James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  “It’s my fault, Mom.”

  “No it isn’t, Honey. I’ve been short with everybody lately.” After the divorce, emotions had welled up inside of her. She wiped away a tear. “He was the love of my life.” She started crying. “My heart’s been broken and I just can’t seem to get over it.” She felt a tightening in her throat as she thought back.

  Opur joined his mom on the couch, put an arm around her and consoled her as well as he could. “I’ll try to help the best that I can.”

  “I know you will, Honey. I believe in you.” She gathered her bearings. “You know you’re my life.” A gentle smile appeared.

  “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “We’ll make it.” Rayelene sighed again. “Grab my purse. I’ve got some money for dinner in there.” Opur went into the kitchen and retrieved the handbag. Rayelene opened her pocketbook and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “Get whatever kind you’d like. I only want a piece or two.”

  “I’ll call it in and go get it,” Opur said.

  Rayelene smiled. She marveled at how handsome her son had become. For the most part he was a good kid and she was very proud to have him around. “I’m going to hop into the tub and take a hot bath. We’ll eat when you get back.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Mom, I’m back!” Opur continued to the kitchen, placed the pizza box on the counter and grabbed a fork out of the drawer. He reached into a cabinet and took two plates from the stack. “I got just the kind that you like!”

  He opened the box and dug a slice of veggie pizza away from the whole. Steam reminded him that it had come out of the restaurant oven just minutes before. Opur strolled into the living room, located the remote control and turned on the television set. He flipped through the channels searching for a golf update.

  Opur returned to the kitchen, noticed that the heat rising from his piece of pizza had subsided and took a bite. The melted cheese stretched from his mouth to the bite marks on the crust. A black olive, chunk of green pepper and scattered pieces of onion fell to the plate. The smell of freshly baked pizza filled the room as he opened the refrigerator door and searched for a can of parmesan cheese and a can of soda. “Mom! Hurry up before it gets too cold!”

  The teen walked back into the living room and turned down the music that Rayelene had put on before going into the bathroom. He heard the water running in the bathroom. It wasn’t a heavy burst, but more like a steady trickle. “Mom! Are you okay?” He checked the door and it was locked. Opur rattled the knob. “Mom!”

  The silence from the other side of the door was unnerving. Sensing that something was wrong he returned to the kitchen and retrieved a knife to pry open the door. When that did not yield the desired result Opur kicked the door until it swung on its hinges.

  As the door flew open the breeze from the motion caused the candles to flicker. The smell of sandalwood incense, Rayelene’s favorite, permeated the air. Lying in the tub, half-covered by bubbles, was the body of Rayelene. Her lips were slightly parted revealing the slight gap between her front teeth. A lifeless stare gazed at the ceiling.

  “Mom! Mom!” Opur yelled as he rushed to the side of the tub. He grabbed his mother and shook her slightly hoping that the obvious wasn’t true. “No! No! No!” In a momentary reaction he attempted mouth-to-mouth resuscitation not knowing if he was doing it properly. Still there was no movement.

  In what seemed like eternity but was merely a few seconds Opur panicked. Then he ran to the phone and called 911. In the time that it took the paramedics to arrive Opur tried repeatedly to revive his mom.

  It was no use. In the prime of her life, Rayelene was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The regulars from Prairie Winds were at Rayelene’s funeral. Her sister and sole surviving sibling, Emmabeth, arranged a simple ceremony. The questions surrounding the cause of death and the sudden loss made the experience gut-wrenching for Opur. Outside of J Dub and the gang at the golf course, Rayelene was his life. At eighteen he was going to grow up in a hurry.

  Most difficult for Opur to comprehend was her absolute absence. She had always been there; there had never been a day when she hadn’t. He had a tough time coming to grips with why someone in the prime of her life could pass away so inexplicably. His own feelings of being alone and abandoned were numbing, and then came the matter of what to do next. The thought that was farthest from Opur’s mind a few days earlier, now was front and center.

  Nada had heard about Rayelene’s death from the dispatcher at work. He traveled halfway across the country to attend the service. After the burial the pair got a chance to cover a lot of missed moments. “What happened?” he questioned his son.

  “I don’t know, Dad. She and I had talked and then I went to pick up a pizza. She said she was going to take a quick bath. When I got home I found her in the tub.” Reliving the moment etched hurt across his face. “I can’t figure it out.”

  “She was way too young,” Nada said. “It seems like yesterday when we were in high school.”

  “Mom loved you. She never got over you leaving.”

  “I’m sorry, son. I had to go. I couldn’t take her calling me the things she did and spraying me with that hose. It was a situation that I had to get away from and I hoped that when you grew older you would understand.”

  “I never did.”

  “But you made it okay, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. I’d be lying if I told you that we didn’t struggle. Do you know what it’s like living with someone that has a broken heart?”

  Nada looked away from his son and wondered if he was responsible for Rayelene’s premature death. “I guess I’m the one to blame for all of this then.”

  “You sure didn’t help things.”

  “What can I do for you? I’ve thought about you every day I was gone.”

  “I doubt that. You’ve only thought about yourself,” Opur said. He was pissed that he missed out on having his dad around to watch him grow up.

