kg macgregor m1

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 ~ Mulligan ~
by KG MacGregor

Disclaimers: Hmmm…original characters who might remind you of familiar people.

This story was written for the Academy's Valentine's Day Special, and it depicts a ROMANCE between two women.

Many thanks to my beta reader Tami, and to my Sweetcakes, whom I plan to love throughout our fast-approaching Golden Years.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Mulligan
By KG MacGregor
© 2003
kgmacgregor@yahoo.com

October 1998

"So if Betty is three times as old as her daughter Jane, and four years ago, she was four times older, how old is Jane now?" The teacher scanned the room to assess the expected confusion on the faces of those in her algebra class. Quadratic equations were always tough at first, even for the brightest students. "Who wants to try to write that formula on the board?"

Sophomore Michelle Sanders worked feverishly to sort out the problem. Math hadn't interested her much - until the day she entered Miss Stevens' class. Truth be told, it wasn't quadratic equations that piqued her interest at all; it was Miss Stevens. The algebra teacher was beautiful - tall and graceful, and with the bluest eyes Michelle had ever seen. Who cared if she was 60 years old!

"Mr. Stempel?"

All eyes turned toward Mike Stempel in the last row. The young man's arms were folded across his desk, his face buried in the crook of his elbow. Mike was sound asleep.

"Alright, someone else," she encouraged, her voice lower as she walked quietly toward the slumbering student. Any other teacher in the school might have shouted at Mike, or perhaps dropped a book loudly next to his desk to startle him awake. But Miss Stevens wasn't like other teachers; without a sound, she lifted his jacket and draped it around his shoulders.

Michelle had almost worked it out. Tentatively, she raised her hand to volunteer.

A knock at the door interrupted the lesson, as Westfield High School's principal Theodore Myers poked his head in and gestured for the teacher to come into the hallway.

"Have a look at the problems on page 68. Miss Sanders, why don't you go to the board and see if you can write that equation?"

The student beamed with pride that she had been recognized by the teacher she adored.

Louise Stevens stepped into the hallway with her boss, glancing one last time over her shoulder to verify that her students had understood her instructions.

"What is it, Ted?" The man's face was uncommonly grave. Without doubt, he was bringing bad news.

"I need you to come with me, Louise," he answered, placing his hand gently on her elbow.

"Rhonda," she whispered, starting immediately toward the stairwell.

Myers hurried behind her, but the stout man couldn't keep up with her long legs and urgent gait. By the time he reached the stairwell, Louise had turned the corner at the landing, dangerously skipping steps as she barreled toward the band room.

On a dead run, the tall teacher passed a dozen students gathered in the hallway outside the band director's office. They were somber; a few in tears.

Inside the band room, Rhonda Markosky lay on her back, her beautiful face swollen and purple. Rick D'Angelo, the physical education teacher, straddled her waist, frantically pumping her chest in a mechanical rhythm. After every fifth compression, he would pause to allow another teacher to blow a deep breath into the dying woman's lungs.

Louise hurried to kneel alongside the still form, clutching the twisted hand tightly. "Rhonda," she implored the motionless woman to respond, rubbing the hand vigorously. "Rhonda." Sweetheart. My darling. My love.

February 2002

"I hadn't planned on doing this by myself, Petie."

The Boston terrier, intent on proving that his tall mistress wasn't in this alone, whimpered until she pushed back from the table to allow him access to her robe-clad lap. Petie sensed that she needed an extra dose of affection this morning, and his only purpose for living was to dole those out. Oh, and to eat. And sleep.

Louise Stevens sat on her lanai with her morning coffee; her piercing blue eyes watching a small boat navigate the narrow canal behind her home. This was her first winter in Florida, where she and Rhonda had always planned to live when they retired from teaching high school in Greensburg, Pennsylvania. Were it not for Petie, the loneliness of her new home would be almost unbearable.

"You're such a good boy, you know that?" she asked, delivering a loving scratch behind his ears.

Yeah, he knew. Theirs was a bond of mutual adoration.

The 3-year-old pooch had been a gift from her sophomore homeroom class the spring after Rhonda had died. Louise was very touched by the gesture, knowing that her students had read the quiet desolation on her face every day since the loss of her companion. When she opened the box on her desk and found the 8-week-old puppy, she fell in love on the spot. Accessing the Internet from her classroom, the teacher quickly located a picture of the infamous Petie of Our Gang fame to show her students the similar markings around the eyes. She and her class settled right away on the AKC designation Rhonda's Spartan Petie, the middle name to commemorate their high school moniker. The puppy was a godsend, and the only dog allowed in their home stadium during high school football games.

Though the nature of Louise's relationship with fellow teacher Rhonda Markosky was never formally discussed by either the faculty or students, it was common knowledge that the two had shared a home for 30 years. On those rare occasions when a poor test score or a scolding after a missed homework assignment had prompted a slur from a disgruntled student, fellow students were quick to squelch the disparagement of two of their favorite teachers.

Louise had briefly contemplated staying on until she turned 65, but when that special group of sophomores graduated two years later, she thought it a good time to leave as well. The memories of her departed lover dogged her both at home and in the hallways of Westfield High School, and Louise finally decided that she needed a change. Now here she was, 63 years old, living alone in Southwest Florida.

