The Putting Green Whisperer

by McCarthy, Zoe M. ;

  “I’ll be fine once we’re inside the taxi.” At least his concern for her health kept his mind off a chummy sit-down dinner with his family.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to his side, pinning her arm against him. “Let’s get you warm.”

  No worries. Clutched against his chest and her heart pumping a Tejano rhythm, she’d be on fire before they left the colorful umbrellas behind them.

  They walked in silence. Shoo was probably thinking she was ill—bathroom and chills. Letting him believe that was unfair.

  Scrunched against him, she cast him a sideways glance. His expression was hard to read. “Are we running tomorrow morning?”

  “I am, but I’m not sure you should.” He rubbed her arm.

  “I’m fine.” Except for the goose-bump army tingling her arms that had nothing to do with the weather. “Honest.”

  He rubbed her arm again. “Let’s not take any chances. Mill needs you tomorrow.”

  But Shoo didn’t. She’d bet no goosebumps stippled his arms.

  Locked in his side embrace, the idea that this evening was the last time she’d see Shoo refused to stick in her mind, especially when his cologne teased her nostrils.

  It was as though she’d been inserted into an early nineteenth century love scene. She, the heroine, found herself wrapped in a chivalrous hero’s strong arms as they hurried to a waiting coach.

  Sheesh. She’d better be careful not to trip on her imaginary full-length dress. If she imagined herself in a fairytale, Shoo should be golfer, Bobby Jones, the most successful amateur golfer at the turn of the twentieth century. Now that was plausible.

  Shoo unbuttoned his shirt and drew one side around her shoulder, plastering her opposite arm to his warm undershirt. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her heart? Tenderizing it and breaking it at the same time?

  The buddy deal was not working. Remaining his good friend and trainer was getting harder and harder, especially when he held her close to his body like this. Talk about her filter with Steve. How about her filter with Shoo? Would it stop her from pulling his head down and kissing his dizzyingly wonderful lips?

  Never seeing him again was her only option. She could fly home tomorrow. Dad would have a full day to find a caddy for Thursday. He’d be OK with that, wouldn’t he? San Antonio must be home to many caddies who’d jump at the chance to work for Dad.

  Of course, Dad would have to scout the course himself tomorrow. Dad didn’t know the Canyons course like he knew the North Carolina links. He needed the measurements to have any chance at playing well this tournament.

  And when would Dad have the hours to scout the course? He’d be tied up with tournament activities most of the day.

  So, she could run away from her crush on Shoo by placing Dad in a bad position. Not her promise-keeping style. Besides, she wanted to stay and cheer Dad to another win.

  As her shoes slapped the pavement, no other solution surfaced. She’d stay the course, but she’d throw herself into her caddy duties: clean Dad’s clubs, polish his golf shoes, and spend tomorrow walking the course recording information—with Shoo. Aargh!

  Shoo hugged her tighter to his side. “You’re tense and shivering.”

  “Yes. A little.”

  A yellow taxi with a red side stripe waited for them on Commerce near the Alamo. Allie scooted across the backseat, and Shoo climbed in beside her, giving the female driver the name of Allie’s motel.

  The taxi’s heat helped little. Like a caterpillar wrenched from its protective cocoon, Allie shivered. If only she could imprint Shoo’s warm embrace on her arms and side forever…

  She turned toward her window long enough to roll her eyes. She must be sick. Delirious.

  Shoo studied her. “Warmer?”

  “I’m fine…thanks.” She glanced at their driver, whose monstrous orange hairdo made her head look like a pumpkin sitting on the headrest. That image alone ought to keep her grounded.

  Shoo stared at her.

  “I’m not sick,” she whispered. “I’ll outrun you tomorrow morning by half a mile.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He grinned. A smug smirk. “If you out run me with your short legs, it’ll be because I’m running backwards.”

