~*~
Christine was as beautiful as Shoo remembered. She sipped her tea while her father talked about his restaurant business and waiters bustled past them. Her slim fingers toyed with her straw. How he’d loved holding her hand.
When Alistair paused and took a sip of his coffee, Christine spoke. “Were you leaving San Antonio without visiting us, John?”
Shoo swallowed his flounder bite. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I could see you. Unfortunately, I don’t have access to a car here. I planned to call you last night, but a little emergency arose.”
“Emergency?”
“Allie’s necklace broke and went down the drain in her motel room. I went over and helped her backtrack her steps.”
“Kind of you to come to her rescue,” Alistair said. “Your willingness to help people is a trait I’ve always liked about you, John.”
“Allie’s mother, who’s now deceased, gave the cross necklace to her. She was understandably upset.”
Christine dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Were you able to retrieve it?”
“The maintenance man got it out.”
Their smiles demonstrated their pleasure in the happy ending.
“So, tell us about what’s been going on with you,” Alistair said. “I have to admit, I never pictured you on the caddy side of a golf club.”
Shoo mentioned his injury. Alistair looked genuinely shocked. Strange that Christine hadn’t mentioned it to her father. They had e-mailed back and forth about his injury a few times when it first happened. Maybe she didn’t realize how big a deal it was to his career.
He launched into his story about Dad challenging him to caddy while recovering from his injury to determine whether he was cut out for a golf career. Alistair seemed drawn in, whereas Christine’s gaze wandered about the dining room as she worked on her chicken salad. Golf talk seemed to bore her. He wrapped up his story in one sentence, mentioning his plan to play in the McGladrey Classic.
“How’s teaching, Christine?” he asked.
Her gaze snapped back to his, and a warm smile spread across her face. “I’m teaching third grade this year, and I love it.” Her honey-colored eyes danced as she described each child and his or her antics.
Well, that was one thing Christine and Allie had in common. They loved kids. Would the feisty sprite and the gentle princess get along? Could they be friends? The ploys Allie used to win over Mark and the other guys wouldn’t work on Christine. She wouldn’t relate to golf examples.
Allie had seemed put out that he’d chosen dinner with Christine and Alistair over the barbecue. Since he’d told her about Christine earlier, he’d thought she’d understand.
Christine asked him a question. Good thing he’d been half-listening. “I do remember when I was in third grade. That was the year my dad married my stepmom.”
“Was that a hard year for you? I have a few children in my class with family problems.”
“No. Up to that point, it was the best year in my life. My stepmom stepped in with a caring spirit I sorely needed at the time.”
Alistair pushed his plate away from him. “How much longer does the Senior Tour last?”
“The tour ends after the Cup in San Francisco next week.”
The waiter refreshed Alistair’s coffee. By the aroma, definitely hazel nut. Christine had always ordered that flavor when they’d frequented coffee shops in Winston-Salem.
She took a sip of her tea. “How nice that the tour ends in your home city. What will you do after that?”
Shoo paused in chewing. Hadn’t she been listening when he’d said he was playing in the McGladrey Classic? “I still plan to pursue a career as a pro golfer.”
Her eyes lit up. “There’s an opening for a golf pro at the golf course down the street from us. Isn’t there, Daddy?”
Alistair chuckled. “Did she really date you for two years, John?”
Shoo didn’t know what to say. Had her mind been elsewhere all those times he’d shared his dreams with her? Or had she failed to take him seriously?
Alistair directed his fork toward Christine. “Honey, a pro golfer is a player who makes his living playing in professional tournaments. A golf pro is someone who teaches golf and runs a private or public golf course.”
“Oh.” She gave Shoo a silly-me shrug and smile. “Sorry, John.” She swirled a chicken morsel in the salad dressing in her bowl. “Then you will continue to travel around?” A vertical line formed on her forehead between her lovely eyes. No question, his persistence in following his dream disappointed her.
