James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  Chapter Thirty

  Libby Tipton was one of those gals that was laid back and grounded. She was a product of a normal, middle-class upbringing. Her dad had been the bread winner of the family and was the owner of the local furniture store that sat at Sixth and Maple for three generations. Her mother raised two boys and two girls, had supper on the table every night at six and had hustled all the kids to school activities on a daily basis.

  Like Rayelene, Libby ended up working for the city in the Parks and Recreation Department. She had married her childhood sweetheart and was the perfect sounding board for Rayelene’s troubles. It was not surprising that Rayelene sought her advice as the two shared lunch.

  Sitting at a picnic table under the shade of an old oak, Rayelene enjoyed the gentle summer breeze and how it moderated the heat. Robins chirped and purple martins darted for insects while the blue jays and cardinals continued their daily spat. Munching on a celery stick she turned to Libby and said, “It’s been almost two weeks now and I haven’t heard a thing from Nada.”

  “That’s not right. Have you called his work?”

  “Why do that?”

  “Aren’t you worried about him?”

  “You’re not the wife of a trucker. There are a lot of times where I’ll go for days without hearing from him.” Rayelene took a swig of diet soda. “He’s such a dumb bunny. He knows where the milk is and he’ll come to the back porch when he gets hungry.”

  “Yeah, but two weeks?” Libby asked.

  Rayelene put her hands to her head and pressed on her temples. “That is a little long,” she agreed. She closed her eyes and pressed harder on her head recalling the last time she had seen her husband. “Maybe he really was pissed off.”

  Libby looked confused. “About what?”

  “I turned the hose on him again.”

  “For drinking too much?”

  Rayelene shook her head back and forth. “He bought me a car that didn’t have no tires.”

  “That sounds like a nice thing for him to do.” Events didn’t add up for Libby. “What kind was it?”

  “An old red Corvette,” Rayelene said as she opened and shut her eyes trying to alleviate the pain in her head.

  “What?” Libby asked, astounded.

  “It looked so silly sitting up in the air on blocks of wood,” Rayelene continued.

  “I imagine he was,” Libby said.

  “What?” Rayelene asked.

  “Pissed off.”

  “Do you think?”

  “Of course. He went out and did something nice for you and got soaked.”

  “But I couldn’t drive it,” Rayelene persisted.

  “So,” Libby said. “Did he say why?”

  “He said the old ones were worn out and he had some new ones ordered.”

  “And they probably didn’t come in on time,” Libby rationalized. “When did he say that he’d get them?”

  “Later on that afternoon.”

  Libby put her sandwich down and turned toward Rayelene. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Rayelene pressed her nose by the corners of her eyes. “I was in a bad mood.”

  “Why?”

  Rayelene bowed her head. “The pro at the golf course didn’t pay much attention to me.”

  Libby was incredulous. “He has a job to do. Maybe he was busy.”

  “He has time for Owen.”

  “He’s there to play golf.”

  “Yeah, but . . .” Her sentence was cut short as one of the girls at the front desk approached the table.

  “This got delivered for you about five minutes ago. I thought you might want it.” The girl placed the letter on top of the picnic table, turned and walked away.

  Rayelene picked up the envelope and studied it. “Who is it from?” Libby asked.

  “Douglas, Jackson and Howard,” Rayelene said as she opened the letter.

  “That’s a law firm,” Libby said.

  Rayelene started reading the letter. A few seconds later she placed it on the table. “That ass.”

  “Who?”

  “Nada.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He filed for a divorce.” Stunned, a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “What?” Libby reached for the letter. “On what grounds?”

  “No. No.” Rayelene cried. “I don’t know.” Unable to respond further, she leaned over and placed her head on Libby’s shoulder.

  Libby glanced at the contents of the letter. “It says irreconcilable differences, cruel treatment and spousal indignities.”

  “I always told him the best thing to happen to me would be if he left.”

  “It looks like you’re about to find out.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “J Dub, you better get yourself a task to do,” Julie said as she forewarned her boss. From her perch behind the counter she peered out the window and saw Rayelene parking the minivan.

  “What now?”

  “Your number one fan is about ready to barge through the door.”

  Opur was out of earshot. He was busy putting on the practice green. “You’re going to have to tell her that I’m married,” J Dub pleaded. He grabbed a bar rag and wiped down the counter.

  “I can’t always do your dirty work for you,” Julie replied. She glanced out the window again and saw Rayelene walk over to the practice green and talk to Opur.

  “Maybe I’ll sneak out the back door so I won’t have to massage her feet again,” J Dub proposed.

  Julie snickered. “You have to say goodbye to the boy wonder.” After watching mother and son interact she added, “And I think she might have another present for you.”

  “That’s the last thing I need,” J Dub sighed, “more chocolate covered cherries.”

  “It’s hard to tell what she has in that other bag,” Julie said. “But I’ve got a feeling you’ll find out in a few more minutes. It doesn’t look big enough for a box of candy.”

  Even though J Dub liked teaching Opur the game of golf and establishing a bond with the kid, his mother was becoming a distraction. “It’s my job to be cordial,” he said.

