by Rachel Magee
“Wow. Mr. Channing.”
Braxton, still holding his back-swing position, looked over his shoulder at where Veronica was standing with Henry. Shock covered Veronica’s face while something that looked more like smug satisfaction covered Henry’s.
And then it clicked why his back was stiff.
He hadn’t done that motion in more than two years.
Dropping his pretend golf club, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to them. He worked hard to keep his conflicting emotions from showing on his face. Did he really just take a practice swing without even thinking about it? What had possessed him to do such a thing?
Veronica’s shock melted into a sort of starstruck look. “I’ve never seen you swing before. At least not in person.” She knew all about his story and the reason he’d walked away from the sport, but they’d never once talked about it.
In fact, he didn’t talk about it with anyone. The last time any words about golf were spoken was when he wrote a letter about it to put in Henry’s journal of “things I should know about my life.”
“You looked good, Mr. Channing.” Veronica smiled up at him as she pulled out the chair for Henry.
Henry still had his smug grin. “You were meant to swing a club. It’s in your blood.”
Braxton sank into the chair across from him, his mind whirling. “It’s nothing. Just a habit.”
Henry shrugged. “If you say so.” He moved his pawn to e4, a classic opening move. One that was more indicative of when they used to play on the road for golf tournaments.
Of course, it wasn’t nothing. It’d been more than two years since Braxton had done anything related to golf. The moment he arrived home that dreary morning to try to piece together the life that had been destroyed, he locked his golf clubs away and banned the sport from his life. For a long time, he couldn’t pass a golf course without feeling the sickening grip of regret and defeat. What had once been his passion became a painful reminder of all that he’d lost. He’d lost his wife, Alice had lost her mother, and the world was losing one of the greatest coaching minds it had ever seen all because Braxton had been too busy trying to master a game that couldn’t be mastered.
And yet here he was, swinging again.
Braxton clunked his own pawn down in an equally predictable move. “How about we forget about it and just play chess?”
He didn’t want to talk about why he was swinging again or think about what it meant that he would do it so naturally at a time when he was feeling—dare he say—happy. And he sure didn’t want to consider how a certain new neighbor and the time they’d been spending together played into all of this.
It was a slip of focus and an old habit. Nothing more. End of discussion.
Henry nodded and studied the board. “I suppose we could do that.”
Six long ticks of the clock passed as Henry stared at his pieces. Finally, he picked up his pawn again and set it down in c4. Another classic move from any How to Play Chess for Beginners book. Braxton let out an annoyed huff and rolled his eyes.
Henry didn’t play chess robotically. Even after the Alzheimer’s disease had claimed so much of his brain that he couldn’t remember how to button his own shirt, he still made daring, almost genius, moves on the chessboard. The only exception was when he was trying to make a point.
Henry looked up from the game and met Braxton’s eyes with a challenging gaze. “Or we could talk about the, umm.” He glanced away, frustration scrunching his face as he searched for the word he wanted to use.
Another wave of sadness crashed over Braxton as he watched his mentor, the man he admired more than anyone else, fall victim to a ruthless disease. This was why he left the sport. He’d sacrificed too much already. He couldn’t give it any more. “The elephant in the room?”
“Yes, that.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know golf didn’t kill Jade. A drunk driver did that.”
The sudden moment of clarity caught Braxton off guard, making Henry’s words even more powerful. They hit him right in the solar plexus, taking his breath away.
From time to time, patients in advanced stages of the disease would have brief moments of clarity. There was no explanation as to why it happened and such episodes were reported to last for as little as a minute or two, or, in one rare instance, up to an hour. But at the moment, Braxton didn’t care about the specifics he’d read about. He was accepting this rare gift any way he got it.
For so long, Braxton had to be the strong one in order to manage the disaster that had become his life. He’d pushed his own pain about the event deep into a dark place to be dealt with later. Except later never came. But seeing his friend, his mentor, the man whose opinion mattered more to him than anyone else in the world, with clear eyes and understanding written all over his face was enough to let all of that pain come pouring out.
Braxton closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears from sliding down his face. “But I could’ve been there. I might have stopped it.”
Henry bobbed his head from side to side as if considering the options. “Maybe yes, maybe no. There’s no way you could ever prove that. She could have died anyway. You could’ve died with her.” He let the words hang between them for a moment before he continued. “‘What if’ is a dangerous game. One you’ll never win.”
Tears stung Braxton’s eyes and he blinked to keep them away. “I miss her,” he whispered.
It was the truth that hung on him like a weight. One he tried to hide in order to be strong for everyone else. One that, if he was being totally honest, was holding him back from moving forward with his life, moving forward with Millie.
Henry nodded with a look of sympathetic understanding. “Of course you do. But don’t forget, it’s like sweatpants.”