  “Yeah, well, maybe,” Nada stammered. “But I thought that it would be easier if I just left and got away.”

  “Well, it wasn’t easy for us. Mom tried her guts out to take care of our family. And now she’s gone.” The words caused his face to tighten. Emotions were getting the best of him. His heart was being tugged in different directions.

  “How can I make it up to you?”

  “That’s just it, Dad. You can’t. The years are gone. You can’t replace them.”

  “Would you like to come and live with Roxie and me? She’s my new wife and a very understanding woman.” His mood turned upbeat. “You’d love her.”

  Opur thought for a minute. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  Nada shuffled his feet. His son had put him on the spot. It was uncomfortable. “No, I guess I don’t.”

  “You weren’t there when we needed you.”

  “Is there any way at all that I can make it up to you?”

  Opur looked at his dad. “I don’t think so. This is all too sudden for me. Right now my feeling is to stay right here. J Dub has taught me what life is all about.”

  “The golf pro?”

  “Yeah, the golf pro. He’s showed me what the important things in life are and how the principles of golf parallel life.”

  “How are you going to make ends meet?” Before waiting for the answer he asked another question. “Can I send you some money every month?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that will help,” Opur said. “J Dub has always said that he’ll help me out and give me a job if I need one.” Opur looked at his dad. “I think that I’ll stay right here for now, work on my game and see how the people that have helped me in the past help me now. I can count on them.”

  “I’m sorry, son.” Nada reached forward and hugged his boy. “Look, I’m only a phone call away. Things have changed in my life too.” He handed Opur a business card. “You call me. Maybe we can make up for lost time.”

  “We’ll see, but for right now
let’s just stay away from each other.” Opur turned and took a step. “Thanks for coming.”

  Chapter Forty

  “You’ve got a job here,” J Dub said to Opur as the two stood on the walkway between the clubhouse and cart barn. “We need your help.”

  Opur, just days after the death of his mom, was still in mild shock. Not only was he all alone in the world, but life was forcing him to make decisions that he had hoped that he could postpone. “J Dub, I don’t know where to turn.”

  “We’ll be here for you,” the pro said in an attempt to console the teen. “You take all the time that you need to get your bearings. Death of a loved one is a private matter. Everybody handles it differently.”

  With a moist eye Opur blurted, “Why?” He searched for words. “Why did she have to leave me?” The more that he tried to make sense of the situation, the more upset he became. “It’s so hard to figure out.”

  J Dub searched for the right words. “Untimely deaths are the most difficult to explain.”

  Opur sobbed. “We were best friends.”

  “Which is why it makes it so tough,” J Dub continued. “Some things will never be explained.”

  “But that won’t bring her back,” Opur said. “It isn’t right.”

  J Dub realized that the kid he was talking to was going to be forced to become a man sooner than he wanted. “Life is going to be full of moments that are hard to fathom.”

  “But how do you deal with them?”

  “I figure that it is part of the master plan for my development,” the pro replied. ‘We’re all put here for a reason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a purpose for every action. In the large scope of things the events that you have to experience, no matter how painful they seem at the time, are beneficial for you in the long run.”

  “Yeah, but it hurts.”

  “It’s going to or you wouldn’t be human,” J Dub said. “Don’t try to figure it out.” The pro felt for his younger friend. “I’ve lost plenty of regulars that golfed here for years. They’re family. Then all of a sudden they aren’t here anymore.” He looked Opur in the eye. “The finality of their passing rips me up inside.”

  “What do you do?”

  “You know,” J Dub continued, “there are nearly two hundred acres here. I would take a cart out on the course and remember the good times that I got to enjoy with them when they were around. If it was a real tough one that I couldn’t handle I would get in touch with nature.”

  “How?” Opur asked.

  “On the high point of the course is that majestic oak tree. Think how long that has been here and what it has endured,” the pro said.

  The thought deflected Opur off the topic at hand. “How old is it?”

  “I’d say since the Civil War by the looks of it,” J Dub answered. “Go up there and look across the countryside and marvel at its unique structure. It’s a wonderful shade tree.”

  Opur nodded. “I think I’ll do that.”

  “Or you can take a walk through the woods. You never know what kind of wildlife you’ll see,” J Dub urged. “The creek that runs through the property is beautiful in its simplicity.” He paused for a moment. “You know there is a cave in one of the rock outcroppings.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, you never know what you’ll find in there. There are birds and squirrels, the territorial redtail hawk, along with the rabbits and badgers and on and on.”

  “All part of the game,” Opur interrupted.

  J Dub smiled. “Sure. And then there’s the fox and deer and wild turkeys.” The pro’s voice was therapeutic. “Check out the ducks by the lake. And then stop and think about what each and every one of them has to do for daily survival.”

  Opur nodded. “I get the picture.”

  “Life is going to go on,” J Dub reminded his friend. “Appreciate the things that have been given to you.” He put his arm around Opur’s shoulders.

  “Okay. I hear what you’re saying.”

  “Take a cart. Go out on the grounds and deal with the things you need to deal with in your own private way.” The pro rubbed his hand through Opur’s hair. “And if you want to take your clubs and head to the range to do something you love, don’t be ashamed.”

