17

 

I hate being stuck in my trailer. The next morning, I haul myself outside and sit down on my plastic chair with my foot propped on a cement block. The humidity clings to my shirt like a piece of slime, and I wonder if October is ever going to cool off like everyone around here told me it should. At this rate, I will melt in approximately two hours.

About fifteen minutes into my sunbathing, Drew’s familiar truck pulls in my driveway. He slides out of the driver’s side, balancing two cups of coffee and a bag of doughnuts that he tosses into my lap before handing me a cup. I take a sip. The aroma teases the insides of my nose. My taste buds applaud. Perfect. Two sugars and one cream.

“Thought you could use some company. Greg told me what happened. Sorry.”

I point to my one other chair, and he pulls it up across from me. I should have washed my hair, but the thought of standing to dry it wasn’t appealing.

“What about classes?”

“Guess you forgot—there’s a tournament today. No class.” He raises his cup to salute me.

I can’t get over the strangeness of Drew sitting in my yard. It’s not like we have progressed to the point of good friends or anything like that. I lusted over him when I first met him, but ever since he made it clear that he is my instructor only, I have taken my sights off him. But today his blue eyes cause me to shiver even though it is ninety degrees.

“Thanks for the coffee.” I peek into the bag and pull out a glazed doughnut—still warm. The glaze oozes onto my fingers. “Oh wow.” I bite one in half and pass him the bag.

He does the same and tips his face toward my leg. “What are you going to do about December?”

“It’s only the end of October. I have time.” I shrug. Sure, he can tell I’m worried. What golfer wouldn’t be with this setback?

“Work on your upper body strength. You always need that.”

“Anything else you want to tell me?” I had already planned to hit the gym as soon as I can drive and maneuver my way on crutches.

Drew smiles and runs his free hand through his hair, making it stand in peaks. “As a matter of fact there is.”

“What? Drink plenty of vegetable juice?”

“I was thinking it’s time to tell you my story.”

Now, that sentence gets me. I set my coffee aside and slide up in my seat. “What are you waiting for?”

Drew clears his throat, and at first it looks as if he’s going to throw up, but then calmness takes over his features. “Unlike you, I started playing golf when I was five years old. My dad bought me a set of clubs for my birthday and made sure we hit the links any day the thermometer read above thirty-two degrees. By the time I was ten, I was playing in all kinds of tournaments for kids and winning. I accumulated a shelf full of trophies. I played with them like other kids played with blocks.

“Anyway, eventually I was good enough that I got sponsors and tried out for Q-School. I made the tour the first time through. Never ever thought about college back then—just golf. It was my life. I lived and breathed it. That is, until I met Katie.

“I was playing in South Carolina at the time, and she worked at a hotel I was staying in. One thing led to another and I fell in love. Hard. Of course, I proposed to her, and we married within the year against my father’s advice. But until then, I’d known nothing but golf, and she was literally a breath of fresh air, if you will excuse my cliché.

“Katie didn’t care that I played on tour. She supported me. So much that she never told me she was dying. I don’t need to tell you what from, and I never could tell myself except that she seemed to tire easily. But one day I got the call…she passed away.”

It is at this point in Drew’s story that I wish I can get out of my chair to hug him. Instead, I swallow back the tears that have been building and wait.

He stands with his back to me. His voice softens as he continues. “We had only been married six months, but they were the best six months of my life. I never realized that something other than golf could make me happy. Even though it was my passion and my life, Katie and her love surpassed that. I quit the tour the next day and went home.

“My father was beside himself and begged me to reconsider—telling me to think of my career.” Drew turns around and slams his fist into his palm. “My career! It was my career, not his. And he wants me to take it back up like nothing has happened. I hung around Pennsylvania about ten months, and then packed my stuff and headed south. A buddy of mine heard about the golf school and suggested I apply.” He held both palms up. “The rest is history.”

I cradle my cup, not sure at all what to do with my hands or how to respond to this story. “I’m sorry, Drew.”

“Don’t be. I like my job. The reason I told you all of this is so you can think about what you’re doing. I know you haven’t told me the rest of your story.” He sits back down. “Your turn.”

“What does your story have to do with mine?”

“Tell me why you’re really here. It isn’t about the golf, is it? Everyone has a reason and I know true passion when I see it. You don’t have that. You like it well enough, but it isn’t what you want to do.”

After hearing his love story about Katie, my story about the fire and Robert sounds pretty lame. But I take a breath and speak.

“You’re right. I never liked golf. But it so happens I’m good at it. Very good, and I’m grateful. I need to be for my brother and for my family. You see, my brother, Robert, was injured in a fire I caused. He was hurt trying to save my art. My stupid paintings. And because of me, he’ll always walk with difficulty and will never play golf again.” I’m not going to tell him the whole story, am I? I look up into Drew’s waiting expression.

His gaze holds mine. “Go on.”

I twist my empty cup and toss it to the steps.

“My father has cheated on my mother. I caught him once when I was sixteen. Anyway, until he figured out Robert might be the next best great golfer, he was miserable being part of our family. But finally he had something—a son who might be a super pro. He started laughing more and taking the family on outings, and my mother turned back into the person I remember her being from years ago. Life was good. Until the fire.”

“You didn’t cause it.”

“Not on purpose, but it was my stupid carelessness that did. My father blames me for everything. It doesn’t matter how sorry I am—Robert is done playing golf. My father’s dream is over.”

“And that’s when you stepped in to take over where Robert left off.”

“I was always pretty good at the sport.” I catch his look. “It’s an answer. I have this chance to help my family.”

“But it isn’t what you want to do.” He almost thrusts the words at me. “It isn’t your passion.”

“But it will save my family, and that’s more important.” I believe what I say, and saying it aloud gives me that extra determination I need to make it to Daytona. I don’t think I’ve convinced Drew, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is my family will be whole again when my father realizes that he can live his dream through me.

“What about your dream?”

I glance over to the sketch pad where I’ve drawn Greg’s portrait. It looks like him. I plan to give it to him next time we meet.

“This is my dream.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe it isn’t your father’s?”

“What do you mean? Of course, it’s my father’s. I’ve seen how he is when he’s involved with golf. He’s a different person. He’s the man my mother fell in love with.”

Drew leans close and touches my chin. I want to pull back but I don’t. “Bobbi-with-an-I, I care about you and what you’ll be. Take some time to rethink what you’re doing.” His gaze bores into mine. He’s so close I want to touch his lips.

Instead, I turn away. I know what I’m doing is right.