  ~*~

  A knock sounded on Shoo’s door. He made a face. It’d been a long day, training, walking the course, and attending the tour’s Bible study. A little time to himself was in order. He stepped from the bathroom while he continued to towel dry his hair. He checked the peephole. Mark.

  Shoo wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door. “What’s up?”

  His hands buried in his shorts pockets, Mark sauntered into the room. He scanned the area. “Huh. It’s like déjà vu. I have clothes hanging all over my room like this. At least yours look dry.”

  Shoo checked the bedside clock, the one amenity in this dump. A little after nine. Would Mark get to the point of his visit, or did he plan to hang out awhile? Hopefully, the former. Shoo wanted to call Christine before it got too late. See if she’d like to come down and have dinner with him tomorrow after the second pro-am.

  Mark lounged in the single armchair beside the window and toyed with the knotted cord from the blinds.

  So, Mark would be around awhile. “Toss me the jeans on the air conditioning unit, will you?”

  Mark pitched the jeans. Shoo caught them in midair and re-entered the bathroom, where his last pair of dry boxers lay on the counter.

  Did Mark look lovesick, or what? Earlier, Mark had caught up to Allie and Shoo on the eleventh hole at the Canyons course. They’d continued on together. Mark had seemed moody then.

  While Allie was enthusiastic about the tasks, eagerly filling her small notebook with measurements and comments about the terrain, Mark had spoken little, other than to ask for a measurement.

  A therapy session for Allie’s affect on Mark’s heart seemed in order. The call to Christine would have to wait. Boy, what a woman could do to a guy. Compliments of Christine, Shoo had firsthand experience.

  Shoo exited the bathroom, zipping his jeans. “You seem down, Mark. What’s going on?” He grabbed a T-shirt draped over the TV and pulled it on over his head.

  Mark swung the cord from the blinds away from him, and it caught on the dingy lampshade next to the bed. “I don’t know. Things are a mess.”

  Should he advise Mark to tell Allie how he felt about her? What if she told him to get lost? Would that send Mark over the edge? Allie wouldn’t do that. The whole time they’d scouted the course, she’d been sensitive to Mark’s dark mood.

  Shoo sat on the bed, leaned against the headboard, and crossed his bare feet. He wrangled a peanut butter cheese cracker from an open packet and tossed the rest to Mark. “Talk to me, bro.”

  Bleh. Peanut butter and mint toothpaste were a lousy combination.

  Mark set the cracker packet on the chair arm.

  Mark ignored free food? The guy was already teetering on the edge. Allie should take seriously her impact on the guy. He had tried to tell her at the Riverwalk…

  Mark let out a heavy sigh. “I’m just tired of it all.”

  Shoo would have to drag a confession out of him. “I think I know what’s going on.”

  Mark’s eyebrows lifted a fraction, the first spark he’d shown since he’d entered the room. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen how you look at her.”

  “Who?”

  “Allie, of course.”

  “Yeah, I like her.” Mark rose off the chair high enough to recapture the blinds’ cord from the lampshade. Then he settled back in the chair and slid the plastic knob up and down the cord. “Allie’s out of my league. I know that, and it’s OK. I’m glad she’s been with us the last few weeks. She’s livened things up.”

  “You know she and Grady are just friends, right?”

  “Yup.” Mark didn’t look overly concerned one way or the other. He released the cord and sat with his hands between his knees. “The thing is, I’m th
inking of leaving the caddying business.”

  Whoa. Major mind shift. “What?”

  “I’m tired of living on soup cooked on a hot plate and crashing in rat holes like this one, putting up with roommates like Grady or somebody else. I’m tired of having no roots.”

  Mark was interested in roots? Of all the caddies Shoo had met on this tour, Mark seemed the best adjusted. If Mark’s goals had shifted to settling down, a bright blue-eyed sprite had to be in the mix.

  The air conditioner kicked in with a lame whir, whir, whir, de whirrrrrr. The room filled with a musty odor.

