The Putting Green Whisperer

by McCarthy, Zoe M. ;

  “I think they were sure someone coming into the men’s locker room would hear you and let you out.” He paused. “And they would have…if you’d called out to them.”

  “Your buddies were taking a big risk that I wouldn’t tell what they did.”

  “Obviously, they weren’t thinking. Anyway, as soon as the guys confessed, I hustled over to the men’s locker room to make sure you were gone. My heart about stopped when I saw your pink shoelace dangling from the bottom of the locker door. Fear took over. I thought you’d seen that I wasn’t with the other guys, but I didn’t want you to think I had any part in the assault. So, I opened the locker door and ran.” He arched his eyebrow. “Obviously, I wasn’t thinking.”

  She searched his face for a clue that he was lying. No eye blinks. No lip twitches. “They attacked me from behind, but it seemed like a lot of hands grabbing me.”

  Shoo reached toward her, but then he retracted his hand as if he thought she might jump at his touch. “Allie, I’m sorry for how I treated you. Will you forgive me?”

  She pursed her lips. Did she believe him? Heaven help her. Yes. Did she forgive him for not helping her after he’d rescued her?

  She’d been a creep to the boys when they refused to let her play with them. She’d been too stubborn to call out to the men who came into the locker room. She’d lied to Mom. Maybe Shoo’s part was no worse than hers. She squinted at the sun peeking through leaves midway up tall tree trunks.

  She jumped to her feet and ticked her head toward the second tee. “Come on. I thought we came to play a few holes before it gets dark.”

  ~*~

  At the third green, Shoo shaded his eyes from the dying sun and waited while Allie prepared to putt. Something live plunked into the long water hazard that partially wrapped the green. The cicadas sawed away on their tuneless violin legs. This would be the last hole he and Allie would play for the day. They might even have a tough time making it back to the clubhouse before dark.

  Playing three holes had been about right. His hand had ached during his chip onto the green. If his hand pained him after only three holes, he was sunk. He closed his eyes. He would not allow himself to be discouraged. Eddie had told him in his last therapy session he needed to take it slow. The healing process needed time.

  Time he didn’t have.

  Allie putted. She headed toward their golf bags and smiled at him.

  Inviting Allie to play golf had been a good idea. They’d cleared up the mystery of why she’d ignored him and, as evidenced by her behavior and conversation since, she’d forgiven him.

  Hadn’t she?

  The sprite played well. Her comments on his play were always positive. He had to admit, with Dad’s negative concerns about his golf career, he enjoyed hearing supportive words for a change.

  Allie shouldered her golf bag. “I guess we’d better head in, huh?”

  “I’ll treat you to a soda from the machine.”

  They hiked back through the course, taking short cuts where they could.

  Allie raised her wrap-around sunglasses to perch atop her cap. “Why are you caddying? You should be training full time.”

  Shoo handed her a piece of wintergreen gum. “I made a promise to my father.”

  She unwrapped the gum. “Pro that he was, your father, of all people, should know how important training is.”

  He enjoyed the first minty flavor bursts from his gum and studied her profile. “Dad’s intentions are good. He wants me to avoid making the mistakes he thinks he made. He asked me to consider caddying while my hand healed. To see for myself how demanding a pro golfer’s life is. Full, hard days in the sun or rain. Rising early and staying late to practice, practice, practice, even when it’s the last thing you want to do. You have to perform to make it. There are no teammates to help carry the load. Always traveling.”

  Their rattling clubs filled the silence as they walked.

  Allie looked up at him, the oncoming dusk dimming her electric-blue eyes. “You can’t look at the hard side only, Shoo, and neither should your father.”

  “I don’t. And I don’t think he does either. There’s nothing I’d rather do than this.” He swept his hand from the fairway to a green they were passing.

  “So, don’t let anyone stop you.”

  “Dad’s trying to force me to make a wise decision. He suggested I caddy for the Senior Tour, where the players use carts and I wouldn’t tax my hand carrying a thirty- to fifty-pound golf bag every day. I believe I can disagree with Dad about my golf career, but I can also honor his wishes.”