"Got to get that, Petie," she said, nudging the dog from her lap to grab the phone in the kitchen. "Hello."

"Hey, Lou! Listen, we've got a tee time at 11:30 if you want to join us. Think you're up for a round?"

It was longtime friend Shirley Petrelli, who, along with her partner Linda, had retired two years ago and moved here to Cape Coral, a fast-growing suburb of Fort Myers…as if a place as small as Fort Myers actually warranted a suburb. With its inexpensive tract housing, Cape Coral had been dubbed a perfect community for the "newly wed and nearly dead."

Louise had been looking forward to playing golf this winter, but those plans were thwarted when she had clumsily broken her left wrist over the Thanksgiving holiday. "That sounds really tempting, Shirl, but I'm not sure my arm's up for that just yet." She'd only gotten her cast off a couple of weeks ago.

"Maybe you ought to go hit a bucket of balls, Lou. You know, get your swing back."

"Now that's not a bad idea. I might just do that this afternoon." It would be a great excuse to get out of the house.

"Oh, and don't forget. Linda's making lasagna on Friday."

"Sounds good. What can I bring?"

"Just Petie. Angel needs a playmate." Angel was a greyhound they had rescued last year when he was deemed unfit for racing. The sight of the two dogs - so disparate in size - playing together always made them laugh.

Louise jotted a note on her calendar to remind her about the Friday night dinner. Old habits die hard, she thought. She had always kept a calendar to note the various high school sporting events, plays, and band concerts, trying as hard as she could to get to all of them. It was important to support the kids in their endeavors, and in return, they gave her their best in her math class.

With a sigh, Louise noted that the Friday night dinner was the only event on her February schedule. Shirley and Linda had invited her to a dance on Valentine's Day, but it was unlikely she would go. Those things just weren't much fun as a third wheel.

After cleaning up her breakfast dishes, the tall woman retreated into her master suite and pulled on a teal nylon jogging suit with her Rockport Pro-Walkers. Petie twirled and yipped, bouncing back and forth to the closet where his leash was kept.

"Wanna go for a walk, Petie?" Silly question. He was ready as soon as he saw the shoes.

The terrier yipped and twirled some more, finally settling himself while she clipped the leash into place. There would be bushes, and tall grass, and mailboxes, and even a fire hydrant in the next block!

Two long blocks from her home, Louise and Petie turned right. This was Louise's favorite part of their route. On the left, far across a wide canal, was the fence that surrounded West Cape High School. From this vantage point, she could see the kids gather at tables and benches on a broad shaded patio. It made her miss her teaching days, but it was satisfying to see the young people laugh and joke with one another. This veiled connection to her past life was a comfort.

She'd been thinking of late that she might go in someday to introduce herself; perhaps even offer her services as a volunteer or a substitute teacher. In her 39 years at the front of a classroom, teenagers may have changed, but not much, she thought. Louise enjoyed being around them, and they could tell.

"You ready to go home, Petie?"

The short-legged terrier worked himself ragged to keep up with his tall mistress, taking six steps for every one of hers. This one-mile loop always left him tuckered out; he would sleep for two hours when they got home.

Louise unclipped the dog's leash as they walked in the door, and Petie went straight for his water bowl. His mistress detoured into a small study off the living room, where she booted up her computer.

It was a quarter to 10, and all that comprised Louise Stevens' daily routine was almost complete: breakfast, two newspapers, an extra cup of coffee, Petie's walk, and now a check of her email and the weather report for Greensburg. After her shower, she would settle in to read. And probably fall asleep again.

**********

"I need to get out of this house, Petie!"

The startled dog cocked his head, trying to understand the source of his mistress' consternation. They had napped, had lunch, and taken another short walk, just as they always did. But for some reason she was cross.

When Louise spent too much quiet time in her new home, she grew melancholy or "self-pitying" as she would say. Closing up the lanai - okay, so it was a screened-in back porch, but lanai sounded so much more tropical - the tall woman slipped into the master bedroom to change. She had decided to take Shirley's suggestion and go hit a bucket of balls so that she could ready herself to start playing again.

Perhaps if she got back into playing golf, she could meet some new friends. Shirley and Linda were great, always trying to include her in the things they did; but it wasn't fair to tag along with them all the time. No, Louise knew that she needed to develop her own circle of friends.

The warm-up suit she'd had on earlier would suffice for just going to the range, she reasoned. Though it was uncharacteristic for the striking woman to leave her home underdressed, she was trying to adapt to this casual retirement thing. Still, a light coat of base makeup improved her complexion a bit and protected her from the sun.

Passing the full length mirror beside the bedroom door, the tall woman had second thoughts about it all, turning back to her dresser to extract the proper attire for going out: a white shirt with a beige collar and trim that matched her knee-length golf shorts. A light blue v-neck vest completed the outfit. Just because she could be more casual didn't mean she had to be.

The closet held two sets of clubs, her own and those of her late partner. Rhonda had so loved golf that Louise couldn't bring herself to get rid of either the clubs or the dozens of accessories, accumulated over the years at Christmas, birthdays, even Valentine's Day.

Exiting through the garage, she loaded her clubs into the trunk of her silver Mercury Sable and activated the automatic door.

