The Putting Green Whisperer

by McCarthy, Zoe M. ;

  Where had the painful lump in her throat come from? Not from her brain, that was for sure. Did God think something other than playing golf for youth was better for Shoo? If God preferred Shoo order golf balls, tees, and golf gloves in a clubhouse back office, why had He given him the green-reading gift?

  A nurse entered the waiting area. “Robert Simpson.” Rob and his mother followed the nurse back to the examination area.

  Shoo watched the teen until the nurse closed the door.

  Allie lowered her gaze. See, God? Shoo cares about youth.

  I care about you.

  She raised her gaze to Shoo. “What?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  Maybe she’d heard his thoughts, like she knew what card to play in Hearts.

  “So, what are you thinking?” She wrapped her arms around her midriff. “About your hand? Your future?”

  “I’ll not lie to you. On the way here, doubts came flooding in. You know, maybe God isn’t calling me to a play on the PGA. Then, I reminded myself that the worst time to start doubting God is during troubles.”

  “If your hand has cracked bones, there’s no way you can play in the McGladrey. So, why else, besides stopping you from playing golf, would God allow your hand to be injured again?” She should have thought before she’d blurted that out. The last thing he needed right now was to be discouraged. But she needed to know why he trusted God.

  “I don’t know, but I believe with all my heart what the Bible says, that God works for my good.”

  That’s what Dad had said minutes ago. Goosebumps rose on her arms.

  The nurse who’d called Rob back returned to the waiting area. “John Leonard.”

  Shoo rose. He smiled down at Allie. “It’ll be all right. No matter what.”

  ~*~

  A baby cried in his father’s arms, a toddler ran from his grandmother, and others sat in waiting-room chairs with pain or worry etched upon their faces. Allie joined the worriers’ camp and nibbled her cuticles.

  Shoo’s brave act calmed her…a little. In truth, act was the wrong word. Shoo genuinely trusted God.

  His dream coming to fruition would be awesome, but when it came down to the winning putt, it wasn’t about her desires. Her love for Shoo aside, if he did or didn’t have a broken bone in his hand, her life wouldn’t change. Either way, she’d finish out caddying for Dad, and then get her life in order. On the other hand, knowing Shoo was on the road to fulfilling his dream would be a nice send-off.

  God, Shoo is so loyal to You. Would You please make his hand be OK?

  It had been fifteen minutes. That wasn’t a good sign. She exhaled a breath and jiggled her knee. This part of loving someone was the pits.

  Other patients left the hospital, and new ones replaced them. Even Rob, wearing a blue cast, passed through with his mom. Allie checked her watch. Twenty-five minutes.

  She pictured Shoo coming out with a cast on his hand and an I’m-still-trusting-God look on his face. No matter how much he said he trusted God, he was still human. He’d be disappointed. How should she help him get past his discouragement? A hug? A fist bump…to his good hand? Ice cream? A movie? List all the things he could still do?

  Shoo exited the door he’d entered a half hour ago. Her gaze zipped to his hand. No cast. She looked up. Shoo wore his killer smile.

  Thank you, God. I’ll remember this.

  As he approached, he lifted his injured hand. “It’s only bruised.”

  “I’m so happy.” She touched his hand as if it were sacred. “I want you to know I prayed, and I’ve thanked God.”

  “All right! That’s good.” The goof looked so pumped.

  She followed him to the payment desk.

  Mental wham. She halted.

  Both Dad and Shoo believed God would work good from Shoo’s injury. Shoo had just claimed her praying and thanking God was good. Was that the good God had worked? Could this whole thing be a divinely orchestrated event? For her? A shiver rippled through her.

  Or, the whole “good” business could be coincidental.

  Shoo paid his co-pay and they headed outside.

  Allie breathed in fresh air, cleansing the floor wax and antiseptic combo from her lungs. “Why did it take them so long to tell you everything was fine?”

  “As soon as the nurse directed me to a room, she and other staff were called away to a more serious case. I would’ve texted you, but there was this sign in the room telling us to keep cell phones turned off.”

