Honesty - SF8 (23 page)

After the group finished the ninth hole, they were once again close to the clubhouse, and Catherine stopped in to buy a bottle of water. When she returned to the course, she had to rush to catch up. Cutting across an empty fairway, she saw a familiar figure half-lurking behind a pine tree. Marching up to him, she tapped her husband on the shoulder and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing you are," he snapped, obviously miffed at having been spotted. "I’m here to support my daughter."

"Uh-huh," she said suspiciously. "Rather hard to do when you’re hiding behind trees, isn’t it?"

"Look Catherine," he said, in a tone of voice that made her name sound harsh and unattractive, "I know she doesn’t want to see me now, but someday she will. I don’t want her to look back at this time and regret that we didn’t share it. Just because she’s angry with me doesn’t stop me from trying to be a good father."

She was actually rather impressed by that statement, and she decided to be honest about her feelings. "That’s quite thoughtful of you, Jim. I hope things do work out that way and that you can someday share your pride with her."

He looked down the fairway, spotting Jamie’s compact form as he said, "She’s really something, isn’t she?"

"Yes, she is," Catherine agreed. "We’re both lucky…luckier than we deserve," she couldn’t help but add.

He looked at her for a moment, tilting his head as if he was going to ask her a question, but then he stopped and just sighed. "I want to watch her putt. This is a hole she can probably make birdie on."

"Okay," she said. "I think it’s wise not to let her see you, Jim. At this point it would probably upset her game."

His shoulders slumped perceptibly as he admitted, "I know that, Catherine." He left without saying goodbye, and she felt the same old twinge of sadness that settled over her whenever they saw each other lately. It felt like a combination of nostalgia, longing, and the stark realization that whatever they had once shared was now centered around one 21-year-old woman.

Jamie won the match decisively, and she was ebullient when Catherine caught up with her outside the locker room. "I have to call Ryan and leave her a message," she bubbled.

"Oh, I’ve spoken to her three times already, Honey. She called me right before she left for volleyball practice. It was obvious that victory was assured at that point, and she told me to tell you that she loves you and is very proud of you."

"That is so sweet!" Once again, Jamie threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tight.

"She loves you, Dear, of course she’s proud of you."

"No! It’s so sweet that you called her to keep her informed." Giving Catherine her third rib crusher of the day she said, "I couldn’t have picked a better mother!"

At that moment, Catherine could have floated back to San Francisco, having never felt more connected to, or more proud of, her child.

As Catherine settled into her seat on the plane, the steward approached and asked, "Mrs. Evans? There seems to be a slight error with the seat assignments. It appears as though Mr. Evans is sitting in the other row. Should we move him back here?"

Marvelous!
she thought, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.
Well, we don’t speak in San Francisco, maybe an enforced confinement will do the trick.
"That would be lovely," she heard herself say.

As usual, Jim was the last one on the plane, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw that he was assigned the seat right next to his wife. "I thought you’d be staying over," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"No. I just wanted to be there for her first match. That was enough."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking less confident than she had ever seen him. "Umm…should I ask to be moved?"

"No. I’m perfectly willing to be civil for an hour or so. How about you?"

Giving her a wry grin he advised, "I think I can handle it, Catherine. I’m paid $450 an hour to be civil to my adversaries."

"Well," she said, letting out a sigh. "I hate to think that’s my role, but if you do…"

He slipped into the spacious leather seat and gave her knee a hesitant pat. "No, I didn’t mean it that way. There’s no need for us to be adversarial."

She nodded, and turned her head slightly to gaze out the window. Lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear him say, "Do you remember the first time I took her to the golf course with me?"

A gentle, fond smile settled on her face as she asked, "That depends," she said. "Do you mean when you used to make me ride in the cart, carrying her in her infant seat? Or when you bought her first little set of clubs?"

"Oh, I wasn’t that bad," he chuckled, but quickly nodded and said, "I only took you with me a couple of times when she was an infant. I just wanted her to get a feel for the experience."

"She certainly did," Catherine said. "I can still see that determined little face all scrunched up into a scowl, trying to mimic your swing. I swear, those were the world’s tiniest golf clubs!"

"Some of my fondest memories are of the two of you, sitting on the grass, watching me warm up on the driving range." He bit his lip, looking like he was holding back tears as he choked out, "I thought we’d always be together."

She wasn’t sure if he meant him and Jamie, or the three of them, but whatever his intent, she felt a deep pang of sympathy for him. Through all of their troubles, through all of Jim’s betrayals and broken promises, there was a glimmer of love that still remained, and she let that flickering emotion show as she reached over and squeezed his hand. His head dropped to her shoulder and reflexively she reached up and smoothed her hand through his hair. They stayed that way for a long while, neither wanting to give up the tentative, fragile connection.

She continued to stroke his face as he whispered, "Will she ever forgive me, Cat? I can’t…I can’t bear it if she’ll never speak to me again."

"She’s hurt and she’s angry, Jim. But she has a very generous heart. If you can apologize and make her believe that you’ve learned that you were wrong…"

He sat up immediately, recoiling against the far corner of his chair as he said, "But I’m can’t! I’m not wrong!" He was blinking in surprise, obviously confused by her suggestion.

"You were and you are wrong, Jim. If Ryan was the worst choice in the world for her, you were still wrong. But she’s not! She’s a wonderful young woman, and if you’d only give her a chance…"

He glared at her, his lawyerly intimidation showing. "I’ll never give her a chance. She’s conniving her way into Jamie’s heart, but I will prove that she’s not who she says she is. I will prove it, Catherine!"