"This will kill a couple of hours. Only about…," she did the math in her head, "…a quarter of a million to go."

**********

Smack!

Louise grimaced as she watched her drive take a sharp right turn only a hundred yards out in front of the tee. She'd never had a problem with a slice before; what's more, she usually got at least 140 yards out of her driver. Sure, she hadn't swung a club since mid-October, but this was quite an unwelcome result.

Smack!

She and Rhonda had taken up golf nearly 20 years ago, joining a modest country club near their home. Summers off from teaching afforded lots of time to practice, and over the years, both women had become quite adept at guiding the "stupid little white ball" into the cup. Louise's long game had peaked about 10 years ago; these days, her drives were shorter, but her chipping and putting had improved.

Smack!

Again, her shot sliced viciously, this time clearing the fence and falling onto the adjacent fairway on Number Nine.

"There's a 50-cent surcharge for every ball that leaves the driving range."

Embarrassed that someone was witness to this horrible display, Louise chose to ignore both the remark and the remarker, fishing in her bag for a nine-iron. Leveling her hips, she positioned her hands slightly in front of the ball that sat on the bristled tee.

Smack!

Louise frowned as she watched it fall well short of the 75-yard marker.

Smack!

Smack!

Darn it! Sixty yards with a nine-iron!

"You know, this game's got a lot of funny rules, but there isn't one that says you can't use a seven-iron to get you 75 yards."

Louise roiled at the comment, frustrated at her own loss of distance, and further exasperated by this stranger who suddenly found her game so interesting. Turning, she eyed her tormentor, a short stocky woman of about 60, with bright green eyes and a shock of sun-bleached hair poking every which way from the top of her visor. The darkly tanned face, arms and legs suggested that this woman had spent many, many years on Florida's fairways.

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all," the petite blonde answered matter-of-factly. "Usually, I get paid to say things like that, but I have the discretion to waive my fee in certain circumstances."

"Perhaps you should save your sage advice for someone who wants to hear it so badly that she's willing to pay for it." She'd be sort of cute if she weren't so arrogant!

"It's your lead arm, by the way. It's not pulling through, so you're getting the slice from pushing the ball with your trailing arm. If I had to guess, I'd say you've had an injury of some sort."

"You can tell that by my swing, huh? The difference in the tan didn't give away the fact that I've been wearing a cast on this arm for the last six weeks?"

"Well now that you mention it…."

"Right. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to continue my rehabilitation," she said, emphasizing the last word with no small measure of sarcasm.

"Of course," the woman said, not yet ready to walk away from this intriguing newcomer. "By the way, you have a beautiful…" face, figure, behind, "…swing."

**********

Louise turned around and dropped her chin to her chest so that the shower massager could send its hot pulses to her aching shoulders and neck. In retrospect, hitting only a small bucket of balls would have been a better idea, but she'd felt ambitious when she arrived at the range. Hopefully, the soreness would be gone by tomorrow, and she'd try it again.

Petie was quite confused at the order of business today. His mistress usually showered after their walk, not before…and she'd hardly spoken to him at breakfast, her mind seemingly somewhere else.

"Hmm…I wonder if…." Turning off the water, Louise wrapped her hair in a towel and quickly dried off. Donning her robe again, she walked into the study and booted up the computer, twisting back and forth impatiently in her office chair as she waited for her icons to appear. Four minutes later, she had her answer.

"Martha Beck." The web site for the Pine Island Country Club boasted two pros, Jim Conrad and one Martha Beck, the pompous woman who had practically accosted her at the driving range yesterday. "Marty" had joined the staff at Pine Island 14 years ago. "Probably when this picture was made," Louise sneered, taking in the photo of a much younger, much thinner woman. Not that Louise minded a few extra pounds on a woman - Rhonda had been a size 16. Deciding that she in fact preferred the stockier version of the little blonde pro, she caught herself wondering why on earth it mattered to her one whit whether Martha Beck was skinny or stout.

**********

Her muscle soreness gone by the next day, Louise resumed her daily routine. She'd been thinking for two days about that rude woman, the cute one with all those laugh lines, the one who had complimented her swing. It would probably be a good idea to go hit another bucket of balls….

Briefly, she contemplated going somewhere besides the Pine Island Golf Club so she would avoid another encounter. Now that would be silly, Louise concluded; I'm a member there. So instead, she showered and put on one of her most flattering outfits, pulling her collar-length salt and pepper hair back; it was barely long enough to clamp with a barrette. She didn't need the stylish straw hat, as the range tees were situated underneath a canopy, but she looked good in it, so she wore it anyway.

Louise walked into the pro shop at exactly the same hour as she had on Monday, proceeding to the same set of covered tees, even waiting for an older gentleman to finish so she could use the same mat.

Smack!

That slice wasn't quite as pronounced as it had been the other day, but there still wasn't much distance.

Smack!

Slow down, she admonished herself. What's the big hurry?

The familiar voice of the golf pro sounded, this time from behind and directed at a woman of about 50 who obviously colored her dark red hair and wore entirely too much makeup.

"That's it, follow through," the blonde instructor encouraged.

"I don't know, it still doesn't feel right," the woman whined. "Maybe you could…show me again, you know, holding the club with me?"

