15

 

Drew meets me at my car, his hair soaked to the scalp. His jacket is rolled up under one arm, drenched too. “How about you let me take you out to celebrate?”

“You were here?”

“I volunteered and drove the carts all over the place today.” He gives a show-stopping grin. “So how about it?”

“Can I change first? I can meet you someplace.”

“Soup and More in Winter Garden?”

“Give me an hour. I’m starved.”

I unlock my car and hoist my bag into the trunk. Drew waits, hanging around like a found puppy. “You can go, you know,” I tell him.

He comes closer and I look up at him.

“I’m proud of you. You golfed like a pro today.”

“Thanks. I still have a ways to go before I can say that, though.”

He rests his hand against the trunk of my wet car. “I plan to be there when you do.”

 

****

 

I consider Drew’s comment later when I drive to the restaurant where I’ll meet him, my body clothed in dry jeans and a T-shirt. My hair still looks pretty ragged, pulled up in a ponytail, but will have to do. I’m exhausted, considering the stress I’ve been under all day to stay ahead of the pack. But I did it. Round one. Check.

Later I’ll call Robert in the privacy of my trailer. I can’t wait to have him celebrate with me.

Drew meets me at the door and we are given a table along the window on the west side. I haven’t ever eaten in this establishment, so Drew makes some suggestions and I go with a burger, fries, and coleslaw.

I don’t realize how hungry I am until the waitress sets our plates in front of us. I dive in, not waiting for Drew to pick up his fork.

“So when are you quitting school?” He wipes ketchup from his mouth.

“What do you mean?” I set my glass of root beer aside. “I’m not quitting.”

Drew tilts his head and gives me a look that pretty much says I should know what he’s talking about, but I don’t. I plan to finish my degree if I can.

“If you win at Daytona, you go on tour.”

“But I’m sure that won’t be right away.” I hadn’t thought about this part of my plan in my eagerness to get down here and connect with the golf community.

“This next season, which would mean you’d be on the road.”

I stir my coleslaw (why on earth did I order it? It is nothing like my mother’s) and then look across the table. What pulled me to Drew that first day? Couldn’t have been his good looks alone. Am I that shallow?

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

He pushes aside his empty plate. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Bobbi. I’m not stupid, and I also know most serious golfers have their future all marked out. You’re going about this like a girl who can’t decide what boy she should date.”

“Ouch. That hurts. Why don’t you tell me I’m a flake and be done with it?” I shove aside my own plate, leaving the pile of unfinished coleslaw for the busboy to clean up. So Drew wants to know why I haven’t planned better. I do, too, only I’ve been struggling to get from point A to point B. I sigh and roll my eyes.

“So you aren’t going to tell me?”

“There isn’t that much to tell.” Sure there is, but I can’t spill my guts to Drew, the only guy who backs me here. At least, not yet.

“Try me. You’ll find I’m a good listener. And I might throw in my own story as a bonus.”

I straighten. “You never talk about yourself.”

“Maybe not to you. I do have family and friends, despite what this loner looks like to you.” Again the smile.

I’ve been wondering what happened to him ever since I stepped into his classroom and he offered to teach me to play. Something is off with him, and it isn’t only that he didn’t make it on tour. Drew is a great golfer. I’ve seen his shots. Maybe if I give him something…

“OK. It’s a deal.”

“Deal You first.”

“My father never took me golfing—he preferred my brother. My twin brother. His name is Robert. My father was a pro golfer. So was my grandfather.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. Only begs the question why you’re here and not Robert. Is he already on tour? Playing catch-up?”

Is that what he thinks? I could let him go with this, but I’m not good at lying. Maybe I’ll share a bit more. “Robert had an accident and he’s relearning how to walk.”

“Ohhh. I see.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the padded seatback. A pretty waitress stops to ask if he needs his cup refilled. Drew shakes his head.

“Do you? You think I’m here because Robert can’t be?”

“Are you trying to impress your father? Because I’d think he’d be pretty impressed right now after today’s luck.”

“It isn’t luck.” My fingers find the necklace. “I don’t know what it was. But it wasn’t luck. Maybe God’s plan for me or something. I don’t know. But I can’t stop and figure all that out now.”

“You’re right. I should let you go.”

“No you don’t. You haven’t told me your dark secrets yet. Come on. Open up.”

“Maybe another time.” A grin shows and he grabs the check the waitress has dropped off during my story.

“Now who isn’t being fair?”

“Let’s just say we might need more time, and I know a sleepyhead when I see one.”

I stifle my yawn and reach for my purse. He’s right. I’m so tired that driving home might be impossible. I say goodnight and make it back to my trailer going well below the speed limit.

A light is on at Mattie’s place. As far as I know, all her belongings are being given away next week, and everything is packed and ready to go. The park manager hasn’t been able to find any relatives and all her close friends have no need of anything.

I lock my car. Maybe someone is robbing her place? Hardly possible since this court is the last place anyone would come looking to make a fast dollar. I bite my lower lip and decide. Seconds later, I knock on the front door.

No answer.

