Worth the Drive

by Mara Jacobs

  The last major of the year. Darío had missed the cut at the Masters. Finished top twenty at the U.S. Open. Top ten at the British Open. Katie knew he had high hopes for the PGA Championship. He didn’t voice them out loud, but there was an intensity about him this week that hadn’t been there the previous weeks. She wasn’t surprised to realize she’d learned to read him so well in so short a time. That’s what happened when you were together nearly 24-7.

  Not quite around the clock. There were the hours she slept alone.

  In a perverse way, she was slightly ticked at Darío for not pressuring her. Not making a bigger deal about her having her own room. Passive aggressive thinking on her part, she knew. If she wanted to sleep with the man, she should just come out and tell him so. But she’d never been able to do that–at least not while sober. Lizzie or Alison could. Heck, Lizzie had come out and done just that last year, telling Finn she wanted a summer fling with him.

  The one night with Darîo had been different–she’d never expected to see him again. And even then it had taken all her courage. Before that, she’d never had to be the aggressor, the one who moved relationships along.

  She’d always depended on the men in her life to do that. And they had, right down to the day Ron left her.

  Too bad Darío was a gentleman.

  She accompanied him during his final practice round on Wednesday. The crowd was huge, even for a practice round day, with it being a major. But the gallery around Darío was not very large. He was playing with two little-known players who mainly played on the European Tour – one Spanish and one from Argentina – and most of the crowd elected to follow pairings with bigger names.

  The players spoke Spanish to each other, the caddies content to keep their own conversations as they measured greens with their strides, marking everything in their yardage books. At each green they players would spend several minutes putting tees as markers where the different pin placements would be on each day and chipping and putting multiple balls at each target. It was an organized mess with balls whizzing past each other on the green as one player putted toward Thursday’s pin while another tried to get out of the bunker and close to Sunday’s target.

  Physical yearnings, ones she was becoming used to, pulled at her as she watched Darío on the course. The way he exuded confidence over a putt. How his arms glistened with sweat magnified by the sun. How he smiled at her after a difficult shot.

  As the players walked down the fairways, Katie could hear their rapid exchanges and once again silently thanked the stars that Darío was so fluent in English. One of the other players barely spoke a word of it.

  As the golfers walked up the eighteenth fairway, nearly done for the day, Darío waved to Katie. She waved back, surprised. She’d felt his eyes on her during rounds, but he seldom acknowledged her while he played. Sometimes he would send Binky over to get her water bottle and refill it at the iced water stand that was inside the rope and for the players’ use only. Or send him to dispatch a tube of Chapstick, which she always seemed to forget.

  He waved again and she realized that he was summoning her to join them. Inside the ropes. On the fairway.

  She’d never gone inside the ropes before. During practice rounds, club manufacturer reps, agents, coaches and even sometimes wives would walk with the players, but Darío always played with just Binky at his side.

  She stupidly looked behind her, certain he must be calling to someone else.

  “Gata, come, join us,” he said.

  Nope. Nobody else.

  The three men had stopped in the middle of the fairway, apparently waiting for her to join them. She stepped under the rope, catching the curious glances of those gallery members next to her. A man in a shirt denoting his tournament volunteer status walked up to stop her, but Darío called out to the man, “It’ okay. She’s with me.”

  She was with him. Katie didn’t take the time to think about what that meant beyond admittance to the fairway.

  Darío introduced her to his playing companions. She was curious to see what he would say to them about her, but only said, “This is Katie.” She didn’t know if Darío had explained who “Katie” was earlier. She wished them luck in the tournament and walked the rest of the way to the green with the men. She stayed on the fringe of the green while they went through their various routines.

  The bleachers were full at the eighteenth green and the crowd burst into applause when Darío sank a putt that traversed the entire length of the green. He smiled and doffed his cap to the crowd. When they quieted, he said loud enough for them to hear, “Here’s hoping I can do that on Sunday.” The crowd laughed good-naturedly and applauded the group as they left the green. There were some shouts of “Good luck, Darío!” and “Go get ‘em, Darío!”

  Katie felt a tingle race up and down her spine as they rooted for her guy. There was definitely a different feeling at this tournament than the others she’d attended. An electricity. An importance. A major.

  As they headed to the clubhouse inside the ropes that separated them from the crowd, a dark-haired woman with a baby in her arms and a toddler at her knees headed toward them. As one of Darío’s playing partners – the Spaniard whom Darío had introduced as Angel – stepped forward, it became obvious by the smile on the woman’s face that they were a family.

  Angel lifted the rope and the woman and children passed underneath. The adults gave each other a kiss that made Katie look away. It wasn’t so much that the kiss was X-rated, but it telegraphed such a sweetness, such an intimacy between the couple, that Katie felt like an intruder watching.

  The toddler switched his hold from his mother’s loose flowing skirt to the pants of his father. Only his father had moved – to kiss his mother – and the pants the young boy had grabbed were Darío’s. The little boy tugged and Darío looked away from the autograph he was signing to peer down at the boy. The child seemed startled that it was not his father’s face he saw when he looked up from the pants he was covering with some substance from his hands.

