the car, slipping into the driver’s
seat to wait for her companion. To
Marty, it was almost unfathomable
that her life could have changed
so much in just three short
months. But there was no
mistaking it: Lou Stevens had
taken her ordinary existence and
turned it into something almost
dreamlike.
Louise stepped onto the porch and
turned to lock the door. The
brilliant sunshine cast a clear
reflection on the storm door,
allowing her to peek at Marty
unobserved. The sight of her
lover - smiling broadly as she
tapped her fingers on the steering
wheel - caused her heart to swell.
That she had found such love not
once but twice in her lifetime was
just the most amazing gift.
In the Rough
JUNE 1994
" HEY, BABY! WHAT'S for
dinner?" Marty Beck pulled off
her visor and hung it on the hook
by the back door.
Angela didn't answer. She'd been
pacing the house for the last hour,
playing out this confrontation in
her head.
"Where have you been, Marty?"
"What do you mean where have I
been? I was at work."
"Jim said you weren't there; that
you must have left." Jim Conrad
was the full-time pro at Pine
Island.
"Yeah, he should have looked out
on the driving range. I was giving
a lesson." Marty didn't understand
why she was getting the third
degree. It wasn't even dark yet,
and Angela knew that the course
was open until the last golfer
played in.
"He did look on the driving range.
You weren't there."
"I was there. You can't see all of
the tees from the pro shop. If
he'd put down the phone and
walked out there, he'd have seen
me."
"Marty, I never said I talked to
him on the phone. I wanted to
show you the part I got for the
lawn mower and see if it was the
right one, so I stopped by after
work. Your car wasn't there. Jim
and I both walked out to the tees
and we didn't see you. That was
two hours ago."
The golf pro felt her stomach
drop. After six years with Angela,
she'd finally given in to temptation
when a woman at the driving range
construed her friendly overtures
as flirtatious. Figures she'd get
caught the very first time she'd
actually wandered. Marty Beck was
unlucky that way.
"I can explain this, Angela."
"Don't bother, Marty. I'm not
going to go through this. I'm sick
of watching you go to work every
day and feeling like you're just
looking for your next score."
"It isn't like that, I swear." It was just this one time!
"Save it. I want all of your stuff
out of here by Friday. And don't
even think you're going to stay
here tonight."
Marty's heart broke as she saw
the tears in her partner's blue
eyes. What had she done?
"Angela!"
"Just go back and stay with her,
Marty. It's over for us."
JUNE 2002
"Petie, I think you and I are about
the two luckiest creatures in the
whole world!" Marty loosened her
grip on the plastic handle, allowing
the Boston terrier another six
feet at the end of the leash.
The little dog was investigating
the evidence that others had
visited this pet area, and recently.
Not that he minded; on the
contrary, this was a very exciting
place. And he liked the fact that
this woman, the shorter one,
always took him out in the
morning, because that meant that
his mistress would fuss over him
when he returned.
Marty looked up and spotted the
object of their affections on the
back deck of their corner condo.
Louise was setting the small table
in their direction.
"Yessirree, we've got it made,
Petie." There wasn't a day that
went by that Marty Beck didn't
marvel at her good fortune. It
might have taken her 61 years, but
by golly, she'd certainly found the
woman of her dreams. Lou Stevens
was everything she'd ever wanted:
beautiful, sweet, fun, and… she
didn't have all that many hang-ups
about sex. Not that everyone
doesn't have a few; but Lou was
nothing like Angela, who seemed
to think that sex was only for
procreation purposes… not the
best outlook if you happened to be
a lesbian.
No, Lou had been a wonderful
surprise that first night together.
Two hours of necking on the couch
like teenagers finally brought
them both to a fever pitch and the
blue-eyed woman had just taken
her hand and led her to the
bedroom. Marty, in fact, had been
the more self-conscious, turning
off the bedside lamp only to have
Lou turn it back on.
"I sort of… you remember that
day we went walking on the beach
and we laughed at how white my
feet were?" Wearing golf shoes
every day did that.
"Uh-huh."
