Authors: Linda Francis Lee
Tags: #Women television journalists, #Man-woman relationships, #Single women, #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Adult, #Fiction, #Athletes, #Texas, #Love stories
Suddenly Sexy (10 page)
*Â
*Â *
Jesse studied his brother through the screen door. Derek came into the*Â *
kitchen without being asked.
"Kate," Derek acknowledged with a nod. "Can I speak to my brother for a
moment?"
"Oh, sure." She gathered her purse, then followed Travis.
Jesse could tell by the look on Derek's face that he wasn't happy.
"What's up?" Jesse asked, leaning back against the counter, crossing
his ankles.
"I had a visit from Daniel Lehman today."
"I take it I'm supposed to know who Daniel Lehman is."
Derek's jaw ticked, but he kept his voice level. "He is a neighbor, a
colleague at the bank, and the father of Lena."
Lena. That sounded familiar. Then Jesse remembered the little girl in
Travis's room. Great.
"And?"
"He was not happy about the fact that his daughter came over to play
with Travis without an adult in attendance."
"It won't happen again. We've already talked about it. Besides, all
they were doing was looking at golf magazines."
"Just the sort of response I would expect from you. It doesn't matter
what they were doingâ"
"It doesn't?" Anger surged up despite the fact that he was trying to
keep it at bay.
"What matters is providing guidelines for a child and setting good
examples. You haven't the first clue how to do either."
Jesse pushed away from the counter. "What the hell is that supposed to
mean?"
"Don't play naive with me. We both know you don't have a clue what
guidelines are or boundaries for proper behavior. Travis is a kid, and
he needs boundaries whether you had them or not."
That's all it took. One minute they were standing there, the next
minute years of frustration spilled over and Jesse pinned his older
brother to the wall. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking
about."
But Derek was frustrated too. "Don't I? When did you start smoking?
Eleven? And drinking? Twelve?"
He pushed Jesse away, gaining release only because Jesse felt like he'd
been punched in the gut. His breath grew labored.
"How about the first time you had sex?" Derek pursued relentlessly.
"Thirteen?"
"I don't have to listen to this."
"Or how about the time that you should have done the decent thing and
stayed away from an innocent young woman who loved you so much that
she'd let you take advantage of her?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Kate."
"I've never taken advantage of Katie."
"Haven't you? The night of my wedding?"
"I've told you before, and I'll say this one last time: I didn't take
advantage of her that day."
"I can't believe you still expect me to believe that nothing went on
between you two in your bedroom.
I saw her. I saw her come running out
crying."
"Fuck."
"Ah, yes, isn't that what you do best?"
The fury exploded, and he had his brother up against the wall again,
his own demons wrapping around him like a vise. This time Derek cursed,
then sighed wearily, pulling a deep breath, calm returning with effort.
"Damn it," the older Chapman stated, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I
shouldn't have said anything.
That's the past. I came over here about
the future."
Jesse pushed away. "What are you talking about?"
"Face it, Jesse, do you really think you can take care of Travis? Don't
you think he deserves a place to stay where two mature adults can care
for him?"
"What are you saying?"
"I'm offering to take Travis off your hands. I know you. You're
champing at the bit to get out of here.
So go. Leave Travis with
Suzanne and me."
Jesse's eyes narrowed. "I see why you're doing this now. You can't have
kids, so you decide you'll take mine instead."
Where physical blows hadn't hit their mark, that did. Jesse knew he
shouldn't have cared. But he felt like a jerk for having said it
anyway. That was how it worked with them. Fury pushing them on, each of
them saying things that wounded deep. It had been that way for too many
years to count. Old habits that were hard to change. Years of each of
them disappointing the other.
"Hell. Just go, Derek. Travis is my responsibility. I've arranged for
golf camp."
"There's more to taking care of a child than golf camp. You have to
guide and mold and care."
Jesse remembered Katie telling him a version of the very same thing.
And that's when the idea hit him.
"I am going to do more. I've come up with a plan so Travis and I can
spend more time together." As
soon as he said the words he couldn't
believe it. But he was too far in to turn back. "We're going to rebuild
the tree house."
"What?"
"The one that used to be in Katie's old cottonwood. Travis and I are
going to rebuild it together."
NINE
Rebuild the tree house. What
the hell was he thinking? Travis and Kate
were fixing dinner, and Jesse
left the house. He wanted to punch
something. He wanted to get out of town. Just as Derek had said.