She leveled a gaze at him, unable to see one shred of the idealistic, earnest young man that she had married. "You will prove to Jamie that you don’t trust her or her decisions. That is all that you will prove, Jim, and if you can’t see that, we’re wasting our time discussing this."

"I should have known that she’d win you over, too." His disgust was evident as he sulked in his chair, looking more like his inner four-year-old than a man who had logged forty-six years on the planet. "I’m sure you all get along famously, don’t you, Catherine? You probably have all sorts of fun times together that only encourage Jamie!"

"Well, I certainly hope that’s true," she replied. "I have a very good time with them both. And yes, I do try to encourage Jamie to be who she is, even when it’s not my choice for her."

"So while I’m trying to make a point, to save her from making this mistake, you’re going behind my back to help her ruin her life!"

"Jim," she said as calmly as possible. "I don’t have a secret agenda. I’m not withholding things from you."

"I just bet you don’t," he snarled. "You’ve always had your secrets, Catherine. I’ve never known what’s going on in your head."

It was difficult to make Catherine lose her temper, but Jim was pushing the boundaries of her patience. During their long marriage she had almost invariably kept her opinions to herself, but she was changing and was not afraid of his censure any longer. She looked at him carefully and said, "All right, Jim, you want to know my secrets? I have one that I’ve harbored for a few years now." She leaned over until her eyes were gazing directly into his and said, "When you act like a spoiled child, I sometimes fantasize about strangling you in your sleep." She turned in her seat and got the attention of the steward, saying pointedly, "Mr. Evans would like to change seats. Can you accommodate him?"

The irate man unbuckled his seat belt and stood, not sparing another glance at his wife. As the steward directed Jim back to his previously assigned seat, he gave Catherine a sympathetic look. "Sorry," the young man mouthed, obviously having heard some of the argument.

Ahh, just what I’ve been missing in my life. Public arguments on airplanes. Could we be any more clichéd?

Catherine waited until all of the other first class passengers had exited to even stand up. She walked down the long concourse, idly contemplating the roller-coaster ride she had been on in the previous several months. There was so much noise that she almost didn’t hear her cell phone ring, but the faint sound finally reached her ears. "Hello?"

"Your ride is waiting at the arrivals level," Ryan’s smooth voice announced.

"Oh, Ryan," she said, continually amazed by the thoughtfulness of her young daughter-in-law, "you really shouldn’t have."

There was a long pause, and Catherine thought she might have lost the connection, but the voice asked quietly, "Why not? We’ve never had a member of the family take a cab or a van from the airport. Why would I treat you any differently?"

She smiled at the phone, clearly able to see the earnest young face formed into a puzzled look. "There’s not a reason in the world, Ryan," she finally said. "Yours is a family I’m proud to be a part of."

When Catherine slid into the Lexus, she greeted Ryan with generous kisses to both of her grinning cheeks. "My daughter did pretty well for herself, Ryan O’Flaherty. You are a gem."

"Why, thank you, Catherine," she beamed. "Now I just have to convince your husband of that."

"That will be a longer journey," Catherine admitted, choosing not to share Jim’s presence in Oregon with the young woman. "My husband has a very, very difficult time admitting that he is wrong." She gazed out the window pensively, and Ryan left her to her musings after sparing a glance and seeing how focused she was. "He wasn’t always like that, you know," she commented. "He was always determined, but he wasn’t so headstrong when he was young. I think he developed that trait working as litigator. You know, Ryan, when you spend all day never giving an inch, it’s hard to remind yourself to turn that off when you go home at night."

"I could see that would be true," Ryan agreed, hoping that Brendan’s new girlfriend didn’t share that trait with Jim.

Catherine sighed and reached into her purse, extracting a neat, tan leather notepad. "Let me tell you all about Jamie’s match," she said, checking her notes.

Ryan shot her a smile and admitted, "I don’t care about the golf, Catherine. I just care about her. How did she seem?"

Catherine returned the smile and put the notebook away. "I don’t give a whit myself, Ryan. That’s why I had to take notes." She cocked her head and considered her daughter’s state of mind. "I’d say that she was nervous at the beginning. Understandably, of course."

Ryan nodded, having expected as much.

"By the second hole though, her normal attitude reappeared, and she seemed more and more confident as the day went on. It looked like she was having fun, even though she was concentrating very hard. She seemed very happy, Ryan. Very proud of herself."

"Excellent!" Ryan smiled. "Now that’s the kind of golf coverage I’m interested in!"

When Ryan returned home, the house was dark and seemed larger and emptier than it had ever been. She walked around, feeling lost and a little anxious as she turned on more lights than they usually used. As if by telepathy, the phone rang, and she was pleased to hear her oldest brother on the line.

"Hey, Sis, got anything going on tonight?"

"Uh…no, Jamie’s gone you know."

"Oooh, that’s right," he said, acting as is if that fact had skipped his mind. "Well the boys and I were going to go get some Italian combos, and I thought it might be fun to come over to your place to eat them."

She nearly burst into tears at her brother’s thoughtfulness, knowing that he was only doing this to cheer her up and make sure she was taking care of herself in Jamie’s absence. "If you really want to, that would be great," she said, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"We really want to, Ryan," he said sincerely. "We miss you!"

Ryan gazed across the room. Her oldest brother was engaged in a spirited conversation with their cousin Frank who was, as usual, making an emphatic point with the base of his beer bottle. The butt of the brown bottle was poking into Brendan’s chest, and Ryan could see his jaw tense as he fought the urge to push Frank, and his teaching aid, away. She knew that Brendan never liked to let anyone know they were getting to him so she decided to go rescue him, impulsively deciding to discuss a little matter that had been on her mind recently. "Hi, guys," she smiled as she approached.