Table for five (19 page)

Lily was so proud of them in that moment. They treated their grandmother with love and dignity, showing none of the apprehension people often feel for someone so ill. They broke through the discomfort and made her glad she’d spearheaded this field trip.

“I’ll put up the new picture we brought,” she said. There was a display on the wall opposite the foot of the bed. Crystal always hung bright, enlarged images of her and the children there, changing them frequently so her mother wouldn’t get bored. The new photo showed Crystal accepting a plaque of appreciation from the Rotary Club last month. Unlike most pictures in the “grip-and-grin” genre, this one was attractive. Crystal was dressed to the nines, carrying a perfect onyx-beaded bag and flashing her trademark winning smile, filled with pride and gratitude.

Lily felt Sean’s gaze as she replaced an older shot of Crystal with the new one. And then she sensed another pair of eyes on her and realized Dorothy’s stare was fixed directly on the new photo.

“Good girl,” she said in a rusty voice. “Good…daughter.”

According to Dorothy’s physicians and all the reading Lily had done, such clarity was nearly impossible.

“She is good, isn’t she,” Lily said, smiling through tears. “The best there is. She loved her life and all the people in it.”

Dorothy was looking at her, not at the photo of Crystal. Lily approached the bed and patted the older woman’s hand.

“Her husband’s gone?” Sean asked quietly, studying the array of pictures.

“He died when I was eleven,” Cameron said, indicating a photo of a handsome silver-haired man holding up a golf trophy. “Grandpa Frank.”

“Pretty good golfer?”

“He was all right. A twelve handicap.”

“What’s yours these days?” Sean asked him.

“About a three,” Charlie answered for her brother. “I keep track.”

“Not too shabby,” Sean said.

Cameron shuffled his feet in modesty, shedding bits of
dried mud. The five of them lingered a few more minutes, until Dorothy drifted off to sleep.

Charlie stood in front of the wall of photographs, her face averted, her narrow shoulders drawn in. Cameron scowled at her. “Come on, don’t start sniveling.”

“I can’t help it,” she said in a broken voice.

“Yes, you can. Just don’t do it.”

“How?” she snapped, whipping her head around, her pigtails flying out. “How do I just stop?”

“Like that, moron,” Cameron said, giving her braid a gentle tug. “Get mad.”

“S
o that’s your Grandma Dot,” Sean said as they drove away from the nursing home. He felt a curious sense of relief. The visit had been long overdue, and he’d been putting it off until Lily prodded him into going. Now that it was over and had gone reasonably well, he wondered why he’d waited.

“She used to be a lot different,” said Charlie. “She used to be tons of fun.”

“I’ll bet she was.” He checked the rearview mirror and saw that she was back to being her funny little self. Breakdowns and sad spells, like the one she’d had just now, were common, said Dr. Sachs. They were part of the healing process. Sean wasn’t sure being called “moron” by your brother was particularly healing, but he tended to ignore their squabbles because they always subsided on their own. Sometimes, like just now, Cameron gave himself away. Beneath the surface, he was all heart.

The thought gave Sean a rare flash of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this broken family would survive.

“She was always nuts about her grandkids,” Lily reminded
them, turning in her seat. “Remember the cedar chest in her basement? It had the most amazing things in it.”

“A fur collar with little fox heads and tails on it,” Charlie said. “Eew.”

“She used to wear it to church,” Lily said. “Did you know that, when I was your age, I sometimes went to church with your mom and her parents?”

“Nope. Why didn’t you go to church with your own family?”

Lily turned back to face front. “They quit going. They…didn’t go.”

From the corner of his eye, Sean could see her throat work painfully as she swallowed. He decided it was time to change the subject. “I had a grandmother who went to church twice a week,” he said.

“Twice?” Charlie asked. “Was she kind of naughty?”

“She was Irish, me father’s mother, and she talked with a fair brogue like this.” He demonstrated as he spoke, grinning as he thought of old Bridget Callahan Maguire for the first time in years. “Every Sunday after church, she used to whack the head off the chicken and serve it for Sunday dinner.”

“Eew. Did you ever see her do the whacking?”

“Every chance I got. I was a ghoulish little kid.” He saw Lily wince. Too bad, he thought.

“What else did you do for fun?” she asked.

“Played golf. Your dad and I learned at church, you know.”

“He never told us that,” said Cameron.

Sean checked the rearview mirror again, glad to see a spark of interest. At the same time, he felt a now-familiar jab of pain. He wondered when that would stop or if it ever would. Grief, he had discovered, was a palpable thing, but that didn’t mean you could understand or control it. It was a sneaky enemy that strangled you in broad daylight sometimes.

“Sure,” he said. “Father Campbell at St. Mary’s was a
scratch golfer and we were altar boys. He was the first coach we ever had.”

“That sounds like fun,” Charlie said.

“It was fun—the golf, not being an altar boy.”

