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Mulligan

Page 9

by K. G. MacGregor

entered the small study and

  booted up her desktop computer.

  She had only one message today,

  this one from Spartan01. Louise

  smiled as she recognized the

  moniker for her former student,

  Michelle Sanders.

  Michelle was in Louise's

  homeroom for all four years of

  high school, and in her math class

  for three. It was clear as early as

  her sophomore year that the girl

  had a fierce crush on her math

  teacher, but Louise was careful to

  neither encourage it, nor to push

  the impressionable student away.

  By her senior year, the crush had

  run its course, but as the teacher

  made plans to retire and move to

  Florida, Michelle asked if it would

  be okay to correspond by email.

  The two traded friendly notes

  about once a month. At first, they

  chatted about Michelle's

  experiences as a freshman at

  Slippery Rock State University,

  where to her former teacher's

  delight, she'd decided to pursue a

  teaching degree in mathematics.

  Over time, Michelle began to

  share things of a more personal

  nature, and it was clear to Louise

  that the girl was probing for

  permission to be candid. When the

  teacher responded with genuine

  warmth and openness, Michelle

  told her that she was beginning to

  come to terms with her own sexual

  identity. She'd been pretty sure in

  high school that she was gay, but

  wasn't ready to follow that path.

  But having the chance to meet

  other lesbians at college had given

  her the courage to come out to

  herself, to her close friends, and

  to her favorite teacher.

  Today's note was a nice surprise!

  Hi Miss Stevens,

  Our semester is almost over! I'm

  already cramming for finals, but I

  think I'll make the dean's list

  again. I wanted to let you know

  that I'll be visiting my

  grandmother in Sarasota with my

  family over Thanksgiving. We fly

  in on Wednesday night and stay

  until Sunday morning. I see on the

  map that Sarasota is pretty close

  to Cape Coral, so I was wondering

  if there was any chance we could

  get together for lunch or

  something. It would be really nice

  to see you again, and I'd love to

  get some career advice. Let me

  know if you think it would work

  out, but if not, that's okay and I

  hope you have a very nice

  Thanksgiving

  Love, Michelle

  It would be fun to see Michelle

  again, Louise thought as she hit

  the reply key. She really enjoyed

  staying connected to the likable

  young lady, and wished in a way

  that Marty could meet her so she

  could get just a little idea of what

  life had been like for her at the

  front of the classroom. But an

  invitation like that was sort of

  risky, she thought. Michelle

  certainly wasn't stupid, and it

  wouldn't take her long to figure

  out who exactly Marty was. That

  part of her life was private, not at

  all something Louise wanted to

  share with people from her

  school.

  Dear Michelle,

  That's wonderful news about the

  dean's list, though I'm not the

  least bit surprised. And it's great

  news too that you're coming down

  with your family for Thanksgiving.

  Of course I'd love to see you

  again. Friday or Saturday would

  work for me, so if you'll set one

  of those days aside, I'll plan

  something. You want career

  advice? Retire! Have a safe

  trip down. I'm really looking

  forward to seeing you again.

  Love, Louise Stevens

  The teacher had never made any

  bones at all about the fact that

  she loved each and every one of

  her students. To herself, she

  acknowledged that she loved some

  more than others, and Michelle

  was definitely one of those. It had

  touched Louise's heart to watch

  the young woman struggle so

  awkwardly with the teenage social

  scene. Truth be told, it had

  reminded her of her own

  uncomfortable adolescence.

  "I wish you could meet her, Marty.

  She's such a sweet girl." Louise

  deposited her partner's dinner

  tray on the coffee table and

  returned to the kitchen to

  retrieve her own. The hockey

  wars were on tap tonight, with

  Louise's Pittsburgh Penguins

  taking on Marty's Tampa Bay

  Lightning on TV.

  "Why don't you invite her over for

  dinner?"

  Louise shook her head. "I don't

  know, sweetheart. I just…” she

  trailed off.

  "Are you ashamed of me, Lou?"

  Marty asked, mostly joking.

  "No, of course not! But Rhonda

  and I always kept our relationship

  quiet at school. I mean a lot of

  people might have thought they

  knew something, but no one really

  knew for sure because we never

  told a soul."

  "Didn't people ever come to your

  house?"

  "Yeah, but we had separate

  bedrooms."

  Marty looked at her in amazement.

  "Not separate like that, I mean

  separate just for appearance

  sake," Louise clarified. "I think some people just thought we were

  old maids. Every now and then, I'd

  hear something whispered by the

  kids, but it just wasn't talked

  about out loud, you know?"

