The Mulligan (9 page)

Of course. I'd forgotten about his mother. She'd been sick on and off for a long time. “I didn't know. I'm sorry. Mom and I haven't really had much of a chance to catch up yet.”

The sympathy in my voice encourages him because he moves closer and leans back against Mom's car. He crosses his arms and gazes past me with a faraway look in his eyes. “They give her about six months.”

“Oh, Dan, I'm so sorry.” I never know what to say when someone tells me news like this. Not that I've heard it often, but it makes me uncomfortable. I take my cue from the way others have treated us after the accident. “Is there something I can do while I'm home?”

He shakes his head and studies the ground for a minute. “I like coming out here to run. Remember when we had our senior picnic here? You were so afraid of swimming in the creek because someone saw a snake.” A kind-of-cute smile forms at the corner of his mouth.

“And you and Robert ate so much watermelon, you threw up on the bus ride home.”

He laughs and I remember now why I'd originally fallen for him. I laugh along with him and our voices echo in the empty dawn around us. As abruptly as he'd brought up our past, he turns to the present.

He steps closer and looks down into my face. “I've missed you, Bobbi.”

My phone chooses that moment to announce Amanda's incoming call with a ring tone I'd affectionately chosen for her.

“Sorry,” I say and pull my cell from my pocket.

“Bobbi, I'm so sorry I'm not there. I woke up puking and I feel horrid. Is this what pregnancy is going to do to my body? If it is, I'll never live through it.” Normally, I would have listened to her tirade, but today with my heart racing wildly in my chest from Dan's presence, I decide to cut in.

“Hey, it's fine. I'm here with Dan. He showed up the same time I did. I'll take a quick hike and drop by later, OK?”

“Dan? As in Dorky Dan? What on earth, Bobbi? Listen…wait, I need to go!” The call ends and I slide my phone back into my pocket, grateful he has stepped away. Had I really called him dorky? I study his strong shoulders and can't help but compare them to Drew's.

“Sounds like Amanda is sick. I'll catch up with her later.”

His smile returns and he shrugs toward the path. “Want company?”

The last thing I need to do is open doors I can't walk through. But I do. “I don't run, I walk.”

“I can do that.” He holds out his hand.

If I take it, will I be able to let go again?

 

****

 

I climb the back porch steps and open the screen door. “Hi, Grandpa. Where's Mom?”

Grandpa sits in his usual chair, enjoying the warmth from the sun that is already soaking into the floorboards. I drank two bottles of water on the hike, but hadn't eaten any of the snacks I took. “I'm thinking of baking some cookies. How about it?”

“Chocolate chip. Your mother made peanut butter the last time and they didn't sit well with me.” He snorts and coughs on his own spit.

“You got it.”

I find Robert camped out in front of the TV doing an exercise that is supposed to keep his legs from looking like a newborn colt's.

He raises his eyes toward the ceiling. “In the attic. Said she had some sorting to do.”

I hand him another pillow for beneath his legs before turning to the stairs.

My mother's favorite place to hole up has always been the attic, where she keeps everything as neat as though she's going to throw a party there. All my old toys are assigned color-coded bins with my name marked plainly on the sides. Games that have seen better days have their own home on the shelves Dad built for her on the front end of the house. I like to run my fingers down the familiar names and wonder if my children will someday beg to play them as I had.

“It's hot up here.” She has the wooden fan going, but my forehead complains with new sweat droplets.

I find her sitting on her knees in ‘the corner.' We dubbed the space that because it is where she stores all of our youngest mementos. The ones she said she could never bear to part with until they send her to a nursing home. White baby shoes, soft yellow blankets, and a matching pair of pacifiers slightly molded from our gums.

“How was your hike?” She turns and pats the spot next to her. “Pull up a piece of floor. I'm going through your box now.”

Wood splinters come to mind, but I do as requested, sitting with my legs crossed in front of a blue plastic bin. I know from the dates that the treasures in this one will be before I started kindergarten.