“We never have fun anymore,” she added.

He heard a now-familiar quaver in her voice, one that portended another crying jag. When Charlie cried, Ashley usually started up, then Cameron got mad and things unraveled.

Not today, Sean thought, gripping the steering wheel. They had planned to run errands on the way home, but he decided to make a detour. “I know something we can do that’s fun.”

“What?” she demanded.

“We’ll do it right now.”

“I thought we were going grocery shopping,” Lily pointed out, always one to get rattled by a change of plans.

“Groceries can wait. I have a better idea,” Sean said.

“What?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s too much fun. You’ll get so excited you’ll wet your pants.”

“Uncle Sean! Lily, make him tell me,” Charlie said, squirming against her seat belt.

“How would I do that?”

“You’re a teacher. Just make him.”

“Whoa, a teacher,” Sean said. “I’m shaking.” He trembled until Charlie started to giggle.

“Let’s just be surprised,” Lily said, pruning her lips with disapproval.

Too bad, thought Sean. With three kids, you had to learn to be spontaneous. He teased them along for the next ten minutes as they headed west. Then he pulled into a gravel parking lot and Cameron gave a groan. “I don’t believe this.”

“What, are you scared I’m going to beat you?” Sean asked.

“I’m scared someone is going to see me here,” Cameron said.

“Twenty bucks says I whip you like a redheaded stepchild.”

Lily’s eyes flared behind her glasses. “Sean, I don’t think—”

“You’re on,” said Cameron, and got out of the car. Predictably, he couldn’t resist a challenge, especially when money was involved.

Charlie was beside herself. “Uncle Sean, this is so cool.”

He grinned at Lily. “See? I’m cool.”

She tipped back her head and read the sign arching over the entrance, painted in garish Day-Glo green: Welcome to Jurassic Golf Park. A Millennium of Fun.

“What are we waiting for?” Sean took the baby out of the car seat and they went to the ticket kiosk.

“Two adults, two kids, the baby’s free,” said the attendant. “That’ll be $18.50.”

“Oh, I won’t be playing,” said Lily.

“Yes, she will,” Sean contradicted her, and slid a twenty-dollar bill across the counter.

They were given putters and balls that had seen better days, and Ashley received a hollow plastic mallet. “Right through there, folks,” the attendant said.

They stepped through an archway so low Sean and Cameron had to duck under it.

“Bugga bugga,” yelled a caveman, jumping out at them.

“Bugga bugga,” yelled Ashley, clapping her hands. Even Cameron laughed at that.

“Smile!” The caveman snapped a photo of them. “What a great-looking family,” he said, showing them the photo on the screen of his digital camera.

Lily looked flustered. “Oh, we’re not—”

“This photo will be available for purchase before you leave,” the caveman said.

Family or not, it was a great shot. Against a backdrop de
signed to resemble a primeval rain forest, they all looked as though something funny had startled them, which it had.

“How much?” asked Sean.

“Ten dollars for an eight-by-ten print. I’ll have one waiting for you at the exit when you leave.”

Sean handed a ten-dollar bill to the caveman.

“You’re going to keep score, Charlie Brown,” he said, handing her the scorecard and pencil.

“I don’t know how.”

“Sure you do, honey. Keep track of everyone’s strokes and compare them to par for each hole.” Weird, he thought. Derek Holloway’s kid didn’t know how to keep score. What was up with that? These kids were so easy to get close to, especially when golf was involved.

“But—”

“No buts. I need to whup some big brother ass, so I need for you to be in charge. Make sure nobody cheats.”

“Okay, I guess. I don’t think you’re supposed to say
ass.
”

“He’s definitely not,” Lily said.

Sean ignored her. The woman had a strange way of simultaneously getting on his nerves and under his skin. He sent Charlie and Cameron to the first hole, and Ashley toddled after them. “I don’t know what it is about you, Miss Lily. You make me want to misbehave.”

“How can I make you stop?” she asked.

“You could try spanking me.”

She made a sound that was sort of half gasp, half hiccup, and walked on ahead of him, fists pumping and cheeks red. Good old Lily Robinson, he thought. What a girl.

He liked to needle her. He didn’t know why. Maybe because she was so incredibly…needle-able.

The eighteen holes of Jurassic Park were designed around no known principles of putting. There were uphill shots,
downhill shots, holes that roared when the ball went in, a volcano spewing fake lava and smoke, sound effects that excited Ashley to shrieks of delight.

Cameron gave Sean a run for his money. It was golf after all, and there was money at stake. The two of them traded the lead back and forth.

Charlie was a natural. Sean stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her slight form, and demonstrated a good stance and grip. She caught on immediately and was just as quick to grasp how to keep score, absorbing the terminology like a sponge.

Lily was a terrible golfer, as it turned out. Her stance was awkward and she had a ridiculous grip. By the fourth hole, Sean couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

“Care for a little advice?” he asked.

