The Long Shot

by A. L. Brooks

  So probably one chance, and that’s it.

  As she let that thought settle in her mind, she calmed, and her shoulders relaxed. She’d sunk longer putts many times in her career. Granted, not for something quite as important as her first major, but her body would remember and know what to do. She allowed herself a small smile.

  This, right now, is what I’ve been training for. This is what I’ve worked so hard for and put up with all the negative crap from my father and others for. This, right now.

  Harry approached with her putter in his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, then looked into her eyes before he closed his mouth again and grinned. He backed away without saying a word.

  She took the putter and walked around the shot a few times, making sure of the flow of the green and keeping her breathing calm and even.

  A hush fell over the crowd. Even the birds in the nearest trees seemed to fall quiet.

  She addressed the ball, once again moving her feet, knees, hips, and shoulders by tiny increments until she knew she was perfectly balanced and ready to hit.

  The ball began its path toward the cup.

  Screams of “Get in the hole!” assailed her ears.

  The speed was good.

  The direction looked good…looked good…looked—

  The crowd erupted, the noise almost deafening, as the ball skimmed the left rim of the cup and then dropped slowly, teasingly, into it.

  She took a step forward, lunged into her front knee, and fist-pumped three times in quick succession. Her scream of joy was almost primal, but soon her professionalism resurfaced. She stood quickly before walking to the hole to retrieve her ball.

  The purest sensation of relief flooded her veins. She’d done everything she could, everything that was within her control, to try to win this tournament.

  Now it was in the lap of the gods and whatever Laurie could conjure up from the significantly shorter distance of six feet.

  “Perfect,” Harry said, his voice breaking, as she reached him at the edge of the green. “Fucking perfect.”

  She drew him into a quick hug, then stepped back, her heart racing. Should she watch or not? If Laurie sunk her putt, they were going into a playoff. If she missed…

  Morgan shuddered. She didn’t dare believe.

  Damn, I have to watch. I have to see for myself.

  Squaring her shoulders, she raised her head.

  Her gaze landed on the deep-brown eyes of Adrienne, who stood across the green with Morgan’s mom clinging to her arm.

  Adrienne made no move to smile or nod or lift her hand. She simply kept her gaze locked with Morgan’s.

  They stayed like that while the crowd hushed once more, while the shouts of “Get in the hole!” reverberated around the stands, until the shocked gasps and groans, quickly followed by the roar of everyone who realized it, announced that Morgan Spencer had just won her first major.

  Chapter 22

  Morgan fell into Harry’s hug, but she still had her gaze locked with Adrienne’s.

  Bree screamed next to Adrienne, pulling at Adrienne’s arm as she jumped up and down next to her, but Adrienne couldn’t, wouldn’t, tear her gaze away from Morgan’s.

  Even as Morgan briefly shook hands with a sour-looking Laurie Schweitzer, she kept the corner of her eye on Adrienne. Even as the press swarmed over the green, TV cameras circling Morgan like hyenas honing in on a lion kill, their gazes found each other and held.

  And then Morgan moved, slowly at first, then faster, a smile finally creasing her shocked face as she jogged across the green and pushed her way through the crowd.

  Adrienne waited. She gave Bree a quick hug and a smile, then let her go and stood steady in the craziness around them.

  When Morgan reached her and pulled her into her arms, Adrienne’s tears finally came. She clung to Morgan, vaguely aware that they were kissing, that people were shouting, a multitude of cameras flashing.

  She pulled away from the kisses with which Morgan peppered her lips and held her face in her hands. “You did it. And I am so proud of you.”

  Morgan cried now, and she dropped her head and pressed her face into Adrienne’s neck, sobbing against her skin.

  “Oh, darling!” Bree exclaimed, and her arms reached around them to encapsulate them both in her warm embrace. “Congratulations!”

  Morgan lifted her head, her eyes red, and grinned at her mom. “Thanks, Mom. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Oh, me too, darling! I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

  Adrienne gently released Morgan and nudged her into Bree’s arms. Cameras flashed madly again around them. Adrienne pulled a clean Kleenex from her pocket and pressed it into Morgan’s hand when her mom released her.

  “Thanks,” Morgan said, lifting the Kleenex and smiling ruefully. “I don’t normally do this.” She wiped her eyes and snuffled a little.

  “I think you’re entitled, today of all days,” Adrienne replied, stroking her back.

  “I still can’t quite believe it.” Morgan’s expression was one of awe and wonder.

  “Believe it.” Adrienne pressed closer to her. “You are the Women’s British Open champion. A major winner.”

  Morgan laughed and shook her head. “Okay, you might need to keep saying that to me for about, um, a week?”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  They smiled at each other, then Morgan exhaled loudly. “Okay, I guess I better go do things.” She waved behind her at the green.

  “I guess you do.”

  “We’ll be here when you’re done,” Bree said, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate silk handkerchief.

  Morgan grinned at them both, then turned to face the huge bank of press and TV—Jenny among them, right at the front Adrienne was pleased to note—and the table already being set up for the presentation of the trophy.

