Worth the Drive

by Mara Jacobs

  The restaurant Darío took her to was a far cry from the Armadillo. It was just as small, and off the beaten track of downtown Irving, but it was full of warmth and charm. And Spanish cooking, as Katie found out when she barely recognized a word on the menu.

  “You don’t care for Spanish food? We could go someplace else?” Darío asked.

  “No, I love Mexican, I’m just not familiar with too much on the menu,” Katie said.

  Darío smiled, “That is because it is Spanish, not Mexican.”

  Katie thought of okra and grits, neither of which she’d ever tasted, and the pasties she was so used to in the U.P. “Point taken,” she said. “Why don’t you order for me? I like spicy, but not too spicy. I love beef, but not pork. And I prefer rice to beans.” Darío nodded, perused the menu for a moment and gave their order to the waitress when she arrived.

  They talked of the day’s play. Besides Darío’s great round, Chad made the cut in his first tournament as a pro – no small feat. Neither one of them expressed any regret in seeing Barclay head home, missing the cut by four shots.

  Over a wonderful dinner that Katie readily admitted was one of the best she’d ever had, the conversation flowed comfortably.

  “You don’t play poker with Binky on Friday nights?” she asked.

  He shook his head, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “No. It is a game for caddies only.”

  “I’ll bet that’s quite a picture. A room full of Binkys knowing they’ve got an extra paycheck to burn. I see a dark room with cigar smoke, empty beer bottles, and lots of foul language. Quite a boy’s club, eh?”

  Darío smiled. “Not entirely. There are a few women caddies on tour. More on the smaller, training tour. In those cases, it is usually the players’ wives, as they cannot yet afford to pay a regular caddy.”

  “Surely that’s not the case at this level?” Katie asked.

  “No. The caddies at this level have been doing this a while. And they get paid very well, though they do have to cover their own travel expenses. The women caddies are not the players’ wives on the Tour.”

  “I saw one on the practice range yesterday. She had a long ponytail, sort of petite, incredible legs, about my age,” Katie said.

  Darío nodded. “Sí, that was Franny. She’s been on the Tour with Rick for over ten years.”

  Katie noticed he didn’t mention anything about her description of Franny. Did he like petite women? With great legs? She knew her legs could stand the comparison, but did she seem like an Amazon to him? He was her height. Maybe he was one of those men who liked to tower over their women.

  Maybe she should get her mind back to the subject! “Rick? Rick Donaldson? She’s his caddy?”

  “Yes. For at least ten years now, probably more. You’ve heard of Rick?”

  “Yes of course I’ve heard of Rick Donaldson. I know of his – what? – four majors?” Darío nodded. “He’s known as Prick Donaldson on Tour, isn’t he?” Her embarrassment at using the word in front of Darío about a man she’d never met was obvious as she felt the blush creep up her cheeks.

  Funny, she’d always been known as something of an Ice Princess, and she’d probably blushed more in front of Darío in two days than she had in the past ten years combined.

  He seemed amused at her discomfort. “Yes, that’s his nickname,” he said.

  “Do you know him very well? Is he…is he,” she couldn’t ask it.

  “Is he really a prick?” he chuckled. Katie nodded. “It depends on who you ask. I’ve been on several Ryder Cup teams with Rick. He is just a few years older than I am. He was very generous and helpful to me during my first Ryder Cup experience. For that, I will always be grateful.” He hesitated, then smiled. “But yes, he can be a prick.”

  “And this Franny, she’s his caddy?”

  “Yes, for many years now they have been a team. She may possibly be the only person who would put up with Rick so long.”

  “And are they a couple also?”

  Darío shook his head. “No. Rick is currently going through his second divorce.”

  “So, there are two women out there who agree with the nickname,” Katie said.

  “At least,” Darío said. “He tried to steal Binky from me years ago. That’s when Binky introduced him to Franny. She was new on the Tour and Rick had gone through several caddies. No one would stay with him. I think Binky has always had a soft spot for Franny, so he saw that she got on with a relatively stable player.”

