He stopped jogging in place and raised his hands in surrender mode. “Got it.”
She resumed running.
He caught her arm and stopped her. “Allie. You OK?”
“Yeah. Let’s run.”
He held on. “It worries me that you reacted so strongly just now. You’ve seemed uptight since I met you in the lobby. Either you do like Grady more than you’re letting on, or you think I’ve done something wrong. Or something did happen with Grady last night. Now which is it?”
“None. I’m dealing with a personal issue.”
He raised his sunglasses to rest on top of his head, making his curls look like horns. “You want to talk about it?”
“No. I can’t.”
His brown eyes reflected surprise. “But you can talk about it with Grady?”
“Believe me, I will not be talking about it with Grady, either.”
~*~
The shower spray pounded Shoo’s back and neck. What was going on with Allie? Was she having new troubles with Mill? What else could her “personal thing” be? She’d finally started to relax, and now something was wiring her tight again.
Lord, how can I help her?
With no answer seeping into his thoughts, Shoo dressed and took the stairs to join the others. Maybe some fun today, away from caddying and training pressures, would lift Allie’s spirits. She’d had a lot to do with his renewed hope in his game, strength, and endurance, and there had to be some way he could help her in return.
His friends sat in the lobby chairs, sipping coffee. Three candy bars protruded from Mark’s shirt pocket. He was probably afraid they’d stop for a meal somewhere other than a cheap fast-food place. From the rack beside him, Grady added another things-to-do pamphlet to his handful. And Allie…Allie looked nice. Her blue shirt brought out the blue in her eyes. She even smiled at him. The run must have done her good.
“So, what’s the plan?” He towered over the seated group.
Grady lifted his pamphlets. “Here’s some things we could do.”
“And they all cost big bucks,” Mark said.
Grady gave him a disgusted look. “Maybe we should take up a collection for Mark.”
“Why don’t we drive around a bit,” Allie said. “Maybe there’s a park or hiking trails.”
The elevator dinged, and within seconds Allie’s dad and step-mother appeared from its alcove.
Her father introduced Karen.
Shoo shook her proffered hand, and the guys rose and did the same.
Allie joined them.
Karen was a lot like his mom, pleasant and a good listener. She used their names when she asked them questions. Hopefully, Karen had nothing to do with Allie’s problem.
Allie looped arms with Mill. “What’s something fun to do around here, Dad?”
Cross Mill off the “personal thing” list.
“Driving ranges?” Mill put on an innocent grin.
Groans bounced off the lobby walls.
Karen’s rich laughter chimed. “We’re driving over to the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte. Why don’t you join us?”
Shoo’d already toured the library, but he was ready for another visit. No one else’s face lit up. Maybe he should mention the library was free. Mark’s hand might rise for a vote.
Mill hugged Karen’s shoulders. “The younger generation is probably looking for something a little more exciting than a library, honey.”
Shoo had to speak up. “It’s very well done and a moving experience.”
Mark’s expression soured. “What, a bunch of books?”
“It’s not that kind of library.” Karen’s eyes brightened. “You travel from room to room where Billy Graham’s ministry is revealed through videos, audios, and displays.”
Mill chuckled. “It doesn’t appear your salesmanship is winning them over, honey.”
Allie sent Karen a tender smile. “Thanks for the invitation. I guess we’ll find something to do around here.”
So, Allie seemed good with her parents. If he ruled them out, Grady rose as the culprit for Allie’s dilemma.
Man. Why couldn’t he let Allie’s problem go? It wasn’t his business.
They walked out into the sunshine. Mill and Karen wished them an enjoyable day and headed for their car.
Grady unlocked the rental and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Shot gun!” Mark shouldered past Shoo and grabbed the passenger door handle.
“OK, big guy, no need to knock me over.” Shoo held the rear door for Allie. Why’d she look so shocked? He could be a gentleman.
Shoo walked around and got in. With everyone still sipping their coffees, the car smelled like a coffeehouse. “I thought you didn’t like to drive, Grady?”
