Worth the Drive

by Mara Jacobs

  The story didn’t take Darío long. He wouldn’t go into the details. There weren’t many anyway. He’d felt Katie wanted to be at home. He’d suggested she go. She went.

  But of course, Binky would not be satisfied with that. As Darío started his warm-up routine on the range he waited for the questions to start.

  He’d not even gotten his glove on his hand when they did.

  “So the getting married part?”

  “On hold,” Darío said as he took his pitching wedge out of the bag. He waited for Binky to set some balls up for him. Binky stayed at the bag with his arms folded across his chest. Darío sighed and went to the bucket of balls himself, tipping it over, scooping a few forward with the blade of his club. “You are still an employee, yes?”

  Binky snorted at that, kicked a few more balls forward. “This ‘on hold’. Her doing or yours?”

  “A mutual decision.”

  Another snort. Darío picked his head up and looked around the range. “It sounds like a wild animal is around. Do you see it? Perhaps a wild boar.” He put his head back down and did some warm up swings.

  Binky, perhaps remembering he had a job to do as well, started going through Darío’s bag, counting clubs, checking the ball count, the normal pre-round routine.

  “Let me just ask this. Did she say she wanted to go home, or did you suggest it?”

  Darío hit the ball. It was a good fifteen yards off target, not great when the shots he was practicing first were only fifty yards to begin with.

  “I believe I suggested it.” At Binky’s “Aha” look, he quickly added, “But only because she would not have asked herself. She wanted to go.”

  “How do you know that?”

  What to say? How much to tell? It seemed unfair to Katie to impart the details of their breakup to anyone, even Binky. Besides, his pride wouldn’t let him tell Binky that Katie was still in love with her ex-husband. Husband, he mentally corrected himself, remembering the unsigned divorce papers.

  Did he tell Binky that the last week without Katie had been hell? That putting her on the plane was the hardest thing he’d ever done. That he wouldn’t let the cleaning lady he’d hired for his mother change the pillowcase that Katie’d slept on. That he had horrifying dreams of a baby in distress that he couldn’t save that woke him up in the middle of the night.

  “I could tell she wanted to go home,” was all he said, hoping Binky would let it go at that.

  “How?”

  Darío sighed, hit another ball, which was even further off target. “She was different once we got to Spain. She began to pull away. I think she finally realized what she’d committed to, and it wasn’t what she wanted.”

  Marriage to him had never been what she wanted. She’d been upfront with him about that from the beginning. It was he who’d pressed, who’d said his child would not be born a bastard. Somewhere, for some reason, she’d agreed, but it was clear to Darío now that it was not what she wanted.

  “Because she started to pull away? That could be a hundred different things. Your imagination for one.”

  Darío raised an eyebrow at Binky. He switched to his nine-iron. Binky brought the balls to him this time, took the wedge from Darío, cleaned it, then set it outside the bag.

  “I did not imagine it.”

  Binky nodded, willing to concede the point. “Could be she was nervous around your mother? Or about being in your house, your country. Wondering how’d she fit in. If she’d fit in.”

  Darío shook his head. “She got along very well with my mother. And she seemed to love San Barria.”

  “Okay…could be…” Binky was searching for answers.

  Darío decided to end this discussion. It was like picking at a scab to him. A newly formed, very fragile scab.

  “Could be she is still in love with her husband, and now he has become available to raise her child with her.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “That her husband was now available? In a way.”

  “No, that she still loved him? Did she tell you that herself?”

  Darío turned away, not answering. He took a couple of quick swings with the nine-iron, both shots going way right.

  “Bloody hell. You know what this is? This is just like in Denver, calling the penalty shot on yourself when you didn’t see the ball move.”

  Darío looked at Binky, waiting. “You didn’t see the ball move with Katie, either, Guv,” Binky said, his voice low, insistent.

  Darío looked at Binky for a long moment. His caddy – his friend – seemed to be silently pleading with him. Darío would have liked nothing more than to agree with Binky’s analogy. But it was Katie they were talking about, her happiness. And that was much more important than any golf tournament.

  He lowered his head and, as he had in Denver, said only, “I cannot be sure it didn’t.”

  “Thanks for stopping by,” Katie said as Ron stepped through the doorway of her home. Their home.

  “Of course. No problem,” Ron answered.

  He’d sounded surprised when she’d called him earlier and asked if he could swing by the house. He was composed, now, used to the idea, but she could see the questioning in his eyes. He looked tired, but Katie guessed that’s what worrying about a child – even if it turned out not to be your own – did to you.

  And of course, as always, he looked gorgeous. His hulking frame took up the most of the breakfast nook that Katie led them to. He pulled out a chair – his chair – and sat down. Katie put down a Bud for him and an iced tea for herself and seated herself across from her husband.

  It seemed so familiar, so safe sitting here with him now. As if nothing had changed.

  This was the room where they’d had all their important talks. And the unimportant ones. All the “how was your day?” conversations took place at this table. As well as “pass the salt”. And the baby discussions. So many of them. When they’d first started trying, the talk was all of names, and college funds and fixing up the nursery. Then the conversation slowly turned to concern. Then calendars would be on the table with Dr.’s appointments and best conception days circled. After awhile the table would be littered with infertility information, the baby name books moved to the lesser-used den.

