Authors: Mara Jacobs
“So this is what May looks like in the rest of the world,” she murmured, aware that lowered voices seemed to be the norm based on the conversations of the scattered people they passed. There weren’t many spectators at the course yet
– it was too early – but those who were
there, spoke with hushed reverence. Katie and
Lizzie
walked to the driving range where fifteen or twenty golfers were hitting balls.
“I know, isn’t it beautiful?” Lizzie said. “Hard to believe that back home we
had a snowstorm two weeks ago.
It’s like we don’t even live in the same country or something.”
Lizzie led Katie to the bleachers that overlooked the driving range. They settled onto seats in the first row and both started to look at the day’s pairing sheet that they’d taken from the attendant at the gate.
“The U.P. might as well be a different country, Lizard,” she said, with just a touch of disdain in her voice.
Lizzie
caught the tone though, as Katie
knew
she would. Lizzie - and Alison too, for that matter - had been hyper-sensitive to her every intonation the last seven months, watching as Katie went through phases of disbelief, then self-doubt and then rage.
The la
st two months had been the worst
.
Being the features section editor at
The
Copper Ingot
, it was among her myriad
duties to
do
the final proofread of
the living section of the daily paper. Of course, at a paper the size of
The
Ingot
, the living section was only a page, but still, Katie proofed it diligently every evening before she left. That’s when she’d seen it: the birth announcement of little Crystal Lipton, daughter of Ron Lipton and Amber Saari.
That had been two months ago, and she had been in a deep depression ever since. So much so, that Lizzie and Alison brooked no arguments when they sent Katie to Texas for two days where Lizzie was meeting a new prospective client.
Lizzie looked at her. “I know everybody’s a little sick of the weather at home this time of year, Kat, but you love the Yoop,” Lizzie said in a soft, coaxing voice.
“No, you love the U.P., Lizard.
I just put up with
it.”
She had never said that before, had never really even thought it. She didn’t know where it had come from, but realized it was the truth.
Not wanting to get into it with her friend right now, not willing to do anything to detract from the warm feeling the sun was bringing her, she perused the pairings sheet for something she could use to change the subject.
“What’s the name of this guy you’re pitching, again?”
“Chad Curtis,” Lizzie said. At Katie’s blank look, she continued, “You probably haven’t heard of him. He just announced he’s skipping his senior year in college to turn pro. This is his first tournament as a pro. He’s here on a sponsor’s exemption because he’s from Irving. Hometown boy making his pro debut. Remember, we watched him on TV at the Masters? We were all excited that an amateur had done so wel
l, placing in the top ten.
”
Katie vaguely remembered. She loved watching professional golf, and she and Ron had always hosted a brunch on the Sunday of the Masters. This year she had gone to Lizzie’s home to watch, not wanting to be in her empty house.
Lizzie’s husband of three months,
Finn
, spent most of the time asking questions, knowing nothing about golf. His kids, Stevie and Annie, had cheered
Phil
Mickelsen
on to another green jacket, and Lizzie and Alison had hovered over Katie, aware of her precarious state.
“Chad’s supposed to be pretty good, a real up-and-comer. I think he’d be just the player to branch Hampton PR into representing golfers,” Lizzie said.
Katie nodded and looked through the sheet to find Chad Curtis’ name. She knew he
had
an early tee time, and she found him near the top of the list. “Oh, he’s paired with
Darío
Luna
. I love him.”
“You do?” Lizzie asked. “That surprises me.”
“Why does that surprise you? He’s been around forever, he’s won three majors.”
Lizzie shrugged. “I know, but you usually go for the really handsome guys, the pretty boys.”
More like the pretty boys always went for her. And she’d always let them. Then Ron – the prettiest pretty boy she’d ever seen - went after her and the rest of them all just fell away, feeling they were unable to compete. She’d never looked beyond Ron. Had never wanted to.
Her gaze scanned down the line of early golfers warming up on the range. There were little placards with each player’s name in front of them, presumably so the fans would know who was who. It also probably helped the bleary-eyed caddies find their employers on early mornings after late nights. The golfers looked refreshed and neatly pressed. The caddies looked rough and badly wrinkled.
Katie didn’t need the placard to know
Darío
Luna
. She’d been watching him play for years.
He had played in his first Ryder Cup at twenty. Katie and Ron had watched it together, cuddled on the couch in the apartment she shared with Lizzie and Alison
. They’d
dated for two years by then, both also twenty, and juniors at State.
Darío
won his first major, the British Open, at twenty-two. Katie and Ron had
awakened
at the hotel on their honeymoon and watched the early overseas telecast as they ate their room service breakfast. While
Darío
lifted the Claret Jug in victory, Katie and Ron lifted their champagne glasses and toasted their new life together.
This past April, as Katie wallowed in her
haze of self-pity
, and Ron was probably playing with his new daughter,
Darío
Luna
missed his first cut at a Masters – a tournament he’d won twice – since he’d turned pro.
They were both having bad seasons.
She spotted him at the far end of the range. It would be a stretch to call hi
m handsome, his bit of a schnozz
saw to that. But there was something about him that drew her eye. He was smaller than most the other golfers. Katie suspected that he wasn’t much taller than her own five
foot nine. His body was compact
but muscular, almost coiled, like he could strike at any moment. He had the dark skin of his native Spain as well as the requisite black hair and brown eyes.
