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    Mulligan

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      no if you'd rather I didn't."

      Sometimes, golfers got distracted

      when followed by people they

      knew. "I won't say a word, I

      promise."

      "Are you kidding? I'd love to have

      you there. You can walk with Mom

      and Dad."

      Marty nodded, and looked to Pat

      for approval. The coach would

      have the final word.

      "It's okay by me," Pat agreed.

      "Great! Let me go tell my friends

      where I'm going to be. Break a

      leg, kiddo!" Marty chucked the

      young woman in the arm and turned

      back toward the bleachers.

      "I missed you again today," Louise said as they returned to their

      room on Friday afternoon to

      shower and rest a bit before

      dinner. For two days, they'd seen

      each other only in passing as

      Marty had followed Tami Sparks

      along the course. Louise tried to

      follow as well, but eventually

      returned by herself to the

      bleachers on the 18th hole, not

      wanting to interrupt her partner's

      concentration as she talked softly

      with the girl's parents and

      watched the young golfer grapple

      with her shots.

      "I missed you too. Tami's playing

      great! She's definitely going to

      make the cut."

      "Yeah, she's only one over, and

      that's just six back from the

      leader. She's ahead of a lot of big

      name players."

      "Yeah, but most of those big name

      players have a lot of tournament

      experience, and they can turn it up

      a notch when they have to. She'll

      need to do that too."

      "Wonder who she'll be paired with

      tomorrow."

      "I gave Pat the number here, and

      she promised to call tonight when

      they announced the tee-times for

      tomorrow." Marty pulled off her

      shirt and tossed it onto the bed,

      adding her shorts and underwear

      to the pile. Naked, she opened the

      drawer in search of the oversized

      t-shirt and shorts she usually

      wore to relax.

      "You looking for these?" Louise

      held up the faded black shirt and

      the baggy gray shorts. She was

      enjoying the view of Marty in the

      buff. She didn't get this view very

      often, even less since the shorter

      woman had put on weight.

      "How'd they get over there?"

      "I guess I forgot to pick them up

      and fold them and put them away

      last night when you threw them in

      the floor," the taller woman

      answered with just the barest hint

      of sarcasm.

      "Louise Stevens! What ever will I

      do with you?" Marty teased,

      catching the tossed items.

      "Well, I have an idea or two, but it

      doesn't involve those clothes."

      Her eyebrow shot up suggestively.

      Marty smiled softly and shook her

      head. "How can you look at me like

      that when I look so awful?"

      Louise's face fell at once. "Marty,

      don't you know that you break my

      heart when you say things like

      that?"

      "I… don't… mean to do that, Lou.

      It's just that I…" She held the

      shirt to her chest, suddenly

      modest.

      "Listen to me." She crossed the

      room and put both of her hands on

      Marty's bare shoulders. "The

      body that I want to touch, the

      body that excites me and turns my

      knees to jelly," she placed one

      palm directly over the blonde

      woman's chest, "is the one that

      surrounds this heart. Isn't that

      the way you feel too?"

      "Of course it is. But you're not

      carrying a spare tire like I am,"

      Marty reasoned.

      "Maybe not, but should I start to

      feel self-conscious about my flat

      chest? Or my gray hair? Or the

      veins on my legs? Or the…?"

      "No, Lou! I think you're beautiful."

      "And I think you're beautiful too.

      Really, I do." Louise dropped her

      hands to caress her lover's

      backside.

      Marty tucked her head beneath

      the taller woman's chin and

      sighed. Sometimes, she was almost

      overwhelmed by her realization of

      how lucky she was to have Louise

      Stevens' love. "I really turn your

      knees to jelly?"

      "Uh-huh."

      The lovers held one another for a

      long time, finally sidling into the

      bathroom to discuss the merits of

      water conservation.

      "Wow, look at this sports car!"

      Marty exclaimed. One of the

      major sponsors of The Dinah was

      an auto manufacturer, and the local

      dealer had arranged to have

      several models on display, rotating

      their positions on the course each

      day.

      "You'd look good in that, Marty,"

      Shirley observed.

      "Nah, not enough room for golf

      clubs. I liked the SUV they had

      here yesterday."

      "Yeah, that one's out by the

      entrance this morning. Oh, that

      reminds me! I almost forgot,"

      Shirley gushed with excitement.

      "Linda and I were looking at the

      ones out front yesterday and

      there was this woman talking on

      her cell phone with somebody

      about where to put the cars today.

      She had on a sponsor tag, and I

      swear to God, Lou, she looked just

      like you did the first time we met

      you and Rhonda at that dance."

