“Come here,” he requested softly.
Heide shuffled over to her father’s side, and he held out his arms to her. “Jump,” he instructed.
She did and Jack swept her up into his strong embrace. She snuggled her head into the crook of his neck as he settled her weight on his left side. Her arms and legs were long and dangled across her father’s body. He likely wouldn’t be able to hold her like this for much longer. Perhaps another year or two at most.
“Morning, Dad,” she mumbled.
“Good morning.” Jack smiled into her mussed, blond hair. “Did you sleep well?”
Heide nodded without lifting her head from its resting place.
“How hungry are you this morning?”
“Only a little bit.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded again.
“Okay. Just a light breakfast before school then.”
“Okay.”
Jack kept a tight hold on his daughter with one arm while he returned to cooking breakfast with the other. It would have been far easier to set her down, but he wasn’t letting go of her just yet, and she was content to remain with him.
“I love you,” he said.
It was the first time I’d heard him say the words, and my heart fluttered even though the declaration wasn’t meant for me.
“I love you, too.”
The affirmations between Jack and Heide were brief but sincere, and I knew by this one exchange they were made often. It wasn’t something I could relate to from my own personal experiences, but it was something I could appreciate.
As quietly as possible, I backed out of the kitchen and left Jack and Heide alone to spend some precious time together. Looking for something to occupy my time, I wandered into the living room and retrieved my cell phone from the coffee table. A text message was waiting for me. When I swiped the screen, Robert’s name appeared. His message informed me that our golf date had been set for the next day at twelve o’clock.
High Noon.
“Naturally,” I grumbled, tossing my phone on to the sofa. Eighteen holes of golf, plus a round or two of drinks afterward meant spending at least four hours underneath Robert’s scrutiny. I would need every second of today and tomorrow morning to prepare for the inevitable.
I looked back in the direction of the kitchen and frowned with anxiety. I anticipated my mother’s story would give Jack pause about telling my father about our new relationship. It would be far easier and preferable to avoid any new conflict with Robert, but there was also something else brewing within me—hope.
I’d spent years wondering when or if things would ever change between Robert and me. It couldn’t happen without an outside influence to reshape the dynamics of our dysfunctional relationship. Perhaps with the support of Jack Evans, I could find my way from the quagmire my life had become.
The weeks I’d spent allowing Jack into my heart were among the most romantic and significant I’d ever experienced. There was no denying it. Things between us hadn’t been hassle free. I’d thrown any number of roadblocks his way, and yet here we were. He’d endured my uncertainties and worries, and now my involvement with Jack was among one of the most enjoyable times of my life. Our relationship strengthened me in a way that nothing else had been able to. He’d welcomed me not only into his life, but also his daughter’s. Heide was the most important person in his world, and he trusted me with her.
Despite the ugliness that saturated my family and my reluctance to expose Jack to more of my painful recollections, I owed him nothing less than the same amount of trust he had extended to me.
If not now, when?
If not him, who?
Spending the night at Jack’s house had been eventful once again, and I was experiencing a certain amount of lightness after having shared so much. Although I wasn’t joyful, I was content. Heide left on the school bus that morning, and we enjoyed our own breakfast. Later, I retrieved my phone from the sofa and answered Robert’s text. “Noon on Friday it is. I’m looking forward to an afternoon out of the office.”
Almost immediately, he answered back, “I’ll drive you out there.”
I set my phone back on the kitchen island and reached for my cup of coffee.
Jack nodded toward it. “Was that Robert?”
“Yeah.” I took a very small sip of the Starbucks brew. “He wants me to ride to the golf course with him.”
“That’s good.”
I smirked. Robert had informed me, not asked me, about the driving arrangements.
“Try to think about the positive side of it.”
Finding the silver lining was not a habit I’d developed over the years, so it took me a few moments to find it. Accepting Robert’s terms meant I was spared the complication of how to get to the golf course. I was certain I would need a ride home from Jack once we’d made our disclosure to my father. I needn’t worry about Robert leaving me stranded once he stormed away. It was the best I could come up with under the circumstances.
I nodded. “You’re right. I’ll try to work on that.”
I attempted once more to channel my concerns through a different canyon of thought when a new question occurred to me.
“Do you ever find it hard?” I murmured my words as I was still contemplating them.
“What?”
“Raising a daughter by yourself.”
Jack shook his head without deliberation. “Hard isn’t the right word. I never think about it in terms of easy or hard.”
“What is the right word?”
“Meaningful.”
The morning of the game was sunny and warm. I chose to wear a navy skort with small white polka dots along with a matching, sleeveless, navy shirt. The outfit was suggestive for the office, but I covered up the figure-hugging top with a light sweater and made sure anyone I came into contact with understood I’d be spending the afternoon at Widgi Creek with Robert. Most smiled and told me to have a good time golfing, while a select few paused as if unsure of how to respond. I couldn’t really blame them.