Jesse thought of his father.
Decades ago, it had been at the golf course where it had all started.
His father had taken him and Derek
to hit a few when Jesse was eleven,
Derek nineteen. Derek had hated the game. But the minute Jesse
had felt
the club face connect with that tiny white ball, he was hooked. The
sensation was amazing. The feeling of power that he hadn't felt with
anything before or since. More than that, it had been the first
time in
months that Jesse felt as if he could traverse the divide that had
grown between father and son.
It was the first time something had
sparked in Carlen's eyes. A sign that there was still life inside him,
that maybe Jesse wouldn't lose him after all.
Golf was also the most frustrating game ever invented.
It was a day-to-day challenge no matter how good a player became. On a
good round, golf made him
feel like a king. During a bad one, he
wondered why he bothered. But those days when he experienced that heady
rush of success, that sensation of pure connection, was what brought
him back.
But Carlen and Jesse shared more than just golf. Once the bond had
started, Carlen had shared his entire world with his younger son. The
drinking, the womenâas Derek had said, since he was eleven.
That was the demarcation line, the before and after. Before, when their
father was in shocked despair over their mother. Then after, when
slowly, bit by bit, vice by vice, the man had made his younger son his
friend. Carlen Chapman had been alternately moody and arrogantly
selfish, and Jesse had never known how to say no, causing his innocence
to end early, though so gradually that he sometimes didn't remember
being any other way.
After a year of having a broken father, Jesse hadn't known how to
decline when Carlen offered him his first drink. He wanted his father
back, in whatever capacity was offered. The wildness had become the
only life he knew. But Jesse had always done what was right when it
came to Katie.
On the day of Derek's wedding, he had wanted nothing more than Katie.
Her innocent touch had nearly undone him, just as it had years earlier
when she was fourteen and had run her fingers down the path of hair on
his chest.
That seemed to be their pattern. Katie seeing something in him that no
longer existed, and Jesse trying
to do the right thingâat least when it
came to her. Because he was not an innocent. And he knew if
he made her
his, then moved on as he knew he would, Katie would always be
considered one
of the women who couldn't keep him.
Jesse got in his Jeep and started to drive, then found himself pulling
through the tall, black gates of the
El Paso Country Club. His fingers
tightened on the steering wheel at the sight of the sprawling red brick
building at the head of an old-world circular drive shaded by ancient
cottonwood trees.
He sat for a second, staring beyond the building to the course. He
wondered if he could afford to take a chance on pulling out his clubs
and trying to hit a bucket of balls. Would the driving range be
crowded? Would people circle around, closing in on him?
He had been honest when he said he had come to El Paso to get away from
reporters. He didn't want to talk about the hero business. But it was
more than thatâ there was more that he had a hard time admitting even
to himself.
He'd been on fire all year, coming close to winning nearly every
tournament he played. Now, with the PGA Championship looming in August,
what he really couldn't afford the press getting wind of was that he
hadn't been able to swing a club without breaking into a cold sweat
since he saved that woman.
He took a deep breath and told himself he could solve the problem here,
on this course where he had fallen in love with the sport. He would
pull out his clubs, empty his mind, and work out the glitch in his game.
He put on a pair of soft spiked shoes, then pulled a putter, nine iron,
and driver out of his bag. As he walked toward the pro shop, heat
simmered off the black tarmac, the sky overhead an almost painful blue,
without a cloud in the sky. To his left, he could hear kids splashing
in the
complex's swimming
pool. To his right, the felt-wrapped rubber whack of
a tennis ball volleyed over the net on the courts.
The minute he pushed into the air-conditioned confines of the golf
shop, everyone stopped what they were doing.
"Jesse!"
Golfers crowded around, shaking his hand, glad to be there for his
return. Others whom he had never
met before hung back, smiling that
hopeful smile the more dignified fans got when they wanted him to
notice them. Most people assumed this was his favorite part of the game
given the sheer amount of
media attention he had garnered over the
years. But in truth, he hated it.
"Welcome home," the pro said, coming up and shaking his hand. "Good to
see you here."
Jesse tried to concentrate on what the man said as they caught up. They
discussed rankings and some new up-and-coming talent. It seemed like
forever before he was able to continue on through the shop
to the other
side, coming out onto the putting green.