  "Yeah, I was more discreet when

  Katie was growing up because I

  didn't want her friends to give

  her a hard time. But she's the one

  who told me to be myself, that

  she'd handle it."

  "That's because you and your

  daughter had a good relationship."

  "That's true," Marty agreed. She

  and Katie had always been close.

  "And because there were times

  that she was more mature than

  her mother."

  "Well that's still true, isn't it?"

  she teased. "You know, I bet more

  people know about you and me than

  knew about Rhonda and me, and we

  were together 31 years. Of

  course, I helped that along by that

  little scene in the pro shop at Elk

  Ridge," the proud woman muttered

  sheepishly.

  Marty chuckled at the memory,

  but it certainly hadn't been funny

  at the time. Louise had been so

  worried that she'd declared her

  love in front of all the people who

  had gathered around to watch the

  paramedics deal with her bout of

  the flu. "You know, honey, it meant

  a lot to me that you s
aid those

  things in front of everybody."

  Without warning, tears sprang to

  Louise's crystal blue eyes as she

  relived that moment and the one

  that changed her life forever.

  Marty immediately pushed her

  dinner tray away and scooted

  closer to her lover, wrapping her

  in a comforting hug.

  "I didn't say those things to

  Rhonda when she died, Marty. Not

  because they weren't true, but

  because other people were

  listening," she said as she began

  to sob. To this day, she was

  ashamed that she'd chosen

  propriety over telling Rhonda one

  last time that she loved her.

  "It's okay, Lou. Rhonda knew how

  you felt about her." Marty rocked

  her partner slightly as she

  stroked the gray hair. It was hard

  sometimes not to feel a little

  jealous when Lou talked with such

  emotion of her former lover, but

  those feelings always prompted

  pangs of guilt that Rhonda was

  gone and Marty was here reaping

  the benefits.

  Louise wasn't about to let herself

  off the hook that easily. Of

  course Rhonda had known, but the

  lack of candor had left her with

  things she had wanted to say one

  more time. She vowed never to

  miss an opportunity to remind

  Marty that she was loved.

  "Do you know how I feel about

  you, little one?"

  "Little one? Hello! Have you seen

  my ass lately, Lou? I can hardly

  get my pants zipped! And every

  time I turn around, you're filling

  my plate, and can I just say 'No

  thank you'? No! I have to eat

  every bite because it's all

  delicious and decadent and you

  fixed it with your loving hands.

  You better hope I outlive you,

  sweetheart, because if I don't,

  you're going to have to bury me in

  a piano case!"

  Louise burst out laughing at

  Marty's self-deprecating diatribe,

  not missing the chance to reach

  around and squeeze the derriere

  in question. She loved how easily

  her lover moved her from sadness

  to joy.

  "Now don't go rubbing it like that!

  You're going to stimulate it and

  make it grow even bigger!"

  Louise quickly brought her hands

  back in front and cupped the

  blonde woman's already large

  breasts.

  "And if those get any bigger, I

  won't be able to see to putt," she

  laughed, enjoying her partner's

  sudden playfulness, especially in

  the wake of such a sad moment.

  "Marty Beck, you are so good for

  me!"

  The green eyes sparkled with

  happiness. "You're good for me,

  too, Lou… even if you are making

  me fat! But if you keep this up,

  we're going to have to sleep on

  the floor."

  "Okay by me." Louise didn't mind

  one bit that her already stocky

  lover had put on about 10 pounds

  during their first year together,

  though both of them needed to

  watch that as they got older. They

  were getting lots of exercise, and

  both got regular checkups.

  "Hey, I have an idea!" Marty's

  attention went back to what had

  started the conversation. "Does

  Michelle play golf?"

  "As a matter of fact, she does. Or

  at least she took it as her physical

  education elective last year.

  That's a good idea! I could bring

  her out for a round and introduce

  the two of you."

  "Okay, but if I see her flirting

  with you, I'm going to take her

  out."

  "She isn't going to flirt with me! I

  told you, she got over all that."

  "I find it pretty hard to believe

  somebody could get over you, Lou."

  Marty said the sweetest things.

  "Do I look okay?" Michelle

  Sanders had fretted for a week

  about what to wear, finally talking

  her mom into buying her some

  brand new shorts and a golf shirt.

  Both of her parents were pleased

  at the chance to see their

  daughter's former favorite

  teacher again.