Although I had worked through the morning, Robert only appeared in time to pick me up. He was wearing one of an endless number of golf outfits he kept ready in his closet. Today’s choice was a green shirt paired with khaki knee-length shorts.
“You ready?” he asked, and simultaneously clapped his hands. The gesture reminded me of a master summoning his dog, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping at him.
“Sure,” I replied, forcing a smile.
Robert turned and walked toward the exit with me following behind. The air in the office was stifling, and I welcomed the fresh breeze as soon as we entered the parking lot.
When I opened the door to his luxury SUV and stepped up into the vehicle, I noticed his clubs peeking up from behind the back seat. My father’s passion for golfing was well known and he had it down to a science. For several months of the year, Widgi Creek was Robert’s preferred office space, and he always brought along the newest equipment. Not for the first time, I wondered how Jack’s game would compare to my father’s.
Robert was in a good mood as he drove to the golf course, and I coached myself to lower my guard, trying to appear as casual as he was.
“When was the last time we did this together?”
I couldn’t be insulted by his lack of memory. I wasn’t sure myself. “At the end of middle school? Maybe the beginning of high school? Something like that.”
“More than twenty years then.” It was a statement devoid of emotion. Nothing more than a simple fact.
Our conversation fizzled for a minute or two, and I began to assume the rest of our journey would be a silent one. Surprisingly, Robert attempted small talk once again.
“I moved here because I wanted to spend more time outdoors.”
“I remember lots of time outside,” I said.
“I thought it would be good for you. I wanted to raise you in a place most people only enjoy on their vacations.”
This revelation
was new to me. As I processed my father’s words, I related it to what Jack had said about moving his family to Oregon. In some ways, the two men shared similar experiences. The fundamental difference was the outcomes. Allison had left the state to escape her husband, while my mother had made a more bewildering and irreversible decision.
Robert looked over at me. “What do you do when you’re not at work? Do you do anything outdoors?”
I blinked as he drew me back into the discussion. “I’ve always enjoyed being out on the water.”
“I don’t remember you doing anything like that recently.”
“I haven’t,” I confirmed. “It was always something to do with friends, but my friends are busy with their families these days.”
“Ah.” Robert connected the dots. My friends had married and gone on to have children. Even though I wasn’t opposed to marriage, there would never be children for me.
The second pause in our conversation was longer and heavier with all that my final statement implied. I should have been all right with letting the talk slide away, but I racked my brain for a way to salvage the uncharacteristic lightness between my father and me. Jack was determined to start things out on the right foot with Robert. It was for his sake, not mine, that I plodded forward.
“I’m thinking of going up to Mount Bachelor for a hike.”
“When? You shouldn’t go alone, you know.”
“You don’t need to worry,” I said, watching the road in front of us. It was the only information I was willing to supply.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Robert shake his head. “You never want to talk.”
I shrugged. “I’ve always been quiet.”
“Not always,” he countered in a reflective voice.
My emotions were still raw from sharing my family’s story with Jack, and I reminded myself that Robert couldn’t know any of that. I didn’t answer my father and turned my gaze once more to look out the passenger side window.
“You weren’t always this way,” he reiterated.
A bitter impulse overcame me. “Being a father is hard?”
He answered as he slowed down to make the final turn toward the golf course, “Immensely. But hey, if today goes well, maybe we can think about doing this again.”
“Maybe,” I said. It was the only response that seemed adequate, and I was grateful when he didn’t read into my answer.
WHEN WE pulled into the parking lot at Widgi Creek, a quick scan for Jack’s car confirmed we had arrived before him.
He spent the morning meeting with clients and was away from the office. I hadn’t seen him since work the evening before. I was restless and yearned to bask in the comfort of his close proximity.
Robert and I exited his car, and I stood at the back of the vehicle while he retrieved his clubs. As he organized his golf bag, Jack arrived and parked nearby. As much as I yearned to drift away from my father to greet him, my apprehension of drawing too much attention kept my feet locked in place.
Jack waved as he got out of his car and opened the trunk. He pulled his golf bag out and slung it over his shoulder. After securing his blue BMW sedan, he walked over and joined us. He carried a vintage set of clubs with the gold initials A.E. engraved on the worn leather of the coffee and cream-colored bag. After he set down his bag, he shook hands with Robert.
“I’m glad we could do this,” Jack said. “I’ve been looking for an opportunity to get back into the game.”
“Just watch out for elk,” I chimed in, smiling.
Robert chuckled and Jack turned to me with interest. “Are you serious?”
“I remember seeing elk pass by us more than once out here.”
Robert nodded. “She’s not lying.”
Jack’s eyes sparkled with amusement. He was dressed smartly in a gray pencil-striped polo and navy slacks. I had no choice but to resist the urge to kiss him.
“Do they ever get hit by balls?” he asked.
“Not by me,” Robert answered. “I sure as hell don’t want to piss off an elk.”
I laughed at this and, judging by the quick glance I received from both men, the sound was unexpected.