  “Mark, maybe you should—”

  “Get this. Unless Rick does some miraculous playing this week or next week in California, I’ll be flat broke after the Cup. I’ll have to work at a fast-food joint to make enough to rent an economy car to drive from San Fran to Tampa.”

  Time to derail Mark from going any further into his pit. Maybe a little humor. “Sounds bad. Did my dad put you up to this to discourage me from pursuing my golf career?”

  “Naw. You have enough sense not to settle for a caddying career. You’ll do great on tour. Allie and I totally agree on that. And your dad will come around.”

  Mark hadn’t taken the joke bait.

  Father, please give me the right words to encourage my friend.

  “You and Allie are my biggest fans, Mark. I appreciate your confidence in me. It means a lot.”

  Mark’s eyes narrowed in an earnest expression. “She’s special, Shoo. You see that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, she is. Maybe you should tell her how you feel.”

  The wrinkles on Mark’s brow flattened and he stared at Shoo for several seconds. He stood, strolled to the door, and paused with his back to Shoo and his hand on the door lever. After a weird moment, he turned and wagged his head. “If you can’t see how special Allie is, you’re living in a fog, man.” He opened the door and left.

  18

  Shoo ate one of the peanut butter cheese crackers Mark hadn’t touched. The cracker he’d eaten earlier hadn’t tasted so stale. He pitched the half-empty packet across the room into the trashcan. His ringer elicited a metallic thud.

  Shoo grabbed his cell from the bedside table. Halfway through tapping in Christine’s number, Mark’s parting words echoed.

  If you can’t see how special Allie is, you’re living in a fog.

  He set the cell back on the table. What was that all about? Mark had sounded disappointed in him. As far as he knew, things between Allie and him were fine. Last night, they’d had fun at the Riverwalk. He’d kept her warm when she’d felt cold.

  So, what did Mark mean when he said Shoo didn’t recognize how special she was? Hadn’t he taken her to dinner to show his appreciation? And, he planned to take her home to meet his family.

  Living in a fog seemed less his problem and more Mark’s.

  He lifted his cell and pressed numbers. His thumb hovered over the last digit while he stared at the screen. Had he missed something about Allie? He pressed the off button and tossed his cell on the bed. It slid down the mattress slump and rested against his leg.

  He backtracked through his time with Allie today. They’d had a great time walking the course. She was a fast and enthusiastic learner. Teaching her a caddy’s key job had been rewarding. She loved everything about golf and would make a great professional caddy. If he could take her with him to the McGladrey Classic, he would.

  His cell went off, startling him. He looked at the screen. Speak of the sprite. “Hey, young lady, what’s up?”

  A sniff. “Shoo?” Her voice broke.

  He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Allie. What’s wrong?”

  “Oh. Shoo-oo-oo.”

  He shot to his feet, his heart pounding. “Allie, what’s wrong. Tell me.”

  She hiccupped. “My cross necklace is gone.” She let out a wail. “I wouldn’t have called you, except Dad’s still at his friend’s.”

  “That’s OK.” Shoo paced. “I’m glad you called. Now, calm down, and let’s think this through. Where were you when you noticed your cross was missing?”

  She took in a shaky breath. “When I undressed to get ready for bed.”

  “All right. Now, when was the last time you remember having it on?”

  “Um. The chain got caught in my brush when I redid my ponytail before I went downstairs to eat.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I went downstairs to eat.”

  “So, you brushed your hair and left?”

  “Well, I brushed my teeth first.”

  “You brushed your teeth before you ate?” Why had she done that? “Never mind. That’s not important.”

  “I ate in the dining room, then came back to the room. I made a trip to the ice machine and then started to get ready for bed.”

  “Where have you looked so far?”

  “Everywhere in the room. I’ve combed it, Shoo. It’s not here.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No. It’s late. I don’t know why I called you. You don’t have a car, and neither do I. I’ll retrace my steps and check at the front desk. Thanks for listening.”

  “Go ahead and do those things, but I’ll be there in thirty. If you find your necklace, call me.”