Louise picked that moment to switch from her driver to her five-iron, unable to resist a peek at the personalized lesson the pro was giving this Tammy Faye Baker look-alike.

Settled behind the woman, the short muscular arms reached around and closed over the woman's hands as they gripped the club. In tandem, they drew the club overhead.

"That's right, parallel to the ground," she coached.

Together they swung through, sweeping the club head in a perfect arc past the trailing shoulder.

"Just like that."

"That felt great," the woman gushed. "Let's do it again!"

"That felt great. Let's do it again," Louise muttered in a low squeaky voice.

Smack!

Now she was hooking her five-iron.

Smack!

Smack!

Good distance, though. Louise was hitting the ball harder than usual, but she knew that she was pushing it, not letting the club do the work. Too much of that, and she'd be sore again tomorrow.

Smack!

Smack!

"You know, we're open till dark. You can take your time if you want."

"You again!" Why does this woman always show up when I'm screwing up?

"Now don't get excited. I was giving a lesson and saw you over here. Thought I'd just say hello and properly introduce myself. I'm Martha Beck, Marty to my friends."

"Hello, Martha." Louise emphasized her choice of names. She and Marty were not friends.

"Hi." Marty looked over her shoulder at her struggling student, then back at this beautiful woman who didn't like her yet. "Uh, nice hat."

Smack!

Darn it!

**********

It was Marty Beck's nature to be friendly and outgoing, but those who were more serious sometimes had trouble accepting her offhanded sense of humor. She also had a penchant for handing out compliments right and left, looking for something she liked in everyone she met. That habit had gotten her into trouble more times than she could count, and had eventually caused the ruin of her relationship with Angela, who simply didn't trust that her flirtations were innocent.

Of course, there was that one time that they weren't, and that made all the others pretty hard to accept.

**********

On Friday morning - same mat, same hat - Louise didn't encounter the annoying golf pro on the driving range, though she did catch a glimpse of her twice riding by in a golf cart. The second time, the little blonde was headed toward the pro shop.

Louise hurriedly hit most of her remaining balls, scuttling five or six into the grass in front of the tee. She entered the clubhouse just in time to see the blonde blur heading out the door on the other side into the parking lot. Since she didn't really need anything from the pro shop today, the tall woman proceeded straight through, exiting just in time to see Martha get into a waiting car and plant a kiss on the cheek of a younger woman - a much younger woman!

People should act their age! Louise groused, clacking across the pavement in her spiked shoes.

**********

"You really ought to come with us. We've gone two years now, and both times were so much fun." Linda and Shirley implored Louise to consider coming with them to the Valentine's Dance the next Friday night. "There'll be lots of women there, many of them single."

"I'm not looking to meet any single women. I'm not ready for that sort of thing." The way she'd been missing Rhonda lately, Louise sometimes doubted that she ever would be ready.

"You should at least come and make some friends. Wouldn't it be nice to get to know people who can just pick up and go to the beach in the afternoon, or who can run up to Sarasota with you for the symphony?"

Louise conceded that having friends for just such occasions would be nice, but she was adamant that she didn't want to meet someone who had other things in mind.

"But those other things…sometimes, they just come along when you aren't looking," Shirley suggested.

"Not for me, they don't." Since Rhonda died, there hadn't been anyone who was even remotely interesting from a romantic perspective. Well, except in an odd sort of way…. Now that's just ridiculous, Louise!

"By the way, Lou, we got a tee time for Tuesday at 10. If you're up for a round, I'll call out to the club and see if they can find us a fourth."

"Yeah, I think I'd like that. But I have to warn you that I've been hitting the ball all over the place since I got my cast off."

"You know, you ought to call Marty Beck. She's the golf pro over at Pine Island, and she's really good. Family, too. I bet she could give you a few pointers."

Louise stiffened, remembering the sight of the golf pro getting into the car with that…that child! "I think I can manage just fine," she answered, barely able to check the hostility she felt. "I just have to get my strength back."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Linda said, looking at her partner curiously. What was that about? "But if you change your mind…."

"I won't."

**********

Tuesday finally came and Louise got a special thrill out of reading that Greensburg was getting eight to 10 inches of snow today. Here in Cape Coral, they would hit 83 this afternoon,

For her first day back on the links, Louise selected yet another flattering outfit, this one a white sleeveless shirt with red plaid trim on the collar and shoulders to match her long shorts. Again, she pulled her hair back in a barrette so it wouldn't blow in her face, this time adding a pair of gold hoops and just a touch of lipstick. The hat finished the look.

After a brief stop at the club drop, Louise found a rare parking place in the shade, next to a familiar car. It was…yes, it was the one Martha Beck had gotten into last week. Obviously, her little girlfriend was a golfer too. Probably in the children's league!

Not seeing Shirley's station wagon, Louise opted to wait inside the clubhouse, that is, until she spotted the cradle-robbing golf pro behind the counter. Hoping to avoid the unwelcome advice-dispenser, she immediately drifted into the racks of golf shirts by the door. If the short woman got distracted, she could slip back out and wait for Linda and Shirley, maybe even sending them in with her green fee.

"You know, we have some women's clothing over on this side, if you're into that sort of thing, that is."

Louise cringed at the annoying voice.

"I was thinking about a gift," she shot back. "But never mind." She really needed some golf socks, but she'd be darned if she was going to buy anything in here.