  Bree grabbed hold of Adrienne’s arm again and, when their eyes met, let out a squeal. “She did it!”

  Adrienne laughed and hugged her. “She sure did.”

  “And it gives me great pleasure to present this magnificent trophy to our incredible winner, this year’s Women’s British Open champion, Morgan Spencer!”

  The club president smiled warmly at Morgan as she stepped over to receive the elegant silver trophy, thunderous applause seeming to come from every direction as she did so.

  “Very well played, Morgan. That was a superb win,” the president said as they shook hands.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  And then the silverware was in her hands, and she held it aloft.

  Innumerable flashes from the press cameras and those of the spectators blinded her, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t the first trophy she’d ever held, nor, hopefully, would it be the last, but she knew this one she’d never forget.

  She turned in a slow circle at the gentle prompting of a tour official to ensure that everyone could get their shot of the newest champion.

  Adrienne came into her field of view again. She stood at the edge of the crowd, looking serene and beautiful. Her mom was there beside her, applauding vigorously. Harry gave her a wink and a grin, and Charlie stood next to him, arms raised high, fists clenched, a huge smile on her face.

  Morgan grinned, then laughed.

  This is surreal.

  A gentle hand from the tour official guided her to the trophy table, and Morgan placed the cup next to the poster-sized check for a sum equivalent to about $650,000, an amount that made her eyes water.

  “Ready for the interview?” the official asked her quietly.

  Morgan chuckled. “Not really, but I know I have to.”

  The official, a kind-looking woman about her mom’s age, smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  Morgan patted her on the arm. “I’m good.”

  She exhaled and faced
the cameras. Please don’t let it be Cindy.

  To her immense relief, it was one of the British sportscasters, a woman she’d met the year before, who would do the lead interview.

  Morgan smiled at her as they shook hands.

  “Well, Morgan. How about that, then?” the interviewer said, earning a ripple of chuckles from the crowd.

  “Not bad, huh?” Morgan replied, and the crowd whooped and hollered.

  “What a day. What a round, from both of you.”

  “Oh, I know.” Morgan shook her head. “Laurie played some incredible stuff out there. That putt on twelve was one of the best I’ve seen.” The crowd applauded. “And while I’m happy with the win, obviously, especially after all this time”—more laughter from the crowd—“I think I’m equally happy that we showed you all how good our game is. Some people still seem to think our game isn’t a match for what the men can produce. Hopefully today has helped dispel that way out-of-date myth.”

  The interviewer smiled and waited until the loud cheers and applause died down. “I think everyone here would agree with that sentiment. How did you feel, though, on that last hole? You’re twenty-five feet away. She’s only six…”

  The interview went on for a few more minutes, Morgan earning more laughs and cheers from the crowd with her answers. She knew she’d never come across as so relaxed in front of a camera. Amazing what kicking a monkey off your back can do.

  After the interviewer had thanked her and walked away, it was the turn of the other, lesser broadcasters and print press. The tour official was excellent at her job, moving Morgan from one to another, ensuring everyone got to ask two or three questions but keeping things moving along at a good pace.

  Once it was over, Morgan made her way over to her own special set of supporters. She gave Adrienne a quick kiss again, which elicited childish sniggers from Harry and Charlie, and gave her mom another hug.

  “Way to go, Spencer,” Charlie said when they finally hugged.

  “I didn’t even see where you finished,” Morgan said, eyes wide. “How did you—?”

  “Third place!” Charlie yelled.

  Morgan’s tears threatened again, and she swallowed them back. “Oh my God, Charlie, that’s amazing!”

  “I know, right?” Charlie danced on the spot.

  “So can we finally have a beer tonight? A real one, not one of those lame-ass light beers?” Harry stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at her, but she could see a twitch in his left eye and knew he was only just holding it together.

  “I might even have two.” Morgan winked at him, then laughed when he pulled her into a bear hug and lifted her off the ground.

  “Fucking perfect,” he said, looking intently into her eyes before bringing her back down to the ground.

  “Thanks, Harry. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Oh, well, I know that.” He puffed out his chest.

  Morgan snorted.

  “So do you want to hear some more good news?” Charlie asked.

  Morgan spotted Adrienne and her mom shaking their heads even as they smiled. “What?”

  “Did you realize you weren’t interviewed by Cindy at all out there?” Charlie asked.

  Oh, yeah, she’s right.

  “Uh-huh.” Charlie nodded, then grinned. “It’s really strange. Out of the blue, a Golf Channel runner came forward to speak to Patty at CBS about being threatened with her job if she didn’t give your story to Tom Harrison. Allegedly it was Cindy Thomson who threatened her, and I know this part will break your heart, but poor Cindy’s been suspended while the Golf Channel investigates.”

  Morgan blinked, trying to absorb the news. She spun round to face Adrienne.

  “But I thought—? Did you—?”

  Adrienne held up both hands. “Nothing to do with me.”

  “Jenny?”

  “I presume.” Adrienne smiled ruefully. “It was her recording, after all.”

  “I need to buy her a drink. A large one. Or six.”