  “Let me give Dad the good news.” Allie dug her cell from her pocket and called while they walked to the car. “Hey, Dad. No broken bones and not even a sprain. Just bruised.”

  “Excellent. Chris thought Shoo’s father should know and called him. You better have Shoo give Steve a call.”

  Why had Chris done such a lame thing? “I will. See you tomorrow. Don’t stay out too late.”

  She ended the call and wagged her head. “Chris called your father.”

  They climbed in the car.

  As she eased from the parking space, Shoo powered up his cell and made his call. “Hi, Dad. Everything’s fine. X-ray showed no broken bones.” Shoo listened. “Allie stayed with me.” He looked over at her. “I will. I’m looking forward to seeing you all next week.” Pause. “I love you too.”

  His last words melted her heart. Plain and simple, Shoo and his father loved each other. And that was how it should be.

  Shoo pocketed his phone. “Dad said to tell you hello.”

  She nodded and smiled. Unforced and genuine.

  “Dad said he looks forward to meeting you.”

  22

  So, this was Shoo’s hometown. Allie adjusted the passenger-side thermostat. San Francisco’s weather was a lot cooler than San Antonio’s.

  Dad gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He whistled a repetitive tune under his breath and checked mirrors, windows, and the car’s GPS. Hopefully, in this crazy traffic, other drivers would keep their distance from the guy in the rental.

  They zipped past tall trees with ugly peeling bark but glimmering leaves. The West Coast definitely looked different from the Carolinas, right down to tree species she didn’t recognize.

  Interesting place, but she’d pick the Carolinas any day. Too busy for this southern girl. She’d have to ask Shoo which coast he preferred.

  She missed him. If she missed Shoo after twenty-four hours, how would she ever get over him when they went their separate ways on Monday?

  Last night had been fun. At the driving range, Shoo’s hand had tested remarkably well. Nothing seemed to hold back his game. Not Steve, not missing practice to see Christine, not bodily accidents. He was ready.

  She didn’t know why she’d had it in her head they’d be on the same flight today. Major disappointment. No banter. No looking at the airline’s magazine with all the stuff to buy, and deciding what they’d get each other for their birthdays if they had a million dollars. Instead, Dad had read his legal suspense novel, and she’d slept.

  Dad said something.

  “Sorry?”

  “The San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge.” He pointed to the passenger window. “That’s Treasure Island.”

  “Cool.”

  “You looked absorbed. I didn’t want you to miss it.”

  The late afternoon sun shimmered gold across the water expanses on either side of the bridge. “So, this is the San Francisco Bay.”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s really different out here. I saw trees I’ve never seen on the East Coast.”

  “Probably eucalyptus.”

  “Hmm.”

  Dad powered down his window. Her bangs ruffled and tickled her forehead. She took in a deep breath. Even the sea smelled different from the Atlantic. Salt and car fumes? Was she breathing in smog?

  She probably wouldn’t see much of Shoo this week. His plan to save money and stay with his family was wise. And, with the great basement workout room he’d described, it didn’t make sense
for him to drive an hour to her motel to workout or jog. The same went for her traveling his way. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to hold conversations with Steve, anyway.

  Man, she needed to get used to life without Shoo.

  She looked at Dad. He surveyed the vista before him, clearly enjoying the bridge views.

  Thank heaven she had Dad. After the Cup Championship, she’d spend a few days with Aunt Mae, the wonderful woman who doted on her. Aunt Mae always had a cherry cobbler ready for her, and molasses cookies with mint icing. Allie licked her lips, tasting the yummy cherry cobbler from memory.

  Why did her only aunt have to live a continent away from her? She hadn’t seen Aunt Mae since she’d come east for Dad and Karen’s wedding.

  “I look forward to spending time with Aunt Mae.”

  Dad’s brow wrinkled. “Yes. I’d like to talk to you about something before we visit—”

  ”Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog” played. Shoo. Her heart fluttered as if she were a ditzy California girl at a clambake surrounded by muscular surfers.