  “Can’t he see you’re a born golfer? How about your dream to be an example kids can follow? Why would any father discourage his son from such a noble cause?”

  “Whoa.” Shoo leaned away from her. “I appreciate your getting worked up on my behalf, but no need to. Dad gave me a reasonable test, and I’ve accepted the challenge.” The woman was intense.

  “Sorry. I have a one-track mind when a situation comes to golf. It’s just that you’re such an awesome player, even with a bum hand. I hope you’ll do everything you can to make the cut on the PGA tour.”

  His friends allied themselves with his career choice, but their support was nothing like Allie’s passionate defense. “I have a training schedule. Morning and evenings. And after the McGladrey Classic, I think Dad will help me with expenses during my push to make it onto the PGA tour and during my rookie year.” He tapped her arm. “So, you can relax.”

  “I hope you won’t let anyone take away your dream, that’s all.”

  “In some ways, Dad’s concerns are mine.”

  She regarded him, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “How’s that?”

  “The woman I thought would share my life broke off our engagement. She started to realize what it took to break into the PGA tour and decided she couldn’t handle my absences. Didn’t want her children to be without a father on weekends and for weeks at a time.” He swallowed. He hadn’t expected to get emotional. Allie’s melting frown and her eyes filling with compassion didn’t help. “I respect Christine for raising her issues before we got married. Like my dad wishes my mom had.”

  “Do you want a family?” She spit her gum into the wrapper and stored it in her pocket.

  “It’s part of the dream. So, you see my dilemma. I want to honor Dad. I want to be in God’s will. I want what I want: playing well on the PGA tour and having a family.” He shook his head. “Dad thinks I can’t handle both staying in the money on the PGA tour and raising a happy family.” He raised his finger. “But, if I’m right that God wants me to golf for Him and become an example for youth who enjoy playing and watch sports, I may have to accept He’s calling me to the single life.”

  “Or to marry the right woman.” Allie looked at the darkening sky. “I’d have done anything to follow my Dad from city to city, cheering him on. But he abandoned golf after Mom died. Returned to his corporate safety net. Right when he was making a comeback.” She cleared her throat. A breeze stirred and leaves rained down from nearby trees. “Dad’s mourning turned into depression that debilitated his life.”

  And Allie’s, according to her trembling lips. “That must have been hard on you.”

  Allie shrugged, but her eyes misted. She looked away.

  “Tell me.”

  She faced him. “You just want to see a grown woman cry.”

  “Sometimes a few tears bring healing. Besides, soon I won’t be able to see your eyes much less tears.”

  In the distance, the outdoor lights on the clubhouse came on.

  “OK. I’ll tell you.” Allie hitched up the golf bag so the strap rested higher on her shoulder. “When my mom died in a car accident, my world hooked to the far left. I was sixteen. It was a time when family needed family, you know?”

  He nodded. Dad had held the family together through Mother leaving them, but losing his step-mom would’ve been devastating.

  Allie’s pace slowed. “My Aunt Mae, my mom’s sister, who lived in
Atlanta at the time, stayed with us two weeks after the funeral. I didn’t see Dad much. He mostly stayed in his room. It was awful.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Would that make you want to cry?”

  “Probably.”

  Her gaze was trained on him.

  He raised both hands. “I mean it. It probably would.”

  “Well, that’s only half the story.”

  The girl dragged around serious sorrow. “I’m listening.”

  “A week after Aunt Mae returned to Atlanta, I came home from school and there was Dad sitting in the den. Usually when I got home, he was still in his room. But this time, he sat on the couch, unshaven and in wrinkled clothes. He was just staring at the carpet, and then he held out a paper to me.”

  Allie stopped, and Shoo retreated a step to join her.

  “The paper was an airline ticket to Atlanta. He said the state he was in wasn’t good for me. He wanted me to stay with Aunt Mae…for a while.” Allie resumed hiking the rise to the clubhouse. “I tried to talk Dad out of it, but I could see he wanted me to go…for both our sakes. I finished high school in Atlanta, and then I went to UNC. Dad beat his depression in my senior year at UNC and started dating Karen. I think she might have helped him overcome his illness. I didn’t want to be a third wheel, so I returned to Atlanta for my first job.”