“Today, I do.” As Grady started the engine, he looked into the rearview mirror and smirked. Not at Shoo, but at Allie. Like the two had some secret connection. Or misconnection. Was Grady willing to drive so he could avoid sitting with Allie? That didn’t make sense. Grady had called her and asked her to join the guys today.
Shoo glimpsed Allie’s expression. She glowered at Grady.
Shoo might as well give up. He would never figure out the mixed messages. Thank goodness, Mark was Mark. Nothing mysterious about good old Mark.
13
Shoo took in the pines and tall deciduous trees along the highway. The trees here differed a lot from San Francisco foliage. North Carolina’s beauty didn’t outdo sunny California’s. It was just different.
In the front seat, Mark and Grady debated over an indoor or outdoor activity.
Allie seemed content to view the scenery from her window. Whatever message had traveled through the rearview mirror between Grady and Allie appeared to have been forgotten.
Shoo agreed with the group to have an early lunch. In deference to Mark’s budget, they pulled into a fast-food restaurant.
Shoo salivated at the burger aroma wafting from his tray. As soon as he slid into the booth beside Allie, he unwrapped and sank his teeth into the burger.
Oops.
He stopped chewing, bowed his head, and thanked God for the food. When he opened his eyes, Grady and Mark stared at him from the other side of the table.
“Is something wrong with your burger?” Grady said in a mocking tone.
“He thanks God for his food.” Allie squirted catsup on her fries. “Don’t you think it’s nice that he’s thankful?”
“We know that,” Mark said. “But we thought he did that before he tore into his meal.”
Shoo swallowed. “My stomach got ahead of my mind.”
Hmm. Earlier, Allie’s stare had shot daggers at Grady, and now she’d stuck up for Shoo. It was as if she had it in for Grady. What had he done that made her so mad?
Grady pushed his straw’s paper casing down the straw until it compacted into a tight accordion at the bottom. He placed the scrunched casing on the table. “This is Willy the Worm. Do you want to see Willy wiggle?”
Mark flicked the casing, and it slid into Allie’s lap. “I made Willy wiggle.”
Allie put the casing back on the table. “Mark, behave. OK, Grady, show us how Willy wiggles.”
Grady inserted his straw into his soda and put his finger over its opening, trapping soda. He removed the straw from the cup.
Shoo raised a protecting hand. “I hope we aren’t about to get doused while we’re watching Willy.”
Grady grinned and then let soda droplets escape from his straw along the compacted paper tube. It writhed like a disturbed worm.
Allie laughed. No. A giggle was more like it. Now this was the Allie he enjoyed. She slid her straw casing into a worm and caused it to squirm with tea drops.
She giggled again. “This is fun. Let me have your straw, Mark.”
Mark yanked his straw from her reach. “I’m protecting Wallace the Worm from the agony.” He opened his straw, balled up the casing and jammed the straw into his cup.
Shoo slid his straw to Allie. “You can have
Warren.” Their gazes connected. Her smile showed her appreciation. If he’d known a wiggling worm would make her happy, he’d have bought her a box of straws a long time ago.
Allie made Warren wiggle. That giggle again.
Shoo’s grin reached down to his heart. The mystery between Grady and Allie aside, maybe bringing her into the group was making a difference. He inserted his straw into his cup and drew in root beer.
Back in the car, Shoo sifted through Grady’s pamphlets. “Nothing looks real—
“Stop!” Allie pointed toward the window. “Putt-putt golf is open ahead.”
“Naw. Couldn’t be open on a weekday in October.” Mark leaned forward as if confirming to himself he was right.
Grady slowed. “Yes. It is open.”
“See the sign,” Allie said. “It’s open for a fundraiser for Melissa Clark’s medical expenses. What could be a better reason to have some fun here than helping Melissa?” She grinned at Shoo. “We can count this as your putting practice for this evening.”
Shoo raised his eyebrows. “We were practicing putting this evening?”