"Well, the rest of me sort of looks
like that too." If truth be told,
Marty had pretty much always
thought that she looked ridiculous
without her clothes, thanks to the
tan lines above her knees, around
her collar, and on her arms and
shoulders. "And I'm… fat."
"Look at me," Louise asked gently, tipping the smaller woman's face
toward hers. "I think you're
beautiful, Marty Beck. And I want
to know every inch of you. That's
what this is all about."
And so the two had proceeded to
do just that. It wasn't perfect, but
it was about the sweetest night
Marty had ever had. Louise put
her mouth on her most private
spot - the first time anyone had
touched her like that in almost 15
years. She had struggled a bit
with trying to satisfy Lou, but
when the taller woman retrieved a
tube of lubricant from the
nightstand, things went more…
smoothly.
They'd been lovers now for more
than three months, and while
there was still plenty of "newness"
to explore, they were getting
settled into a routine that seemed
right for both of them, usually
making love once or twice a week.
It was of course, a big deal at
first, but even after such a short
time, both women had seemed to
put it all in perspective. Their
physical relationship was just a
small part of what they had going
here.
"Breakfast is ready," the woman
called from the deck.
"That's our cue, Petie. Come on,
and I'll slip you a little piece of
bacon under the table."
Summers in the North Carolina
mountains were the best thing
about being a golf pro, Marty
thought. Mornings were cool, and
even when the days warmed up in
the afternoon, they rarely got
miserable. Weekend golfers didn't
care so much about the
temperature - they were just glad
to be out on the course. But for
anyone who spent six days a week
on the links, the heat and sun
could really take a toll.
This year was the best Marty
could remember, but that didn't
have anything to do with the
weather, she knew. She'd been
thrilled - and more than a little
surprised - when Lou had
accepted her invitation to spend
the summer and fall at the Elk
Ridge condo. The hillside unit
overlooked the 17th fairway, the
prettiest hole on the course, as
far as Marty was concerned.
"Hiya, Marty."
"Hi, Joe." Joe Baxter was the
year-round pro at the club. He and
Marty had been friends for over
30 years, having met for the first
time at a club in Michigan while
she was still married to his buddy,
Wallace Beck. The divorce hadn't
really surprised him much; but he
was perplexed that she'd never
remarried. Marty was such an
outgoing person. Of course, it all
made sense this year, when she
showed up with the retired
schoolteacher.
"You gonna try to squeeze in a
round this afternoon?"
"Yeah, we're going to tee off at
1:15. It looks pretty slow then, so
I should be back here in plenty of
time for the five o'clock lesson."
She'd been building a nice
clientele for the lucrative summer
lessons. That was her gift, and
why she knew she'd always have a
job at Elk Ridge.
"How is Louise liking it here?"
"Are you kidding? She loves it!"
Already, her lover had begun to
explore the High Country, poring
over the antiques and mountain
crafts, coaxing Marty into picnics
along the Blue Ridge Parkway on
her day off.
"Good. It looks like it's going to
be a really nice summer."
"Sure does." He could say that
again.
The golf pro guided the cart to
the right of the 16th green. It was
a glorious day, temperatures
around 76 degrees with a soft
southerly breeze. As far as Marty
was concerned, all Mondays were
glorious now that she had a
standing date for a round of golf
with this beautiful lady in the cart
beside her. Louise did a lot for
the scenery.
"Let me out here, sweetie. Looks
like I'm going to the beach,"
Louise lamented, spotting her ball
in the sand trap.
Marty smiled stupidly at the
endearment as she pulled to a
stop, waiting while her companion
extracted a sand wedge and putter
from the bag. Her own ball sat on
the green, about eight feet from
the cup.
After ratcheting the parking
brake, Marty grabbed her putter
and strode to the edge of the
green where she could watch the
tall woman grapple with her
predicament. The picture of total
concentration, Louise finally
stroked, lofting the ball barely
high enough to catch the fringe…
but not enough to keep it from
rolling back into the trap, where it
came to rest only a foot from
where she started.
"Darn!"
Marty couldn't help but chuckle.
"Lou, I think I know what your
problem is. It's your vocabulary."
"My vocabulary?"