  Here, at this circular cherry table, in this circular room with windows all around, they had formed a life together.

  Katie pushed the brown envelope across the table toward Ron, prepared to legally end that life.

  He put his hand out to take the papers, then pulled them back, as if they might burn. He looked at Katie. His blue eyes, so like her own, were filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite read. Remorse? Tenderness?

  “I’m so sorry about forgetting these. That night we saw you at the Commodore, I came home and started to get them out of my bag and then…” She would skip that part about joining Darío in the shower. Ron didn’t need to hear it, and it was too painful for her to remember anyway. “I got called out of the room. I left town the next day. I thought I’d taken care of it.”

  Ron’s shoulders sagged. “Oh. You thought you’d signed them?”

  “Yes.”

  “So it wasn’t intentional? You not signing them and sending them on to the lawyer.”

  “No.”

  “Not intentional, but maybe subconsciously you didn’t want to sign them?”

  “Now you sound like Alison.”

  He barked a laugh. The last person Ron wanted to be compared to was Alison as they’d always rubbed each other the wrong way. “Does she think there’s a bigger reason for you not signing the papers? Does she agree with me?”

  “She doesn’t know I didn’t send them to the lawyer. She probably assumes that I went home that night after the Commodore, signed them and put them in the mail the next morning. It’s what I’d assumed until I was unpacking my laptop case the other day.”

  He leaned across the table and took her hand as he had done hundred – thousands – of times before. “But you didn’t sign
them. And whether it was unintentional or a subconscious decision or, hell, an unconscious decision, the fact is we’re still married.”

  She looked at his hand placed over hers, so familiar, keeping hers safe and warm. She should take it back, but she didn’t. It was comforting, in a way, just to be touched. With her other hand, she nudged the papers closer to Ron. “They’re signed now.”

  “But not delivered to the lawyer, not posted or whatever it is they do to make it legal, make it final.”

  “I thought you could drop them off at your lawyers. That’s why I asked you here. I thought it better to do this face to face.”

  “Or, we could just run them through the shredder.”

  She should have been stunned, but she wasn’t. She didn’t play dumb, either. “You’re saying this now because you’re hurt, and you’re feeling alone. It’s easy to fall back on the familiar, the safe.” She sure knew what she was talking about. Just having him here in the nook, holding her hand, made the ache she felt from Darío’s absence dull a tiny bit.

  He nodded. “That. And the fact that I never stopped loving you, Katie.”

  She took a deep breath, let it out. “Ron…”

  He held up his free hand to stop her. He gently squeezed her fngers, then let her hand go, sat back in his seat. “I know I screwed up, Katie. You have to know I know how much I hurt you, what me having a child with someone else would do to you. But when Amber told me she was pregnant after only having been with her once, I – ”

  “You only slept with Amber once?” Katie interrupted.

  Ron slowly nodded his head, his blond hair tumbling across his broad forehead. “One drunken night, when I was so hurt that you’d shut me out again and I was feeling so useless…” Katie put her head down. “I’m not making excuses, Katie, really, what I did was so wrong, but I want you to know that I never looked at another woman. Before that night. You were all I ever wanted. All I still want.”

  “I know I shut you out, Ron,” she quietly added. “I felt like such a failure, I just couldn’t face you sometimes. I know I turned away from you, that we should have worked through it together. It should have made us stronger, a team. Instead, it…”

  “Yeah,” he whispered. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “But it’s not too late, Katie, not for us. Now that I’m not with Amber.”

  “What about Crystal?”

  “I told Amber I would help out with her. I love that little girl like she was my own, and if I could raise her without Amber, I would in a second, but I can’t take a child from its mother. I wouldn’t have a legal leg to stand on anyway, with Crystal not being mine.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Ron, I really am. I’ve seen you with that baby, I know how much you love her.”

  He let out a soft sigh. “Thanks, but I guess I got what I deserved. I knew I should have questioned Amber more, demanded an amnio, or blood tests after Crystal was born.” He brushed his hand through his hair, the lock on his forehead tumbling back into place. “I just wanted to believe so badly, you know?”

  Katie only briefly let herself think about Darío questioning the paternity of his child. At some point he had come to believe her. Was it because he’d gotten to know Katie, knew she wasn’t capable of a lie of that magnitude? Or did he just want to believe, like Ron?

  Ron shook her out of her thoughts. “I’ll always want to know what’s going on with Crystal, be a part of her life if I can, but there’s no way I can be with Amber after what she did.”

  “What about Crystal’s real father?”

  “She was sure it was mine, she says. She’s not talking, anyway. Not giving up a name. Hell, this town is full of blue-eyed, blond Finns, it could be anyone.” He leaned forward again. “Let’s talk about us, Katie. Do we have a future? Is there something we can build on? Start over?”