  Adrienne chuckled. “I’m sure she’d be happy to accept.” She glanced at her watch. “I suppose you’d better get inside and change, ready for the evening, yes?”

  Morgan ran her hands through her hair, suddenly exhausted. “I guess so.”

  She looked round at the four of them and was overwhelmed with emotion at the joy and love on each of their faces. Even Harry’s.

  “Thank you. All of you. This…” She swallowed hard. “I…I really appreciate your support today.”

  Without a word, all four of them stepped forward and joined together to hold her in a long group hug.

  AWESOME!!!!!

  The first message from Jack, which appeared on her screen as soon as she switched her phone back on in her room, made Morgan smile. She scrolled down to the one he’d sent a couple of minutes later.

  And listen, I know you don’t need me to fight your battles, but Dad called and was being an ass. I might have said some things. Don’t know if it will help but I want you to know I tried.

  She blinked, then read the message again. Before she could absorb what it might mean, her phone rang, Hilton’s name in the caller display.

  “Morgan!” he boomed. “Congratulations! I am so proud of you!”

  “Thanks.” She moved the phone away slightly to give her eardrum a chance of surviving.

  “And I understand why you didn’t call me about that Sport Today dot Net article, given you had a major championship to win, but we do still need to talk about how S Pro will—”

  “Hilton, I’ll tell you right now, if S Pro has an issue with me being an out lesbian, then I’d rather not have them as a sponsor. This is my life, and they can either accept that or—”

  “Whoa, whoa, Morgan! Slow down! It’s nothing like that. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He chuckled. “S Pro love the fact that you’re an out lesbian. They’ve been looking for someone to be their LGBT poster person for a couple of years now. They’re delighted to learn the vague rumors they’d heard were true.”

  “Wait, you never told them?”

  “Of course not! That’s your private business. And you’ve never gone out of your way to be truly out, so I assumed you wanted to keep it quiet. I’ve never pushed you on it for that reason.”

  Morgan chuckled. “And here I was thinking it was going to cause you problems with sponsors, et cetera, so I never brought it up.”

  Hilton laughed ruefully. “Well, you know, it might have with some of them. But not S Pro. They want to sit down with you as soon as you’re back from France. They are loving this new Morgan, the one who’s relaxed in front of the cameras and smiles a lot. And wins majors!” He laughed, then said in a more somber tone, “Thank you for pushing through with the film. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

  “Well, I must admit, Adrienne made a little difference there.”

  Hilton laughed. “I’m not going to say anything to that.” He paused. “We can work out a very sweet deal here with S Pro, you know. Very sweet.”

  Morgan sat on the bed with a thump. “I think my head’s about to explode.”

  “Quite the weekend, huh?”

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  “So, um, the thing with Adrienne. Is it…?”

  “Serious? Oh yeah.”

  Hilton’s laughter this time was gentle and understanding. “Good for you, Morgan. Right, go out and celebrate! I’ll talk to you in a couple of days, okay?”

  “Thanks, Hilton.”

  They hung up, and Morgan flopped back on the bed, her mind spinning. She wanted to talk to Adrienne, to tell her all of this, to have Adrienne hold her and kiss her and bring her back down to reality. Because all this talk of massive sponsorship deals and being a major champion was making her feel like she was somewhere above the Earth, looking down on someone else’s life, a life
that hadn’t seemed possible only a few months before.

  But then, being with someone as wonderful as Adrienne hadn’t seemed possible back then either. Amazing how your life can be turned so upside down so quickly in so many ways.

  The tears that flowed now were gentler than the ones she’d shed back on the course. They were almost cleansing, easing her heartaches from all the times past, leading her into a new, calmer state, where the life she had now was the one she knew she never wanted to let go.

  The speeches were over, as was the meal. Adrienne longed to kick off her heels and find a soft couch somewhere to sink into, preferably with a good glass of Merlot to finish off the evening. However, the party was still in full swing, and there was no way she would leave here without Morgan.

  They’d had to sit apart for the formal part of the evening, seating arrangements having already been planned months in advance, of course. And it would be a while yet before they could spend any quality time together.

  Morgan, as newly crowned British Open champion, had plenty of obligations this evening and was busy working her way around the room. She had, however, found a couple of moments to swing by Adrienne’s table to talk with her for a few moments or simply to brush her fingertips across Adrienne’s bare shoulders. Her glance of admiration at Adrienne’s sleeveless black dress—packed on every trip just in case she ended up at an event such as this—sent shivers down Adrienne’s spine.

  They weren’t pretending to hide the fact that they were a couple, even though they hadn’t spoken about that in advance. There really wasn’t any point after making it so public on the eighteenth green earlier that day. Pictures of them wrapped up in each other’s arms straight after Morgan’s win were all over the internet, and to her surprise, Adrienne wasn’t bothered. Que sera sera seemed to be her motto of the weekend. It was rather lovely to feel so relaxed, despite what might befall her in the morning.

  Tricia had messaged just as Adrienne had been dressing for the evening event and had made Adrienne smile with warm gratitude at her encouraging words.