28

 

Not many places of business are open early the morning of Christmas Eve. I find that out as I scan town, driving up and down the streets. I notice that Dad is at his office already. I should have figured he’d camp out there. I’m not in the mood to talk to him yet—especially after Robert’s announcement. I might give him that black eye that Robert didn’t.

I grip the wheel as I spin on some ice. I still can’t believe what Robert said about going south. He knows he’ll never be able to play golf as well as he did before. Doesn’t Dad know that? Are they both delusional?

Or is there another reason Robert is promising Dad he’ll go with him? I pull in front of Dee’s Ice Cream Hut and even though it’s a freaking thirty degrees out, it’s still open. Maybe a chocolate shake will clear my brain. I take a quick glance at my hair and no makeup, wipe sleep from my eyes, and tuck my coat around me. The place is empty except for someone mopping the floors. I place my order, grab a straw, and steer toward the back of the establishment where my family sat after my softball games in high school.

I look like a loser. Feel like one, too, but who wouldn’t? A puddle forms around my feet where I walked through a bank of snow near my car. Great. Now I’ll catch pneumonia, and my mother will have to care for me when all she needs right now is more to worry about. The milkshake goes down fast. I didn’t realize how starving I was. I go back to the counter to order fries.

The clerk gives me another look—so she’s all dolled up—but who cares? This is Dee’s Ice Cream Hut.

The fries help. One by one I dip them in catsup and suck on the ends. I’m so absorbed in my ritual that I don’t notice the parka standing in front of me. I look up. The fry never makes it to my mouth.

“Hungry?” Drew pulls out the metal chair across from me and lowers himself into it.

I swallow the piece, gagging.

He’s dressed like an Eskimo, complete with a knit cap and gloves dangling from his hands.

“What are you doing here?” It seems that’s all I ask him.

“You were pretty hard to find, but your car sticking halfway out on Main Street was my best clue.” His blue eyes shine—bluer than any time before.

My hands have catsup on them. Probably my lips, too, but I’m too stunned to wipe them.

“You’re supposed to be in Florida.” Witty comeback. Right. I unzip my coat and then think better. My clothing is wrinkled.

“I’ve been looking for you. And besides, it is Christmas.”

“So your mother demanded an encore performance?” At least my memory is still intact.

He sets his gloves to the side and unzips his parka. Where did he get that thing? It must weigh more than me.

“You remember everything. Maybe you can remember how I kissed you not so long ago.”

My toes curl. They do and I’m not joking. How could I ever forget that kiss? “I remember. I also remember a promise to support me in Daytona.”

His face relaxes. “Oh, that. Is that what you’re mad about?”

“Oh, that?” Again I echo. I need to think before I speak. “It was Q-School. My big shot and you weren’t there for me.”

He starts to roll his eyes and thinks better—my guess because he stops mid roll and puts on this serious face. “My brother ended up in the ER. I couldn’t leave him. I tried to call you, but it went to voice mail. Figured you were concentrating.”

“The ER?” I like his brother. I grab a napkin, waiting for something good.

“Fire ants. Seems he’s allergic and swelled up badly.”

“Fire ants. You couldn’t come to Daytona because of an allergic reaction to fire ants? Really?”

He props his elbows on the table. “I don’t want to fight, Bobbi-with-an-I. I’ve missed you so much already.”

Oh, yes, I’ve missed him as well. He’s who I think about when I think about my future and the mess in my family. He’s my safe place, but then I remember how Drew let me down. Does going to the ER count as a good enough reason? I meet his look and feel my milkshake gurgling in my stomach. He smells like mint. Fresh mint. I smell like a dog that needs a bath.

“My family is falling apart.”

His hand stretches to cover mine. “How can I help?”

I pull my hand into my lap. “Please meet my brother.”

 

****

 

Christmas morning wakes me at six AM. I’m still tired—worn out from avoiding Robert, who looks at me with loads of guilt. I haven’t discussed what he told me with my mother yet. Why worry her? She’s got enough on her mind.

