by Hope Ramsay
“Well, that went well, didn’t it?” Rocky said as she stood up. “Boy, Tulane, I sure wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.” She gave him a little peck on the cheek. “Gotta run; I have to call the senator. He’s up in arms over some English lord who wants to buy land in South Carolina to put up a factory.”
She turned and left him standing there all alone with Pete’s letter in his hand. As usual, Rocky had not taken sides. That was Rocky’s particular talent. She would straddle every argument and when the going got tough, she would disappear. Rocky was real good at running. Hell, she’d run so far that she’d lost her good-ol’-girl wardrobe and even changed her name.
He backhanded the tear that managed to escape his suddenly streaming eyes. He was utterly alone with this dilemma, and no matter what he did, someone would be unhappy with him.
It occurred to him right then that the least of his problems was having to race on Sunday wearing a pink bunny suit.
Sarah stared down at what passed for a green salad at the Kountry Kitchen Café—iceberg lettuce, a few cherry tomatoes, and buttermilk ranch dressing.
“You should have ordered the pulled pork sandwich,” Hettie said.
Sarah looked up from the less than appetizing fare in time to see Hettie cut her barbecue sandwich with a knife and fork. “I’m trying to lose some weight,” Sarah said.
“Aren’t we all? To tell you the truth, I don’t usually indulge. But I’m in the mood today.” Hettie conveyed a dainty bite to her mouth, chewed it politely, and then closed her eyes and let forth a wicked groan of pleasure.
Sarah suddenly wished she had ordered the pulled pork, too.
“I declare,” Hettie said on a sigh. “Fred Carter sure does know how to make barbecue. I should come here more often.”
“Well, we’d sure like to see you more often, Miz Hettie.” This pronouncement came from the waitress, a curvy woman in her middle thirties with dark hair. She was waiting on a full house of men in work shirts and John Deere hats, all of whom seemed to be eating barbecue.
The waitress refilled Hettie’s coffee cup, then turned toward Sarah. “I’ve been dying to ask you. Are ya’ll that woman who works with Tulane that everyone’s been talking about?”
Sarah forced a smile to her face. “Yes, I’m Sarah.”
“Hey, I’m Ricki.” Ricki leaned in with a little wink. “For what it’s worth, honey, I think it’s a hoot that Tulane’s sponsors sent a woman to keep that boy in line. How you making out?”
“Fine,” Sarah said in her best this-is-none-of-your-business Boston voice. Luckily, a big dude at the corner table called Ricki by name and demanded a coffee refill, so the waitress scurried away.
“Don’t mind her. She’s just jealous. She’s got a thing for the Rhodes boys. Almost had Clay, too, but she messed it up. She’s after Dash Randall now, but I don’t think Dash is interested.”
“Is this all you talk about here in Last Chance? I mean, Jane told me last night that I’ve been the subject of gossip for weeks, and I only spent one night in Last Chance before Pete’s death. Isn’t there anything else happening in this town?”
Hettie sat up a little straighter in her chair and managed not to look very happy. “No, as a matter of fact, there is nothing very interesting happening in this town. So it’s only natural folks are going to gossip about you, especially since Millie and Thelma have led everyone to believe that Miriam has handpicked you for Bill.”
“I’m not interested in Bill,” Sarah said.
“You aren’t?” Hettie put her fork across her plate, and Sarah swore that she sounded relieved.
“Nope, I am most definitely not interested in Bill. I’m working on being a success in business, not someone’s wife.”
“Probably a good plan,” Hettie said. “So, where to next?”
“You really don’t have to chauffeur me around, you know. I could probably borrow Rocky’s car.”
“Hmm, that’s true, but then I’d have to go home, and I don’t want to go home. So, where to next? We’ve covered the funeral home, the dry cleaners, and the florist.”
“Caterers?”
Hettie snorted politely. “This is a Southern funeral. Caterers are redundant.”
“Okay, then, how about taking me to Golfing for God?”
Hettie startled. “Why would you want to go there?”
“To see it up close.”
“It’s not in business anymore, thank goodness.”
“Thank goodness? Why do you feel that way?”
“Well, it’s just that it’s… well…” Hettie exhaled deeply, probably so she wouldn’t blurt out something unpleasant. “You wouldn’t understand,” she finally said. “You’re not from around here.”
“Okay, try me. Explain to me why Tulane is so ashamed of that place.”
“Golfing for God is a mini-golf place with holes depicting Bible stories. It’s pitiful. It’s an eyesore. It’s a stereotype of what we in the South would rather not be about.”
Sarah dug in her purse and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. She slapped it on the counter. “You know, everyone around here says that, but I’m just not getting it. It’s a funny idea, I’ll admit that, but it’s also an idea that has a lot of marketing potential. Family values are hot these days, you know.”
“Marketing potential? Are you crazy? What do you want to do—bring Northerners down here to laugh at us?”
Sarah shook her head. “No. I’d like to see people of all kinds coming to your town to play the course. It’s quirky, I admit, but it’s fun. And it could put this town on the map.”
“Fun?”
“Have you ever played the course?”
A little blush colored Hettie’s alabaster cheeks. “Well, of course, when I was little.”