With measured movements, he set his other clubs aside, then took the
putter and a handful of balls. For one long moment he just stood there.
His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat, his palms clammy.
Relax, Chapman.
Focus.
He could see through the trees to the towering heights of Mount
Franklin rising up into the wide-open West Texas sky. The golf course
spread out before him like a carpet, huge willow trees and cottonwoods
lining each. fairway. This was the world he had known his whole life.
This was the solution to the glitch in his game. It had to be.
Dropping the balls onto the velvet green, he took his stance over the
putter, swung a few times in practice. He glanced at the mountains one
more time before he blocked out the world, breathed deep, pulled the
putter back, then swung through. The connection simmered through him as
he watched the
ball roll toward the miniature flag. He concentrated so
hard that he could make out the ball maker's
name circling round and
round until the ball fell into the hole.
His breath came out in a rush, and he pressed his eyes closed. Good.
He sunk the next two in a row.
The tension that had wrapped around him eased a notch. Barely, but
enough that it felt good to be here out on the course. No cameras
circling around. No fans with expectations that were impossible to meet.
Stepping up to the last ball, he took a deep breath. He heard someone
say his name in the distance. For
a second he froze. But then he
blocked it out. He swung the club ever so slightly, felt the solid
clink of connection, sending the ball running up toward the hole,
looking a little left, before it caught the break, circled the rim,
then fell into the cup with a gratifying clatter. Success. Five for
five. It was a start. But
the short game hadn't been the problem. That
lay ahead on the driving range.
Before anyone could come up to him, he gathered his belongings and
headed over to the ball machine
and got a bucket of balls.
Concentrating, he told himself he could re-create the same sensation
with his driver and nine iron as he had with the putter.
He ignored the other golfers, his grip tight on the metal handle of the
wire bucket, and headed for the range. But escape wasn't in the offing.
Within minutes, a crowd circled around, closing in on him, making it
hard to breathe. And when someone hollered out, demanding that he go
for the trees beyond the three hundred-yard marker, the sound startled
him. The ease of El Paso was forgotten. The hope for a simple cure on
this course was lost.
For nearly as long as he could remember, he had lost himself to women,
to sexâand to pushing to the edge, adrenaline and satisfaction pumping
through his body, emptying the constant circling in his mind. For a few
minutes, a few hours, he forgot the innocent life he had known before.
Oddly, it was his father who had taught him about that, about the
forgetting. First with a cigarette. Next with a drink after father and
son started playing golf together. One drink then two at the infamous
"nineteenth hole."
But it was the night of his thirteenth birthday that had changed him
completely. His father leaving him alone with one of the older man's
many girlfriends. She giving him the sort of present that made his
body
come to life. It seemed that he had been heading toward that night for
the preceding two years.
Derek had been furious when the woman had walked out of Jesse's
bedroom. Their father had laughed. Jesse hadn't known what to do. But
he knew that he had to protect his father. What would happen if Derek
told the people who came by trying to make sure all of them were okay
after their mother died? Would they take their father away, leaving
them with no one? How had it happened that the world Jesse participated
in so that he wouldn't lose his father had suddenly become yet another
way that could
cause another loss?
Whatever the answer was, Jesse had been protecting his father ever
since.
Jesse whirled around. Several people waved. Women smiled that smile he
had come to hate. An invitation. A promise of what they wanted to give
him.
He knew he didn't dare try to swing because if he did, even here, he
realized, he very well might shank the ball. And he couldn't afford for
anyone to see that his game was off.
Fuck.
With effort, he smiled and bowed gracefully.
"Sorry, folks, but I just remembered I have someplace I have to be."
People started to grumble, but Jesse didn't stop. He left the full
bucket of white balls on the grass, bypassed the pro shop this time,
then headed for the parking lot, the club shafts banging against his
leg
as he went.
Swearing, he carelessly tossed his clubs into the back of the Jeep. The
minute he slid into the driver's seat, he shifted into gear and had to
force himself not to floor it.
Instead, he drove with careful precision through the open gates, then
straight down Country Club Place
to Country Club Road, away from the
course, away even from Katie's house and the old neighborhood. When he
got out of sight, he pushed the accelerator hard, losing himself in the
speed, as if he could outrun the terrifying thought that maybe even El
Paso couldn't put him back together again.
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