“Amanda called off sick.”

“That's too bad. Nausea?” She hands me a pile of old clothes. Why on earth does she need to keep my first pair of jeans?

“Yeah. Sounds like she might be in for it.”

“Then what did you do?”

I shrug, deciding it won't hurt to tell her. “Dan showed up about the same time I did.”

My mother has this sense about her. I never have to tell her everything and she always knows what I'm thinking. She sets aside a pile of baby socks and faces me, cocking her head. “And what did you and Dan talk about?” I'm sure she remembers the night I broke it off with him. I'd run him down deeper than the river.

“He's a friend, Mom.”

She turns back to her pile of treasures. “Somehow that wasn't the impression you gave me.”

So I see him in a new light. I shrug. Even I'm not clear yet what it all means. He'd held my hand most of the way but hadn't made any other moves other than help me up a particularly sharp incline. We'd stopped and admired the river winding peacefully below. I was sure he felt the sensations I did by the way he glanced at me every so often. When we returned to our cars, I hadn't been sure how to say good-bye.

But Dan did.

“People change. He's playing golf this winter down in Florida and I promised to see him when he gets there.”

Now I get my mother's look. Eyes narrowed and a grim set to her lips. Honestly, why do I always blurt my private life to her?

“Do you think that's wise?”

“Don't worry, Mom. It won't interfere with my plans. He's a nice guy. That's it.”

Her sigh about rolls off the rafters. She reaches for a blue silky piece of fabric and hands it to me. “Do you remember this?”

I unfurl the slippery cloth and a knot catches in my throat. “My cape.”

“I made it when you were four. You wore it to bed every night for almost a year. I should never have let you watch
Superman
.” A chuckle escapes through her lips and I warm to it and her memory about my hero worship.

“I wanted to save the world.” I hand her the cape, my fingers lingering on the soft fabric.

“You still do,” she whispers.

 

 

 

 

10

 

Saying good-bye isn't easy. Robert pulls me aside as I pack snacks in the kitchen. Mom figures I must have run low by now, and even if it means checking my bag at the airport, she demands I take the remaining cookies and a bag of pretzels.

“Come home where you belong. You aren't a golfer and you know it.” Robert holds my shoulders under his strong hands.

I straighten my back. “I shot a sixty-nine at last week's tournament.” I amazed everyone on my team. If I continue to practice like I have been, I might shoot a consistent sixty-six, possibly enough to try out for Q-School—the path I need to go if I'm ever to turn pro.

Robert can't hide his pride or his sorrow. “Wow. Do you know how many average golfers ever shoot that score?” He pauses and looks down at the linoleum floor Dad installed when I was ten. Black and white checks like Mom requested. Sometimes looking at it makes me dizzy. I know Robert is thinking about the time he'd shot a 68 at the Towanda Country Club. He and Dad had stopped for ice cream and came home cheering and yelling that the next Tiger Woods lives in this house. “You're good, Bobbi. You are. You've got this talent I never had, but in the end, it has to make you happy. I know you aren't.”

He doesn't know everything even though he is my twin and we never miss a beat on reading each other's thoughts. No, this time he has it all wrong. I
had
experienced a kind of joy when I played that well—not for me, but that I was one step closer to giving Dad and my family what they need. A way to bring us all back together.

“Next time I come home, I want to see that thing”—I nod to the ugly walker—”out of this house. You'd better be ready to hike up back with me.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. Robert smells like spicy aftershave. He started wearing it when he dated Sharon, the girl who worked downtown at the five and dime. Their relationship died when he missed a few dates due to a golf tournament.

“Call us when you get in.”

I nod and find Grandpa waiting on the back porch to also kiss me good-bye. His normally sharp eyes are glazed. I'm running out of time and need to be a success soon. I have to qualify at the first rounds of Q-School this fall or Grandpa might forget me by then.

Mom grabs my luggage and we hurry to the car. We're already running late. She straps herself in and turns to me. “Do you want to stop at the office?” She keeps her mouth straight but blinks faster than normal.