“And…?”
Hettie gave a little shrug. “It was fun. When I was six. I’m older than that now. You don’t need to see the golf course. Really, we would just as soon that place didn’t exist.”
“But I do need to see it. Sooner or later people are going to find out what Tulane’s father does for a living. And I need to be prepared. And the best way to be prepared is to go and see the place up close and personal.”
Hettie guided her little silver car into the gravel parking lot of Golfing for God. She killed the engine and gazed through the windshield. “So, here it is, in all its glory.”
“Thanks for bringing me,” Sarah said.
“Oh, I’m just waiting for the moment when you realize how horrific this place is.”
Sarah stepped out of the car and onto the gravel in her dress shoes. She tottered over the uneven ground toward the wreckage of what had once been a large statue of Jesus.
“You know,” Hettie said as she followed across the gravel in her equally impractical shoes, “have you thought that maybe Tulane is right—that this part of his life is best kept secret?”
“He doesn’t have a choice. Tulane is a celebrity now. He won’t be able to keep his secrets for long. Sooner or later, someone is going to figure out that his father owns this place.”
“Poor Tulane, he’ll be so embarrassed.”
“I’m sure he will be. But maybe I can help him minimize the damage.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I’ve got to figure out a way to make sure that when National Brands consumers learn about this, it won’t affect diaper sales.”
“My goodness, that’s pretty cynical, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is. But it’s my job.”
Sarah turned and inspected the path that led to the golf course. The walkway resembled a scene from a war zone. The older-growth pines lining the walk were charred. Kudzu had invaded the space, crawling over the blackened tree trunks and crowding the walkway. The aroma of burned wood hung on the air.
“Wow, what happened out here?” Sarah asked.
“They say lightning struck the propane tank and caused the explosion that damaged the water circulation system,” Hettie sa
id as they started walking down the path. “I’ve heard Jimmy talking about it. My husband, and just about everyone else in town, thinks it’s a blessing that this old place has finally seen its last customer.”
Hettie turned and gazed down the path, her bright blue eyes softening.
“I used to love coming here with Daddy when I was a girl,” Hettie said softly. And then her eyes filled with tears that she dashed away with the back of her hand.
“Dammit. I’m an emotional wreck today. Funerals always do that to me. C’mon, I’ll show you the ark.”
It wasn’t really an ark, just a barn shaped like a big boat with a concession stand and an office.
“Elbert used to keep the petting zoo in there,” Hettie explained. “Since the lightning storm, the animals have been boarded out at Dash Randall’s ranch. Plenty of pasture out there for Mamie.”
“Mamie?”
“The longhorn.”
Sarah laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“The fact that you know the cow’s name. Does everyone know her name?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I see Mamie several times a week. I board a horse over at Dash’s.”
“Ah.” There was something very likable about Hettie. Somewhere behind that brittle façade was a real person. Sarah stepped past the shuttered sales counter and headed toward the first hole.
Eve, rendered in fiberglass and wearing fig leaves, stood beside the apple tree, reaching for a bright red apple. The fruit was being offered by a serpent painted to resemble a copperhead. It was a par-four hole that required a golfer to putt the ball through the roots of the Tree of Knowledge in order to reach the hole on the other side. Beside the tee box was a little plaque bearing the words:
The serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field.
Sarah read the scripture. “That’s from Genesis 3. Although, technically, Eve didn’t put on her fig leaves until after she ate the fruit. But I suppose having a naked Eve on a putt-putt place in the middle of the Bible Belt would be too shocking, huh?”
“I’ll bet Ruby just loves you to bits.”
“Huh?”
“You’re exactly the kind of woman I’d want looking after my son. A good woman who knows her scripture is worth a lot to a mother.”
“Do you have children?”
Hettie shook her head and turned away. Sarah silently followed Hettie’s gaze as she surveyed the golf course. Fiberglass statues spread before her in every direction. They ranged from David and Goliath to the resurrection of Christ. It was amazing. At once both campy and surprisingly artistic. But decay had crept in. The place needed attention and repair.
Sarah closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the pines and something else. Something old and primal. There was magic here. She could feel it.
And then it struck her, like the proverbial thunderbolt.
Golfing for God was magic. The kind of magic people grew up and forgot about. Like Racer Rabbit or that simple faith Haley Rhodes talked about when she said her momma was up in Heaven with Jesus.
“This is where Elbert sees his angels,” she said.
“Please, don’t tell me you—”
“No, I don’t really see them. But I feel them here. Like a possibility. And it just occurred to me that we’re all in trouble if we lose our simple faith in angels. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Golfing for God matters.”
“You’re as crazy as Elbert.”
“Maybe I am. But admit it, Hettie, when you thought about coming here as a kid a minute ago, it brought tears to your eyes. Where does it say that we have to grow up and lose the fun of a place like this?”
“But it’s a joke, and not a very funny one.”
“See, you’ve grown older and you’ve lost the ability to believe in miracles. You know, if you want my advice, someone in this town ought to form a committee to resurrect this place. I mean it.”
Hettie looked aghast. “A committee to resurrect it?”