“Actually, no, but pretending it’s on the schedule should make us feel good that we’ll accomplish it early.”
Wow. She was in a good mood. If knocking golf balls into a smoking volcano would keep Allie smiling, he was game.
They paid their entry fees and collected putters and a scorecard.
Shoo chose a red ball from the basket on the counter. Observing the colorful golf balls, birthday balloons came to mind. Come to think of it, Dad’s birthday was approaching.
“Ooh, I wanted to be red.” Allie extended her yellow ball. “Will you trade?”
Shoo held up the red ball. “I’ll pay for everyone’s putt-putt fee if you all will promise to come to my room later and do something for me.”
Allie reached for the red ball. “Like what?”
He held the ball over her head beyond her reach. “Promise you’ll take part in my little ten-minute activity. It will cost you nothing.”
She cocked her head. “How do we know it’s not something embarrassing?”
“Yeah. I’m not agreeing to anything that smacks of looking like a fool.” Mark grabbed a blue ball.
Shoo leveled his gaze on Mark. “When have you ever cared about looking like a fool? Didn’t you hear what I said? I’ll pay your putt-putt fee.”
Mark straightened. “Oh, yeah. I’m in.”
“I’m in if you’ll take us all to dinner, too.” Grady smirked.
Shoo hesitated. Dinner could cost close to sixty or seventy bucks. “How about I’ll treat everyone to ice cream after we finish here?” Dad was worth at least four miniature golf fees and four ice creams.
“OK. I’m game.” Grady looked to Allie. “How about you?”
Allie’s blue eye’s narrowed as she scrutinized Shoo. “I won’t have to do anything humiliating?”
“I promise. You won’t be embarrassed.” No one had to sign his name to his little project.
“Then I’m in.”
Grady lifted his open hands to Allie and Mark. “Free games and free ice cream negotiated.”
Allie and Mark rewarded Grady with high-fives.
They waited behind three boys who looked about eight years old. The redhead’s mother strolled along behind them, perusing a magazine. The boys’ shots were all over the place, and they took their turns before their friends’ balls had stopped rolling.
Shoo bounced his ball a few times on the putter head. This might turn into a long putt-putt game.
On the third L-shaped runway that rose to a higher platform where the hole lay, Allie walked over to the mother. They talked for a moment, and then the mother nodded. While the mother spoke to the boys, Allie returned, a satisfied look on her face.
Was Allie really a person who’d complain about boys being boys? Heaviness settled on Shoo’s chest. He’d expected more from her. What kind of ogre golf teacher was she?
She looked from Grady to Mark to him. “Are any of you guys wearing a chain or necklace?”
Mark and Grady shook their heads.
Shoo crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you up to?”
She turned her back to him. “Would you undo the clasp on my necklace? It’s a little tricky.”
As she lifted her ponytail, he breathed in her fruity hair scent. His fingertips graced the soft skin of her slim neck as he drew up the chain. A little thrill went through him. Why had that surprised him? Of course, Allie was a woman, but he’d never considered her as feminine. Well, feminine, but not the type for dolls and frilly dresses when she was a kid. Like Christine had been as a girl. He unlatched the clasp and drew the necklace over Allie’s head. A cross hung from the gold chain.
A cross? The girl who didn’t want to talk about her faith wore a cross?
Allie rotated and grabbed the necklace. “Close your mouth before you swallow a fly.”
He’d file this event for a later conversation.
She marched to the boys who were now waiting patiently for her.
“Hi, guys. So nice you’re having a day off from school.”
“It’s a teachers’ day,” one boy said.
“Awesome. My name is Allie. What’re your names?” The boys told her. “How would you like to sink your golf balls into the holes in no more than four strokes?” She raised four fingers.
The redhead pointed to the tallest boy. “Arnie took thirteen hits before he got it in the last hole.”
Arnie’s face flushed. “No, I didn’t.”
The redhead looked at the scorecard. “OK. Twelve hits. Like that’s so much better.”