My room is chilly. I snuggle under my covers. Yesterday after Drew left the restaurant, I drove around town until I could find items that would pass as gifts for my mother and brother. Since I’m broke it wasn’t easy, but I managed to find a pretty bracelet for Mom and a calendar planner for Robert. I borrowed some wrapping paper and put them under the tree before falling into bed early.

 

****

 

Ho Ho Ho. I think today rates as my worst Christmas in my life. Worse than the time Dad left us before, because this time it’s forever. My teeth chatter so I reach for my robe and slippers and go downstairs to the thermostat. No wonder. It’s set on sixty. I tick it up a few notches, grateful to hear the furnace kick on.

Next I plug in the Christmas lights so when they come downstairs we have some form of festivities. The coffee maker is ready to go—my mother set it last night. I press the on button. Soon the aroma of freshly brewed coffee reaches my nose.

The cinnamon rolls are in the fridge so I take them out, pop the can and stick them into the oven. A tradition even though nothing else seems to be anymore. I think about calling Amanda to say “Merry Christmas” but change my mind. Instead I curl up on the living room couch and watch the tree lights twinkle.

Drew agreed to come over tonight to meet everyone. He said by seven his family is done celebrating and he’d be happy to come over. My plan is for him to talk with Robert about how hard the golf pro life is. Since my brother won’t listen to me, he might pay attention to Drew—someone who has been on tour.

I shake my head. I still can’t believe Robert can be that stupid. What about all his talk about God showing him His plans for his life? Was it all nothing? I glance to the coffee table and see his Bible sitting there. I pick it up, the leather flaps falling back in my hands, opening to Jeremiah. Robert has marked one passage all in red. It’s been a while since I’ve read anything in mine. A long while. I can barely make out the verses. One he has underlined. Twice.” For I know the plans I have for you…” That verse again.

A preacher once said you’ll know when God is talking to you if you listen with your heart. I trace the verse with my finger and squeeze my eyes shut. “Are you telling me something, God? Do you care that much about me?”

But has it done Robert any good? One day he wants to be a preacher and the next day he’s going off to Florida with Dad to try golfing again. How dumb is that? How dumb is it to think you can be a pro when you’d not even played in almost a year?

I close the Bible, setting it back on the table. How dumb is it, indeed? How dumb was it for me to think I could take my brother’s place in Florida and golf like a pro? I like to think I’m pretty smart, but as I think about what I’ve done this past year, my eyes and heart open up. Was I insane? Did I really believe I could go as far as someone as good as Drew?

My stomach rolls. Is this how someone feels when they’ve been found out? Tears form in my eyes, soon spreading to my cheeks.

“Bobbi, are you all right?” My mother stands in front of me, dressed in her fifteen-year-old paisley robe, her hair pulled back with a sweatband.

“I just realized how stupid I was going off to Florida like I did. Why didn’t you stop me?”

She sits next to me and throws a blanket over both of us. “I tried. You were adamant.”

I cross my arms. “I can’t believe I was thinking I was good enough to turn pro and that Dad could caddie for me someday. It amazes me how he went along with it.”

She touches my cheek. “You were pretty good. You worked hard at doing what you thought was the right thing to do. I love you for trying.”

“Well, it didn’t work, did it?” I snuggle against her. I’m sure I look pretty pathetic with my puffy eyes and sleep head hair. Good thing she doesn’t mind.

“We’re going to make it. You watch and see.”

I think about Robert and his options. Should I tell her his plans? She’ll be crushed if she knows. But then, maybe she can talk sense into him if Drew can’t.

“What about Robert? Do you think he’s going to make it?” My tone is cautious.

“The doctors say he’s healed and will only get better.”

“No. I mean about giving up golf forever and going off to college.”

She thinks a few minutes before speaking. “He gave up golf a long time ago. He’s signed up for school, but with your father leaving us…”

“Mom, what if Dad moves away from Pennsylvania? What if he makes us sell this place and sells his business and leaves us forever? What would that do to Robert?”

She knits her fingers together, her forehead does the same. “I think I’ll worry if that happens. His father is everything to him.”

Bingo. Robert is acting as crazy as I did.

