Marty sat on the bed facing her.
"Remember what you told me
about seeing my mom?"
Louise nodded.
"You have to do this, because
there may not be any other
chances. All of us wanted one last
chance—you wanted it with
Rhonda, I wanted it with Betty.
This is your chance with William."
"This looks like a nice place,"
Marty said as Hiram pulled up to
the club drop at the Eagle Oaks
Golf and Country Club. They had
passed several of the fairways on
the way to the clubhouse, and she
knew from experience that a
course like this one was expensive
to maintain. Hiram probably paid a
pretty penny in membership dues.
"It's the best around. Lou and
Rhonda used to like playing here."
He looked at her tentatively, as if
wanting to say more, but not sure
he should.
Marty sensed what was on his
mind and welcomed the chance to
lay his worries to rest. She liked
Hiram, and appreciated his
protective streak when it came to
Louise. "Something else you want
to say, Hiram?"
"Just … Lou's been through a
whole lot." He got out and walked
to the back of the SUV and
opened the rear gate. Marty came
around to meet him.
"I know all about Rhonda, and what
Lou went through when she died.
Every day, I feel lucky that your
sister was brave enough to try to
be happy again, and all I want to
do is make sure that she is."
Marty lugged her clubs to the
drop and waited while Hiram did
the same. She was pleased to see
his easy smile as he digested what
she had said.
"A man worries about his little
sister, you know… no matter how
old he gets."
"I'm glad you do, Hiram. But you
don't ever have to worry about
me. Like I said, all I want to do is
make her happy."
"From the looks of things, I'd say
you were doing a pretty good job.
Just don't ever stop."
"I don't intend to," Marty
answered with a grin. "Now that
we've got all that settled, why
don't we head out to the driving
range first?"
"Sure thing."
Hiram led her into the pro shop,
where she scouted the displays
while he went to get tokens for
the ball machine. Immediately, she
confirmed her earlier assessment
—this was definitely an upscale
club. Hardly anything on the
women's racks was under a
hundred bucks. Even the items on
the sale table were higher than
the first-rate apparel back at Pine
Island.
"How are you doing, Hiram?"
Marty looked up to see Louise's
brother greet a couple of men just
coming into the pro shop. Both
were in their early to mid-fifties,
dressed in expensive golf duds.
"Norm, Carl." He nodded politely
to each.
"You playing today?" It was Norm
who asked. He was a burly man
with a bulbous nose that made
Marty think of her ex-husband.
"Just hitting some range balls,"
Hiram answered meekly.
"Too bad. Carl and I could use a
few extra bucks this week. You
know how the wives are about
spending our money." Norm
chuckled and nudged his friend,
who laughed along.
Hiram glanced sheepishly over at
Marty and back at the two men.
"Sorry, guys. Not today."
"Aw, come on, Hiram," Carl
goaded. "Maybe it's your lucky
day."
Marty caught his eye again and
shot him a quick wink, hoping he
would pick up on her idea. She
didn't even know these jerks, and
already she wanted to kick their
asses.
"I don't know, guys. I'm here with
my sister's friend. We just came
out to hit some balls."
"That's good, Hiram," Carl said.
"Practice makes perfect. Isn't
that what they say?" Again, the
two men laughed at Hiram's
expense.
"I've been working a little with a
golf pro too, so I wanted to try
out a few things. I might not be as
easy to whip as I was last time we
played."
That's it, Hiram. Suck 'em in. Nice
and easy.
"Money talks, Stevens. There's an
ATM right outside." Norm
gestured with his thumb toward
the door. "All we need is a fourth."
Hiram looked around as if in
search of a playing partner. "I
don't know, fellows. I promised
Marty I'd go hit with her." He
looked back at Marty and waved
her over. "Marty, these are a
couple of my colleagues, Norm and
Carl."
"How do you do?" She walked over
and shook hands with each, smiling
demurely. She turned to Hiram.
"If you want to play with your
friends, I can take the car and
head on home. Just call when you
want somebody to come back for
you."
"No, that's no way to treat
company," he said. "Some other
time, fellows."