I shake my head and look across the back yard. “We're going to be late. Not this time.”

Part of me can't believe she asked, especially knowing I'd already tried with Dad. What does she think could have changed in a few days? He knows we need him. He knows he's hurt her, yet he remains selfish.

Greg meets me at the Orlando airport and drives me back to my trailer. He and I have been project partners a few times, and so I offered him a few bucks to take me to the airport and pick me up. Actually, I am surprised to see his portly figure waiting for me at the luggage area since he is never good at remembering anything. Greg comes from Minnesota and says his parents farm for a living. He was invited once to play golf and loved it.

“Going to get a job at Celebration and stay here. No more cold winters for me.” He sat beside me the third day of school and now seeks me out whenever he needs help.

I'm not sure I like being in that role but using can go both ways. Greg is great at English and writes fantastic papers. We got an A on our last project.

I crank up the air when I enter my living room. Is there a word that means hotter than hot? Someone told me I would love fall in Florida. I can't wait. I find my workout clothes and then reach for my keys. So far, my neighbor hasn't noticed I'm home. If she does, I will be bombarded with another two dozen snickerdoodles.

The gym at the school is empty. I'm probably the only student who works out this much, but I have to. I pick up the free weights, face the mirror, and count as I lift. It's not that I want to get muscles, but everything I've read about golf points to success from a fit body. I check the clock and start to sweat. An hour passes as I climb the treadmill and set the incline at five.

Running doesn't come easy to me. Not like Robert. Thinking of my twin makes my heart skip. The thought of him never running again pushes me on, and I dig my heels into the machine. Sweat pours from every part of my body. I will make it up to him. I will.

My dad's harsh words taunt me.

So I'm not Robert, but I can golf.

 

****

 

Mark meets me outside the theater the next day. I hadn't wanted to eat dinner with him, but when he called the night before; I didn't have the heart to turn him down. Just friends, he assured me.

He wears khaki shorts and a green polo. His tan has deepened from days spent working at the golf course.

“Did you go home for break?” he asks.

I loop my purse over my shoulder and match his stride through the mall. We'd agreed to eat at a restaurant at the other end of the plaza.

“For a few days. How about you?”

He flips his blond hair back from his forehead with a neat toss of his head. Again those dimples. “Not a chance. Too much to do around here for fun. You can't tell me you enjoyed yourself back there?”

Since I'd yet to become enamored with city life, I laugh. “Hiking. Reading. Admiring the sunsets. What else does a girl need?”

His head tips and he flashes a grin that makes me think of the kind Grandpa gave me when he caught me up to no good. Like the time I found stray kittens in the barn and was sneaking some leftover chicken from the barbecue the night before.

My shoulders rise and drop. “So hate me—I like the country.”

Mark turns the corner and I see our restaurant straight ahead. “How are you going to become a big golf pro if you don't like the city?”

I frown. Why does everyone ask me questions like that? I'm getting sick of explaining myself. If only I'd brought a sandwich and eaten in my car. “Maybe I'll change.”

He holds up two fingers to the waitress. We are seated in a booth right in the front of the restaurant where I can duck into the restrooms. I excuse myself and run in to check my phone. I'm sure I felt it vibrate.

Drew.

Why is he calling me?

Another woman enters and begins to apply mascara at the sink next to mine. I turn into the corner and listen to his message. He asks if I want a lesson later that day, and if I do, to call him. He wants to talk.

Talk?

I think of his brother waiting for me outside the bathroom door. The two men are nothing alike. I'm not sure whom I like better since both their personalities have an appeal. But Drew can teach me golf, and that makes him more valuable. I shove my phone back into my bag.

Mark has already decided on his meal. I order the veggie platter and sit back with my hands in my lap.

“So tell me why.”

His question catches me off guard. An earnest look appears on his face, making his boyish appearance even more charming. In another time, I would have fallen for Mark. But not now. Not with so much at stake. And then there's Dan.