  Or Allie was jealous of Karen for having more success than she’d had in helping her father. Tough. “It looks as though you and your Dad have mended things.”

  They’d reached the clubhouse, and the outdoor lights grew their shadows as they approached the drink machine.

  “Yes. Somewhat. Recent circumstances forced me to return home, which is giving us the chance to reconnect.” Allie eyes widened. “I can’t believe I told you my sob story.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Now Allie was less of a mystery.

  Maybe.

  Well, not really.

  6

  Allie rummaged in the refrigerator for the leftovers Karen had promised to save. Mac and cheese and the meatloaf. Right now, she could use comfort food. Tonight on the course, accusing Shoo and then telling her sob story had stirred up unwanted emotions.

  The wounds from Dad’s depression aside, Shoo roused other feelings. He was different from most guys. Integrity seemed important to him. And that, of all things, kindled mushy feelings. For Pete’s sake, she’d bared her soul to the guy. Was she becoming the groupie she disdained?

  A white plastic container behind the dill pickles looked promising.

  And another thing. She needed to be more careful what she said about Shoo’s father. What a shame that a great golfer like Steve Leonard would try to control his son’s promising golf career. But when she’d given her opinion about his father’s cockamamie ideas to end Shoo’s pro-golf career, Shoo bristled.

  She pried the top off the plastic container. A generous mac and cheese helping filled one half, and three catsup-topped meatloaf slices lined the other.

  She grabbed a plate from the cupboard and did a double take. Since when did Mom’s flower-spray motif morph into fruit?

  Had Karen removed everything in the house that had belonged to Mom? She’d better not have sold Mom’s china. It wasn’t hers to sell.

  Allie dumped the container’s contents onto the plate and nuked it. The meatloaf aroma soothed her.

  “Allie. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Allie jolted. Had Karen been a ninja in a former life? “I didn’t hear you come in, either.”

  “I’m sorry. Your dad claims I’m always sneaking up on him. I see you found the leftovers.”

  “Yes. Thanks. Sorry if I woke you.”

  The microwave dinged. Allie grabbed a fork from the flatware drawer. It wasn’t Mom’s. She sat at the kitchen table with her meal and stared at the brushed-metal design on the fork handle.

  “I hope you’re not upset we’re using my china and flatware.”

  “I’m not.” Well, maybe a little. Allie dug into the mac and cheese, looking for the comfort. The cheesy clumps and smooth macaroni tasted as good as Mom’s. She had to give Karen that.

  Karen opened the fridge. “I meant no disrespect. We packed your mom’s things and stored them in the attic for you.” Karen poured cranberry juice into an unfamiliar glass. She leaned against the counter. “I needed a few things from my home with Dick. Your dad said he understood how having my things around me was important to me. He assured me that we don’t transfer our love from past spouses to new spouses. We simply love again.” She smiled.

  If Dad understood relationships so well, why had he sent her away when she’d just lost Mom?

  Karen drew a chair from the table and sat. “Allie, it may not be my place to ask you this, but do you know why your dad worked hard to qualify for the Seniors Tour?”

  Did Karen really want her to answer that? She pictured Dad squeezing Karen’s hand at the Scrabble table. Her best guess? Dad went back on tour because Karen was enough, unlike herself, to help Dad climb out of his depression. From Karen’s piercing green stare, it seemed she’d soon find out if she was right.

  Allie swallowed past the knot growing in her throat. “I’ve wondered why he went back on tour.”

  Karen pushed her glass aside and planted her forearms on the table. “He hoped, and he prayed, if he returned to golf, you two might be a team again.”

  Allie clamped her mouth shut. Dad was on the links for her? “Really?” The word came out barely above a whisper.

  “He was genuinely sorry your Florida job fell through, but his hopes soared when you asked to come home. He was praising the Lord.”