  Angel and his wife were transferring the baby to Angel’s arms and didn’t notice that their son was about to shriek in fright at the man whom he had mistaken as his father.

  Katie was just about to intervene, to scoop the boy up so he could be on face-to-face level with his parents, when Darío bent down and did just that. The little boy’s eyes – chocolate brown, just like Darío’s – grew wide and his mouth opened. But Darío beat him to any words, speaking softly and low in Spanish to the boy. “Something, something, Alejandro,” was all Katie could make out.

  Darío turned the boy – Alejandro, apparently – so he could see that his mother and father stood next to him. Angel’s wife started to take the boy, but the boy put his arms around Darío’s neck – to everyone’s surprise, it seemed – and Darío motioned to the mother that it was okay.

  Darío and the other players continued to sign autographs and pose for pictures with fans. Practice round days were the only days spectators were allowed to bring cameras onto the grounds.

  Katie watched as Darío rubbed Alejandro’s back in small, soothing circles. At that moment she felt the slightest fluttering in her belly.

  It was the first time she’d felt movement. She was just at her four-month mark. She wasn’t showing at all, yet, not even tightness in her waistband. It could have been anything. Gas. The heat. Not enough fluids. But Katie knew it was the baby. It wasn’t a kick, not yet. But it was movement.

  She looked over at Darío, laughing at something shared with little Alejandro. She put her hand on her belly and cursed herself for tearing up. But she couldn’t help it.

  Darío looked at her at that moment and handed Alejandro back to his mother, moving quickly to Katie’s side. “Gata? Katie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Katie cleared her throat to speak. She smiled at Darío. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just happy,” she said.

  Hormones. Curious little things, Darío thought, as he put What to Expect When Y
ou’re Expecting down on the bedside table next to him. He turned off the light and turned over to his side. He should be thinking of the tournament tomorrow. Of his strategy. Of his swing.

  All he could think of was Katie’s beautiful blue eyes filled with tears.

  It was an odd situation. He really hadn’t known Katie well enough before she’d become pregnant to know what in her behavior was Katie and what was pregnancy-induced. It didn’t matter, he supposed. She was what she was.

  And what she was was alone in her own bed, just as Darío was.

  He’d thought that maybe sharing a suite would raise the stakes, make it easier for them to act on their wishes. Or at least Darío’s wishes. Katie had begged off from his dinner with Binky, saying she wanted to work on some ideas for a new piece and that she’d order room service. By the time Darío had returned, she’d turned in, the door to her bedroom closed.

  Maybe she did want to get some work done. Darío had read all the pieces she’d submitted since they’d been traveling together. They were good. Really good. And it seemed to Darío that their being together long-term could be not only good for them and the child, but for Katie’s career as well. He’d certainly been playing better since he’d met her.

  And maybe she didn’t want to interfere with his and Binky’s discussion of strategy for tomorrow. Although she’d joined them for Wednesday night dinners before, keeping quiet most times during strategy talks. Sometimes adding a point or two that Darío always listened to. Most times she was right.

  And maybe she was just tired after walking the course today. Practice rounds were much longer than competition rounds because players often times took two or three shots from each position. So much more time was spent on each green, reading it from every angle.

  And maybe she just didn’t want to sleep with him.

  His body once again in knots, that thought stayed with him as he drifted off to sleep.

  Something was off with Darío’s game. Nobody else would notice it. But Katie did. And Binky could too, Katie could tell, because he shot her questioning looks every so often in the gallery. She shrugged, having no clue what could make Darío’s approach shots – which had been like lasers the last few weeks – land on the opposite side of the green from every pin.

  It wasn’t disastrous. He would still make the cut, and if he had a good weekend perhaps a top twenty finish. But by the end of the round on Friday, Katie could see the frustration on Darío’s face as he struggled to make par on hole after hole.

  They ate dinner in silence at a chain steakhouse and returned to their suite. They stood awkwardly in the living room, each ready to go to their respective corners – their own rooms – yet both hesitating to do so.

  Finally, Katie broke the silence. “Darío, you’re going to have to help me out here. What do you need from me in a situation like this?”

  He turned to her, surprise on his face. “What…what do I need from you?”

  “Yes. When you’ve had a bad round.” She saw his shoulders sag. “Not that you had a bad round. Anytime you can shoot par in major you’re in great shape.”

  He snorted. “Unless forty players shot well under par.”

  She didn’t concede his point, but knew it was true. He’d be in the one of the first pairings tomorrow. An early tee time on a Saturday and Sunday was not a good thing. It meant you were way down on the leaderboard.

  “What can I do for you? Do you want me to leave you alone when this happens? Do you want me to be a sounding board? Let you vent about the round? Can I pep talk you or would that just tick you off?

  “Pep talk me?”

  “You know. ‘It wasn’t you, it was those crazy greens. You’ll get ‘em tomorrow. Shoot a sixty-five and you’re right back in this thing’. Stuff like that?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t think I’d like that.”

  She smiled. “No, I didn’t think that would be your style. Maybe you’d just like to forget a bad round.” She looked around the room, saw the TV, her laptop, the small pile of books they were both reading. “Can I do something to distract you?”