That's too subtle, Hiram. "What if
…? I could be your partner. Then
you wouldn't miss out on a chance
to play with your friends."
Norm snorted. "Yeah, Hiram. Why
don't you let Marty be your
partner? You don't want to be
rude to your guest."
"I play in a lot of foursomes with
the women at my club down in
Florida. Sometimes we team up and
count whatever score is the lowest
on each hole," she suggested.
"What if we did that?"
Hiram shrugged. "I-I guess. Is
that all right with you guys?"
"Sure!" Norm slapped his
shoulder. "Best ball. Ten dollars a
hole."
Hiram pulled out his wallet and
peeked inside. "All I've got is
twenties. I better see if I can get
some change."
"Twenty dollars a hole, then!"
Norm roared.
Hiram shrugged. "I better hit the
ATM … just in case."
Marty followed him outside as he
fished for his bank card. "Are
these guys any good?"
"High eighties, usually."
"You can put your card away, then.
We won't be needing any money."
Marty chuckled evilly. "I hate to
badmouth your friends, but these
guys are a couple of jerks."
"Oh, they're not my friends. Norm
and Carl work at one of the big law
firms downtown. They're always
bragging about business and how
much money they're raking in."
"Let's take them down a notch,
shall we?" Marty hadn't had this
much fun on the course in twenty
years.
Louise pulled up in front of the
house she had grown up in. The
small yard had been mowed
recently, apparent from the dried
grass that clumped in rows. She
remembered how she used to envy
Hiram, who was given fifty cents a
week to take care of the yard.
She earned her allowance with
housework, but she would rather
have been working outside too.
From the curb, she could see the
window fans on the first floor
going full speed. That house was
like an oven in the summertime,
she recalled, much like the old
house she and Rhonda had owned
in Greensburg.
Louise drew a deep breath and got
out of her car, scooping up the
carton of fruit preserves she had
brought from North Carolina as a
gift to William and his wife. After
Hiram had told her that their
older brother wasn't well, she
began to worry about how she
would react at seeing him.
Before she reached the porch,
the front door opened. A frail
woman stood behind the wooden
screen door and waited for her to
approach. Without even a
greeting, the woman opened the
knew from experience that this
was about as hospitable as Glenda
Stevens could manage.
"How are you, Glenda?" She made
a motion to hug her older sister-
in-law, but Glenda shied away.
Louise settled for a pat on the
shoulder.
"We're all right, I guess." She
took the carton of preserves
without another word and
shuffled down a hallway that led
to what had been Louise's
parents' bedroom. The room was
dark, lit only by the television and
a small sliver of daylight peeking
out from behind the dingy brown
curtains. "William, look who's
here."
Louise inhaled the dank odor of
the room as she entered, taking in
the pitiful sight of her ailing
brother. He was seated in an old
vinyl recliner, a plastic tube
pouring oxygen into his lungs
through his nose. His shirt and
pants were covered with food
stains from his latest meal, the
remains of which sat on a tray at
his side.
"William? It's me, Louise."
"I can see that," he said softly, not in his usual gruff tone.
"How are you?"
"How do . . I look?" He paused in the midst of his sentence to draw
a breath.
"Not so good."
Glenda collected the tray and left
immediately for another part of
the house. From the looks of
things, this visit by her husband's
sister would provide a much-
needed break from her caretaking
role.
"Do you hurt anywhere?"
"Just . . can't breathe very well."
William Stevens had outlived most
of his cohort, many of whom were
claimed by lung ailments similar to
the one that plagued him now.
"I've been visiting Hiram and
Judy. I'm really glad Glenda said it
was okay to come."
William grunted and grappled for
the remote control that was
buried in his chair cushion. After
a long moment, he found the
button he was looking for and
muted the TV.
As she waited for her brother to
finish his task, Louise looked
around the room. On the
bookshelf behind his chair were
several framed photographs,
mostly pictures of the
grandchildren … and probably a
few great-grandchildren. An old
black and white photo caught her
eye. It was one she had seen at
Hiram's a couple of nights ago, a
picture of the adult William with
his two siblings, both toddlers.