  Dad closed his window.

  “Hey.”

  “Are you here?”

  “Yes. We just got off the bridge.”

  “Awesome view. How do you like San Fran?”

  “Big. Busy. Beautiful.”

  “Do you want to scout the Harding Park course with me after the practice round tomorrow?”

  “I thought you were playing golf with your dad.”

  “I found out today that Chris called in from San Antonio and signed up for the practice round. I might as well stay and scout the course then. If you want to, we could go to a driving range after we finish scouting.”

  “Hold on.” She spoke to Dad. “Did you have plans for me tomorrow afternoon or evening?”

  “No. I have the pro-am pairings party at The Olympic Club.”

  She spoke into her cell. “That sounds good.” They ended the call. “You were saying, Dad?”

  “It can wait.” Dad checked the GPS. Then he cast her a glance. “You and Shoo spend a lot of time together.”

  “I’m his trainer, remember. He returns the favor by showing me the ropes on scouting courses.”

  “I can’t complain about that. I look forward to your notes on Harding Park.” He paused. “You two seem to get along well. I’ve been wondering if there’s something more going on between you. Shoo seems to be a nice guy. Chris can’t say enough good things about him.”

  “Really? I’ll have to tell Shoo that.”

  “So?”

  She’d love to blurt out everything to Dad like she used to. Tell him about her unreturned love for Shoo. Tell him how badly she still missed Mom.

  “So?” Dad wasn’t dropping it.

  “So…what?”

  “Don’t sidestep my question, Allie-Face.”

  “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

  He responded to the GPS lady’s interruption and made the next turn. “You’re still avoiding my question.”

  “Shoo’s a nice guy. I like him. As a friend.”

  “OK. If that’s the way you want it.”

  Except Shoo having a chance to show the PGA what he could do, nothing was the way she wanted it.

  ~*~

  Allie flopped face down on her bed, fully dressed. Her nose struck something cold. She raised her head, swiped away the card asking her to reuse her towel for the world’s sake, and dropped her face back onto the bedcover.

  Caddying, walking the course, and training Shoo had done her body in, but her mind was still going strong. On dumb things. What Shoo’s family was like. What Steve might say about Shoo’s career during pork and pears. The McGladrey. And what she would do with her life. If only she could shut down her mental gears.

  Maybe watching TV would shut down her brain. Or…the little romance book someone had left in the bedside table drawer. This morning, she’d had to stop at a good place in the story and meet Dad.

  She drew the paperback from the drawer where she’d re-stashed it.

  The romance was tame, but good. The back cover said it was an inspirational romance, which meant it talked about God. Enjoying it would be her little secret.

  First things first. She placed the book on the bedside table, dragged herself to her feet, and got ready for bed. As she rubbed the motel’s citrus-scented lotion into her hands, she eyed the paperback.

  The hero didn’t realize the heroine had fallen in love with him. When did that ever happen in real life? Ha. Maybe the author would give her some pointers. Hopefully, she wouldn’t suggest the heroine forget the guy and love Jesus. That would be a cop-out.

  Allie slipped into bed, pulled up the covers, and read.

  “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog” played. Who could be interrupting her page-turner? She glanced at the bedside clock. At ten o’clock.

  She stared at Shoo’s name on her cell’s screen. If he’d injured his hand again, she’d kill him. “Hello.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No. What’s the matter?”

  “Dad and Mom are out playing bridge, and my sisters went to bed. I’m not tired. I guess I’ve gotten used to hanging around with Mark and Grady until at least eleven.”

  “So why didn’t you call them?”

  “Because I thought you’d be more forgiving then the guys. They wouldn’t let me live it down, and I’d find a teddy bear in my golf bag.” He chuckled. “So. Are you more forgiving?”

  “I’ll shop for a teddy bear tomorrow.”

  “Shucks.”