  “Two marriages is relatively stable?”

  He grinned and Katie felt a flutter in her belly. “A relatively stable player on the Tour. The other,” he waved his hand, “I can not speak to.”

  Katie smiled. “Well, I can hardly talk about stable when it comes to marriage.” She refused to fall into some kind of maudlin funk. Not when she was enjoying Darío’s company so much. “So, Binky and Franny play poker together on Fridays, eh?”

  “Sí. Most caddies socialize together and most players socialize together. There are exceptions of course.”

  “Oh, so last night was a fluke? You and Binky going out together?”

  “No. We have dinner together every Wednesday and Thursday night. Wednesday is after the last practice round, before the tournament begins and we discuss course strategy. Thursday is after we have played the first round, and we talk about any adjustments we need to make to that strategy. Usually we eat at the hotel, but last night…” his voice trailed off.

  “Last night?” Katie prodded.

  A sheepish smile crossed his face, making his mouth seem lopsided, emphasizing his large nose. Katie found it endearing.

  “Last night,” he sighed, “I’d overheard Chad telling Lizzie about the Armadillo at the golf course. I decided to give it a try.”

  Katie wondered at that. She didn’t assume she was the reason why Darío wanted to give the Armadillo a try. But still… the place wasn’t necessarily one that people put on the top of their must-eat-at lists.

  “So, you only eat with Binky on two nights of the week. What players are you closest to? Who would you normally be eating with on a Friday evening if you hadn’t taken pity on me?”

  He shook his head, a warm compassion filling his chocolate eyes. “I have no pity for you, Katie.” Before she could respond to that, he added, “Normally I eat alone the other nights. Occasionally one of the other Spanish players, or some other player I happen to know well, is at an event and we’ll get together, but most times alone.”

  The concept of eating out alone was foreign to Katie. She had never in her life eaten at a restaurant alone. The thought terrified her. And yet, she knew that it was a very real possibility for her future.

  Nah, not while Alison was still single. She’d always have someone to go to the Commodore with for some pizza and a drink.

  “You must get very lonely,” she whispered, thinking more of her future than addressing Darío.

  He thought on that, took a sip of his water that he’d switched to after one beer. “I am alone ninety percent of the time. Of that time, I am lonely perhaps ten percent of that.”

  She wrinkled her brow, puzzled.

  “There is a difference between being alone and being lonely, Gata,” he said quietly, now sensing she was talking about herself as well as him.

  “Is there?” she asked, not convinced.

  “Yes. You’ll get used to being alone, and then you will see the difference. Right now, to you, they are the same.”

  She stared at her empty plate, took a sip of her water. “Maybe. I hope so. I’ve never lived alone before. I’m somewhat ashamed to say I don’t like it. Here I am, moments away from thirty-seven. I have a good job, great friends, a wonderful family who lives nearby,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “and I’m so afraid to be in that house alone at night.”

  Darío’s concern was evident. “Do you not live in a safe area?”

  She laughed softly. “It’s not anyone else I’m afraid of. It’s…it’s… it’s just being wi
th only me for all those hours that terrifies me.”

  She could tell that this concept was as foreign to Darío as his being alone so much of the time was to her.

  He changed the subject, and she was grateful. “Tell me, what it is that you do for a living, Katie?”

  “I’m an editor at the daily newspaper in town.”

  He smiled. “Ahh, a journalist, sometimes known as the enemy.”

  “In what way?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I have not had much problem with the press, but some players on the Tour – such as Rick Donaldson – feel they have been…misrepresented… in the press. They don’t have overly friendly feelings toward journalists. And of course Tiger…”

  She loved how the word “misrepresented” rolled off his tongue, the accent not quite on the right syllable, his r’s rolled as flat as a pancake. His “is” and “it’s” sounded more like “ees” and “eet”. She could listen to this man read the phone book.