  "You look great!" Louise enthused.

  Her own outfit was one that Marty

  had given her for her birthday

  back in September, long black

  pants and a colorful shirt with a

  blue vest. "And your mom and dad

  are so proud of you!"

  "Yeah, but unlike you, I think

  they're surprised about how well

  I've done in school," the

  sophomore joked.

  "I don't really think so," the

  former teacher said seriously as

  they got into the car. "They know

  how smart you are."

  "Well you're about to find out

  what a terrible golfer I am."

  "It's just for fun, you know. I was

  just kidding with your dad about

  that dollar-a-hole thing."

  "Oh, sure you were. But I brought

  cash just in case."

  "No, you're my guest today,

  Michelle. So tell me some more

  about your friends. Who all do you

  keep up with from Westfield?"

  On the hour-long drive back to the

  Cape, Michelle filled her teacher

  in on all the gossip about her

  classmates. For Louise, it was

  almost as good as being there. She

  really missed her teaching days,

  and still intended to volunteer at

  the high school one of these days.

  Meeting Marty Beck had put those

  plans on hold.

  "Here we are. Welcome to Pine

  Island Country Club."

  "Wow! This is nice. Are you sure I

  look alright?"

  "You look fine. Stop worrying.

  Besides, we're probably going to

  play in the water, in the sand, and

  in the woods today, so you

  wouldn't want to be wearing your

  Sunday best."

  The pair got out and opened the

  trunk. Inside were two sets of

  clubs, one belonging to Louise, the

  other to Rhonda. Michelle realized

  it right away when she spotted the

  monogrammed bag.

  "These were Miss Markosky's

  clubs!"

  "That's right. And you have the

  honor of being the first person to

  use them in over four years." It

  was a very sentimental moment

  when she'd taken her former

  lover's clubs from the closet, but

  Louise had no misgivings at all

  about letting Michelle use them.

  Rhonda wouldn't have minded one

  bit.

  "Boy, that really is an honor."

  Together, they entered the

  clubhouse, where Louise

  immediately went to browse the

  racks when she saw that Marty

  was busy behind the counter. If

/>   she killed a little time, she could

  make the introduction right here

  as they were signing in.

  "Can I help you ladies with

  something?" The blonde golf pro

  finally sauntered over to where

  they were looking at jackets,

  eyeing the lanky youth with her

  partner.

  "I don't need anything, but I think

  my friend here could use a visor."

  "I think we can fix her right up."

  "That's a good idea," Michelle

  agreed readily, reaching into her

  back pocket for her wallet. It

  would be kind of nice to have

  something with the club name on

  it, since it would always be a

  reminder of her favorite teacher.

  "Michelle, this is my very dear

  friend, Marty Beck. She's one of

  the first people I met when I

  moved down here. Marty, I'd like

  you to meet one of my favorite

  students from 39 years at

  Westfield High School, Michelle

  Sanders."

  Marty smiled. "Hi Michelle, and

  welcome to Pine Island. Any friend

  of Lou Stevens is a friend of

  mine."

  "Pleased to meet you, Miss Beck."

  "Miss Beck!" Marty wailed. "Here, you can have this visor with my

  compliments if you promise never

  to call me that again!"

  All three women laughed.

  "The greens were cut this

  morning, so they're pretty quick.

  The pin placement is Number 3."

  "Back center?"

  "That's right. Have fun, and stop

  by later and let me know how you

  did." Marty looked up to catch her

  lover's wink and smiled broadly.

  "She's really nice," Michelle

  remarked as they walked out to

  the cart.

  "She sure is, but we didn't really

  hit it off the first couple of times

  I met her."

  "Really? I can't imagine you not

  hitting it off with anybody."

  "Well, she's… a kidder. I guess it

  took me a while to get used to it."

  "Yeah, I worry sometimes that no

  one gets my weird sense of humor

  and they just think I'm a dork."

  "You're not a dork. And you look

  fine," she repeated, tugging on the

  bill of the brand new visor. "Let's

  play some golf!"

  As expected, the novice golfer

  was all over the course, in the

  water, in the woods, and in the

  sand. By mutual agreement, they

  stopped counting strokes after

  eight, and Michelle beat that only

  three times on the front nine.

  "So what's this about career

  advice?" Louise asked as they

  stopped to clean their balls on

  Number 10.

  Michelle drew a deep breath, not

  quite knowing how to broach the

  topic, but really needing some

  guidance. She had imagined this

 

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