Authors: Terri Tiffany

Tags: #christian Fiction

The Mulligan (29 page)

“Where are you? I drove past your house and the lights are all out. Is everything OK, or are you partying somewhere and forgot to invite me?”

“I'm in the parking lot of Memorial Hospital.” I unlock the truck and get in. The engine soon warms the cab.

“What's the matter?”

I hear the fear in his voice. My lips curl upward. “It's OK, now. My mother had a heart attack and they did a bypass. She's going to be fine.”

“Wow. I'm sorry, Bobbi. How are you doing with it?” Now his concern comes through.

I smile again. “I'm tired, but OK. I was going to call you. You know, to wish you a Happy New Year.”

“How about telling me in person?”

I glance around the parking lot expecting to see him walk toward me. The only person I see is a tired security guard taking a cigarette break. “Where are you?”

“Meet me at the golf course. You're fifteen minutes away.”

The golf course. The one he's buying, of course. “At this time of night?”

“It's OK. I know the owner.”

I imagine his blue eyes twinkling with his joke. “Warm it up. I'll be right over.”

The drive takes me less than fifteen minutes, a curvy road out past town and across the South Bridge. When I come over the crest of the hill, I brake in delight. White lights spotlight the driving range. Only Drew's car sits in the parking lot. I climb down and look around until a whistle catches my attention. From about fifty yards away, Drew sits in a golf cart. He zooms over to my side.

“Hop in.” On my seat lies a warm plaid blanket. He's wearing his parka again.

I do as ordered, pulling the blanket around me. “Are we taking the grand tour tonight?”

He presses the pedal and we take off across the course arriving at the top of the hill at the first tee. Drew shuts off the cart. The silence hugs us.

“Look over there,” he says, and points to our right.

Fireworks light up the sky dazzling us with brilliant colors.

“Pretty amazing view, don't you think?”

“You bought this course for New Year's Eve, didn't you?” I snuggle deeper into my blanket, enjoying the show and my company.

Drew snakes his arm around my shoulders. It's warm and comforting.

I rest my head back.

“I'm sorry about your mother. But I'm happy to hear she'll be OK. What do you think caused it?”

“A number of things.” I pause. How much do I share? “The most important thing is my father showed up. I know he still loves her without me doing anything.”

He whistles again. “You didn't do anything, huh? Hard to believe. Did you lose your superpower?”

I twist in my seat to study his face. He's kidding, but it's funny how well he knows me. “I gave away my cape. No more meddling or fixing. They're on their own.”

“I'm happy to hear that Miss Bobbi-with-an-
I.
” Drew's hand comes up and he caresses my cheek. “Maybe you can focus on you now.”

I remember our kiss. How can't I when his face is so close to mine? “I plan on it. Once I figure out what to do next.”

His hand returns to the steering wheel and he starts the cart up again, zooming across the fairways. “Where are we going?” I raise my voice to be heard. Drew doesn't answer, but instead heads toward the driving range.

“The driving range? You really do own this place.” I like the idea of having the place all to ourselves. When he pulls up, he shuts off the cart and jumps out. I put aside my blanket to follow him to the tee. A set of shiny new clubs waits for us.

Drew pulls out the driver and hands it to me. “Merry Christmas.”

“It's New Year's.”

“I'll get to that. For now, Merry Christmas. Come on.”

“Really? I didn't get you anything.” I take the club in my hand and follow him to the tee, amazed at his generosity, but curious to his plan.

He places a ball from his pocket onto the ground. “Hit it.”

His eyes are smiling when I look into his face, then he nods to the club I'm holding. “Hit it like you've never hit it before.”

The shaft is cut to my height. The grip fits my hand better than a pair of fancy racing gloves. I give it a practice swing. It's been weeks since I've hit a ball. Can I make a decent shot? I look out at the course and admire the lay of the land. This is a beautiful course. I played it a few times with Robert when we could afford to. My jacket slips to the ground.

“Go ahead.” Drew stands back away from me, but his voice is a whisper in my ear. Hit it. How many times have I heard that in my life time? How many times did Robert tell me to try to hit the ball the best I could? “You aren't a quitter, Bobbi. I know you can get this game,” he'd say.

“You just want someone to chase your lost balls.” I'd tell him in return, but then I hit the ball and each time it flew a little further.

Tonight my memories collide with reality. Grandpa's face appears before me. He's holding his coin. I glance down at my neck where Mattie's pendant hangs, reminding me to focus. My first hit of the New Year should be memorable. I hang my shoulders forward, loosen my grip, and waggle my middle.

I swing.

Blood rushes through my veins as I track the course of my ball. When it lands at two hundred and eighty-five yards, I let out a whoop and twist around. “Did you see that? Did you see how far it went?”