"Hi, Lou!" Linda breezed into the shop. "Shirley's parking the car. Hi, Marty," she grinned at the golf pro, who had obviously just made a very delightful connection.

"Why Linda, I didn't know you and Lou were such good friends." Marty grinned back at the tall woman, who was now slinking deeper into the men's wear.

"Oh, yeah, we go way back. We taught in the same school district up north. Say, did you get us a fourth?"

"Sure did! She's waiting for you already at the driving range. Name's Pauline Rourke. Red hair, extra makeup," she whispered the last bit conspiratorially.

Louise blanched. Not that woman!

Indeed, Tammy Faye was her partner today, and if that in itself wasn't bad enough, the woman practically chanted every mantra of golf mechanics on each and every stroke. Line it up. Head down. Eye on the ball. Left arm straight. Follow through. See it in. Her best hole all day was a double bogey.

Louise was still slicing her driver and hooking her long irons, but her short game saved her. She'd have played much better with new socks.

At Pauline's insistence, the foursome stopped in the clubhouse for a quick drink after their mediocre round. Louise admitted to herself that she liked Pauline just fine, despite her annoying golf habits and the sometimes distracting abundance of makeup. People did what they did to feel good about themselves, and that was more important than anything else in the world.

"Isn't that Marty Beck just the cutest thing!" Pauline exclaimed.

"Marty's great," Linda agreed. "Don't you think, Lou?" She had been surprised to learn that the two knew one another. Clearly, Marty had taken a shine to their tall, beautiful friend, but for some reason, Louise was gruff and disapproving when it came to the little golf pro.

"She seems very…knowledgeable," Louise conceded.

"What can I get you ladies to drink?" The server perched over their table, familiar green eyes smiling a welcome.

That's her, Louise realized, the one who picked up Marty - I mean Martha - in the car last week. She can't be more than 25 years old!

"The first round's on the house, Katie." The golf pro pulled up a chair between Pauline and a dismayed Louise. "And could I get a club soda?"

How rude could this woman possibly be? Now she has her…girlfriend fetching her drinks while she sits down to flirt with one of her protégées.

"So when are you going to get back on the fairways, Marty?"

Shirley's question surprised Louise. Back on the fairways?

"Three more weeks," she answered. "Wouldn't want to pop those stitches."

Oh my! Louise hoped whatever it was wasn't serious.

"Marty had that same gall bladder surgery Linda had six years ago," Shirley explained.

"Aw, you poor baby!" Pauline gushed.

Aw, you poor baby! Louise mimicked the women in her mind, but not without unconsciously crinkling her lips and bobbing her head back and forth mockingly. It seemed that the golf pro was fine now, and for that, she was glad.

Katie returned, passing out the drinks, saving Marty's club soda for last. "Here you go, Mom."

Mom?

"Thanks, hon. Have you guys met my daughter Katie?" Marty made the brief introductions, and Katie returned to her work behind the counter.

Her daughter?

"She and my grandson moved down to help out after my surgery, but I think I've convinced them to stick around," Marty explained, obviously glad to have her family close by. "So how was the round?"

"Not bad," Shirley answered. "Lou usually kicks our butts, but she's been gimpy with her arm lately, so I managed to beat her today by a couple of strokes."

She has a daughter and a grandson!

"Yeah, I've watched her on the range. I can see that she's a natural," she went on, as though the tall woman with the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen wasn't sitting right beside her. "By the way, welcome to the Pine Island Golf Club, Miss Stevens. As a new member, you get one free lesson with the pro - that would be me - any time you want."

"You mean I haven't gotten that over with already?" Louise asked almost jokingly…almost.

The golf pro chuckled. "Well, the complimentary lesson isn't mandatory. You do seem to be a very good golfer, but if you ever decide you want any help, just let me know." With that gracious remark, Martha Beck picked up her drink and walked back out to the pro shop.

The three ladies scowled at Louise as if she'd just been caught cheating on her score card.

"What?" she asked defensively.

No one answered, but their expressions remained unchanged.

"Fine!" Louise answered, storming off after the little blonde.

Marty thought this was as good a time as any to rearrange the sweater display. Inventory was down until Thursday's shipment, so there wasn't any sense in having things up on the top shelf. Stretching on her tiptoes, she reached in vain for the folded stack.

"Let me," a low voice behind her said. Long arms stretched over her head and lowered the sweaters into her waiting hands. "Can't have you popping those stitches."

"Thank you," the red-faced pro muttered as she turned toward her benefactor. Sometimes she hated being so short. "Is there something I can do for you, Miss Stevens?"

"My…friends call me Lou."

"What should I call you?"

"Touché." Louise was ashamed of how she'd treated this woman since the moment they met. "How about you call me Lou?"

"Okay. Is there something you need, Lou?"

Louise sighed, knowing that it was her turn to make a friendly overture. "I've been having a little trouble with a slice, and I thought maybe you could…."

"You call a hard right turn little?" she joked. Oops! The blue-eyed glare was back. "I mean, you wanna…maybe meet me at the range tomorrow and see if we can…work it out?"

"Ten o'clock?"

"Ten is good."

