“S
eventy-six bottles of beer on the wall,” sang Charlie and Ashley as they sped along a sunbaked highway, the RV sweeping past a shaded rest area.
Lily thought she would need seventy-six bottles of beer very soon. Charlie had been recalcitrant during tutorials today, and Lily’s patience was wearing thin.
Abruptly, Charlie stopped singing.
Only Ashley kept going. “Seben-sibe bobbles of beer on the wall…”
“Uncle Sean, stop!” Charlie yelled. “Right now, you have to stop!”
Lily turned around, alarmed by the note of panic in her voice.
Sean reacted instantly, pulling off to the side of the road. “What’s the matter?”
“You have to go back to that rest area. You have to do it right this very minute.” She was nearly hysterical.
“Honey, there’s a bathroom on board.”
“Please go back,” she begged. “Please. I saw something.”
Lily felt Sean’s skeptical look. Her instincts told her to re
spect Charlie in this, and her instincts were getting pretty sharp. When Lily told her sister why she wanted to use the Winnebago, Violet had said, “Just remember, when it comes to being a parent, you know more than you think you know.”
She jerked her thumb behind them, signaling for him to go back. “We’re making good time today,” she said. “We can stop for a few minutes.”
Lily just hoped it wasn’t more roadkill. The inevitable sight of dead animals lying at the side of the road made Charlie cry. When she cried, so did Ashley, and it made the miles creep by with excruciating slowness.
Because the road was completely empty as far as the eye could see, Sean made a U-turn, cutting across the weed-infested median. The moment he turned into the rest area, Charlie raced for the door. Both Lily and Sean yelled at her, but she shoved the door open at the exact moment the RV stopped moving.
Cameron leaped out after her, as protective as any adult. Sean grabbed the baby and they all filed out to find Charlie in the grassy picnic area, pointing excitedly to a hand-lettered sign swinging from a table.
“See?” she said. “See? I knew this was what I saw. It says Free to a Good Home, and that means we get to keep him.”
“Keep what?” Cameron said.
“For a kid who can’t read, she sure read that sign quickly enough,” Sean murmured.
At the base of the picnic table was an aluminum roasting pan filled with dirty water and a twenty-five-pound sack of Ol’ Roy dog food, half spilled in the grass and crawling with red ants.
“Perhaps someone else picked him up,” Lily suggested, relieved to find no sign of life. The last thing they needed was a lost animal.
“No, someone’s here, I saw when we drove past,” Charlie insisted. She walked around the area. “Hello!” she called. “Is anybody there?”
A half-grown boy with lanky limbs and a mournful expression appeared beyond the boundary of the rest area, at the top of a bank sloping down to a stream. He was joined by an equally lanky brother who was perhaps a year younger. Finally, a streak of black-and-white flashed by—a dog, scampering up the bank.
“See?” said Charlie. “See? Here, doggy,” she called, clapping and making smooching sounds with her mouth. “Here, doggy.”
The animal darted back and forth, a bundle of energy. Ashley laughed with delight and babbled at the dog. Cameron hung back, though Lily could tell he was intrigued.
“Are you giving that dog away?” Charlie asked, wide-eyed.
“Have to,” said the older boy. “Our dog had puppies, and Dad said we can’t keep them.”
Lily cleared her throat. “Charlie, we really should go.”
“Hang on,” murmured Sean, putting his free hand on her arm and offering that easy grin, which made Lily think about that wild night of kisses. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about that night.
“Is he friendly?” Charlie asked. “Can I pet him?”
“Her,” the younger boy corrected. “She’s six months old and real smart. Housebroken, too, and crate-trained, but our dad said not to bring her home tonight.”
His brother whistled and patted his thigh. “Here, Babe.”
The dog stopped, its silky ears like flags at half mast. It turned, belly low to the ground, tail wagging as it approached the boys.
“You can pet her if you want,” the younger boy said. “We call her Babe, on account of she was the smallest one in the litter. She’s the only one left.”
“Babe like Babe Didrikson,” said Charlie, her voice low with portent.
“My God, do something,” Lily said to Sean. “It could be dangerous.”
“Nice dog, nice Babe,” said Charlie, her voice as soft and sweet as a song. The dog rolled over, chest and paws in the air and submitted to her. “Look,” she said as it licked her hand, “we’re best friends already.”
Lily shook her head. “No way,” she said. “We can’t keep a dog. We’ll take it to the next town and drop it off at the local animal shelter. That way she’ll go to a family that needs her and can care for her.”
The four of them stared at Lily. So did the two brothers.
“No dog,” she reiterated. “You have no idea what you’re taking on when you get a dog. Especially a strange one. It’s probably got worms.”