When I jiggle the handle, the door opens softly beneath my hand. “Hello? Is anyone here?” I call into the semi-darkness. I make out the piles of boxes, and next I see the shadow. I clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

“Come in. Anyone who would brave an empty house must have cared about Mattie. Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” The florescent lights come on over the kitchen sink at the same time I breathe again. An attractive woman in her thirties or maybe early forties steps forward with her hand out.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t being nosy. I’m…was Mattie’s neighbor.” I shake the offered hand.

The intruder wears white capris and has pulled her hair onto her head in a kind of fancy twist. Streaks of red add to an otherwise bland color job. “Nice to meet you. How well did you know my mother?”

I choke on my spit. “Your mother? I didn’t”—I stutter like a nervous date—”didn’t know she had a daughter. I’m so sorry for your loss. She never told me about you.”

“Mina.” She nods to the sofa, the only piece of furniture not loaded with boxes. “Please sit. It’s not a surprise to me that she didn’t tell you I existed. We haven’t spoken in over twenty years. I was lucky to find out she died through the Internet. Someone picked up on her obituary and ran with it. That’s what fame will get you—another article at death.”

I want to say “Wow!” about the twenty-year time frame but instead say, “That’s a long time.” We sit a good foot apart on the couch. My knees shake without my permission.

“It’s going to be even longer now that’s she’s gone. I should have come sooner.” She lets her head drop for a fraction of a second and pulls it upright again.

This whole scene isn’t for me. I try hard to think what my mother might say but nothing comes to mind except offering tea, and that’s out of the question since everything is packed. “I wish she’d told me. She was really special.”

“I see she gave you the necklace.”

Without realizing it, I have been fondling the golf club between my two fingers—as is now my habit. I drop my hand to my lap.

“It’s OK. I never wanted it. She won it on her last tournament—Palm Springs. I was there for her victory, but later that night she wrecked the car and that’s history, so they say.”

“You weren’t in the accident?”

Mina shakes her head. Her eyebrows form a lovely V while she speaks. I feel like I’m sitting in the middle of a TV show where they bring out guests who tell their life story. I cross my fingers, hoping for something good.

“I went home with my friends. She stayed and drank with her friends and gave my cousin and others a ride home. I never forgave her. Never is a long time.” A sigh floats from her chest.

“You haven’t spoken in all these years? What about her community service and all the good she did? Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Does that change anything?”

“I think it did for Mattie. She felt good about it. She felt like she was helping others.”

“I’m glad for her. It still didn’t change the lives she destroyed.”

I don’t get her. Why is she here if she’s never forgiven Mattie even with all the good she did?

“I’m sorry. It seems to me that Mattie would have done anything to fix things in her life. I bet that included you.”

Mina stands and strides over to the sink where she pours herself a glass of water. She turns around. Her eyes are shiny. “Ever wish your life had turned out differently? That you did what you should have done? I was a darned good golfer. Would have been pro, but because of my mother, I put my clubs away and took up knitting. Knitting. Do I look like a person who likes to knit?”

Honestly, I want to say yes, but I keep my mouth shut.

“I got married, raised three kids, and practically won the best mother of the year award, but I couldn’t call my mother. You know why? I wanted her to try harder. To make up for what she did and not with community service garbage.”

“What more could she have done?” I whisper. I regret now that I looked over here when I got home. I will mind my own business in the future.

She waves her glass in the air. Maybe it isn’t water. “I don’t know. That’s the trouble. I really don’t know. She couldn’t fix everything, I guess.”

Superman is a myth.

“Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Would you like this necklace back to remember her by?”

“No, no, you keep it, honey. I’m sure there was a good reason why she gave it to you.”

I don’t know what it is, but part of me doesn’t want to let go of Mattie’s gift yet. But I do want to get out of this conversation. I stand and edge toward the door.

“It was nice to meet you. Let me know if you need any help with any of her things.” I let my gaze fall around the room at the boxes filled with what was Mattie’s life.

“I’m going to have Goodwill haul this stuff away. I’m not sure why I came. Maybe I thought I’d find some answers here.” A loose laugh bubbles from her.

I definitely need to be going. In a minute she’ll be sobbing into her glass.

I reach for the doorknob, and then I think of something. Something Mattie told me one day when we were eating hotdogs on her patio. She said she liked to write before she was a golfer, and now all she ever did was write in a journal at night when she could keep her eyes opened.

“Did you look in her nightstand?”

Mina raises her head. “Her nightstand? Whatever for?”

“I could be wrong, but your mother told me how she jotted things down at night. In a journal. I thought…” my words trail off. Mina is already halfway down the hall. In a matter of minutes, she returns with a plastic coated journal in both hands. She looks like she’s found the lost city of Atlantis.

I start to sit again but change my mind.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Mina looks up at me from where she’s curled in Mattie’s rocker. Tears trickle down her cheeks. “Thank you for being here with my mother. And thank you for this gift. It might not give me the answers I need, but it’s a start. A good one.”

I take advantage of my opportunity to leave. I will probably never know what was written in that journal, but I sure hope Mattie wrote about her long lost daughter somewhere in it.