**********

Early the next morning, Louise made a special trip to the country club at Burnt Store, hoping to find a really nice outfit that wasn't hanging in the pro shop at Pine Island. Satisfied with the solid blue shorts and blue and white striped sleeveless shirt, she finished the look with a barrette, this time leaving a few wisps on each side to frame her face.

Louise had always been comfortable with the way she looked. She was regularly complimented, and got her share of second looks. Most important, though, Rhonda had raved about her beauty every day.

"But the game's a different one at 63, isn't it Petie?"

The dog's tail twittered happily, as it did every time his mistress said "Mmmmpppffff, Petie."

These days, Louise paid a good bit of attention to covering the wrinkles that gathered around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, and to moisturizing her neck and chest. Though her hands sported a few of those unsightly age spots, they were for the most part still soft and elegant looking. A weekly manicure was her one indulgence.

So what was it about Marty Beck that had her preening in front of the mirror like this? Something about that cute little blonde had clicked for Louise; she barely recognized the feelings of attraction that were stirring within. In her 31 years with Rhonda, she'd never had another woman turn her head, not even for an instant. And in the years since Rhonda died, no one had interested her that way at all. But undeniably, attraction was what it was. If Marty just weren't so….

Louise arrived early to warm up before her free lesson with the very cute golf pro.

Smack!

Wicked slice.

Smack!

That one was a little better, with more distance.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

The slice was gone.

Smack!

A hundred and forty yards, straight down the middle of the range.

Smack!

Again.

"So was there anything else I could help you with?" The blonde golfer had slipped up quietly to observe her student unobtrusively. "You appear to be quite the accelerated learner."

"I, uh…I seem to have come out of my slump."

"Well, I'm very glad I could be of assistance, Lou." She was disappointed that there didn't seem to be any reason for the lesson.

"But…but I have this hook on my long irons!" Louise exclaimed with unusual braggadocio. Quickly, she drew her three-iron from the bag, smacking her first shot 115 yards out, sans hook.

"Hmm…."

Smack!

Still no hook.

Uh-oh! On her next shot, Louise played the ball off her front foot, executing a neat dog-leg left.

"You should play the ball a little more in the center of your body, hands slightly in front," Marty corrected gently.

"Like this?" she asked, overstepping so that the ball was in fact closer now to her back foot. This time, she shanked it, sending it over the fence into the ninth fairway. "Oops! I know, that'll cost me 50 cents."

The golf pro chuckled, almost certain she was being played, though why the proud woman would want to do that was a mystery. "Tell you what. You line yourself up the way you think you ought to be, and I'll come over and fine tune your position."

Louise obliged, settling slightly off-center with her hands behind the ball.

Marty stepped up behind her and reached around. Lou was sort of thin - a tall drink of water, but not too thin, she thought. "Okay, here's the problem. Let go of the club."

Louise did as she was asked, focused completely on the muscular leathered arms that encircled her waist.

"To start with, you want the grip to rest against your stomach like this."

"Uh, my stomach's a little higher than that, Marty."

"Oh, okay." Glad her red face was hidden, the coach continued. "On taller people, it sometimes…rests…lower. Now on your irons, there's always going to be just a teensy lilt in the shaft. You know, if you let go of it, it would balance only a second, then fall to the left. And the ball sits right in front of your nose with your feet spread even. Got it?" She could feel the lanky woman shifting her hips and arms. Marty wondered what it would be like to dance with Lou Stevens.

Now acutely aware of the woman who was pushed up behind her, Louise suddenly took stock of what was happening. Here she was, acting juvenile over Marty Beck, just like Pauline Rourke had. Furthermore, she was making fools of both of them with her put-on girlish ineptitude. "I think I've got it now," she interjected, stepping forward to escape the seeming embrace. "Why don't I give it a try?"

True to form, Louise proceeded to loft four shots in a row more or less down the middle, all falling about a hundred yards away.

Marty felt the retreat and floundered for her most professional demeanor, genuinely embarrassed by what she'd been thinking only moments earlier. "Well, as I said earlier, you're one gifted learner."

"Uh, thanks," the tall woman stammered. "I guess I should be going." Not making eye contact with the pro, Louise stuffed her club back into the bag, heaving it onto her shoulder and turning quickly toward the parking lot. Air, I need air!

**********

"Wow! You look great, Lou! I'm so glad you decided to come with us after all." Shirley had on black slacks with a red and white polka-dotted shirt; her partner wore a deep red party dress, with short puffy sleeves and a skirt that twirled.

But all eyes tonight - all eyes over 50, anyway - would be on Louise Stevens, dressed for the occasion in a long-sleeved black dress that tapered to just above the knee. The plunging v-neck called attention to the tantalizing hollow between her smallish breasts; a similar v-cut reached to the middle of her back. The gray-streaked hair - actually she had finally admitted to herself that it was now mostly gray with only a few remaining black streaks - was swept back on the sides with wispy bangs, and pearls adorned her ears.

"You are so beautiful, Lou. I bet you have to beat them off with a stick tonight," Linda added.

"Well, if that's the case, maybe I should take my own car. I might welcome a dance or two, but if somebody hangs around too long, I'm outta there!" She had only agreed to come when Shirley offhandedly mentioned that there might be a few people there who played golf at Pine Island. That got Louise to wondering….