  She leaned back and put her hand on her tummy. She was showing now, there was no mistaking. Ron hadn’t commented thus far on the baby, but she’d seen his eyes on her stomach. He didn’t look surprised, but then she’d figured someone in town had let him know. She’d been counting on it.

  “You’re forgetting about this,” she said, rubbing her belly.

  He smiled. His perfect, even smile, with beautiful, white teeth. “I’m not forgetting about it at all. It makes even more sense for us to be together now that you’re going to have a baby.”

  “But it’s not yours,” she said, stating the obvious.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked around the nook, as if the faded wallpaper held the secret to what he was trying to say. “I was – am – fully prepared to raise Crystal even though she’s not my own. I know you can love another man’s child as much as you do your own. I do. But with Amber in the picture, that’s not going to happen.

  “But to love your child, Katie, that’s a no brainer. To raise that baby as our own, together, to be a family like we’d always talked about…” his voiced trailed off.

  “What about Darío?” The question was more to herself, but she muttered it out loud.

  “You tell me. Where does he play into all of this?”

  “He’s the father.”

  Ron nodded.

  “He wants to be a part of his child’s life.”

  Ron nodded again. “And yours? Does he want to be a part of yours? Because I do, Katie, I do so much.”

  Katie was finding it hard to breath. The nook seemed smaller, somehow, as if all the air was being sucked out. “I…I…”

  Ron held his hand up. He pushed the papers back to her side of the table and stood up. He pushed his chair back in, and stepped behind it.

  “Don’t answer right now. Just think about this. I know I screwed up. But I’m here now, Katie, and I want to start over. I want you to be my wife, to raise your baby together.

  “I’m here, Katie. Where’s Darío?”

  When he passed her, he touched her softly on the cheek. So softly it barely registered. But the tingle stayed with Katie for a long time afterward. As did his words.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  The right way to play golf is to go up and hit the bloody thing.

  - George Duncan, Scottish golfer

  Thank goodness the Tour Championship didn’t have a cut. He’d have been flying back to Spain on Friday night if that were the case. But because the Championship only included the top thirty players on the money list for the year, there was no cut, all the golfers played on the weekend, and so Darío was making the turn to the final nine on Sunday tied for twenty-ninth place.

  It would still be a nice payday, but Darío didn’t feel he deserved the money playing as poorly as he was.

  He had expected to play better. He’d spent the last month and a half since the Spanish Open practicing on the course he’d built in San Barria. For hours. And hours. It was the only time he didn’t think of Katie, when he had a club in his hand and was poised over a ball, so he spent much more time on the course and practice range than he ever had before.

  And even then she’d creep in. He’d be addressing the ball and he’d remember the night they’d first met and her drunken request that he take the same stance in the elevator so she could admire his forearms.

  He’d put on sunscreen and remember the spot on her forehead that she always missed which would end up bright pink.

  He’d brush his hair back, and replace his cap and picture her doing the same, adjusting her blonde ponytail through the back hole.

  He considered it a cruel joke that the Championship this year was being played in Texas. At least it wasn’t Irving. But even Houston still felt too reminiscent to him.

  Only nine more holes and he could leave. Return to Spain for the remainder of the year. Wait to hear from Katie that their child was born.

  After the tenth hole, moving away from the clubhouse, their gallery, which was sparse to begin with, thinned out even more. The leaders were teeing off now, and the fans would want to follow those groups, not the players competing for last place.


  As they teed up on eleven, Darío saw a flash of a bobbing ponytail down the fairway ropes that caught his eye. The woman was walking down the fairway, too far away for Darío to see her face, even if she had been facing him and not walking in the other direction. To where his ball would probably land.

  To where someone who knew his game would most likely stand.

  Dios Mio, it couldn’t be.

  His playing partner hit his ball and Darío stepped to the tee for his turn. He teed the ball then took his normal four paces behind it to line up where he wanted to hit his shot. But his eye did not find a place in the fairway where he wanted his ball to land. Nor did it look out for any obstacles to avoid.

  His gaze was solely on the woman walking down the fairway. She was the right height. And the ponytail swayed across her back in a rythymn that Darío certainly recognized. But perhaps that was the way with all women and ponytails? Darío didn’t think so.

  The marshal mistook Darío’s hesitance for a waiting of the people moving along the fairway ropes to settle. He stepped up to the tee box and lifted his “Quiet” sign. “Hold, please,” he said loudly enough for those halfway down the fairway to hear him. He stepped back and gave Darío the “all clear” signal.

  The woman with the ponytail stopped and began to turn. Finally, Darío would get to see her face. It was a distance away, but Darío knew he would never mistake Katie’s face for any other.

  But it wasn’t her face that Darío saw first when the woman turned. It was her belly. Her large, beautiful, swelling tummy.

  Darío’s arms went weak, the club fell right out of his hands. He looked to Binky for help. For confirmation that he wasn’t losing his mind. Binky had followed his line of vision, must have seen Katie. He looked at Darío with a smirk. “Don’t like the club selection, Guv?”

  Darío looked at him as if he spoke a foreign language. Binky nodded toward Darío’s club on the ground in front of him.