“Let’s wait and see, OK? I have other things on my mind, like today being Christmas, and someone needs to wake that sleepyhead up.” She smiles and pats my leg. Soon she’s calling up to Robert and the three of us are sitting around the tree with our gifts, pretending that everything is all right again.

 

****

 

I avoid Robert most of the day with inane chatter.

In another hour, Drew will arrive and knock sense into my brother’s head. Then maybe, maybe, I will think about speaking to Dad about the farm. I couldn’t fix the family with golfing, but I might be able to with a little diplomacy. We can’t move and Mom will never find a job. Those are the facts. Dad is going to have to accept them.

The front doorbell rings. I glance at my reflection in the hall mirror. I’m wearing a red sweater and little makeup. I don’t want him to get any ideas or even guess my feelings toward him. My family comes first.

“Hey, you look great,” he says when I open the door, letting a rush of frigid air in with him. He’s dressed in his parka again minus the gloves and cap. He looks great, too.

Keeping my distance from him is going to be hard. It’s all I can do to not throw myself into his arms and kiss him.

“Merry Christmas. Was Santa good to you?”

“He is right now.”

Drew hands me his coat and his touch lingers on my arm. Heat rushes to my face. Since fanning it is out of the question, I move toward the living room where Robert and my mother are waiting to be introduced.

My mother raises her eyebrows, giving me that knowing look.

“Mom and Robert, meet Drew. He was one of my teachers in Orlando. We found out we live near each other and he’s up for the holidays, so I thought he could come over and see our place.” I’m rambling. I know it but can’t stop.

Thankfully Robert steps forward and shakes Drew’s hand.

Mom welcomes him and invites him to sit by the tree on the couch next to me.

I’m not one for awkward situations. Today is no exception, but if Drew can talk any sense into my twin then bring it on.

“So you taught my sister how to golf?” Robert shoots me a look as well. He knows Drew spent many hours on the course with me because I’ve told him.

I didn’t tell him that I was attracted to my teacher and on more than one occasion those feelings got in the way of my goal.

“Not really. She knew how to golf pretty well before I got her. Just some fine tuning.” His gaze catches mine.

Really, God? Did you have to make his blue eyes so attractive?

“I taught Golf Psychology. Most of golf takes place right here.” He points between his ears. Robert has heard this before, I’m sure, but his expression shows interest. “I hear you’re a golfer, too.”

My brother tips his head. Is he going to tell Drew about his accident? “I enjoy a good game. Too bad the weather isn’t better. We could go a few holes.”

I want to smack Robert. He has hardly been on the course since he started walking. He knows that, too. “My brother is planning to attend Bible college and study to be a pastor.”

Drew settles into the cushion next to me. His warmth slides onto my side of the sofa, caressing my side. “Is that so? Sounds like a good plan to me. When do you start?”

Robert works hard at not glaring at me. “This January, that is, if my options don’t change.”

At his words, my mother perks up. “What options, Robert? You’re all paid up for this next semester. What are you talking about?”

Here it comes. I give Robert what I hope is a triumphant look. He bites his bottom lip, obviously not intending to include Mom in his decision about Dad. Maybe now he’ll wise up and we can get back to what’s important—saving our farm.

“Dad,” he gives Drew an apologetic look. “My father might be moving south and has asked me to come with him. I’m sorry, Mom. I was going to tell you as soon as I decided.” His face is the color of fresh peaches.

My mother’s mouth hangs open so wide I can see the gap from a missing tooth. Maybe bringing this topic up was a mistake.

Drew looks at me now with an expression I’ve seen him give students in the classroom.

“You’re moving?” my mother squeaks.

“Dad said if we lived where it was warm year round, I might be able to get my game back. He said he’d hire the best trainers, and when I made the tour, he’d caddie for me. Just like he always wanted, Mom. You know how miserable he is here. He hates his job.”

“You wanted to be a pastor. You said God called you.” I can hear her better now.

So can all of us.

Robert shuffles his feet. His embarrassment is almost unbearable.

“I played on tour. It isn’t what you think.” Drew’s comment surprises me. I didn’t even have to prompt him. I relax my grip on the couch arm. Maybe this conversation will go better than I thought.