      "You're kidding!" Carol said.

      "That's so weird! I mean,

      especially after seeing that woman

      the other day that looked so much

      like Marty."

      "I think you guys are pulling our

      leg," Louise said skeptically. "We certainly haven't seen anyone like

      that."

      "If I see her today, I'll point her

      out," Shirley offered.

      "And we'll keep our eyes open for

      that other one," Joyce added.

      "I think we better hurry over to

      the first tee and claim that shady

      spot," Marty suggested. "You

      gonna walk with me today, Lou?"

      "If you want me to."

      "Of course I want you to." She

      liked having Louise close by.

      Tami Sparks had a scorching third

      round, coming into the clubhouse

      at four under, now only three back

      of the leader, who was still on the

      course. Marty and Louise joined

      their friends at the bleachers on

      the 18th hole to watch the

      remaining golfers finish the day.

      "You know, I don't want to jinx

      Tami or anything, but this is kind

      of like that story you were telling

      the other night," Linda said.

      "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Marty didn't need to be reminded. She'd been

      thinking about it all day, seeing

      herself in the young golfer's

      shoes as she took c
    hances on the

      course. From time to time, Tami

      would talk quietly with Pat as they

      walked to the next tee. Whatever

      the old pro was saying, it was the

      right advice, Marty thought.

      "Are you going to see your friends

      today, sweetie?" Louise turned

      away from the others as she

      asked the question, sensing that

      Marty had developed reservations

      about meeting her former

      colleagues.

      "I don't know, Lou. I haven't really

      kept in touch with any of them

      besides Pat."

      "That's all the more reason you

      should go, isn't it?"

      "I guess." In truth, Marty had

      started to wonder what good

      would come of seeing the old gang

      again; or rather, what good would

      come of them seeing her. Here

      she was, an overweight seasonal

      golf pro, second banana at two

      relatively ordinary clubs. Her best

      chance to get back to the big time

      was in the clubhouse, playing not

      for her, but for Pat Shapiro.

      "Maybe I'll just stop in and say

      hello. I hate to keep all of you

      waiting."

      "We don't mind. Carol and Joyce

      said something about a bargain

      table in the pro shop. That should

      keep us busy for an hour or so."

      "Still, I don't think…"

      "Stay as long as you want,

      sweetheart. Or for as short as

      you want. Whatever's right for

      you is okay."

      Marty looked at her sheepishly.

      Somehow, Louise understood.

      Were it not for Pat Shapiro's

      familiar face, Marty would never

      have found her group. None of the

      women in the tight circle of

      armchairs was immediately

      recognizable as someone she had

      played with almost forty years

      ago.

      "Well, if it isn't Marty Russell!"

      The first woman to speak was

      smartly dressed in a creamy silk

      wind suit like so many of the

      golfers their age wore. Her

      abundance of makeup reminded

      Marty of Pauline Rourke, their

      friend back in Cape Coral. This

      was… Fran Edgars!

      "Fran?"

      The woman nodded excitedly.

      "Marty, you look great! It's so

      good to see you again."

      The blonde golf pro turned to look

      at all of the other smiling faces.

      Their names were coming back…

      Becky Halstead… Mary Jean

      Hunter… Candy Romarco. "Wow!

      It's great to see all of you again!"

      In no time, the excited group of

      women caught up on the ages since

      they'd played on the tour. Fran

      left about the time Marty did, and

      married Dale Thomas, a pro on the

      men's tour. Dale worked now out

      of a country club in upstate New

      York. Fran had all but stopped

      playing the game.

      Becky won three small

      tournaments in 1967, but shoulder

      surgery ended her golf career.

      She was a breast cancer survivor,

      twice divorced and she now sold

      real estate in Texas.

      Mary Jean quit the tour after only

      two years and went back to

      college. She taught physical

      education at a community college in

      her hometown of Chillicothe, Ohio.

      She had a partner of 17 years

      named Lana.

      Candy played eight years on the

      tour, finally winning a major in

      1971. The next day, she announced

      her retirement from golf and

      married her childhood sweetheart

      in Huntsville, Alabama. She and

      her husband had nine children,

      and Candy weighed almost 200

      pounds.

      When Marty's turn came, she

      timidly told of her winters in

      Florida, her summers in the North

      Carolina mountains, and her life

      with the retired schoolteacher

      from Pennsylvania.

      "Didn't you marry Wallace Beck?"

      Interesting that Becky would

      remember that, Marty thought.