  Shoo’s cab made it to Allie’s motel in less than half an hour. Inside, he took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. In the hallway, Allie sat next to her door with her back against the wall and her knees drawn to her chest.

  He stood in front of her. Her eyes were red from crying, and tissues sprouted from her fists. “No luck?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe it’s gone.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s all I have from Mom.”

  He shimmied his back down the green wallpaper and sat beside her, his arm brushing her shoulder. “Can I try the one thing that has turned up many items for me? My keys, my watch, even a paycheck?”

  She pressed her trembling lips together and nodded. He took both her hands in his and bowed his head. Her fingers lay limp in his grasp. Limp hands, low hope.

  “Father, You know all things. You know where Allie’s cross is. You know how special her mother’s gift to her is. You know her heart is broken. Father, if You’re willing, would You please show us where her cross is? We ask for Your help in Jesus’ Name as He promised we could. Amen.” He squeezed her hands and released them. “Let’s start in the bathroom where you last remember seeing your cross, and cover your path one more time.”

  He moved to rise. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the carpet. Her breath smelled of mint toothpaste. She must have brushed her teeth again after her dinner.

  Her bottom lip trembled. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you coming. Whether we find my cross or not.”

  He stuffed a platitude about what friends were for, stood, and offered his hands. She placed hers in his, and he pulled her to her feet.

  In the bathroom, they stood side by side at the sink. He stared at her reflection while she stared at the soap dish as if she had zero expectations.

  He nudged her. “Go ahead and reenact exactly what you did.”

  She removed the band that held her hair, and her silky tresses fell around her shoulders, all glossy and flowing. He’d tugged her ponytail a time or two but had never sifted her hair between his fingers to determine if the strands felt as silky as they looked. Now, his fingers itched to comb through her blonde mane. At any other time, he would’ve risked her disapproval and explored its texture.

  Allie grasped the brush from the granite counter and swept it up the back of her neck through her hair. “My chain caught in the bristles.”

  “Did you realize the problem right away and work the chain free, or did you jerk the chain tight against your neck and that freed your brush?”

  She thought for a moment. “I realized the chain was caught when it jerked against my neck. That happens sometimes. But believe me, the clasp is strong. I usually have a hard
time getting it to release.”

  “The clasp may lock tight, but another link could’ve become weakened by past yanks. Maybe this time it pulled apart far enough to separate the links at the least little strain.”

  Allie’s blue eyes brightened as she seemed to grasp the possibility. Then they dimmed again. “That still means it could have fallen anywhere.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I brushed my teeth.”

  “Yes. Leaning over the sink.”

  “I’d have seen it if it had fallen into the sink.”

  “Not if you were admiring your baby blues in the mirror.”

  She frowned. “The water pressure is strong. Wouldn’t it have washed the necklace down two floors?”

  “Not necessarily.” Shoo made his way to the desk phone in the bedroom and pressed the button for maintenance. A man answered, asking how he could help. “We think the woman in three-oh-six has lost her necklace down the drain. Do you have someone who could help us?”

  “Be right there.”

  Shoo pocketed his phone. High probability the cross went down the drain. Low odds it caught in the pipe’s gooseneck. But God could work with any percentage.

  When the knock came, Shoo let in the man with Ralph stitched in red thread on his uniform.

  Ralph set his toolbox and a bucket on the bathroom floor, lowered himself to the tiles, and went to work.

  Shoo grasped Allie’s shoulders, steered her into the room, and sat her on a double bed. No use her hovering over the guy.

  Shoo sat next to her and eyed the other bed. Its bedcover and throw pillows remained in place. It sported no center slump like his at the rat motel. What a waste of a good bed.

  While they listened to clinks and clanks, Allie sat with her head bowed over her fidgeting fingers. Her foot, crossed over the other, jiggled.

  Please, Lord, let the cross be in the pipe.

  “Got it!”

  They both shot up from the bed.

  Allie rushed to the bathroom. “That’s it! Thank you. Thank you.”