  Allie’s lips trembled and her eyes watered. “After Mom died, I missed her like crazy. I still do. I wanted Dad—I needed our grief to be something we got over together.” She dropped her gaze to her mac and cheese. Piles of the stuff wouldn’t comfort this hurt. Her elbows on the table, she covered her face.

  Karen’s chair scraped the floor. Her arms encircled Allie. Held her close.

  Allie buried her face in Karen’s robe. Would Mom know she wasn’t transferring her love to Karen?

  ~*~

  Bacon aroma filtered through the crack between the jamb and the swinging kitchen door. Allie stood in the hall outside the door, her heart drumming. She fished the gold chain with its cross from where she always hid it underneath her shirt, and pictured Mom’s smile when she gave Allie the cross for her sixteenth birthday. Pressing the pendant between her thumb and fingers, she closed her eyes. Mom, help me.

  Allie placed her hand on the door. Then she pulled her fingers back. What was her opening line, again? Oh, yeah. Good morning.

  Dad wasn’t a loan shark waiting to break her legs. She could do this. All she had to do was stick to her plan.

  She tucked her golf shirt deeper into her blue shorts, drew in a deep breath, and entered.

  Dad and Karen sat across from each other at the kitchen table nestled into the curve of the bay window. They read newspaper sections while they ate eggs and bacon. A sunray made it through the backyard trees and streaked across the cherry table, dividing it in half.

  Karen peered over her reading glasses. “Good morning, Allie. Ready for some eggs?”

  Allie glanced at Dad. Had Karen told Dad about their late-night talk? His relaxed smile suggested Karen had kept mum.

  Allie moved to the pantry. “No, thanks. I’ll have cereal.”

  When would be the right time to deliver the speech she’d spent half the night composing? The moment had better be soon. The way her hands shook, she’d spill half the flakes on the counter. At least Karen’s presence would keep the emotional stuff to a minimum.

  With a snap of paper, Dad folded his section and laid it aside. “John—rather, Shoo—called. He wants you to bring your clubs today.”

  Allie’s cheeks grew hot. All she needed right now was a red face to make Dad and Karen think she doted on the guy she’d known for two days. She nodded, stuck her head into the refri
gerator, and took her time extracting the milk.

  When the flush subsided, she sifted fruity cereal flakes into a bowl, added milk, and joined them at the table.

  Karen scooped up her last bite and carried her dishes to the sink. “I’m going upstairs to shower.” She kissed Dad and left. The deserter.

  Dad watched Karen retreat. Then he turned his attention to Allie. “I’m glad you and Shoo have become friends. That should make the tour bearable for you.”

  She ground her hands together beneath the table. Her racing heart played paddleball with the bouncing butterflies in her stomach. She licked her lips, transferring a cherry-flavored lip balm taste into her dry mouth. Her words streamed out. “Dad, I’m glad I came home. I—I—” What was the next line?

  Dad’s eyes widened and then misted. “Oh, Allie. I’m glad you’re here too. I’ve regretted letting you go.”

  She sat like a plastic dummy, grasping for the right response.

  Dad swallowed, started to speak, and then stopped as if trying to collect his emotions. “Honey, I’m sorry I sent you to Mae’s. I’m sorry I abandoned you to find your way alone through your grief. You seemed so strong then, and I used your resilience as an excuse to stay depressed. Ever since Jesus lifted me from my pit, I’ve been looking for a way to show you my love.”

  His eyes begged her forgiveness.

  Her memorized speech evaporated, except for one piece. “I’m glad you married Karen. And I’m proud to caddy for you. And—and I love you, Daddy.”

  He scooted his chair back and moved around the table, arms open wide, and tears drenching his grin. She shot up, knocking her chair over, and melted into his embrace.

  She was home. Really home.

  ~*~

  Shoo leaned against Paul’s sedan. The tournament over for the day, fans streamed through the Prestonwood parking lot to buses that would shuttle them to various spots around the city. He craned his neck, searching the fans. At any moment, he should see Allie making her way through the masses.