      The woman had shared many

      whispered concerns with Marty

      back then about the number of

      lesbians on the tour. But even

      before she realized her own

      orientation, Marty had known the

      risks of alienating sponsors on the

      tour with a rumor here or there.

      "Yeah," Marty sighed, "for five years."

      "Boy, you should have gotten a

      prize for that," Candy said.

      Wallace had quite the reputation

      as a ladies' man.

      "I did, actually," the blonde woman chuckled. "My daughter Katie's 35

      years old now, and I have a six-

      year old grandson."

      "Aw, that's nice," Fran said

      sweetly.

      Now it was Pat Shapiro's turn, and

      Marty listened in envy as the pro

      told of how nice it was to be back

      on the tour again, this time with a

      golfer who had a shot at making a

      real name for herself. "And I have

      Marty to thank for that, because

      she's the one who steered Tami

      Sparks my way."

      Marty smiled meekly. "But she

      took off under you, Pat. You're

      the one that deserves the credit,"

      she said nobly.

      "Hey, remember that time…" With

      Mary Jean's story of Becky's

      stolen clubs, the reminiscing was

      officially underway. More than an

      hour passed as they recalled the

      special moments and laughed over

      shared experiences.

      "Would you look at the time! I told

      Dale I'd only be a few minutes.

      He's going to be pacing all over

      the parking lot!" Fran stood and

      picked up her purse. "It was so

      good to see all of you again. We've

      got to keep in touch."

      Everyone nodded their agreement.

      Pat was the one who had managed

      to pull them all together here, but

      it was clear that all but she and

      Marty had whittled the game to

      something much less important in

      their lives than it had been forty

      years ago. Still, the excitement of

      a major tournament had brought

      them all to Palm Springs, proof

      positive that their glory days were

      something they still held dear.

      The soft buzzer sounded at 6:30

      a.m. on Sunday, the last day of The

      Dinah, and the last full day of

      their vacation. Marty tapped the

      snooze alarm and snuggled into

      Louise's long body. "You feeling

      any better this morning, Lou?"

      Poor Louise had eaten something

      yesterday that "disagreed" with

      her, and had been up and down

      half the night. Around midnight,

      Marty had taken off in search of

      an all-night pharmacy, finally

      coming back with a bottle of pink

      stuff to settle her stomach.

      "I think I'm going to live
    ," she

      mumbled.

      "I guess that means you're better

      then. Last night, you didn't want to

      live."

      "What do you think it was?" Louise struggled to sit up, gently rubbing

      her stomach in small circles.

      "I don't know. Maybe your piece

      of fish was bad." They had grilled

      Pacific salmon on the patio. "Or it

      could have been that sausage with

      peppers and onions you picked up

      for lunch. That stuff sits out a

      long time. It's a wonder more

      people…"

      "That's enough, Marty." The gray-

      haired woman had a face to match.

      "Sorry I asked."

      Marty chuckled and stroked her

      lover's back. "All things must pass,

      eh?"

      Louise smacked her playfully,

      warning, "This will be you

      someday, and I'm going to show

      you the same sympathy."

      "Sorry, babe. So do you feel like

      going today?"

      "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

      She managed to smile, and forced

      herself out of bed. They all

      needed to be out the door by

      seven to get the good seats at the

      first tee.

      Marty fell back onto the bed to

      watch Louise get ready for the

      day. She'd laid out her clothes the

      night before and was dressed in

      no time. Next, she rummaged

      through Marty's drawers and

      pulled out one of her favorite

      outfits.

      "Will you wear this today?"

      Marty eyed the dark green shorts

      and green and white striped golf

      shirt. It was one of her favorites,

      too, but she suspected that Louise

      liked it because the neck scooped

      low. "You just want to look down

      my shirt."

      Busted. "I just… happen to think

      you look very nice in these colors."

      "Sure, Lou. Whatever you say."

      Ten minutes later, they were

      toasting bagels and getting their

      bag ready for the day: camera,

      film, water, sunscreen, and cash.

      "Are you guys going to follow Tami

      again today?" Linda was trying to

      plan the best approach for Shirley

      to watch the leaders as much as

      possible. The woman's new hip

      just wouldn't allow her to walk

      much.

      "Lou?" Marty wanted to walk with

      her former protégé, but she also

      wanted Louise to know that she

      had some choice in the matter.

      "Yeah, I want to see if she makes

      another move." In fact, after

      watching the young woman

      yesterday, Louise had found

      herself profoundly interested in

      Tami's game. Some of the nuances

      of her approach to the ball

      showed Marty's influence, even

      after all these years.

     


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