Drew is next to me in a flash, locking his arms around me, swinging me into the air. “I saw it. I saw it.” He finally slips me to the ground but doesn't let go. “And now I want to wish you a Happy New Year. If you'll let me.”

I look up into his face again. The tenderness in it brings an ocean of waves to my chest. “You're sweet, Drew. Really sweet.”

“Think you might have time in your new life for someone so sweet?”

My legs almost collapse beneath me. Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Aloud I say, “What are you suggesting?”

He tugs me closer against his him. “A proposition.”

I wriggle my eye brows. “A proposition?”

He takes the club from my hand and puts it back into the bag. When he returns, seriousness has replaced his playfulness. “I need someone to help me here at the course. I think you're the right person. Your shot just proved it. I'll pay you well and let you have all the free golf you want.”

“You want to hire me? To teach golf?”

He closes the gap between us, wrapping his arms around me again. “Admit it, Bobbi. Golf is in you. I knew it even more when I watched you hold that club tonight and swing. The distance was the icing on the cake. You're a natural. I want that at my course. I want you at my course.”

I think of the prayer I'd said tonight on the way back to the hospital after finding my mother's letter to my father. My heart swells with the memory of my words spoken in earnest. I wish my brother were here to see how God answered it.

“Is that the only reason you want me here? To teach your customers how to golf?” No, I'm not a flirt but, hey, it's New Year's Eve with fireworks and the whole deal.

A grin forms on his lips. “I knew the minute you stumbled through my classroom door I'd be saying your name correctly the rest of my life. I just had to convince you.”

“Have you?” I touch his day's growth of beard. The stubble electrifies my fingers. When he bends to kiss me, I close my eyes and exhale.

Mattie was wrong about one thing.

Superman is real.

Epilogue

Eighteen months later
.

It's one of those perfect Pennsylvania days. Crystal blue sky, temperatures in the mid-seventies, and the smell of lilacs rushes around me in a dance to usher in summer. I'm waiting for Drew and Mark who are inspecting the final tent for the tournament. Already the parking lot is filling with locals who signed up to help support our first event.

I wander into the pro shop where the staff has already hung the sign. I can't help but stop and admire the banner: First Annual Art Charity Golf Tournament.

Next to a table laden with donated prizes, the grand prize is displayed on a large easel. I run my hand over the oak frame. This painting is still my favorite.

Amanda said she wanted to hang her new family portrait over her fireplace now, anyway. “Besides,” she told me, “it's time someone else enjoyed one of your creations.”

I hadn't wanted to take her painting, but she'd insisted. Who can argue with a new mother?

I linger over the work a minute longer and then move to the next table, where I've placed some of my latest art.

After our honeymoon, Drew built a studio for me over our garage. If I lean just right, I can see the river.

“Bobbi! The place looks wonderful!” I turn to see my mother, who is leading my father into the clubhouse by the hand. It seems she runs more than their new sporting goods store now. I hide a smile.

Dad doesn't look too upset though. In fact, ever since Mom left the hospital, he hasn't stopped smiling.

She pulls me into a hug. “Where's that son-in-law of mine?” Her necklace and earrings compliment her peach blouse and linen pants.

“He's finishing with the set-up. Should be here soon. You look great, Mom. Do you sell that shirt in your store?” I finger the dainty collar.

“Not yet, but give her time.” My father steps next to us and chuckles. He told me last week at dinner that buying the store was the best decision he ever made, short of marrying my mother. I swear it's like the two of them can't get enough of each other.

He reaches for my hand. The first time he did that at my wedding, I didn't know what to do. I looked at my mother who was fixing my veil and she nodded, a tiny smile appearing on her lips.

Today I grasp it and hang on a full minute. “You look great, too, Dad. Are you ready to win?”

He shrugs. “Let's leave that to your brother. I heard he's been practicing between his Bible classes.”

“Maybe I shouldn't have given him those lessons all spring.” I watch the double entry doors and see my twin coming toward me.

No one would know that once upon a time he couldn't walk. He strides toward us, but reaches me first.

“Congratulations on your tournament. By the looks of the parking lot, your favorite art charity is going to be very happy.” His smile reminds me it's time for something I need to do.

I leave my family standing together while I hurry behind the counter, searching for my purse. When I look up, Drew has already arrived and is making small talk with them.

“
For I know the plansâ¦”
Again, that still small voice whispers in my heart.

I'm glad I listened.

My hand finally finds the folder and I glance at Drew. He nods and motions for me to come over.

Perhaps I could have found a better moment, but today seems right. I work my way back to the people who mean more to me than golf or art ever could.

Drew pulls me close.

My mother's eyes widen, waiting for the news I'd hinted at earlier.

I take a deep breath and pass around the ultrasound picture. “The doctor says it's a boy.”

I smile at Robert. “And a girl.”

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