“Yes. As long as I can, anyway.”
“What would stop you? What would change you from a pro golfer to a golf pro—or something else?”
“Probably if I couldn’t make the cuts and couldn’t support myself.”
“Oh.”
“Do you remember how I went on about Eric Liddell?”
“He does sound familiar.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Wasn’t he an amazing golfer from the fifties?”
Shoo nudged his fork against the flounder and, giving in to a resigned smile, wagged his head.
Christine leaned forward. “What chance do you really have to make the cuts, and so on?” Anxiety strained her voice.
Alistair chuckled. “I think Christine is putting you to the test, John. She’s started dating my most accomplished chef, but I suspect she’s wondering if she should hold out for you.”
“Daddy!” Christine’s cheeks grew pink.
Shoo covered her slim hand with his and captured her gaze. “I think Christine made a wise decision last fall in ending our engagement. God has set us on different paths.”
Something like twenty-pound weights lifted from his shoulders.
20
The lobby lights glowing into the pre-dawn motel parking lot prevented Allie from sitting in total darkness in Dad’s rental. Soon, Shoo would push through the motel door, and she’d know if he was back with Christine.
She couldn’t go through another night like the last one, balled into a fetal position, wondering whether she’d be on the sorry end of Shoo’s monologue about Christine’s wonderfulness.
Shoo emerged and jogged over to the car. She got out and started her stretch routine. Did she appear casual enough?
“Good morning. Where’s my coffee?” He planted his hands beside hers on the car and stretched his calf muscle.
“Bummer. I left the cups on the hood while I stored my gym bag, and they fell off as I pulled away from Coffee and Go.”
“Likely story.” He switched to his other leg. “So how was the barbecue? Sorry, I skipped out on you and the guys last night.”
And the guys? Clearly, Shoo had not asked her on a date yesterday. She had as much ability to read him as he had to read her: zilch.
“It was fine.”
He finished his stretches and then pointed toward the motel exit with both hands. “Wagons, ho!” He jogged off.
That was it?
Allie caught up to him.
The odor from the garbage truck keeping pace with them wasn’t helping her mood. Or maybe it was sleep deprivation.
Shoo seemed content. Was he daydreaming about his tall, dark-haired, model-like ex?
As their feet slapped the pavement in unison, her penlight beam highlighted gold, brown, and red leaves plastered to the road from last night’s rain. A breeze whipped up, and several acorns peppered the road.
Did Shoo expect her to spend the whole day wondering if he and Christine were back together?
Shoo hitched up his running shorts. “Could you put my cell in your jacket pocket? It’s too heavy for my shorts. I don’t know why I brought it.”
She stuck out her hand. “Wouldn’t want you to trip on your shorts.”
He chuckled. “Not a pretty picture.”
Allie slipped his cell into her pocket. She’d cut their run short so she’d have time to subtly pump him about Christine. She had to know where she stood.
Hopefully, Grady was right that
Shoo wanted to keep his relationships G-rated. At least, Shoo hadn’t sought Christine out. She’d come down from Austin on her own accord. But had he fallen for her all over again?
Allie needed her life back…well, such as it was before Shoo. She initiated a turn-around arc. “Let’s head back.”
What if Christine drove down from Austin again tonight? Without her father. Pangs shot through her stomach. Would Shoo throw his training away to rekindle his relationship with Christine?
Allie’s body stiffened. Her feet lost their rhythm. Stumbling, she tried to regain her footing, but her toe caught her opposite heel. She went down, her hands and face scraping the pavement.
Whoa! Her body rose like a rabbit in an eagle’s claw, and she was on her feet.
With a handful of her jacket in his hand, Shoo steadied her. “Are you all right?”
Her body shook. “My hands…”
He retrieved her flashlight from the pavement and ran the beam over her body. “Your right knee is bleeding. And your hands have a nasty road burn. And—” He lifted her chin.
“I know. My nose and chin are burning like crazy.”