“You played? How come you got out?” Robert turns his attention to Drew, leaving my mother to wring her hands on her lap.

“Long story, but I was thinking about going back and trying this spring. I thought teaching wasn’t my thing. I was wrong.”

“You were wrong?” My voice sounds like my mother’s. We could be twins.

“I was wrong. Sometimes you think you should be doing something else and forget to look into all the details. After I quit my job, I had plenty of time to remember. The long days, long flights, and times without ever seeing those you love. I don’t want that again.” He gives me a look—one I can’t read.

“If you even make it on tour, which I doubt you will, you’re going to be away from everyone you love the rest of your life. Travelling is exotic at first, but then there’s the practicing and more practicing all to make a dollar. Is it really worth it?”

My knees knock together. I shove my hands between my legs. Where did all this come from? Drew quit teaching because he wanted to play. He was good. He is good. What’s happened?

I search my mother’s face, trying to evaluate how she’s holding up. First, she loses her marriage and now her son. She’s staring at the tree, her eyes half-closed.

I’ve gone too far.

“Robert, maybe you and Drew could talk another time. I just realized how tired I am, and Drew must be tired out, too.”

“Sure. It’s been great to meet you, Drew.”

“I’m sorry, Bobbi. Didn’t realize how late it is, and it is Christmas.” He turns to me. “Maybe we can get together tomorrow. Lunch?”

“Sure. Tomorrow.”

He rises, shakes Robert’s hand, and then gives my mother a small hug. She smiles and thanks him for coming. “Would you like a Christmas cookie before you leave?”

Drew rubs his stomach. “My mom filled me up good. Thank you, anyway.”

I hurry him to the door, ashamed again how this evening played out, but curious about his plans. If he isn’t going to try out, what’s he going to do?

Drew leans close to my ear. His hot breath sends chills across my neck. “I’ll call you in the morning. Merry Christmas.”

 

****

 

Robert meets me in the TV room the next morning. He’s dressed in sweats and looks like he didn’t sleep all night. He plops next to me and reaches for the remote, turning the TV off. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a jerk.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes. “Forgive me?”

“Are we talking about you going off with Dad or giving me that dumb piano tape for Christmas?” I squeeze back.

“Both. I prayed all last night. I guess I got off track, thinking I could help Dad if I went with him and make his dream come true. Guess playing the hero runs in this family.”

I laugh. Hard. It lifts my heart. “You are a goof. You’d think you’d learn from my stupidity, wouldn’t you. At least you didn’t go to college for something you don’t like to do. I get an extra bonus. A student loan that comes due in three months and I’m unemployed.”

“I promised I’d help you, didn’t I? I meant it at the time and I mean it now. From here in PA, not Florida.” His mouth turns down, and I feel sorry for my brother. In some ways we are so much alike. We love our parents and want to help.

“Maybe we can still do something for Mom. I haven’t talked with Dad yet since coming home. I’m not even sure that he’ll talk to me, but I hope to convince him that Mom needs this place.”

“Sure about that? It’s a big place to take care of alone.”

“Of course I’m sure. She loves it here.” My arms find their comfort zone in a crossed position. Today I plan to track my father down and make him see what he’s doing to us. I might not be his dream golfer, but I’m his daughter and he needs to listen to me.

“Are you ever going to get it? We can’t fix our family.”

“Save that for a sermon. Right now, I need your help. You need to tell Dad your plans and then let me at him.”

“When are we going to talk about you and your life? You haven’t even mentioned painting again.”

I never told him about the paintings I did in Florida. When I moved home, I stuffed my supplies in my closet and haven’t even thought about them. As always, a longing wells up inside of me at the thought of painting again as a career. Is it even a possibility? I have not driven past the art store out of fear that it’s been sold. Not as though I can afford it or anything. I reach for Mattie’s necklace that I sleep in. The jeweler who appraised it said it was worth more than five thousand dollars. I dismiss the idea of selling it.

What can I do with that amount, anyway?

We hear sounds of our mother waking and puttering around in the kitchen.

Robert pats my head and goes in to talk with her.