“She’s been wormed,” the older brother said.
Lily crossed her arms. “A dog will break your heart, you know that, right? A dog never outlives its owner.”
“Aw, Lily,” Charlie said, scratching its feathery chest.
“No dog,” Lily said, “and that’s final.”
“Hold still, Babe.” Lily glared at the newest member of the family. She’d joined them two days and five hundred miles ago. Lily’s plan to drop the dog off at a shelter in Elko, Nevada, had been shot down by four adamant protests.
“You don’t just ditch an animal because it’s inconvenient,” Sean had said.
“Yeah,” agreed Charlie.
Even Cameron spoke up. “Yeah.”
Lily had looked at Ashley. “Your turn,” she said.
“Yeah,” the baby said.
And now, of course, the adored mongrel had become Lily’s
project. Sean had gone to the campground showers and Cameron had taken the girls to the playground, leaving her with the dog. Babe was filthy, and the only way to get her clean was in the shower. The campground bathrooms were clearly marked No Pets Allowed, so Lily had no choice. The two of them were crammed into the tiny closetlike space, wrestling for a good twenty-five minutes with the shower sprayer before the water ran clear. Then they both emerged wet and bedraggled and ill-tempered. Babe had sprayed the entire inside of the RV, rushing up and down the aisle, shaking and sneezing.
“Hold still,” Lily said again, advancing with the towel. It was a designer towel from Nordstrom’s, the kind usually reserved for company. Crystal would hate the idea of her good towels being used on a dog. Lily filled the fluffy white Egyptian cotton with wet dog and started rubbing vigorously. This immediately stopped her from racing around, because Babe’s favorite thing in the world was being rubbed. They had found that out about her instantly. The vet they’d taken her to in Tooele, Utah, had laughed and patted her belly while giving her a checkup and shots.
“She’s less than a year old,” he said, confirming what the boys had told them, “and in fine health.”
Lily scrubbed away with the towel, determined to have Babe clean and dry by the time they rolled into the next stop on their itinerary, a golf match in Park City. The dog collapsed in ecstasy, purring like a cat and moaning every now and then.
Sean came inside, looking infuriatingly fresh and relaxed from a shower at the campground. “Whoa,” he said, “smells like wet dog in here.”
Lily glared at him. “I wonder why.”
He bent down and scratched Babe under the chin. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing,” he said.
“She is now,” Lily agreed. “All it took was a spa treatment.”
“I think you have a new best friend.”
Lily sat back on her heels. “I still say it’s a mistake to keep her.”
“The kids are nuts about her and vice versa. How can that be a bad thing?”
“Being nuts about one another is no reason to stay together.” She found her fallen glasses and put them on. The lenses fogged, but she stubbornly left them in place.
He laughed. “Your logic slays me, Lily. It really does.”
“I’m just thinking of the kids,” she said. “They’ve already lost so much. If something happens to the dog—”
“Here’s what will happen to the dog,” he said with exaggerated patience. “She’ll be our pet for however long she’s meant to be our pet. Nobody knows how long that’s going to be. We’re going to do our best to make it last forever.”
“Nothing lasts forever,” she whispered, her face suddenly very close to his.
“That doesn’t mean we won’t try for it,” he said, ending the pronouncement with a kiss.
She nearly melted but then pulled away. “You have to stop doing that.”
He laughed and slipped Babe’s new collar on her. “Oh, yeah, I’ll stop,” he said. “When hell freezes over.”
L
ily had never needed a best friend more. A best friend was the person you called up when someone kissed you and made you forget the whole world. A best friend was the one you told when you were falling in love. A best friend talked you out of making a complete fool of yourself over a man who could only mean trouble.
Crystal was gone and Lily had no one else to discuss her heart with. Violet would only egg her on and tell her to go for it. Edna would find some deep spiritual reason for the unexpected chemistry that burned between Lily and Sean. Calling her mother was out of the question. Lily decided she was better served trying to fend off the feelings on her own.
One thing she discovered—her sleep pattern was shot. She found herself lying awake at night, unable to stop thinking about Sean Maguire. She tried everything—listening to the sound of the girls’ breathing, reading with a tiny flashlight clipped to the pages of her book, tallying up
the miles they traveled. And once she did fall asleep, she woke up too early, ears tuned to the first birds of morning. And of course, even before the rest of her woke up completely, her mind was already hard at work, thinking of Sean Maguire.
The smell of coffee told her he was already up. Why did coffee have to smell so good? And why did he make it every day? To remind her that she was depriving herself?