He touched her nose and then her chin. “They’re not bleeding much.” He shined the flashlight on the road behind them. “What happened?”
She’d fallen in love with the wrong person, that’s what. “I don’t know.”
“We’ll walk back to the motel.”
“No. I’m fine. You need to keep going. You can’t miss anymore training.” Like meeting with Christine after today’s round.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, they reached the motel parking lot and slowed to a walk. At her car, Allie patted her knee with her wristband, dotting the terry cloth with blood. She inspected her face in the car’s side mirror. “I look like a clown.”
“All you need is pointy ears, and you’d be the cutest elf.”
“You’re not making me feel better.”
He hunkered down and examined her knee. “Come to my room and wash this off. I’ve got antibiotic cream and bandages.”
“I’ve got that stuff at my motel. I better get back. It’s getting late.”
All this pain and embarrassment, and she still didn’t know what happened last night with Christine.
She reached for the door handle. “So, you had a nice dinner last night?” She was such a sap.
“Very.” He put his hand on her shoulder.
Here it came. He was going back with Christine and he wanted his best buddy to be the first to know. She bit her lip. He bent so they were head-to-head and captured her gaze. “I’m sorry, I ran out on you and the guys. And I’m sorry you fell.”
Very gallant, but how about the lowdown on his feelings for Christine?
“No problem.” Liar. “We had a great barbecue meal with all the fixings. You’d have been disappointed, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“No hoedown.”
“Bummer.” He linked his arm with hers, startling her. “Here’s a do-si-do, just for you.” He swung her around, turned, and performed another do-si-do in the opposite direction.
She bumbled from his grasp and leaned against the car. “You’re such a goof.” Another do-si-do and she’d empty her yogurt on his running shoes.
He backed toward the motel building. “Put antibiotic cream on that knee, and I hope your day improves.” He turned and jogged to the motel’s entrance.
Allie bent over and retched. Nothing came up. She couldn’t even vomit right.
On the way to her motel, her body, from her brain to her stomach to her toes, seemed to lose feeling. Even her abrasions stopped pulsing with pain. At least numbness was an improvement over nausea and emotions bouncing all over like a million dropped marbles.
Her stupefied state might be exactly what she needed. Devoid of her senses, she could shrink-wrap her feelings for Shoo and bury them. Quit-mode might be a new beginning. One in which she could finally play the indifferent trainer and buddy.
As she pulled into a motel parking space, music sounded. The tune came from her pocket. Shoo’s cell. She’d forgotten she had it. Maybe this was Shoo calling his phone from Grady’s or Mark’s cell. She pulled the cell from her pocket and answered it.
“Hello?”
Silence. Then, “Have I reached Shoo Leonard’s cell?”
“Yes. Sorry, he left it with me by accident.”
“And you are?”
“Allie Masterson.”
“Mill Masterson’s daughter?”
“Yes.” Who was this guy? Would it be impolite to say, “And you are?” back to him?
“Hello, Allie, I’ve heard a lot about you. This is Shoo’s father, Steve.”
Allie froze.
“Hello? Allie?”
“Hello.”
“Oh, good. I’ve got to go, but would you give Shoo a message, Allie?”
“Sure.” The word came out in a raspy whisper.
“Tell Shoo I have a solid offer for him for an assistant pro position at the new three-golf-course country club out here. Shekelfield Farms. Have him call me back today after the tournament. Shekelfield will want to arrange a token interview.”
Heat flooded her body and her stomach knotted. She held the cell away from her and shook the device. No! No! No! She placed the cell back to her ear. “OK.”
“Thanks, Allie, for passing this on. I’ve got to run.”
The connection went dead.
Allie tossed the cell onto the passenger seat. It bounced and fell to the floor. She knocked her head against the steering wheel. “Arrgh!”