"Right. Now, you see, that was not
a 'darn.' That was at least a 'shit'
if not an all-out 'fuck'."
"Martha Beck! You know that I do
not use words like that!"
"And you're still in the sand trap,
right?"
Louise sighed and shook her head.
Marty had a point.
On her next shot, the tall woman
managed to roll the ball across the
green, and thanks to a neat nine-
foot putt, salvaged a bogey on the
par-4 hole.
The golf pro walked the green
back and forth studying the break.
The greens were fast today, but
she hated to leave it short. This
putt was for birdie… birdie…
birdie… "Screw!"
"Perhaps there's a different
vocabulary for putting," Louise
said smugly.
Marty putted in and followed her
partner to the cart. Sliding into
the driver's seat, she released
the brake and they lurched
forward. "Perhaps there's a
different vocabulary for putting,"
she mocked in a snippy voice,
causing both women to burst out
laughing.
"This is my favorite hole," Louise proclaimed as they approached
the tee for Number 17.
"Why is that?" The par-5 was
Marty's favorite hole too.
"Because it's a tough hole, and it's
pretty, especially up there at the
dog leg where the condo is."
Number 17 angled to the right
amidst a broad stand of pine trees
about 150 yards off the ladies tee.
Another hundred yards past the
turn was a lake that spanned the
width of the fairway; a prudent
golfer laid up for the third shot.
Louise's drive didn't quite reach
the turn; she'd have a tricky
second shot. Marty, on the other
hand, played the ball to fade,
exploding off the tee with a
powerful drive that disappeared
past the turn. If she had a decent
lie, her 3-wood might carry the
water on the second stroke.
"That was beautiful!" Louise
exclaimed.
"Thanks." The golf pro enjoyed
showing off for her girlfriend,
even after all this time.
The tall woman angled her second
shot just past the corner of the
dog leg, getting all the distance
she needed from her 5-iron. Now
they'd drive to Marty's lie, up
ahead about 30 yards. She was
surprised, though, when her
companion bolted off the cart
path across the fairway to the
rough on the far side.
"Where are you going?"
"I want to show you the view from
here." The petite woman hopped
out of the cart and stood at the
corner of the dog leg. From there,
one could see the lake and the
green straight ahead, and the tee
off to the right. "Pretty, isn't it?"
"Yeah, this is what I like about
where your condo is," Louise
answered, gesturing over her
shoulder, "especially with all the
pine trees lining the fairways."
Marty waved a foursome through
so they could spend just a little
more time in that corner of the
fairway. Louise followed her to
stand in the shade beneath a stand
of pines. Her companion tugged
her into the woods under the
auspices of showing her
something else.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Right here," Marty answered as
she ducked behind the low
branches of a thick pine.
Wrapping her arms around the tall
woman's waist, she pulled her
close, seeking out those red lips
for a passionate kiss.
"Oh, my!" Louise sighed when they parted. "You're sneaky."
"You know, you're pretty hard to
resist, Miss Stevens. I've been
wanting to do that ever since you
walked into the clubhouse."
"Hmmm," the older woman studied
her companion's face.
"What?"
Louise pulled a tissue from her
pocket. "Not your shade," she
remarked, dabbing bright red
lipstick from Marty's lips and chin.
"Then we're going to have to find
one we agree on, because I'm not
going to have you giving me kisses
then wiping them off."
"Oh, that's smooth, Marty."
"Got a million of 'em."
"I bet you do."
"Eww! What happened to you?"
Louise exclaimed as she took in
the sight of her mud-covered
lover.
"My three-iron behaved very
badly on seven and I had to hit out
of the water."
"No one hits out of the water,
Marty. It's a drop."
"But it wasn't all the way
submerged, though. It was just
sitting there right on the edge."
"Well from the looks of things,
you took a heck of a divot!"
"I needed to get it all," she
explained seriously.
Louise finally laughed. Marty was
like a schoolboy sometimes, she
thought. "Who were you playing
with that you had to impress so
much?"
"No one special," she answered
nonchalantly, "just one of the new
members up from Winston-Salem."
Most of the members at Elk Ridge
were flatlanders, traveling up on
the weekends and summers to
their second home in the