  She glanced at the tented book on the blanket. Hey, Romance author, reality trumps fiction every time.

  She ran her hand over the goosebumps on her arm. “OK. So, what do you want to talk about?”

  “Did you know that male seahorses become pregnant?”

  Allie burst out laughing. After a moment, she took a needed breath. “No. I didn’t know that. How do you know about pregnant seahorses?”

  “Gotta love your giggles.”

  “I was laughing, not giggling.”

  “You were giggling. Right at the end of your laugh.”

  “You’re dreaming.”

  “Accept it, Allie. And repeat after me, ‘Hi, my name is Allie, and I’m a giggler.’”

  “You’re such a goof. So answer my question. How’d you know that male seahorses become pregnant?”

  “While I was trying not to call you and wake you, I watched a show on seahorse reproduction. It was really interesting. Get this. The female deposits her eggs in the males brooding pouch. Then he hangs on to a plant with his tail. He fertilizes the eggs and takes care of such things as making the salinity within his brooding pouch match the environment’s salinity. And he supplies oxygen for the little sea horses. Then after several weeks, he contorts forward and backwards and shoots out the baby sea horses. Isn’t that amazing? Oh, here’s another tidbit. Sea horses are monogamous.”

  “I’m sure there’s a message in there.”

  “How about this for a message? This nation needs good fathers. My dad had to be a single father to us kids for a few years. He did a good job, considering he was on tour. He cut down the number of tournaments he entered and even took us with him sometimes. And your father was and is a good father, Allie. He just had a rough time after his wife died.”

  Shoo was right about Dad. And she was sort of getting that, good or bad, Steve meddled because he loved his son.

  “Allie, are you there?”

  Yes, she was, loving every minute, listening to his low voice rich in timbre. Boy, would she miss times like these.

  “Allie?”

  “I’m thinking the message is more like, God got distracted when he designed seahorses.”

  ~*~

  From Allie’s armchair view at the window, she gazed down on the motel parking lot. Dad’s car taillights flared as he stopped at the exit. Any minute, Shoo’s car would turn in, and for one last time, they’d go out together for a bite to eat.

  Dad’s schedule and
the Leonards’ schedules hadn’t worked out for pork and pears at the Leonard house. Although she’d worked up curiosity about Shoo’s family, she wasn’t overly disappointed. Why meet them, anyway? She’d never see them again.

  Tomorrow afternoon, Shoo would be on a flight to Georgia. She missed him already. Maybe he’d look her up in Cary when PGA tournaments led him to North Carolina.

  If the lump in her throat indicated how shaky her emotions could get tonight, the evening would end with mascara surrounding her eyes. Did she have time to wash off the touch she’d applied? She checked her watch. No.

  Stop thinking sad thoughts, Allie Face.

  Ok. How about Dad finishing second? Second place was getting a little old…but in the bigger picture, second was good, right?

  Shoo’s red car turned into the lot. Allie rose and checked herself in the mirror. She tucked her new pink blouse deeper into her tan slacks. The knee-high hose, Suntan #2, did a good job toning down her suntan line above her ankles. She took in a breath. How she looked would have to do.

  Her cell vibrated, and she slipped it from her pocket.

  In lobby.

  She grabbed the small gift bag sprouting bright green tissue and headed for the door, thumbing letters on her screen.

  On my way.

  One look at Shoo standing in the lobby, hair combed and dressed in a blue oxford shirt and crisp jeans, begged her to head back to the elevator. She couldn’t do this. She’d be babbling her love for him before he backed from the parking space. All her self-respect would drop down to her knee-highs.

  Loyal Shoo would track her down, though, and persuade her to join him, tapping his knuckles against her shoulder.

  “You look nice, Allie. Have I seen that blouse before?”

  “Not on me.”

  He chuckled.

  If he said anything about the lipstick and mascara, she’d punch him.

  They strolled out to the car.

  A goofy grin replaced his killer smile. Was he taking her somewhere nice? Some place where steak on the menu lacked the chopped qualifier?