She looked up, clearly exasperated. “But what I’ve been doing has been working so well. What’s my score, Charlie?”

The little girl frowned, pencil tapping the scorecard as she counted. “Well, it’s kind of high.”

“I can take it.”

“You’re twenty-three over par, actually.” Charlie giggled and skipped away, following Cameron and Ashley to the next hole.

“Boy, do I ever stink at this,” Lily muttered.

“You do,” Sean agreed.

She leaned down to set her ball on the next tee box. “So about those pointers…”

He started with the basics, correcting her grip and stance. She actually did slightly better on the fifth hole, though she still took eight strokes to get there.

“You have no swing,” Sean said.

“Very funny,” said Lily. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Treating her like one of his students, Sean demonstrated. He made par on the hole. Cameron birdied it, and Charlie
made two over par. “That’s called a double bogey,” she said importantly.

“The swing,” Sean reiterated. “It’s a rhythm. Hips, shoulders, arms. Very subtle when you’re putting.”

She addressed the ball, and he could already see things going wrong.

“Wait,” he said, stepping up behind her. “Be still and I’ll show you.”

He put his arms around her from behind. At the club, he did this ten times a week giving lessons. With Lily, it was different. He found himself distracted by the way she felt—surprisingly soft. And the way her hair smelled—clean and fresh. And the heat of her body, tucked up against his. In light of the fact that he’d spent the previous night with Maura, he knew these were completely inappropriate thoughts. He forced himself to concentrate on helping her as if she were any other golf student.

“Okay, feel this.”

“Feel, um, what? What am I supposed to be feeling?”

Good question. “Relax your arms and I’ll show you the movement. This is a putt. The movement is very delicate.” He helped her hit a solid straight shot that left her just one or two strokes from the hole. “Feel the difference?” he said.

“I’m not sure.”

“Want me to show you again?”

“Absolutely not.” She spoke quickly, clipping off her words as she moved away from him.

Clearly she hadn’t noticed the feeling between them when he had his arms around her. It was just as well, he thought. Things were complicated enough for him.

By the end of the round, she showed a slight improvement. Sean and Cameron went into the last hole with a gap between their scores. Sean was ahead by three strokes, a comfortable lead by any standard.

“It’s not looking good for the twenty big ones, Cam,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, real helpful of you to point that out.”

“You could still win,” she said. “There’s a hazard on this hole, see? So if Sean gets in the hazard, he’ll have a tough time recovering.”

Lily grinned at her. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”

Charlie shrugged. “Watching my dad on TV.”

“Well, you sound like a golf commentator,” Sean said.

“I could get into the water hazard, too,” said Cameron.

“You won’t,” Charlie assured him.

“How do you know I won’t?”

She rolled her eyes with an excess of patience. “On account of the twenty bucks.”

“That little boy’s birthday party is catching up,” Lily warned, looking over her shoulder at the group behind them. “I think they’re just two holes back.”

Sean gestured to Cameron. “You won the last hole, so you have honors.”

Cameron stepped up and hit a safe but admirable shot that got him where he needed to be—two strokes from the hole. Sean followed, putting his ball on the tee. As he drew back to putt, his stomach growled with hunger. And against his will, he thought again about having his arms around Lily.

The ball rolled straight toward the water hazard and fell in with a plop.

“That’s a two-stroke penalty,” Charlie piped up.

“Hot dog,” said Ashley.

Sean was ticked off. Concentration was everything. He of all people should know that. If his thoughts strayed a hairsbreadth, it was all over.

Cameron took his next shot and it was a good one, setting him up to hole out with one more stroke. Sean’s lead had been
shaved to one, but he still felt confident that the last hole was his, and he would wind up keeping his twenty dollars.

“Uh-oh,” said Charlie, and Ashley mimicked her.

He’d somehow made another terrible putt, overshooting the hole. Now his ball lay a seriously long putt away.

Cameron hit in easily. He was too experienced a golfer to gloat, but his posture as he walked off the green clearly said, “I win.”

Not yet, you don’t, thought Sean. This would be a long and difficult putt, but if he could sink it, they would be tied and they’d have to play another hole. As he lined up for the putt, he heard Lily whisper to Cameron, “It’s only twenty dollars.”

Cameron whispered back, “It’s not about the twenty dollars.”

Then everyone got quiet. Even the baby was quiet, as though she had an innate respect for the proceedings.

Somehow, Sean’s thoughts strayed again. He found himself wondering what Lily looked like without her glasses, and why she was making him question what he had with Maura.

And he missed the putt.

“Oh, no!” Charlie jumped up and down. “Cameron wins by a stroke!”

Putting on his game face, Sean took out his wallet and handed Cameron a twenty-dollar bill. They left the Jurassic forest and turned in their equipment.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Sean,” said Charlie. “I was silently rooting for you.”

“Never be sorry. Cameron kept his game together and I let mine fall apart.”

“Why?”