  Moments later Rayelene and Opur walked through the door of the clubhouse. It was evident the second that she came through the door that her mood was subdued. Instead of her bubbly, friendly attitude, Rayelene’s demeanor was reserved.

  “Are you here to take him home for the night?” Julie asked, fully knowing the answer to the question.

  “Yeah,” Rayelene answered. She had a little extra blush and had added black liner to make her eyes sparkle. As always her toes appeared freshly polished and buffed. The culottes magnified her derriere and an extra button on her blouse had purposely been left undone. A band tied her hair back and she wore a golf visor.

  “You look like you’re ready to play a round,” J Dub uttered innocently enough.

  The minute Rayelene heard the words her eyes locked onto J Dub. They followed to his smart-looking golf shirt from his broad shoulders down to his tapered waist. She admired his flat abdomen and long legs. Then she raised her eyes to his tan face and allowed them once again to meet his. “With who?”

  It was too late. J Dub raised his hand to his brow, rubbed his forehead and sneaked a peek at Julie who was stifling a hearty laugh. She turned her back to the group and feigned a look out the window. “Uh . . . well . . . it’s just a . . . you know . . . figure of speech,” J Dub stammered. “Play a round of golf.”

  “Oh,” Rayelene said sounding disappointed. She reached into her bag and pulled out a camera.

  “No chocolate covered cherries today?” Julie asked.

  “No,” Rayelene answered. “I’ve got to watch my weight now that . . .” She stopped, patted her butt and then continued. “Oh, never mind.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a new golf shirt. Turning to Opur she said, “Now put this on. I want to get some pictures of you.” As Opur scurried off to the downstairs locker room Rayelene parked herself on a stool, kicked off a sandal and ben
t her leg so that one of her feet was resting on the chair seat.

  “How’s your foot doing?” J Dub asked. Julie looked to the ceiling and turned back around wondering if her boss would ever get a clue.

  “Okay,” Rayelene replied. “Do you think you could rub it again?”

  “It’s probably at that stage of healing where it should be left alone,” J Dub answered.

  “But it feels so much better when you massage all of the tension out of it,” Rayelene replied wiggling her toes.

  “He just washed his hands and has to serve food to the guys making the turn,” Julie butted in. She moved between the two and gave J Dub a nudge.

  “Oh,” Rayelene said once again rebuffed. “Do you have a second then to take our picture?”

  “Sure, I can do that,” J Dub said happy to help.

  “I thought maybe we could get a picture of me and Owen with him holding his putter.” She reached for the camera and handed it to J Dub. “That’s all he talks about anymore.” Opur bounded up the stairs. “Come here and let’s tuck that shirt in a little better than that.” Rayelene jumped off of the stool, pulled the shirt at the shoulders and tucked it into the back of his shorts so that it hung nicer on his frame.

  “Where did you have in mind?” J Dub asked.

  “Can we go out to the green?” Rayelene asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” J Dub said. The trio headed for the door. “Can you watch the register, Julie?” She nodded. “We’ll be right back.”

  “I was thinking that the three of us could get in the picture together,” Rayelene chimed in.

  Julie looked hesitantly at her boss but intuitively knew that it would be quicker to agree than to waste time arguing. “Come on. There’s no one in here right now. I’ll lock the register and we’ll shoot a few.” The quartet exited the clubhouse.

  First Opur and Rayelene were together. Then J Dub and Opur stood next to each other. Finally J Dub, Rayelene and Opur stood together in a group. Julie feverishly clicked away. “That was easy enough,” J Dub said. He turned to Opur. “You’ll look back on that twenty years from now and wonder who that old man is in the picture.” He took a step toward the clubhouse.

  “Can’t we have our picture taken together?” Rayelene cried out. The suggestion that J Dub was walking away so soon infuriated her.

  J Dub looked at Julie but once again it was too late. An awkward scene would have erupted had he declined. “Sure. One more quick one.”

  Rayelene hurried to his side and turned slightly toward him as she slipped her right arm around his waist. With her left hand she adjusted his collar. When she felt that everything was in place she broke into a broad smile. “Take several in case the first one doesn’t turn out,” she yelled to Julie as her breasts pushed against his left bicep. Julie snapped away.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  As the minivan pulled into the driveway Opur turned to Rayelene and referenced J Dub. “Mom, he’s taught me so much about golf. I think the world of him.”

  The woman searched for a way to tell her son about the events earlier in the day. “It’s okay to feel like that about another guy.”

  “But he’s not my dad.”

  “Sometimes other men can teach you about things that your real dad can’t,” Rayelene started. “Everyone comes from a different background.” It had become obvious that she was enamored with the head pro. “He can teach you a different part of life that your dad can’t. Especially when he’s gone as much as he is.”

  “So it’s okay for me to like him as much as Dad?”

  Rayelene’s eyes were moist. She pulled the van into the single car garage and threw it into park. After reaching for her purse she grabbed a tissue and dabbled at her nose. “Sure it is.”

  Opur couldn’t help but notice his mother’s unhappiness. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  Initially Rayelene tried to view Nada as a bad guy to ease her pain, but the thought quickly faded as she was overcome by guilt. “I want you to learn as much as you can from him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your dad’s not going to be coming home anymore.”