The random conversation switch caused Braxton to pause, momentarily distracting him from the emotion welling up in his throat. His brow furrowed and his eyes darted from side to side as if something in the room would explain why they were suddenly talking about loungewear. “I’m sorry?”
“The heart. It’s like sweatpants.” Henry waved his hand in the general direction of Braxton’s chest. “It expands to allow as much room as you need. Moving forward doesn’t mean you have to replace her. You’re adding to the list of love in your life. And there’s always plenty of space in your heart to go around.”
Braxton let the words marinate in his soul. As they did, some of the weight he’d been carrying around got a little lighter, making it feel like he could finally take a deep breath.
So maybe he couldn’t have saved Jade, but he could’ve saved Henry. He looked up and met his mentor’s eyes, finally voicing the guilt that had been eating at him for a long time. “If we hadn’t been so busy chasing titles, we could’ve gotten you the help you needed earlier.”
Henry settled back in his chair and looked out the window. His mouth twisted to the side, and a sadness Braxton hadn’t seen in a long time filled his eyes. “That decision was all on me. I could’ve walked away at any time. You would’ve been fine with Mike or Jake or Beau coaching you. It might have even served you better in those final days.” He turned back and looked Braxton in the eye. “I stayed for me. Because I wanted to live a life where my biggest regret would be not being able to remember it. Not a safe life, where I didn’t have anything to forget anyway.”
“Leave it all on the course.” Braxton whispered Henry’s famous advice that had become his catchphrase. He’d said it to Braxton often, but most famously, he’d said it right before the first time Braxton won the Masters tournament.
Braxton had hurt his rotator cuff teeing off on hole seventeen. Somehow, he managed to finish the hole, but the pain radiating from his arm was so intense he wasn’t sure he could walk to the locker room on his own, let alone finish the round. He only had one more hole, and he was in the lead by two with almost no likelihood of the four golfers b
ehind him catching him. All he had to do was finish eighteen and he’d get the coveted green jacket.
Henry had looked him right in the eye and said, “I know you’re hurtin’, but you’re almost there. Four swings are all that stand between you and your dream. There’s time for ice and rest and all that other bullshit tomorrow. Let them carry you in on a stretcher if you have to, but right now, you can’t be done until you’ve left everything you got on that course.”
Braxton went out after that and played a near-perfect hole, sinking his birdie putt to the cheer of thousands. Leave it all on the course.
But Braxton hadn’t been the only one there that day celebrating, and it wasn’t just his dream, was it?
Henry gave a slight shrug. “We did some great things out there, kid.”
Braxton had to clear his throat. “Yeah, we did.”
“I don’t regret my decision at all.” A smile lit up Henry’s face. “In fact, if I had to play it over again, I’d do it all the same way.”
“Even knowing what you know now?”
“Especially knowing what I know now.” He leaned forward in his chair, focusing his clear eyes on Braxton. “Injury and heartache are going to come your way, but you can’t let them stand in the way of your dreams. Life, after all, is for the living.”
Braxton closed his eyes for a moment to let the wise words sink in. He’d been playing it safe thinking nothing could hurt him that way. But it was all a lie. No one could control what life gave, the surprises it sprung, unannounced, in the form of beautiful next-door neighbors.
“So there’s this amazing woman.” Braxton blinked his eyes open and searched Henry’s face for any sort of reaction.
Henry scoffed. “It always has to do with a lady.”
Braxton chuckled and made his next chess move. “So you say.”
Henry eyed the move then flashed Braxton a disapproving look while he made his own play, capturing one of Braxton’s pawns. “What is it about her that makes you want to swing a club again?”
“I didn’t say she made me want to pick up the game again. I just said she existed.” Braxton’s argument was as much for himself as it was for Henry.
Henry raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
Braxton huffed. “Fine. She might’ve had a little to do with that. We’ve been spending some time together recently and she just makes life feel so…” Visions of Millie filled his mind as he tried to come up with words to adequately describe her. “Hopeful,” he said at last. “She makes life fun and bright and hopeful.”
Henry nodded, as if he had experienced the same kind of thing himself. “Those are the best kinds. She sounds like a keeper.”
Braxton shrugged as he picked up his piece and rolled it around in his hand. “I don’t know. It’s not quite that simple.” He had Alice and Henry and deep-seated pains and regrets that had closed off his heart. What if he got hurt again? Worse yet, what if one of them got hurt?
“Newsflash. Life isn’t simple. If you’re waiting for things to get less complicated, you’re going to be sitting on your derrière for a while, cause it ain’t happening.” He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, looking into Braxton’s eyes. “The trick is to find someone who’ll hold your hand and walk through those complications with you. Someone who reminds you that hope is just on the other side.”
For so long Braxton convinced himself that it was better if he did things on his own. There was less risk of everyone getting hurt that way. But he was starting to realize maybe that wasn’t true.
“And it never hurts if she’s good lookin’ either.” Henry winked.