I turn on the TV not wanting to hear that conversation.

Robert has come to his senses.

Now if only my father will.

 

****

 

When I was in the third grade, I wet my pants because the teacher would not call on me so I could use the restroom. Water trickled into a puddle beneath me, and George, who sat nearby, called out to the teacher about what I’d done.

She hurried me to her restroom and cleaned me up. Next she called my house.

My father answered. My mother chose that day to get her hair permed. I remember waiting in the office in wet pants for him to pick me up, my legs crossed and my chest throbbing with fear. I knew he would yell at me for disturbing his day off. He always did. That day was no exception.

As I near his office late this afternoon, that same fear rises in my throat. Fear that he’ll yell at me for disturbing his life again. I didn’t tell my mother where I was going, but Robert knows. He was the one who told me where to find him. I guess Dad wasn’t any too happy with Robert’s choice. He’d called him a sissy and told him to get out.

Hearing what he’d said to Robert inflamed me further. Robert had been willing to sacrifice his life for his father. If we hadn’t talked, I know he would be packing now.

Maybe there is a little Superman in me after all.

I think these thoughts to buoy myself as I park. Dad’s car is here. Alone. I wonder how he spent Christmas. And with whom? I glance at my watch. I had to cancel my lunch date with Drew, but he said it was OK. He’d be around until after New Year’s. We agreed to meet in a few days.

The weather fits my mood. Dark, overcast. Wind whips my cheeks as I leave the car. I’m still not used to the bone chilling cold here. A dusting of snow covers the walk, but footprints mar the sidewalk to his office.

My brother’s big feet make me grin. It wasn’t easy for him to come here—to tell Dad good-bye. He and my father have always had this bond. A bond I couldn’t be part of and never will be after today.

The door needs a paint job. My father was never much on maintenance and especially with his office.

Every spring my mother would come in and do a thorough cleaning of it so that he wouldn’t be embarrassed, she told me.

I don’t think he cared. He never did stop thinking about his past life—the one before twins.

I rap on the door. Nothing. I turn the knob and go in, relief flooding my insides that the door is unlocked. “Dad? Are you here?” I find myself praying, asking God to help me through the next few minutes. Funny thing, praying calms me. Maybe Robert is on to something. Maybe I have been missing something.

“Bobbi? Come on back.”

He’s in his office, which means I’ll have to sit across from his monster desk. The desk we were never allowed to play around or on. The sacred desk. I hate that desk.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I say as I enter the room. The place is torn apart. Boxes lie everywhere, half-filled. “Looks like you’re packing.”

He grimaces and points to the only chair not filled with books and files. “I’m selling the business. I’m sure your mother told you already. Sorry this had to happen.”

“Are you? Sorry? I don’t think you are.”

He wipes his hand across his face. “I don’t want to discuss my marriage and personal decisions with you today. Seems like you have your own life to clean up.”

I swallow back the mean words I want to throw at him.

Robert warned me he would be nasty. He also gave me a mini sermon on turning the other cheek.

I won’t go that far today but I won’t take his bait either. “Mom’s pretty upset. You’re making her sell the farm. It’s Grandpa’s farm. Not yours.”

“Too bad you never saw who paid the mortgage and replaced the roof or painted the place, or you wouldn’t say that.” He sighs. “Listen, girl, we have to sell it. It’s what happens in divorce settlements. No one wins.”

“Seems like you are. Throwing Mom out and making her work in some dumpy store to make a living.”

“There are plenty of other places for her to work and it won’t kill her.”

I rest my hands flat on the desk. “Isn’t there anything I can say to make you give her the farm? Dad, I love that place. So does Robert. I always expected I’d bring my family there someday for holidays. You can’t sell. You can’t!” I lose it and start to cry. The absolute last thing in the world I want to do in front of my father.

He tosses me a box of tissues.

I shove it aside and fumble to my feet.

This scene with him reminds me of past scenes. My father always wins. Always.

“You won’t get that place.” I grit the words between my teeth. “I promise you. I’ll find a way to buy you out.” Then I stumble from the room, my anger blinding my way.

But I will never forget his laugh as it follows me out the door.