"Don't worry, we'll rescue you. But you try to have a good time. These dances are great, and there are lots of nice women there. And men too, if you want to make friends with some of the guys."

"Is there a liquor limit?" she deadpanned.

"No, but we'll cut you off if you start to undress," Shirley joked.

Ten minutes later, the threesome arrived at the VFW Hall, which was decorated tonight in Valentine themes. There were hundreds of red, pink, and white balloons, and each of the red-papered tables held a vase of roses, with glitter hearts and ribbons scattered about.

Linda led them to a table near the dance floor, but Louise gestured toward one a little further away, less well-lit and completely out of the traffic area.

"Now nobody's going to see you over here, Lou."

"That's fine with me. Maybe I'll do the watching tonight."

"But will you ask someone to dance?"

"Only if I can't stop myself," she promised sarcastically. These sorts of soirees had been so much fun with Rhonda, who always danced with everybody in the room. They didn't go to many, since it was important in their jobs to keep a low profile in Greensburg; but from time to time, they would go to the larger events in nearby Pittsburgh. Louise would usually sit at the table and entertain their friends, dancing every fifth or sixth tune with her vivacious partner. This was only her third such party since Rhonda died, and while it was difficult, Louise had to admit that it did her good to get out. She liked dressing up, and knew it was important to meet people, especially since she was new to the Southwest Florida gay and lesbian community.

They had arrived somewhat late, but new arrivals kept pouring in. After accepting an early offer to dance with a stylish woman in her mid-50s - and politely declining a second dance - Louise settled in to watch the crowd, content to sip her wine unnoticed. At the urging of her friends, she took a couple of turns on the dance floor with each of them, who were now wrapped around each other, swaying to a slow romantic tune.

The tall woman checked her watch. They would leave soon, as Shirley never, ever missed the maritime and fishing reports on the 11 o'clock news; besides, her friends were headed out early tomorrow to go grouper fishing off Marco Island.

"Are you having a good time?"

The question startled Louise, but not as much as the sight of Marty Beck standing at her table. The golf pro was dressed in pleated black gabardine slacks with flat black shoes; her red silk shirt opened at the top to reveal an ample cleavage. Louise had never actually seen the woman without her visor, and was pleasantly surprised to find a rather flattering hairstyle, layer upon layer of the sun-bleached strands.

"I…my friends…we…," she stammered. "Won't you please sit down?"

Marty smiled and pulled out a chair. "You look very nice tonight."

"Thank you."

"Actually, that isn't true."

Louise rolled her eyes. Here it comes, a smart remark. Why does she have to do this? She'd be so….

"What I meant to say is that you look stunning tonight. I saw you dancing earlier with Linda, and I doubt anyone else in this room could do justice to that dress you're wearing."

Louise couldn't believe her ears. Marty Beck had just paid her one of the nicest compliments she'd ever heard.

"Why, thank you Marty. You look very nice too." She really did. Red was a good color with that bright blonde hair…and her green eyes were prominent even in the dim light.

"Listen, Lou…I think you and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot or something last week. Do you think we could just start over?"

"You mean…like a Mulligan?"

"Yeah," Marty nodded, smiling. Many weekend golfers took what was called a Mulligan - a "do-over" - when they muffed the drive off the first tee. "I haven't met anyone as interesting as you in a long time, Lou. I'd like for us to be friends."

Louise smiled at the cute little golf pro. "I'd like that too, Marty."

"So…would you like to dance?"

Nervously, Louise realized that she'd very much like to dance with this green-eyed blonde, just for the chance to hold her close. "I'd love to."

The pair took the floor for a timeless Righteous Brothers tune, Marty asserting the lead as she pressed the heel of her hand against the small of the tall woman's back. Dancing with Lou Stevens was just as fluid an experience as she had imagined…except it hadn't occurred to her that she'd be eye-level with these beeeautiful….

"Where are you from, Marty?"

"Uh, I…."

"I'm sorry, was that a hard question?" Louise had noticed that her dance partner was appreciative of her assets. What else should she expect from wearing a dress like this?

"I'm originally from Michigan. Holland, Michigan. But I've been coming down here for almost 20 years."

"What do you mean coming down here? Don't you live here?"

"Just in the winter. From May to October I work at a club in the North Carolina mountains."

"So you're a snowbird," Louise concluded.

"Sort of," Marty chuckled, "more like a migrant worker."

That drew an amused smile from the taller woman. "Have you always been a golf pro?"

"Pretty much. I played on the tour for about three years, but I wasn't good enough to make a living. There wasn't really much prize money back then. So I got married for a couple of years and had Katie."

"Your daughter seems very nice."

"She is, and she really enjoys the club work. Lord knows, she grew up with enough of it."

"So you've always been around the clubs?"

"Yeah, it suits me. I like helping people play better, and…," she looked up into the striking blue eyes, "I meet some of the nicest people."

Louise smiled down at her dance partner, releasing her grip as the tempo picked up on the next tune. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure, whatever you're having."

"A glass of wine?"

"That's fine." Marty wasn't accustomed to women buying her drinks. It was usually the other way around. "Tell you what…you go on back to the table and I'll bring it. Red or white?"

"It's Valentine's Day. How about red?"