“Exactly. A committee of dedicated church ladies who would do a whole lot better for the town if they would quit trying to meddle in people’s private lives and get to work on something worthy, like helping people remember what it feels like to have simple faith. The world could use a whole lot more of that, if you ask me.”
“But I thought you wanted to help Tulane. Tulane would hate it if anyone formed a committee to save this place.”
“I’m sure he would. But he needs to grow up enough to embrace the innocence. Maybe all of us do.”
“What?”
“You heard me. A minute ago you said I was cynical, and you know what—you’re right. There is nothing cynical about this place. Hettie, open your eyes, and see it like a six-year-old.”
CHAPTER
10
Emotions were running high when Sarah returned to Ruby’s house later that day. The reading of Pete’s will hadn’t gone well, evidently.
Arlene was weeping openly. Elbert was missing in action, reportedly off somewhere riding his Harley. Jane and Clay were out in the backyard, arguing. Cousin Alex was sulking in one of the rocking chairs out front. Rocky was AWOL but had checked in by cell phone to make sure that the funeral arrangements were on track. Stone was missing, too, but that was nothing new.
The brigade of church ladies had vanished, no doubt heading home to make supper for their own families. They had mostly cleaned up after themselves, leaving only a small stack of dirty dishes that had not fit in the dishwasher.
Ruby, like some stereotypical steel magnolia, seemed unfazed by it all. She sat in her parlor, playing Chinese checkers with her granddaughters.
Sarah had nothing better to do, so she started washing the leftover dishes, her mind wandering back to the problems she would face on Monday. Deidre wanted a full report, and there was nothing Sarah could say that would please both Deidre and Tulane. She was stuck.
“Hey.”
The sound of Tulane’s voice jolted Sarah out of her thoughts. His body heat registered against her backside as he took the sponge from her hands. He stood just behind her, not touching, but making her whole body react to him in the most adolescent manner.
“You’ve been standing there staring out the window for the last five minutes without washing a single dish. Are you eavesdropping on Jane and Clay? I think they’re having their first argument as a married couple. Momma thinks it’s cute. I think it’s dumb.”
“They’re arguing about Golfing for God.”
“Yeah. Stupid thing to argue about. So, what have you been up to, besides flirting with the preacher, managing Pete’s funeral, and pretending to wash dishes?”
She snagged a dish towel from the rack above the sink and turned to face Tulane as she dried her hands. He stood just inches from her, and she had to cock her head back to see into his eyes. Her body began to hum the way it always did when Tulane got too close.
“To tell you the truth, I went out to see Golfing for God this afternoon with Hettie Marshall. And now that I’ve seen it, I’m at a loss as to why you—”
“You went out to Golfing for God? What the heck for?”
“I had to see the place.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. I have to know what I’m dealing with.”
“What you’re dealing with? How about what I’m dealing with.” His voice rose in pitch, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Did you hear what happened at the lawyer’s this afternoon?”
“No.”
“Pete asked me to help Daddy rebuild Golfing for God. Can you believe it?”
“Good for him.” Sarah draped the dish towel on its rack and then leaned back into the kitchen counter, crossing her arms.
“Good for him? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sarah shrugged. “Look, I never met Pete, but if he thought rebuilding Golfing for God was a good idea, then I guess I agree with him.”
“Why? You saw that place. It’s an eyesore and a joke. Why should anyone rebuild it
?”
“Well, I guess you and I see different things out there. I saw a place where kids could learn their Bible stories. I saw a place where angels just might reside.”
“Huh?” Tulane’s lower jaw dropped open, and he stared down at her like she was ready to be hauled away by men wearing white coats.
“Don’t look at me like that, Tulane. I’m not crazy. And I’m pretty sure your father isn’t crazy either. And to be honest, I don’t see that Haley’s angel is something to worry about. When I was her age, I believed in angels. Didn’t you? I believed in a lot of things, like Santa Claus and flying reindeer. Give her a break, for goodness’ sake. She’s seven.”
“Honey, you believing in angels and Haley seeing one are not the same things. You have no idea what my life or Haley’s life has been like growing up here. So don’t stand there and tell me how Golfing for God should be saved. I’m telling you, the best thing that ever happened was that lightning bolt hitting the place. Maybe if we buried Golfing for God, my family could move away from this town, and then things would be different.”
“Tulane, moving away is not going to change the past. Things won’t be different. Trust me on this. I have experience. Just moving away doesn’t change who you are.”
“You, experienced? That’s a laugh. You’re about as gullible as a six-year-old. That probably explains why you don’t understand the whole Golfing for God problem.”
“I wish you would quit doing that.”
“What?”
“Calling me nice and inexperienced. I’m not as nice as you think I am. Besides, nice people usually finish last.”
“Well,” he said with a grin, “if you’re really serious about wanting to be naughty, I can help. I mean, if you want, I could take you out this evening, and we could raise a little hell.”
She blushed. “What sort of hell?” she whispered.
“Oh, I don’t know. The usual kind. Last Chance, South Carolina, is a great place to raise hell. There are church ladies on every corner just waiting for a boy to slip up.”
He was daring her, wasn’t he? Trying to make a point about Golfing for God by suggesting that she was too childish to really understand the truth.