  “What happened?” Opur asked. “He didn’t get in an accident did he?”

  “No, no, no,” Rayelene said as she wiped the sniffles from her nose. “He wants a divorce.” She broke down and reached across the front seat to hug her son.

  Opur was stunned. He had grown up in a two-parent household. That was all he knew. “Why?”

  “He said that we don’t get along anymore.”

  “Is it because you always spray him with water?”

  “It’s got to be more than that,” Rayelene answered. “I’ve done that ever since we were in high school.”

  Opur broke away from Rayelene’s grasp and opened the passenger door. “What are we going to do?”

  Rayelene looked at her son and realized that their bond might be tested. She looked at the tiny details of his face, his hair and his hands. “You and I are going to have to stick together.” She pulled herself together. “We’ll make it.”

  Disappointed, Opur moved to exit the minivan. “I’m going out to ride my bike.”

  “You’re not going to help me?” Rayelene asked. “I will when I get back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the park,” Opur answered as he climbed on his bicycle. The city park was across the street.

  “Then be careful and get back before it gets dark,” Rayelene reminded her son. “I’m going to take a bath while you’re gone.”

  Opur took off down the driveway. He headed for the pavilion and playground where some other neighborhood kids as well as Johnnie Shaw were playing.

  Feeling a sudden sense of loneliness unlike she had ever experienced, Rayelene entered the home and proceeded to the bathroom. The small room was modest. A bathtub was at one end, shower curtain tucked inside the porcelain. A toilet sat between the tub and one-sink vanity.

  Rayelene had put her personal touch on the bathroom. Knick-knacks occupied a shadowbox that hung on the wall. A small plant sat in a maroon vase atop the toilet tank. Matching towels and wash cloths hung on the rack.

  She took her housecoat off the hanger on the back of the door, bent over to close the drain and started the water in the tub. After opening the door to the vanity Rayelene reached for several scented candles. One by one she lit the wicks and quietly enjoyed the ambiance they provided.

  She walked into the living room and turned on the stereo for the right soothing music to temper her mood. Rayelene re-entered the bathroom, kicked off her sandals and slowly let her clothes fall to the floor. The candlelight flickered as she stood nude in front of the mirror.

  Her mouth formed a frown. Her body, once firm and perky, was starting to sag. She placed a hand under a breast and pushed it up only to be disappointed when it sagged back down. The stomach chain, a sexy staple in her youth, took on an odd look for an older woman. She turned sideways and noticed an extra five pounds that seemed to have found their way to her drooping derriere.

  She reflected. Life was catching up to her. Now her marriage was being transformed. Her figure, albeit still trim, had been the magnet that attracted the opposite sex for years. Now it was showing signs of age. Would another man find her appealing?

  The disappointment was unnerving. Her eyes fell to the floor. Then a look of pleasure returned. Rayelene had noticed her feet. They were her pride and joy. She lifted her right foot and placed it on the countertop. She admired her self-administered pedicure. The polish was fire-engine red. The nails manicured to perfection. The anklet suggested a sexual openness.

  A moment later Rayelene slowly eased her way into the warm water in the tub.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Johnnie! Johnnie!” Opur yelled as he noticed his neighborhood friends playing a block away on the far end of the city park.

  Three large piles of gravel had been dumped on the parking lot. The city had planned to spread the pea-sized rock across the
parking surface and cover it with a layer of oil. Every third or fourth summer that project was budgeted to maintain the surface.

  Johnnie Shaw hopped onto his bicycle and rode to meet his friend. “You need to come on down and ride your bike over the mounds. We’ve got our own little obstacle course.”

  Opur looked skeptically at his friend. ‘What do you mean?”

  “We’ve been racing! It’s like riding a dirt bike!” he could hardly contain himself. “We set up a figure-eight racing path and you can skid on the loose gravel and even hop from one pile to the other.”

  “Who wins?”

  “The guy that wipes the other one out!” Johnnie showed Opur the scrapes on his forearm and raised his shorts to reveal a skinned knee.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  Johnnie shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe a little. But who cares? We’re having fun.” It wasn’t like there was a lot for the boys to do in the small town.

  “It can’t be any worse than skateboarding,” Opur said. He had plenty of skirmishes with the pavement in that sport.

  “Hop on your bike and join us,” Johnnie urged. “Come on,” he said as he peered down the road toward the three piles of gravel. “I’ll race you.”

  Opur looked at the piles and then back at Johnnie. “Let me tell my mom.” He ran to the front door, cracked it open and yelled. “Mom! I’m going to ride bikes with Johnnie!” Before the last word was out of his mouth the door slammed shut. “Betcha can’t beat me!” Opur yelled as he pedaled down his driveway and onto the street.

  Johnnie accepted the challenge. In a matter of seconds the kids were high-tailing it down the rural oil road. The three piles of gravel grew larger as the boys neared their destination. Johnnie fell behind by the length of a bike. “I bet at this speed we can go up the ramp and jump all three piles.” His legs churned faster. His butt rose up off of the bicycle seat. The bike swayed from left to right as he pedaled harder.