~*~
This was a first. Allie was late. The grass next to the players’ parking lot offered little comfort as Shoo sat on it. His stomach growled. With only one group between Mill’s and Chris’s, the timing should have worked for her to take Mill to their motel and arrive back about the time he carried Chris’s clubs to his car.
He rummaged in his golf bag pocket and extracted his now squashed emergency candy bar.
He’d call Allie, if he had his cell.
Lord, please keep Allie safe.
Mill’s sedan came into view beyond the last volunteers and fans heading for home. Shoo stood, crumpled the empty candy wrapper, and stuck it in his pocket.
The car stopped alongside him, and the passenger window lowered.
He ducked his head inside. “Problems?”
“Time got away from me.” Allie swung her gaze from him to the front windshield. “I’ve had some thinking to do.” She turned to him. “But I didn’t mean to be late.”
Now what was bothering Allie? “It must be something important, because you’re never late. Good thing I had a candy bar to sustain me while I waited.”
“Sorry. It’s been a lousy day.”
“I saw Mill had a rough round, but not so bad that he’s out of the running. Are your injuries OK?”
“It’s more than Dad having a stinky day and me looking like a clown.”
“Elf.”
“Elf. Clown. Who cares? Put your clubs in the trunk. We can talk on the way to the driving range.”
Shoo’s heart quickened as he carried his clubs to the trunk. Allie sounded depressed. If it wasn’t her injuries or her father’s poor finish, what else could it be?
He climbed inside the car. Cheering up looked like the last thing she wanted. He’d let her guide the conversation.
They exited the club proper and pulled into traffic. “Your cell is in the glove compartment.” She nodded toward him. “And you’ve got chocolate on your lip.”
Shoo licked the chocolate from his upper lip. Then he retrieved his cell and shoved it into his pocket. She opened her mouth and closed it again.
What in the world could have happened?
She stopped at a light. “All day I’ve been dreading giving you a message from your father.”
His heart jumped. “Did something happen to Dad?”
Her eyes widened. “No, no. He’s fine.” She drove through the in
tersection and heaved a breath. “OK. I’m going to spit it out, because it’s not my place to play God. Although, I wish God would have a talk with your father.”
“What?” She didn’t make any sense. But then, she seldom did.
“He’s arranged a job for you as an assistant pro at Shacklefield Farms. It’s a done deal. All you have to do is sit through a token interview and you’re good to teach middle-aged women how to drive a ball off the tee without breaking a nail.”
She was ticked. Any minute he’d smell smoke. “It’s called Shekelfield.”
She narrowed her eyes. “No. It’s Shacklefield. A field you’ll be shackled to for the rest of your life. Or will you do like my dad did and start playing on the Senior Tour when you’re fifty?”
He held back a smile. If Allie Masterson had anything to do with it, no one messed with Shoo Leonard’s golf career.
She glanced at him. “Why aren’t you upset? We’re talking about your career here.”
His urge to smile vanished. “Do you think, because my father found a great golf job for me, which will probably pay me more than my first two years on tour put together, I will click my heels and say, ‘Sure, Dad. Sign me up.’?”
Her eyes grew large. “You won’t take the job? Even if Christine is so happy, because you won’t be traveling?”
“Whoa. What does Christine have to do with anything?”
“You said your dinner with her last night went really well.”
“Yes. It did. I realized she’s not the woman for me. Besides, you know firsthand there’s no time to breathe, much less get into a relationship right now.”
“Oh.” As she took a breath, her chest swelled and dropped, as if what he’d said was a big deal.
Her gaze returned to him. “So, you’re not taking the job?”
“I’ll talk to Dad, because it’s an excellent opportunity, but I think I’m too pigheaded to take it.”
“I think pigheaded is good. You belong on the PGA tour. I feel it in my bones, Shoo.”
They’d reached the driving range.
He put his hand on the door handle. “If you’d put half the passion into your own life that you do into mine, you’d have a children’s golf school by now.” He smiled. “Not that I’m complaining.”
The Putting Green Whisperer Page 18