She forced herself to lie still until she heard him leave, probably to take the dog on morning rounds. Then she lay awhile longer, hoping to fall back asleep. Finally she gave up and was driven from her bed by restless, impossible thoughts and the insidious smell of coffee. She slipped past Charlie and Ashley, who lay in a sweet tangle under the comforter. She went to the bathroom, grimacing at the person in the mirror—heather-gray jersey pajamas, puffy face, rumpled hair.
“You even look boring when you sleep,” she muttered, then sawed away with the toothbrush.
She came out and glared at the coffeemaker, its red on button glowing. She switched it off and fixed a cup of ginseng tea, wishing it was coffee. An organic sesame bar sufficed as breakfast, which she ate while glaring resentfully at the box of Froot Loops on the table. After a brief but red-hot fantasy involving coffee, Froot Loops and Sean himself, she finished her tea and told herself to get a grip.
Then she put on shorts, a Wonder Bread T-shirt and running shoes, and looped her hair in a ponytail. Each new place they visited, she explored by going for a jog. She was no athlete, but she stayed in shape with a faithful adherence to her regime. During the cross-country drive, she had jogged past the rats, cactus and mesquite of a Nevada desert. She’d run among stunning snow-capped peaks of Utah and Colorado, past endless prairie grasslands of the Midwest, along tree-
lined riverbanks and hilly country roads. She thought she’d regret having given up an adventure in Italy, but her inner child was having the time of her life.
When she returned to the RV, she often found Sean and the kids eating Krispy Kremes and engaging in inappropriate behavior like armpit-farting or burp-singing. Who needed Italy when you had that?
This morning, when she got out of the RV and softly closed the door, she knew she was in a special place. A hush hovered in the air, as light and translucent as the morning mist, insulating the calls of mockingbirds and whippoorwills.
We’re here, she thought. This is our destination. Pinehurst, North Carolina. They had arrived the night before and this was her first time to see it in the daylight. Home of world famous golf courses and a number of sectional and national tournaments, including the Colonial Classic. The five of them had driven across the country just so Sean could play.
She’d read about the area in her guidebooks, of course. It was a quiet community surrounded by towering loblolly pines and white-fenced, emerald pastures where hunting horses grazed. A network of unpaved bridle paths wound through pristine forests. Each white-painted house sat like a jewel on a green cushion of lawn, idealized as a movie set. This was a place where famous families settled—Firestones and Beau-regards, Banfields and Whitneys.
None of the guidebooks had prepared her for the splendor of a Southern morning the moment the sun came up, the way the light fell through the long-needled pines, the grassy smell riding the breeze. She jogged through a neighborhood with the self-important name of Royal Oaks, although she had to admit there was something majestic about the open-armed live oaks lining the main street. Tara, Tara, Tara, she thought in
rhythm with her breathing, and listened to the muffled sound of her feet hitting the soft trail.
She didn’t have to go far to find the golf course where the tournament would take place. At this hour, the parking lot was deserted except for two eighteen-wheelers, one painted with a flying American flag and the other an intense green. One contained a huge generator, the other a lot of high-tech equipment, perhaps for keeping score. At the moment they were completely silent, two sleeping giants.
She slowed to a walk and stepped between the trucks to an apron of perfect grass fringed by magenta azaleas and a whitewashed fence. A sign in the shape of a pointed finger indicated the way to the driving range.
As she walked along the pinestraw-covered path, she felt as though she had entered a magical emerald forest. It was so quiet she could hear the beating of a bird’s wings overhead and the sound of her own heartbeat. There was not one lick of wind, though the morning mist cooled her bare arms and legs.
She heard the now-familiar sound of a swinging club. Sean had practiced or played every day during the cross-country drive, and she’d grown accustomed to hearing the rush of a shaft through the air, the
thwok
of the club head meeting the dimpled ball. Then a long, impossibly long silence ensued, followed by the faint thud of the ball dropping many yards away.
It was interesting, how she knew it was the sound of Sean hitting a golf ball and no one else. She was learning the sound and rhythm of his game.
At the driving range, she expected to see a number of players lined up and practicing. Instead, there was just one. Sean looked so alone, there in the morning mist, the sun filtering over him. He had a certain intensity of concentration that
seemed to possess him like a magic spell. He worked with such total absorption that Lily felt certain he hadn’t noticed her.
The dog was tethered to a bench next to him, her breath making little puffs in the air. Each time he hit a ball, her ears would prick forward and she’d quiver with anticipation, but she never went after the ball. Sean had taught her to retrieve range balls, but only on command.
Sean maintained his fierce concentration as he hit ball after ball, far beyond the yardage markers.
She stood still on the path, loath to interrupt him until he finished the entire bucket of balls on the ground behind him. It was fitting that he was the first one out, she thought. For the sake of the children depending on him, he needed to do well. But he was driven by something more than that powerful need. He wanted this more than any of his opponents possibly could.