Louise was deeply moved to think
that it meant something to her
brother to have a reminder of his
family, especially considering the
distance they had maintained over
the years.
"I can … hear you better now."
"Did Hiram tell you that I moved
to Florida a couple of years ago?"
He nodded. "Said you … retired."
"That's right. That's one of the
reasons I haven't been to see you
as often as I used to. It's a long
way to drive."
"Hiram comes … about once a
month."
"That's what he told me. You
know, he's retiring this year. How
old were you when you quit work?"
She just wanted to make
conversation, anything to get her
brother to talk.
"Sixty-five … on my birthday. That
was the … company rule."
"Goodness, that was seventeen
years ago. What have you been
doing with yourself all this time?"
William gave a faint laugh. "Sitting
in this chair … mostly." He peered
over the arm to check the gauge
on his oxygen tank. Apparently
satisfied, he leaned back.
"It's awfully hot down in Florida
right now. A friend of mine has a
house in the mountains of North
Carolina and I've stayed up there
for the past two summers."
"Do you still . . live with that . .
woman?" he rasped.
Louise was jolted by the question.
or twice, and she didn't recall
ever telling him that they lived
together. "No, she died almost
four years ago."
William grunted. "Sorry. I … liked
her. She was … nice."
"Thank you … thank you for saying
that. She meant a lot to me."
He nodded and looked at his shaky
hands. "I could see that … when
you were with her."
Louise couldn't think what to say.
Her brother's words had stunned
her into silence.
"I bet I won't . . be here the next
time you come . . to Wheeling."
Louise's eyes began to mist. "I
hope that isn't true."
"It comes … for everybody,
Louise." He shifted in his chair,
being careful to stretch the
plastic tube so as not to impede
the oxygen flow. "S'pose I should
say. . thank you. . for the house."
"You're welcome." Louise smiled
despite the tears that continued
to build. "Hiram and I both were
glad to see the house kept in the
family."
He glanced toward the corner.
"You know, I . . was born right
here . . in this room."
Louise nodded. She and Hiram
&
nbsp; were born in the local hospital, but
she had always been fascinated
with the idea of her mother giving
birth to William at home. "I'm glad
you got to live here again . . that
you got to come back." That you'll
probably die in this room as well.
"William, I …"
She looked up to see his eyes also
clouded with tears and she fought
to keep her composure for what
she needed to say.
"I wish we'd had a chance to get
to know each other better all
those years ago. I was always
afraid of you, you know."
William chuckled softly. "Yeah. But
I was. . proud of you. And Hiram
too. I used to . . tell the boys at. .
the mines about you. ."
He finished with a coughing spell
that caused Louise to jump up and
offer him water. She suddenly felt
guilty for the burden her visit was
placing on his struggle to breathe.
"I guess I should be going soon.
I'm really glad I got to see you."
"I … appreciate you coming by.
Take care of . . yourself, Louise."
"I will. You take care of yourself
too." She stood and picked up her
pocketbook.
"One more thing …" He looked
right at her, the tears now
trickling down his cheeks. "Be
happy."
"I will." She bent to kiss him on the forehead and pat his hand in
farewell. After one last look—
probably the very last look—she
left, fighting back a sob as she
called goodbye to Glenda.
Be happy, he said. Life and health
were just too precious to waste.
The foursome approached the
first tee, where Norm and Carl
eagerly hopped out of the cart.
They were probably already
counting their money, Marty
thought. On the short ride from
the clubhouse, she had explained
to Hiram that hustling was an art.
You couldn't spring your trap too
early, or they might find a way to
elevate their game and overcome
your advantage. But you couldn't
wait too long, because you didn't
want them to get too much
confidence—confident golfers
played better.
"Just remember, if we drop these
first couple of holes, it's no big
deal. Besides, if you can swing the
way you were swinging last night,
you might just hold your own."
"I doubt that." He got out of the cart and pulled his driver out of
the bag.
"Confidence, Hiram."
He nodded and approached the
tee.
"Why don't you take honors,
Hiram … since you might not get
another chance today?" Carl
laughed at his joke.
The first hole was a
straightforward par four, with a