Braxton gave Henry a warning look. “You have to watch what you say. Women are more than their looks. This one in particular. She’s talented and hardworking and has a great laugh.” He couldn’t help the grin that crept up on his face. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.”
“Then why are you sitting here with me? You need to go get her before she figures out you’re a bonehead.”
Braxton chuckled. “You aren’t holding any punches today, are you?”
Henry glared. “In all our years together, have I ever held back?”
“Touché.”
They sat in silence for a moment as Braxton considered everything Henry had said and cherished the conversation.
“Seriously, why are you sitting here?”
Braxton didn’t think he’d ever get to the point where his mentor’s disease wouldn’t leave him heartbroken and angry, but today he didn’t dwell on that. Today, he was grateful for the moment and the advice.
“How about we just play best out of three?”
Henry moved a piece, capturing another of Braxton’s pawns. “So, we’re only playing two, then?”
Chapter Fourteen
Millie came out her front door Friday evening on her way to Braxton’s for dinner because she wanted to take one more look at her new landscaping. The scent of fresh mulch wasn’t exactly appetizing, but it did smell like gratification. The bright flowers and manicured beds made the house look warm and inviting. Just one step closer to having Seascape Inn ready for visitors—and for the HOA board.
She walked all the way to the road then turned back and paused for a moment to take in the view. That house with the gorgeous new paint job and the crack-free drive lined with flowers was hers.
She drew in a deep breath of warm, salty air. The glow of peace and joy filled her from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes. She probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but there were times when she thought getting through the renos on the tight timeframe with her impossible budget would never happen. But here she was, on schedule and almost on budget.
Of course, she hadn’t done it all on her own. Gus and his team had been amazing. Then there were her new friends. Sophia and Tessa had been an invaluable help with all of the bathrooms. And Braxton… Well, he was just another friend, wasn’t he? Which made this meal at his house simply dinner and not a date.
For starters, her casual shorts and flip-flops were only a slight upgrade from the work clothes she’d worn earlier to plant countless flats of flowers. Her hair was still wet from her recent shower and the only makeup she’d bothered to put on was lip gloss. She would’ve gone to a lot more trouble if it was a date, right? This was just two friends eating a casual dinner on his patio after a long day’s work.
To prove to herself this dinner wasn’t any more exciting than any other household activity going on, she decided to check the mail on her way over. That was definitely something not done on a date. She opened the latch and pulled out the handful of envelopes that were inside. On top was another letter from the HOA. Millie ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter as she strolled over to Braxton’s front gate.
To the valued property owner of 121 East Shore Drive,
It has been brought to our attention that one or more aspects of your property is out of compliance with the Oceanside Estates Deed Restrictions. Please address the item(s) listed below.
Curbside mailbox made of plastic.
*Curbside mailboxes should be constructed in a style reflecting that of the property, painted an HOA approved color found on the exterior of the main home, and made of metal, wood, concrete or other HOA approved building materials for the exterior of a home.*
This is your first warning regarding the above violation(s). You will be given thirty (30) days to rectify this matter. Subsequent violations of any item after receiving a formal warning will result in a fine in accordance with the Fines and Penalties section in the HOA deed restrictions.
Thank you for your cooperation and dedication to keeping Oceanside Estates a wonderful place to call home.
Kind Regards,
Braxton Channing
HOA President
She was still shaking her head over the violation letter when she pun
ched the call button on Braxton’s front gate.
“Come around the back. I’m on the patio.” His voice floated through the air as the wrought-iron gates in front of her swung open.
She walked around the side of his house and up the exterior staircase.
“Hey, you,” he called as his pool deck came into view.
She held up the letter as she continued up the last few steps. “The mysterious Braxton Channing violation letter strikes again.”
Braxton came over and took the letter from her. His expression turned serious as he studied it. “Plastic mailbox? That’s a reach.”
Millie chuckled and dropped the rest of the letters on a nearby table. “First of all, my new mailbox is a high-density polyethylene and there are two others just like it on this street alone.”
Braxton shook his head. “It’s not a valid complaint. While plastic itself is not listed on the approved materials list, several specific plastics are, like polyethylene.” He flipped the letter over to check the back, then reread it.
“While I still hold firm to my belief that you have some really dumb rules, I have been very careful to abide by them. Even the ones cited in these mystery warnings.” Millie sighed. “I’m just trying to prove that Seascape Inn will be an asset to the neighborhood, not a liability.”
Braxton returned the letter to her. “Did I tell you that not all of the letters are in your file? Only the ones with valid violations like the trash can and the paint color made it into your official file. The rest of them never existed, according to our records.”
Millie mentally flipped through the violations mentioned on the different letters she’d received and what Braxton had told her about each one. There had to be at least four or five letters missing from her file. “What does that mean?”
Braxton shrugged. “Maybe someone’s trying to scare you into leaving. Or trying to make me look unethical. Or maybe both.”
“And your signature’s still locked?”