Robert smiled. “I’ll get us all squared away with a cart. This is all on me today.”
Jack nodded, knowing my father well enough not to argue. “Thank you, Robert.”
“No problem.”
Jack turned in my direction. “Shall I keep you company?”
“Sure.” In an effort to avoid appearing too interested in Jack, I occupied myself with removing my sweater.
My father headed into the clubhouse, and when I turned my attention to Jack he was watching me.
“Why did you wear a sweater today?” he asked as we began the walk to the first tee.
“I didn’t want to,” I answered while folding the garment over my arm, “but I needed to look somewhat modest at work.”
Jack’s expression turned prim. “You wore this to the office?”
“It’s Friday. It’s casual.” I arched an eyebrow, warning Jack not to push the subject any further.
He leaned in close to me as we continued to walk, but he refrained from touching me.
“You look stunning in the sunshine,” he said. “You’ll be tempting me all afternoon.”
“Don’t flirt.” I nodded to the infinitesimal space between us. “I’m having a tough time keeping my distance as it is.”
“I’m not going to hold out until Sunday.” His voice was gruff with arousal, and the confidence in his tone sent my desire into overdrive.
“Are you suggesting we sneak off into the woods?” I said as a dare. “I’m not sure the elk will like that.”
“Who’s flirting now?” Having reached our destination, Jack’s gaze drifted down.
I followed his gaze to my polka-dotted mini-skort. “I know what you’re thinking,” I teased.
“Tell me,” he challenged.
“You’re wondering what underwear I have on.”
“And?”
“And I’d tell you, but you need to get your game face under control before you tee off.”
“You’re right about that.” He sighed. “But you should know that I’ll be thinking about how much I want you for the rest of the afternoon.”
“I want you, too,” I said, nodding toward a nearby bench. “Now don’t forget to put on your cleats.”
Jack grinned and, as he was changing his shoes, my eyes drifted back to his bag of golf clubs.
“Whose initials are those?” I asked.
Jack glanced up at me as he answered. “My father’s.”
“What’s his name?”
“Andrew.”
He returned to his shoes without another word, and I recognized the subtle shift in his mood. Jack’s answers grew shorter when he was nervous.
I looked back to the clubs, and it occurred to me that Jack would not have brought them all the way to Oregon if his father still used them.
I shifted my glance back to him. “Did your father pass away?”
Jack stood up. He strolled closer to me, nodded and placed his hands in his pockets. I wondered if he’d done so to avoid taking hold of mine.
Melancholy rippled through me at his revelation. We’d each lost a parent, and it became clear why Jack had trouble articulating his feelings earlier in the week. He understood my loss all too well.
I longed to touch Jack, to take him in my arms and press our bodies together in affection and security, but under the circumstances it was impossible. Robert was only steps away. Instead, I reached out to trace my finger gently over the letter E imprinted on Jack’s bag.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Jack’s eyes rested on the letter I outlined.
“He taught me to golf when I was twelve,” he recalled with fondness. “We played together, and I learned a lot from him. I enjoyed the game so much I went on to play in high school and college. He was proud of that. He always took the credit.”
I smiled, happy that Jack
was sharing his memories with me.
“He died during my second year of college right before winter finals. I’ve only played on and off since then. Almost thirty years ago.” Jack frowned. “Wow.”
“Your father must have been young,” I surmised.
“He was.”
“What happened?” I nudged.
“He had a brain aneurism. It was unpredictable.”
Although our situations were vastly different, Jack’s story resonated with me. He’d lost a parent in his youth and under shocking circumstances. Just like I had.
“You didn’t deserve that,” I said.
“Neither did you, Kathleen.
“Andrew sounds like a good man. I wish I could have met him.”
“He was a great man.”
“So are you.”
Jack self-consciously dropped his head. “I don’t know about that.”
“You are,” I affirmed. “I watch you with Heide, and you’re such a good father. You’re so devoted to her. I think your father had a lot to do with that.”
Jack lifted his head and he looked toward the clubhouse. “Thank you. He would’ve adored her. And he would’ve adored you, too.”
“I want to kiss you. Right now,” I blurted.
Jack’s warm eyes connected with mine and, for a second or two, I thought he was going to allow me to do just that.
“I missed you last night,” he responded. “Once today is done and this weekend is behind us, I want to talk about more frequent sleepovers.”
My melancholy was replaced by excitement. “How frequent?”
“We’ll ease into it,” he said. “Five. Six. Seven nights a week.”
“I’d never be home,” I quipped.
“Of course you would. You’d be home all the time.”
Before I could respond, Robert’s boisterous laughter reached our ears. He was driving a golf cart right alongside another occupied by two men—Widgi Creek regulars. Jack took the opportunity to retrieve a single glove and a Ginty driver from his bag. He pulled on the glove as wandered over to the tee. He stretched his muscles and began practicing his swing. My eyes were glued to his movements, and I was content to soak up the sun and watch him.
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