly gave her one and then reached over to light it for her. Karen used the opportunity to grab Joanne's face slightly, holding her for a moment. "You know I love you and I care about you. Now tell a mother what's going on, because I can clearly sense you are not well."

Their eyes locked, Karen's warm, motherly eyes giving Joanne so much in that moment that a little tear fell down her cheek. "I care for you, Joanne, I care for you like a mother does."

"I know, and I am so grateful for that." Joanne's voice was barely above a whisper. She remembered it like it was yesterday. Their first year at college, she and Daisy had just become best friends and even changed rooms to share one. They did everything together—classes, parties, drugs. Joanne, freshly eighteen, was living her life mainly on drugs, more drugs, and some booze. It was the day before Christmas, and Daisy asked her what she would be doing over the holidays. Because her grandparents were in Africa, she would stay at the university.

So Daisy packed her up and took her home with her. That day, Karen hugged her at the airport, and Joanne nearly started crying on the spot. Suddenly, she had a family. They took her in as if she was always there.

Joanne lit herself a cigarette now. "I had some boy troubles, but I got it sorted out again." She let out the smoke and sighed, looking out into the distance.

"You? Boy trouble? That's hard to believe." Karen shook her head, following Joanne's gaze over the landscape. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Peaceful. I prefer peaceful." Joanne took another puff. "And it was more like man trouble. I even went to my father's grave and blamed him for all of this bullshit." Silently she added, "I even went to church, just to sit there and think. No Catholic mass, not that you think I've completely lost it."

"I always told you, God will help you, my child."

Joanne smiled at her, appreciating the well-meant advice. "No, not God, but the silence. Apparently, a church on a Wednesday morning is the only silent spot in the whole of New York City."

"You want to tell me what happened?" Karen put her hand on Joanne's arm.

"I drowned. I thought I could do something, but I clearly hit my limit. Apparently, I am not made for love, or at least not that kind of unconditional, all-consuming love. I learned the hard way that it's not written in for me this lifetime." God, she felt so lost.

"Everyone deserves love, my child. And you are on top of that list."

Joanne smiled, feeling a bit of solace in Karen's words as they sat together, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the farm.

4o