He was wearing a coral Lacoste shirt and perfectly tailored trousers. Katie knew
that
several of the Spanish players on tour wore Lacoste and figured the gator must make his home not in the Everglades, but in Spain. She hadn’t worn a golf shirt with a
reptile on it since her preppy
days back in high school.
Katie had
always liked watching him play and
rooted for him when he was in contention,
so she
was excited that she’d spend the day following his threesome.
She sat, mesmerized, and watched as he warme
d up, going through what was
obviously
a
well-
established routine. Lizzie was chattering beside her, tal
king about this player or that and
pointing things out to her, but Katie wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t take her eyes off
Darío
.
He and his caddy worked together in an easy
rhythm, t
he caddy ready to throw him a ball as soon as
Darío
turned to him. At his side to clean the club
Darío
was done with and hand him the next one. After so many balls,
Darío
taped his ring finger and his pinky on his right hand. Katie chuckled, and Lizzie asked her what was so funny, following Katie’s gaze to
Darío
Luna
.
“You’d love this guy, Lizard, he’s just as anal as you are
. He’s counted his clubs twice, making sure he’s not carrying over the limit.
Oh
,
look, now he’s having the caddy count them too,” she said, laughing. Lizzie harrumphed and tried to respond with some kind of witty comeback, but didn’t. Katie figured it was because Lizzie knew it for the truth. Her friend probably even admired
Darío
for his foresight and planning.
“You don’t think he’s handsome?” Katie asked.
“Well, certainly not a gorgeous pretty boy, like…” She didn’t finish h
er sentence. She didn’t have to.
Katie knew she was about to utter Ron’s name. “But, handsome? Yeah, definitely, but in an unorthodox kind of way, you know? Plus, he’s got that whole European thing going on.”
Katie nodded. There was something about him that was riveting to watch.
Darío
and his caddy moved from the range to the bunker and chipping area, still in view of the bleachers, but closer to the first hole.
Katie moved to the seat behind her so she could stretch out her long legs onto the bleacher
she had previously occupied. With no one behind her, she leaned back, resting
her elbows on the hard plastic that was
already heating up from the sun. By the end of the day, no one would be able to sit on them with shorts on for fear of losing a layer of skin. A poor man’s chemical peel.
Katie dropped her head back and looked at the blue sky. The morning haze was quickly burning off and the sun played a game of peek-a-boo with the only cloud in the sky. A soothing warmth spread over her, and for the first time in seven months, she felt human. No, she felt like a woman again, and it had been much longer than seven months since she’d felt like that.
She was dressed for maximum sun in a tank top and khaki shorts, revealing a tremendous amount of her long legs. She was pale from the Michigan winter. Hopefully she’d be able to change that somewhat in the next two days. Her feet were adorned in flip-flops that would soon be slipped off for the feel of warm grass beneath her feet when they walked the course
.
She looked like a beach bum, and after months of wearing a minimum of three layers, it felt great.
Lizzie had dressed more conservatively, being here in a profess
ional capacity. She wore longer
black linen walking shorts and a crisp, white sleeveless blouse with cute anklets and black and white loafers. Her dark hair, cut in a short shag, was already starting to curl at the ends from the humidity. For once Katie was thankful to have her
baby-fine
Finnish hair. A
t least it would stay put all day in its ponytail.
As the sun came out from behind the lone cloud once more, Katie closed her eyes against the glare and breathed in deeply. The smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the scent of her suntan lotion. It smelled like summer. The thought cheered her immensely. “Thanks, Lizard,” she said quietly, not even sure if her friend heard her. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
She felt Lizzie’s hand on her ankle, giving it a light squeeze,
and
then
it was
gone. Lizzie didn’t say anything, and Katie didn’t say any more. She didn’t need to; they both understood how much Katie needed to get out of the Copper Country right now. How, if only for two short days, they could inhabit a world that held sunshine and laughter. Where great golf was played by the game’s best. A world where rules counted and a person played with honor. Where cheating was considered the demise of humanity and was never tolerated.
A world where Ron did not reside.
Lizzie got up to go introduce herself to Chad Curtis as he left the range to head for the pitching area. Katie watched as her friend shook the young man’s hand. The kid was probably no more than twenty. The thought that Chad Curtis was more age appropriate for Amber Saari than Ron fluttered through Katie’s head.
No. No. No. This is not about Ron.
This
was
about a change of scenery, a change of attitude. She could enjoy her two days here and head back to Michigan on Saturday with a new outlook.
But what would really be different when she got back? Ron would still be there with his new baby and his live-in girlfriend. It would be months before their divorce was final, but Katie had no doubt that Ron and Amber would be married the minute the ink was dry. As Hancock High School’s hockey coach and math teacher, it was not wise to be shacking up with a former student, raising their illegitimate child together. Small towns would only tolerate so much, and this pressed its boundaries.
If this had happened to Lizzie, Ron would have been run out of town, tarred and feathered. But whereas Lizzie was beloved in their hometown, Katie was revered, admired from afar. She had seen the sympathetic looks in the grocery store,
but she had always been considered
unapproachable, and so the
possible
good thoughts from her neighbors were just that – thoughts.