  She waved her hand. “What I do is far removed from sports writing. Following a team or a Tour. Those guys are professionals.” She was dismissive in her tone and he picked up on it.

  “So what is it that you write exactly?” he prompted.

  She raised her shoulders, as if her subject was unimportant. “Well, the Ingot is a small town daily newspaper, so the local news is key. Town meetings, police and court reports, and of course the obituaries. Obituaries are very big at the Ingot.”

  He chuckled. “You see. You cover matters of life and death, while these ‘professionals’ as you call them, only cover a silly game.”

  She smiled. “But it’s not a silly game to you, is it?”

  He returned her smile with one of his own, lopsided and adorable. “No. It’s not a game to me. It is my livelihood, but even more importantly, it is…” he paused, searching. Katie wasn’t sure if he was searching for the correct word in English, or trying to define his thoughts. She waited, silently. “It is who I am,” he finally said.

  Katie nodded, understanding. She wished she could define herself that simply. At one point, she’d hoped to define herself in three words… mother, wife and journalist. Now, one was out of her reach, one had been ripped from her grasp, and the third wasn’t what she’d thought it would be. How nice to say, “I am a golfer” and be done with it.

  “Did you learn to play with your father, at his club, like most of the players on the Tour?” she asked. She knew that the majority of pro golfers grew up with silver spoons in their mouths, learning the game at their fathers’ knees at country clubs. There were the exceptions, of course, but for the most part, golf at the professional level continued to be a game for the elite. You didn’t see many players who battled their ways out of the inner city to join the PGA Tour.

  But Darío didn’t seem to have an attitude of entitlement about him. She didn’t know much about his background, only that he was from northern Spain, had taken the golf world by storm at twenty, was currently thirty-six, and had never married. If her two best friends had not also been single at thirty-six – Lizzie marrying Finn only three months ago – she would have found Darío’s being single suspect, wondered if maybe he was gay. But because of her friends, she knew that not everyone was destined to marry, or even to marry young, as she had.

  And he sure wasn’t giving off any gay vibes.

  “No. Not from my father,” Darío said. The curtness of his voice pulled Katie back from her silent reverie to watch him. He did not look at her as he spoke, but rather his gaze swept the room, not landing on anything or anyone in particular. “I learned golf from the greens keeper at the club where my mother worked as a cook.”

  “Oh. Well your parents must be incredibly proud of all you’ve accomplished,” she said, trying a different tack.

  “Sí, my mother is very proud. We are very close,” he said, still not looking at her.

  “But not your father?” she asked. She knew he was dodging the subject, but her journalist’s curiosity won out.

  He finally looked at her, his warm eyes for a moment flashing cold. “I don’t know who my father is, Katie. I don’t know if he is proud of me.” His shoulders slumped and the glare went out of his eyes, the gentleness returning. “I’m not sure if he even knows I exist.”

  She held his eyes for a moment, trying to convey the same empathy that he had given her earlier when talking about loneliness. Like him, she felt no pity, but she did feel the loss he must have felt as a child. A loss that obviously was still with him.

  He gave a small smile, acknowledging her, then swept the matter aside. “So, tomorrow, Chad and I will no longer be paired together. Lizzie will be following his group. Will you be with her, or may I count you among my gallery? You have a good luck charm reputation to uphold.”

  She was flattered that he asked, but sorry for the answer she had to give him. “We won’t be going to the tournament tomorrow. We’re leaving in the morning.”

  “You’re leaving? But why?” Katie heard what she thought sounded like minor distress in her voice, and it perversely made her feel good.

  “We have to get back. Lizzie planned this trip so that she could meet with Chad on days he would be sure to be here, in case he missed the cut. And… and we need to be back home on Sunday.”

  “What happens on Sunday?”