  He cleared his throat. Then it turned to a cough. After a moment Katie was afraid he was choking and stepped forward to slap him on the back or to do something, but he waved his hands up at her and stepped back.

  “I’m sorry, Katie. This is new for me. When I have a bad day on the course, normally I am alone with my thoughts.”

  “Is that what you’d like? To be left alone? I can just go to my room. We do have an early start tomorrow.”

  He opened his mouth to respond but she held up her hand, stopping him. “It’s okay, you’re not hurting my feelings. This…us…it’s a lot more togetherness than you’re used to. I know it’s not me.” A flash of insecurity – not something she normally felt with men – came over her. “It’s not me, is it? You’d let me know if you wanted our situation to change, right?”

  He cleared his throat. “Wanted our situation to change?”

  She nodded. “If you didn’t want me to travel with you anymore.”

  He exhaled loudly. Katie wasn’t sure what that meant.

  “Katie, yes, I’m used to being alone. But please know that I am very happy that you’re with me. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that.”

  He hadn’t, and she was happy to hear it. She felt the same way. She was just about to tell him that when he continued. “We’ll just have to find our way. To figure out what works best when traveling like this. Between your changing hormones and my always changing game, there will be plenty of mood swings to learn to deal with.” He chuckled and the warmth in his voice soothed Katie.

  “Well…” she said.

  “Well…” he said.

  “Good night, then.”

  “Good night.”

  They both walked to their sides of the suite. She had her hand on the door handle when she turned around. “Darío?”

  He turned, his eyes questioning. Was he asking the same thing she was? She couldn’t be sure, and so she didn’t take the chance. Instead, she smiled. “You shoot a sixty-five tomorrow and you’re right back in this thing.”

  Did he look disappointed? He gave her a small smile. “Thanks for the pep talk, Coach,” he said as he entered his room.

  He didn’t shoot a sixty-five. And he didn’t get back into contention. Saturday night was basically a repeat of Friday night and Sunday’s final round was not much better. He had a late round surge that ended up putting him right around the middle of the field. He’d gone another season without winning a major. Katie knew that majors were the measurement that the truly great golfers lived by. Darío had three. A career to be proud of. Still, she felt his disappointment. And felt helpless to comfort him.

  When they were checking out on Monday, as Darío was getting the bags to the car and checking on the tickets to Akron – their next stop – Katie was summoned by the hotel clerk.

  “Are you Katie Maki?”

  “Yes.” She was taken back. They’d always checked in under Darío’s name whether she’d had her own room or not. She’d never had to give her own name at any of the places they’d stayed.

  “Ah, good, good,” the man said. “The package said you’d be care of Mr. Luna.” He pulled a Fed-Ex envelope out from behind the counter. “This arrived for you this morning.” Katie showed the man her ID, signed for the envelope and looked at the return address. Alison.

  She tucked the envelope into a side pocket of her laptop case as Darío approached her. “We’re all set,” he said. He pointed to her laptop case. “Problems?”

  She shook her head and started walking to the hotel entrance. “No. Just something from Alison. Probably clippings of my stuff for the Ingot.”

  But that wasn’t what was in the envelope. Katie knew it then, and had it confirmed when she snuck the package out while Darío dozed on their flight, his back turned to her. The first class seats were spacious and she didn’t worry about jarring or waking him.

  Inside th
e Fed-Ex envelope was another envelope, this one in legal office brown. She handed the Fed-Ex wrappings to a passing flight attendant and stared at the heavy envelope sitting on her lap. Finally she placed the envelope – unopened – back into her laptop case.

  A hand written note from Alison had accompanied the envelope and Katie held it in her hands, her fingers tracing over Al’s precise script. “Finally. Now you can dump the fucker once and for all and get on with your life.”

  That was Alison. No “miss you”, no “I’m sure this is hard for you”. It was always so cut and dried for Alison. Black and white. Yes or no.

  Dump the fucker.

  Alison knew Katie hated profanity. That, of course, is why she’d written it. Katie quietly chuckled at her friend’s message. She wasn’t sure what part of the Midwest they were flying over when her chuckles turned to quiet tears.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Golf and sex are about the only things you can enjoy without being good at them.

  - Jimmy Demaret, professional golfer

  “Is there any possibility of another room being available?” Darío asked. “We’ve become a larger party than expected when the reservation was first made.”

  He felt Katie at his elbow. “That won’t be necessary,” she said to the hotel clerk. She looked at him, her eyes huge, blue pools. She raised her perfectly arched brows. “Will it?”

  “You know it is a room, not a suite?” he asked, not wanting any misunderstandings.

  She nodded. “I got that part.”

  He turned to the confused hotel clerk. “One room will be fine. Thank you.”

  The clerk sighed in relief. “Great, because, much as we feel honored to have you with us Mr. Luna, there simply isn’t another room to be had. In all of Akron, really.”

  Darío’s hand shook as he filled out the requisite forms. This could only mean one thing, right? He searched his mind for some other explanation, but came up with nothing. They would be alone. In one room. With one bed.