10

 

Saying good-bye isn’t easy. Robert pulls me aside as I pack snacks in the kitchen. Mom figures I must have run low by now, and even if it means checking my bag at the airport, she demands I take the remaining cookies and a bag of pretzels.

“Come home where you belong. You aren’t a golfer and you know it.” Robert holds my shoulders under his strong hands.

I straighten my back. “I shot a sixty-nine at last week’s tournament.” I amazed everyone on my team. If I continue to practice like I have been, I might shoot a consistent sixty-six, possibly enough to try out for Q-School—the path I need to go if I’m ever to turn pro.

Robert can’t hide his pride or his sorrow. “Wow. Do you know how many average golfers ever shoot that score?” He pauses and looks down at the linoleum floor Dad installed when I was ten. Black and white checks like Mom requested. Sometimes looking at it makes me dizzy. I know Robert is thinking about the time he’d shot a 68 at the Towanda Country Club. He and Dad had stopped for ice cream and came home cheering and yelling that the next Tiger Woods lives in this house. “You’re good, Bobbi. You are. You’ve got this talent I never had, but in the end, it has to make you happy. I know you aren’t.”

He doesn’t know everything even though he is my twin and we never miss a beat on reading each other’s thoughts. No, this time he has it all wrong. I had experienced a kind of joy when I played that well—not for me, but that I was one step closer to giving Dad and my family what they need. A way to bring us all back together.

“Next time I come home, I want to see that thing”—I nod to the ugly walker—”out of this house. You’d better be ready to hike up back with me.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. Robert smells like spicy aftershave. He started wearing it when he dated Sharon, the girl who worked downtown at the five and dime. Their relationship died when he missed a few dates due to a golf tournament.

“Call us when you get in.”

I nod and find Grandpa waiting on the back porch to also kiss me good-bye. His normally sharp eyes are glazed. I’m running out of time and need to be a success soon. I have to qualify at the first rounds of Q-School this fall or Grandpa might forget me by then.

Mom grabs my luggage and we hurry to the car. We’re already running late. She straps herself in and turns to me. “Do you want to stop at the office?” She keeps her mouth straight but blinks faster than normal.

I shake my head and look across the back yard. “We’re going to be late. Not this time.”

Part of me can’t believe she asked, especially knowing I’d already tried with Dad. What does she think could have changed in a few days? He knows we need him. He knows he’s hurt her, yet he remains selfish.

Greg meets me at the Orlando airport and drives me back to my trailer. He and I have been project partners a few times, and so I offered him a few bucks to take me to the airport and pick me up. Actually, I am surprised to see his portly figure waiting for me at the luggage area since he is never good at remembering anything. Greg comes from Minnesota and says his parents farm for a living. He was invited once to play golf and loved it.

“Going to get a job at Celebration and stay here. No more cold winters for me.” He sat beside me the third day of school and now seeks me out whenever he needs help.

I’m not sure I like being in that role but using can go both ways. Greg is great at English and writes fantastic papers. We got an A on our last project.

I crank up the air when I enter my living room. Is there a word that means hotter than hot? Someone told me I would love fall in Florida. I can’t wait. I find my workout clothes and then reach for my keys. So far, my neighbor hasn’t noticed I’m home. If she does, I will be bombarded with another two dozen snickerdoodles.

The gym at the school is empty. I’m probably the only student who works out this much, but I have to. I pick up the free weights, face the mirror, and count as I lift. It’s not that I want to get muscles, but everything I’ve read about golf points to success from a fit body. I check the clock and start to sweat. An hour passes as I climb the treadmill and set the incline at five.

Running doesn’t come easy to me. Not like Robert. Thinking of my twin makes my heart skip. The thought of him never running again pushes me on, and I dig my heels into the machine. Sweat pours from every part of my body. I will make it up to him. I will.

My dad’s harsh words taunt me.

So I’m not Robert, but I can golf.

 

****

 

Mark meets me outside the theater the next day. I hadn’t wanted to eat dinner with him, but when he called the night before; I didn’t have the heart to turn him down. Just friends, he assured me.