  Katie looked away, took a deep breath and said, “Sunday is Mother’s Day.” She said the words like a poison she was trying to expell from her body. “It will be Lizzie’s first Mother’s Day since she got married, and became a stepmother. She didn’t want to miss it.”

  She remembered Lizzie’s earlier news and realized that the day had even more meaning for Lizzie and Finn than she had originally known. She tried to feel happy for her friend, and she was, but feelings like that were locked so deep down by now, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever find them. Her own inability to conceive had left her bereft anytime a close friend or one of her brother’s wives became pregnant. Now with Ron becoming a father, the pain was even deeper.

  Katie watched Darío watch her. She remembered that she had told him about her infertility in the car last night in the midst of her tirade. She searched his eyes for the pity she was sure to find, but didn’t. She went on, “And, it’s also my birthday, and my parents and brothers and their families will want me there for dinner.”

  “Your birthday is on Mother’s Day?” he asked.

  He seemed to get the cruel joke played on Katie. “Every so many years it falls on Mother’s Day. There’s a celebration for me all right, but never the right one.” She laughed at her joke, but it came out as more of a whimper. Darío did not smile at her attempt.

  He reached across the table and laid his warm hand over hers. “To mark the day that you joined us in this world, Gata, that is most definitely cause for celebration.”

  She looked into his warm, chocolate eyes. What would it be like to be held by this man? Could he take away the pain that hearing of Lizzie’s pregnancy brought her? Could he make her body feel anything other than the numbing cold she’d felt since Ron had left? No, of course not. But maybe…maybe for just one night she could forget her traitorous, barren body, her friend’s impending motherhood and the family gathering on Sunday, which would surely be a birthday party for her and a Mother’s Day party for her mother and sisters-in-law.

  And maybe, one night in the arms of Darío Luna would help her forget the existence of little Crystal Lipton.

  That was when Katie decided to seduce Darío.

  Chapter Seven

  It was one of those days you dream about. Every hole seemed to be six inches wide.

  - Tom Purtzer, professional golfer

  She was breathtaking. She was exquisite. She was acting very very strangely.

  The evening had been going along fine, she had enjoyed what he’d chosen for her for dinner, their conversation was comfortable and even. She had been very honest about her feelings about not being able to celebrate Mother’s Day.

  And the
n, something happened.

  She seemed to come to some sort of decision. And then her manner changed dramatically. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn she was trying to seduce him. He knew that couldn’t be it. For one thing, Katie didn’t want to be with a man right now. Her venomous spew the previous evening was proof of that. Also, what she was doing was a far cry from any seduction Darío had ever seen before. She didn’t seem to know what she was doing. He thought for a moment that she was actually batting her eyes at him!

  She attempted to put her hand over his that rested on the table and in doing so, proceeded to knock over her water glass, dousing the table. She was not to be deterred, though, from whatever mission she was on, and Darío found himself admiring her tenacity. He was still confused, but admiring.

  When she nearly set her hair on fire leaning across the candlelit table to whisper something to him that could easily have been said at a normal level, Darío was determined to put her out of her own misery. For her own safety, as well as for the fact that it was painful to watch her demonstration.

  “Gata, what is it you are trying to say to me?” he asked.

  She furrowed her brow. “Say to you? What do you mean? We were talking about your next tournament.”

  He maneuvered his hand around the battlefield of debris she’d made of the table and lightly touched her arm. “Sí, but what are you trying to say to me?”

  She tried to put her head down, but he moved his hand from her arm to her chin and held it up. There was no way that he would not see her gorgeous eyes as she said whatever she was going to say.

  Not being able to hide, she did the next best thing, and whispered her reply. Her voice was soft and light, and he was not able to hear her.

  “I didn’t hear you,” he said, leaning closer.

  The already quiet restaurant became even quieter, all diners feeling the need to stop talking and take bites of their food at that precise moment. It coincided with Katie raising her voice. “I said, ‘I’m trying to seduce you’.”