“Good morning,” she said when he paused.
Babe wriggled and sneezed in greeting, then bowed and whined a little. Lily was still opposed on principle to keeping a dog, but she had to admit, it was fun having someone go into paroxysms of ecstasy every time she saw you.
“Good morning, Miss Robinson.” Sean smiled and wiped off his club head.
“Isn’t your caddie supposed to do that?” she asked.
“Last I checked, my caddie was facedown in a wad of blankets.”
“He was still that way when I left, too.”
“I’m too easy on him.”
“Probably.”
He finished polishing the clubs he’d used. As he worked, his attention stayed on her. She felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness. As usual, she was at a disadvantage in her jersey shorts and T-shirt, a frumpy contrast to his golf shirt, fresh out of the package, and creased, dun-colored trousers.
“I thought I’d see more players out here,” she said. “Why are you so early?”
He rolled his shoulders. “I need more practice than everyone else. I need to make up for lost time.”
“According to Red, you’ve got more innate talent than anyone in the field.”
“Talent’s only part of it. You’ve got to practice as though you’re not going to get any help whatsoever from Mother Nature. Because you’re not. A player who has been practicing nine hours a day will beat a player with natural ability every time. Got it?”
“Why do I get the feeling that’s not the right attitude to take?” she asked.
“Now you sound like my agent.” He gestured at a bench where he’d parked his street shoes, a thermos and a box of Drake’s Devil Dogs. “I’d offer you coffee,” he said, “but I already know you’d turn me down.”
“I might surprise you one of these days. I might just help myself to coffee and Devil Dogs.”
He grinned. “I’d like to see that,” he said. “I’d like to see you do a lot of things.”
She knew the conversation was headed into dangerous territory, but more and more, she edged closer, even though she knew better. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. All sorts of things.” He sat down and bent to change his shoes. “Get drunk and take your shirt off. I’d like to see that.”
“You and all the seventh-grade boys in America. Grow up, Maguire.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a grown-up. You should act your age.”
“I like my inner seventh-grade boy.”
“Apparently, so does
American Golfer.
” Red Corliss ar
rived from the direction of the parking lot. He held the tabloid-style paper out to Sean. “Front page, my friend. You caught their attention at the match in Park City.”
Sean jumped up, grinning with delight. “Red. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Babe was battling with the impulse to leap at the newcomer and check him out, Lily could tell. Sean seemed to control her with a subtle motion of his hand, which Lily found fascinating.
As she stood up to greet Red, she understood that this was a big deal. Red Corliss was a busy agent who didn’t have time to come to every client’s event.
“Red, you remember Lily.”
“You bet.” They shook hands. “It’s good to meet you under happier circumstances,” he said kindly enough. “How are the kids?”
“We’re taking this summer one day at a time,” Sean said.
His inclusive statement gave Lily a sense of solidarity with him. There was a peculiar intimacy that came from their shared devotion to the children. Maybe that was it, she thought. Maybe that accounted for the chemistry between them. If so, then she was wise to avoid getting tangled up with him. Falling for a man because he was in charge of three children she happened to love was a bad idea.
“Let’s go see if the kids are up yet,” she said.
“This is our newest addition,” Sean told Red, clipping the leash to the dog’s new collar. “Her name’s Babe. Charlie spotted her at the side of the road and we adopted her.”
“Nice,” Red said. “Maybe she’ll get signed by Purina.”
“You old softie,” Sean said.
They walked back to the RV park together. Lily watched Red with some amusement. He was clearly accustomed to a different standard of travel. Crystal would have recognized
the brand of his suit and shoes. Lily knew only that they were expensive.
“So what does the sporting press have to say?” asked Lily.
He handed it to her. There was a close-up of Sean after he’d just hit a shot, when his eyes were tracking the flight of the ball. The camera loves this man, she thought, illustrating to best advantage the classic features and crystal-blue eyes, the tension and concentration in his face.
The headline above the fold read, “From Playboy to Family Man.”
She read it aloud and laughed.
“Go ahead and make fun of it,” Red said. “The press is eating it up.” He took the paper and rattled it at Sean. “Just remember, you’re today’s feel-good human-interest story. You screw up the next round and you’ll be tomorrow’s—”
“He’s been playing wonderful practice rounds,” Lily cut in. She was new to the world of professional golf, but she knew instinctively that focusing on the positive was the surest way to a good outcome. “He and Cameron work together like a well-oiled machine.”
“So I hear. I wanted you to have a more experienced caddie, but it’s probably just as well you stick with the kid. Helps with PR, too.”
“That’s not why I’m using him,” Sean said. “I’m using him because he’s good for me.”