He wears khaki shorts and a green polo. His tan has deepened from days spent working at the golf course.

“Did you go home for break?” he asks.

I loop my purse over my shoulder and match his stride through the mall. We’d agreed to eat at a restaurant at the other end of the plaza.

“For a few days. How about you?”

He flips his blond hair back from his forehead with a neat toss of his head. Again those dimples. “Not a chance. Too much to do around here for fun. You can’t tell me you enjoyed yourself back there?”

Since I’d yet to become enamored with city life, I laugh. “Hiking. Reading. Admiring the sunsets. What else does a girl need?”

His head tips and he flashes a grin that makes me think of the kind Grandpa gave me when he caught me up to no good. Like the time I found stray kittens in the barn and was sneaking some leftover chicken from the barbecue the night before.

My shoulders rise and drop. “So hate me—I like the country.”

Mark turns the corner and I see our restaurant straight ahead. “How are you going to become a big golf pro if you don’t like the city?”

I frown. Why does everyone ask me questions like that? I’m getting sick of explaining myself. If only I’d brought a sandwich and eaten in my car. “Maybe I’ll change.”

He holds up two fingers to the waitress. We are seated in a booth right in the front of the restaurant where I can duck into the restrooms. I excuse myself and run in to check my phone. I’m sure I felt it vibrate.

Drew.

Why is he calling me?

Another woman enters and begins to apply mascara at the sink next to mine. I turn into the corner and listen to his message. He asks if I want a lesson later that day, and if I do, to call him. He wants to talk.

Talk?

I think of his brother waiting for me outside the bathroom door. The two men are nothing alike. I’m not sure whom I like better since both their personalities have an appeal. But Drew can teach me golf, and that makes him more valuable. I shove my phone back into my bag.

Mark has already decided on his meal. I order the veggie platter and sit back with my hands in my lap.

“So tell me why.”

His question catches me off guard. An earnest look appears on his face, making his boyish appearance even more charming. In another time, I would have fallen for Mark. But not now. Not with so much at stake. And then there’s Dan.

“Why what? Why the veggies?”

I know what he’s asking me. I’m not sure I’m ready to answer.

He shifts in his seat. “Ok, I’ll go at it another angle. I did some research; nosing around, you might call it. Checked with some friends back home and found out your brother was quite the golfer. Heard he was ready to go pro if he could qualify at Q-School. Something happened and you’re here instead of him.”

My jaw freezes. I’m not sure if I’m going to be mad or worried or what. “You checked up on me?” I wrap my fingers around my water glass. The cool droplets from the ice don’t cool my mounting annoyance. “Why would you do that?”

Now it’s Mark’s turn to look uncomfortable. He thanks the waitress as she sets our dishes in front of us, and then he pops two fries into his mouth. “‘Cause you’re an interesting girl. That’s why. I know there’s a story in you somewhere, and I’m curious.”

“Maybe some stories are better left alone. Ever think about that?” I spoon green beans onto my fork and shove them into my mouth, chewing on them instead of him.

“Maybe so.” That flip of his hair again. It’s beginning to annoy me more than his trip into my past. “But something isn’t right. I asked Drew about it, and he said you’re a closed case. Not like he doesn’t want to know, but he is more polite than I am.”

“Obviously.” I rip my roll apart.

“It’s just you don’t look like a jock. You seem more like the kind of girl who likes to write books or something more artsy than golf.”

I swallow. Hard.

“I read a lot.”

Mark laughs and takes a drink of his root beer. “So I’m pushing too much, huh?” His dimples shoot out and I can’t help but power down. I never used to be so defensive, but it seems that’s who I am now that I’ve entered the world of golf.

“If you want to know, I happen to think I golf fairly well. Why not capitalize on that?”

“Why not? Drew tells me you’re one of the best golfers in your class.” He swirls the remaining soda in his glass. “But something tells me there’s more to it. And you.”

Am I that transparent? I will work on that. The last thing I need is for the golf community to not take me seriously. I have exactly thirty days before the Sectional Qualifying for the LPGA. I want to be ready. I can’t fail or there will be no second chances for our family.