Allie laid her hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “That’s OK. Arnie was warming up.” She lifted her chain, pinching the clasp between her thumb and forefinger. “When you putt, you want the putter to act like a pendulum.” She set the cross in motion. “See. The cross is like the putter head and the chain is like the shaft.”
“Cool,” Arnie said.
“Yeah, it is cool.” She stored her necklace in her pocket. “Try holding your putter with two hands like this.” She clasped the putter’s rubber grip. “Now, swing it like it’s a pendulum. She demonstrated the swing.
Grady spoke into Shoo’s ear. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”
She was. Why had he doubted her character just now? Allie wasn’t the only one quick to misjudge people. Ouch.
But why did Grady come across so proud of Allie? Like she was his girlfriend?
Allie showed the boys how to bank the ball against the runway sides. She cheered when Arnie’s made it up the ramp and onto the platform after two tries.
She faced the men. “I’m playing with these guys.”
The third boy, Derrick, pumped his putter. “All right!”
While Shoo waited with Grady and Mark at each runway for their turns, the boys played in orderly rotation and cut their stroke counts in half. Shoo chuckled, marveling at how Allie got the boys cheering for each other. The teacher had a gift with kids. He liked that.
After the last hole, Allie told the boys to wait at the equipment return. She approached Mark. “Will you sell me your three candy bars? I’ll pay you a dollar more for each bar.”
Mark whisked the candy bars from his shirt pocket and held them out. “Lady, you’ve got a deal.”
“Are you sure?” Grady snorted. “They fell from his pocket a few times during his putts.”
“They’re wrapped.” Allie pulled a bill from her pocket. “This should cover it.” She bumped fists with the boys and gave each a candy bar. The boys thanked her and ran off to show the redhead’s mother.
In the car, once Allie and the guys had filled their bellies with ice cream, they started in on Shoo, trying to get him to divulge the activity they’d agreed to perform.
He stood firm. First, he needed to get them into his room, where he could block the door.
In the motel’s parking lot, they piled out and pelted him with outlandish
guesses.
Another from Mark. “Wash your underwear.”
“Drop balloons from your window on passersby.” Grady.
“Roll yarn into balls for your knitting project.” Allie’s eyes widened. “Am I close?”
“You’re all hanging on Saturn’s rings. Although Mark’s suggestion is tempting.”
By the time they reached his room, his activity seemed tame.
While his guinea pigs lounged on the bed and chairs, he passed out paper from the phone pad and rounded up pens from the desk and his backpack. “OK. Write my dad a birthday poem.”
Mark stood and put a hand to Shoo’s forehead. “Are you sick? Why would we do that?”
“Ever since I was thirteen, I’ve enlisted as many classmates as I could to write silly poems for my dad. Then I’d send them to the motel where he’d be staying on his birthday, with directions for the staff to give them to him on his day. It’s become a tradition. Just because I’m on tour, I don’t want him to be disappointed. I need you guys.”
Grady shrugged. “No problem.”
Mark scoffed. “Poetry and me don’t mix.”
“You gave your word, Mark.”
“It’ll be the shortest poem your dad ever read.”
Shoo turned to Allie sitting in the desk chair behind him. She stared at the paper and wrinkled her nose. Not a good sign.
~*~
Dig a hole and bury her. Allie raised her head and looked at Shoo. “I’m with Mark. I wouldn’t know what to write.” Especially since Steve Leonard was not her favorite person at the moment.
Shoo frowned. “Allie, I don’t expect you to write a masterpiece. It’s just a silly poem.”
She didn’t like his tone. “Well, I’m sorry. I can’t write it here.” She held up the paper and pen. “I’ll take these with me, and maybe something will come to me.” She headed for the door. “Later.”
After the door clunked shut behind her and she’d strode almost to the elevators, she stopped and cupped her forehead. Why couldn’t she just sit down and write the stupid poem? So what if she encouraged a man she disagreed with? At least, her behavior wouldn’t have seemed so odd to the guys.
The Putting Green Whisperer Page 12