  Opur took a step toward the cart barn. “Thanks, J Dub.”

  “Take all the time that you need. When you’re ready to go forward we’ll all be here for you.” J Dub turned and walked into the clubhouse.

  “How’s he doing?’ Julie said the second the door closed behind her boss.

  “It’s tough on him,” J Dub said solemnly. “His mom was the stabilizing force in his life.” He continued behind the counter and reached for a bottle of Powerade.

  “The hospital called when you were outside.”

  “What did they say the cause of death was?” J Dub asked.

  “She had a brain aneurysm,” Julie said.

  “The odds aren’t good with something like that.”

  “The doctor said that maybe one in fourteen survive. The only ones that make it are the ones that get immediate medical attention.”

  “She didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Probably not,” Julie agreed. “The doc said that she had probably been living with it her whole life and it was a ticking time bomb.”

  “That’s a shame. She really took care of her son.” He took a swig of the soft drink. “I sure hope he makes it from here.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  “Let’s take a trip over to Stub’s Missing Digit,” J Dub said to Opur a week after Rayelene was buried.

  “What’s that?” Opur asked.

  “It’s a place I go for lunch once in a while,” the pro responded. “I want you to meet somebody.”

  The two jumped into J Dub’s pickup and drove a couple of miles to a bar that was located on a tiny bluff that overlooked the Mississippi River. Back in the day when traffic prospered on the river the building had been used as a local grocery store.

  Now it was owned by a couple of brothers named Carleton and Riley Howe. The legend behind them had people talking for over sixty years in the St. Louis area.

  At seventy-eight, Carleton was the younger of the two by three years and the brains behind the operation. His nickname was Blue, which was a moniker that had followed him since before the Great Depression. In a schoolyard fight he got cold-cocked in the jaw. The left side of his face became swollen and stayed that way for a semester. It had turned shades of purple and blue which triggered the response from the elementary kids.

  Sometime in the 1930s the Howe Brothers got the grandiose idea that robbing a bank would be a way for them to make a fortune and kick-start their business career. The ensuing chase resulted in a gunfight on a bridge spanning the Mississippi. Riley took a bullet that blew off half of the pinky finger on his left hand seconds before he jumped into the river.

  At the trial that followed one of the reporters affectionately labeled the remains of Riley’s hand a stub. The tag stuck and Blue’s older brother had a name that the prisoners in Cell Block Six could use. The two served a decade in the federal pen for armed bank robbery but rebounded after they had paid their debt to society. Twenty years later, it provided the inspiration for the name of a saloon.

  Blue found a financial backer to buy the old grocery store. He and Stub converted it to a bar, paid back their debt rapidly and became proprietors of a tavern that seemed full of working-class men every day until closing time. The secret? Good, cheap food. Of course, ice cold beer didn’t take much of a backseat.

  The two-story structure at one time was a home. The original owner converted it to a business and lived upstairs. Blue saw an opportunity to change the dynamics of the building.

  Wood lathe and plaster covered the interior walls. Surface cracks had deteriorated over time. Broken pieces had fallen revealing the sub-structure. The floor was covered by red, white and black, twelve-by-twelve tiles. The black patterned ce
iling consisted of two-foot squares of stamped tin. The lower level windows were protected by half-inch wrought iron scrolled bars. Blue purchased a walnut back bar from an antique fair, installed a hood vent over a grille and erected a small bandstand for local musicians. The amenities were in place and grandfathered in before local ordinance and code regulations came into play.

  It was a unique and one-of-a-kind atmosphere.

  J Dub led Opur through the door and immediately headed for the food line. It was a “help-yourself” eating environment. The menu was uncomplicated. A patron could order barbequed pork butt, hamburger, bratwurst, nachos, deep fried pickle, beef kabob, chicken wings or fries along with peel-and-eat shrimp. Three popcorn machines filled the establishment with an ever-present smell. “Let’s take a trip over to Stub’s Missing Digit,” J Dub said to Opur a week after Rayelene was buried.

  “What’s that?” Opur asked.

  “It’s a place I go for lunch once in a while,” the pro responded. “I want you to meet somebody.”

  The two jumped into J Dub’s pickup and drove a couple of miles to a bar that was located on a tiny bluff that overlooked the Mississippi River. Back in the day when traffic prospered on the river the building had been used as a local grocery store.

  Now it was owned by a couple of brothers named Carleton and Riley Howe. The legend behind them had people talking for over sixty years in the St. Louis area.

  At seventy-eight, Carleton was the younger of the two by three years and the brains behind the operation. His nickname was Blue, which was a moniker that had followed him since before the Great Depression. In a schoolyard fight he got cold-cocked in the jaw. The left side of his face became swollen and stayed that way for a semester. It had turned shades of purple and blue which triggered the response from the elementary kids.

  Sometime in the 1930s the Howe Brothers got the grandiose idea that robbing a bank would be a way for them to make a fortune and kick-start their business career. The ensuing chase resulted in a gunfight on a bridge spanning the Mississippi. Riley took a bullet that blew off half of the pinky finger on his left hand seconds before he jumped into the river.