question of a woman whose expectations, about marriage, career, and herself, were falling to pieces.
“While I was at uni,” Niall said. “I’m not stupid, but the only place I felt alive was on the links. My grades were adequate, and the classes that had something to do with golf or golf courses were great fun, but the rest was…”
“Going through the motions,” Julie said, kissing the baby’s cheek. “Doing the next expected thing because it is expected, and you haven’t planned anything else because you’ve been so busy living up to expectations.”
The picture she made with wee Henry was sweet and right, somehow. “Do you want children, Julie?”
She had the knack of handling a baby, and Henry, who did not take to everybody, had claimed Julie for his own the moment she’d held him. Jeannie had seen that, picked up her purse, and disappeared for her interview without a backward glance.
“I thought I wanted children,” Julie said. “I have cousins, too, and friends from college, law school, and grad school. I’ve been around a lot of babies and toddlers. In my work, I handle delinquency cases, and those poor, clueless, hopeless kids—”
Niall knew a little about those poor, clueless, hopeless kids. The ones born holding low cards with no hope of exchanging them. What could an adult who’d been dealt all the aces in the world offer to doomed youth?
“I do a golf camp for kids each summer,” Niall said. “I learn a lot about the game from them, and some of them keep in touch.”
Henry gave up a contented sigh, the sound startling for its unequivocal surrender of all thoughts, cares, worries, or ambitions. In one gusty breath, the baby conveyed utter trust in the woman who held him, and in life’s goodness.
“Keep talking,” Julie said. “You’re serenading him to sleep. You can’t teach children golf in one week.”
“Golf is probably like the law. You don’t conquer it, you surrender to it. The complexities are unending, the possibilities and anomalies fascinating, the folklore a living body. I’m reminded of one of those screen savers that keeps repeating, though at the same time it’s never the same image, only the same pattern.”
“A fractal,” Julie said. “My father loved them. History is like that too. You can’t study Scottish history without studying English history, then Norse history, then French history, then—Henry’s asleep.”
Niall was wide awake, even as he lay relaxed on the couch. He never talked about golf with anybody. He instructed, he lectured, he demonstrated, he wrote, he critiqued, he analyzed.
Maybe he wasn’t talking about golf with Julie either. “I’m not trying to teach the children golf, I’m trying to teach them what golf taught me.”
Julie rocked the baby slowly, the picture of complete, unified contentment. “Which is?”
“That we’re all still learning, all the time. That nobody has a faultless swing under all circumstances, that we can all improve, and the joy is in the striving. Once that lesson sinks in, you can dream again. It’s not about the big tournaments or the lavish sponsorships. It’s about wrestling the most interesting dragons, day after day, until gradually, you tame them, or make friends with them—I’m spouting nonsense.”
Julie said nothing. Just rocked slowly, cuddling the infant, eyes closed.
A buzzing came from her purse, which sat across the room on the kitchen counter. She rose and passed Niall the baby so smoothly, Henry didn’t wake.
“I should turn my phone off,” she muttered. “Back home, the day isn’t even into business hours yet, and some fool lawyer is probably wondering why they can’t find a case file—crap.”
She stared at her phone screen as if it were the dirty diaper Niall had changed an hour ago.
Don’t go.
Niall assumed a
crap
uttered with that much disgust meant Julie had received a text telling her she had to leave Scotland and get back to Maryland.
Steady on,
“While I was at uni,” Niall said. “I’m not stupid, but the only place I felt alive was on the links. My grades were adequate, and the classes that had something to do with golf or golf courses were great fun, but the rest was…”
“Going through the motions,” Julie said, kissing the baby’s cheek. “Doing the next expected thing because it is expected, and you haven’t planned anything else because you’ve been so busy living up to expectations.”
The picture she made with wee Henry was sweet and right, somehow. “Do you want children, Julie?”
She had the knack of handling a baby, and Henry, who did not take to everybody, had claimed Julie for his own the moment she’d held him. Jeannie had seen that, picked up her purse, and disappeared for her interview without a backward glance.
“I thought I wanted children,” Julie said. “I have cousins, too, and friends from college, law school, and grad school. I’ve been around a lot of babies and toddlers. In my work, I handle delinquency cases, and those poor, clueless, hopeless kids—”
Niall knew a little about those poor, clueless, hopeless kids. The ones born holding low cards with no hope of exchanging them. What could an adult who’d been dealt all the aces in the world offer to doomed youth?
“I do a golf camp for kids each summer,” Niall said. “I learn a lot about the game from them, and some of them keep in touch.”
Henry gave up a contented sigh, the sound startling for its unequivocal surrender of all thoughts, cares, worries, or ambitions. In one gusty breath, the baby conveyed utter trust in the woman who held him, and in life’s goodness.
“Keep talking,” Julie said. “You’re serenading him to sleep. You can’t teach children golf in one week.”
“Golf is probably like the law. You don’t conquer it, you surrender to it. The complexities are unending, the possibilities and anomalies fascinating, the folklore a living body. I’m reminded of one of those screen savers that keeps repeating, though at the same time it’s never the same image, only the same pattern.”
“A fractal,” Julie said. “My father loved them. History is like that too. You can’t study Scottish history without studying English history, then Norse history, then French history, then—Henry’s asleep.”
Niall was wide awake, even as he lay relaxed on the couch. He never talked about golf with anybody. He instructed, he lectured, he demonstrated, he wrote, he critiqued, he analyzed.
Maybe he wasn’t talking about golf with Julie either. “I’m not trying to teach the children golf, I’m trying to teach them what golf taught me.”
Julie rocked the baby slowly, the picture of complete, unified contentment. “Which is?”
“That we’re all still learning, all the time. That nobody has a faultless swing under all circumstances, that we can all improve, and the joy is in the striving. Once that lesson sinks in, you can dream again. It’s not about the big tournaments or the lavish sponsorships. It’s about wrestling the most interesting dragons, day after day, until gradually, you tame them, or make friends with them—I’m spouting nonsense.”
Julie said nothing. Just rocked slowly, cuddling the infant, eyes closed.
A buzzing came from her purse, which sat across the room on the kitchen counter. She rose and passed Niall the baby so smoothly, Henry didn’t wake.
“I should turn my phone off,” she muttered. “Back home, the day isn’t even into business hours yet, and some fool lawyer is probably wondering why they can’t find a case file—crap.”
She stared at her phone screen as if it were the dirty diaper Niall had changed an hour ago.
Don’t go.
Niall assumed a
crap
uttered with that much disgust meant Julie had received a text telling her she had to leave Scotland and get back to Maryland.
Steady on,
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