Marty smiled and turned toward the bar. Wow! She's pretty nice when she isn't mad at me!

Louise made her way back to the table to find her two friends.

"Are you having a good time now, Lou?" Shirley asked, already seeing the answer on her friend's face.

"As a matter of fact, I am. That Marty Beck can be quite charming when she sets her mind to it," she chuckled.

"She sure can. We both like Marty a lot."

"Does she, uh, see a lot of different women? I mean, she just seems like the sort of person who would be…friendly with lots of people." What she seems like is a professional flirt.

"You know, I don't know of anyone that Marty's gone out with since we've known her," Linda said. "I heard she had some sort of really bad breakup a few years ago. But I can't say as I've ever seen her with anybody."

"Speak of the devil," Shirley exclaimed, standing to shake the golfer's hand.

"Okay, what were you telling her?" she teased. Handing the wine glass to Louise, she cautioned, "Don't believe a word anyone says about me. It's all hearsay and jealous gossip."

"I'll keep that in mind," Louise assured. She wanted to find out for herself anyway.

"It's a nice crowd, don't you think?" Marty pushed the topic of conversation away from herself.

"It seems to get bigger every year," Linda answered.

"Do you come every year?" Louise addressed the golf pro.

"Not for a while," Marty confessed. In fact, it had been years. But when Shirley had casually mentioned after their foursome the other day that the tall newcomer might be tow tonight, Marty had made her own plans to attend.

"Say, Shirley and I were just talking about our big fishing date tomorrow," Linda explained. "We thought we should probably head on home."

Automatically, Louise reached for her wrap.

"Wait, Lou!" You can't go yet; I've only danced with you once. "I'd be happy to give you a ride if you'd like to stay a little longer."

"I don't know," the tall woman said hesitantly. It was one thing to be dancing with this woman. But riding home with her would be almost like…a date. "I should probably go on with Shirley and Linda."

"No, you should stay," Shirley coaxed. "We'll feel awful if you leave early on account of us."

"Well, I…."

"Please, Lou," Marty wasn't above begging. "Tell you what. Let's have…two more dances. Then I'll take you home. There's one now." A slow tune was starting up, and Marty held out her hand gallantly.

Louise looked back and forth between Marty and her friends, who seemed to be encouraging her to stay. "Okay."

Squeezing again onto the floor, the women assumed the familiar embrace. Louise liked the feel of the strong arm around her waist and the calloused hand that held her own.

"So Lou," Marty looked her straight in the eye, "I bet our mutual friends could tell us a little about each other, but that seems, I don't know, less reliable than going right to the source. So what if instead I just asked you to tell me about yourself - just the stuff you're comfortable with sharing - and I'll do the same."

"Okay." Louise felt a little embarrassed after being caught talking with Linda and Shirley; she liked Marty's more direct approach. "I moved here in November from Greensburg, Pennsylvania, which is where I first met Linda and Shirley 18 years ago. I'm 63; I just retired from teaching high school math for 39 years; and my partner of 31 years died three years ago of a heart attack." That was the sum of Louise Stevens' life. "And I miss her very much," she added softly.

Instinctively, Marty pulled the woman a little closer. "I'm sure you do, Lou. You were lucky to have someone love you for 31 years."

"I was. But I was even luckier that I got to love her." The sadness of Rhonda's memory swept over her, and her blue eyes filled with tears.

This was one of those moments in her life where Marty would have given her right arm to be a foot taller. All she wanted in the world was to cradle this woman's head protectively against her chest. Instead, she stepped closer and leaned her own head on the soft shoulder. "I'm so sorry you lost her, Lou."

Louise raised her hand and cupped the blonde head. This felt good. In the months after Rhonda died, many had offered her a comforting embrace; but until now, none of those gestures had given her strength. Maybe she hadn't been ready to receive it then; and now, no one knew how much she still needed it. But this little woman seemed to know.

Without a break, the lovers' ballad led into another, and Marty acknowledged with disappointment that her evening with Lou would soon be over.

"Now it's your turn. Tell me all about Marty Beck." Louise had pulled herself together.

"Okay, I'm 61, and I haven't ever really had a very long relationship with anybody, except Angela, and she threw me out about eight years ago because I did something very foolish. Some mistakes are so bad you just can't recover from them."

Louise suspected that she knew exactly what sort of mistake Marty had made.

"So I haven't really seen anyone since then; I've just been sort of working on myself."

"Are you happy with who you are now?" I'm starting to think you're adorable.

"Yeah, I really am. How about you, Lou? Are you happy?"

"I'm lonely," she answered honestly. "I didn't expect to spend this part of my life by myself."

"Who says you have to?" Louise looked startled by the question, so Marty continued, barely missing a beat. "I mean, there are lots of nice people down here our age who like to have fun. They like to play golf, and go fishing, and just walk along the beach. There's no reason for you to ever have to do that stuff alone unless you want to."

The music stopped and the couple returned to the table. "I guess we should go," Louise suggested, picking up her wrap. Taking Marty's offered arm, she and the golf pro wordlessly exited into the parking lot, finally reaching a dark green Subaru Outback wagon.

Following Louise's directions - very important in Cape Coral, since only a handful of the streets went over the grid of canals - Marty drove the beautiful woman to her doorstep. Hopping out, she walked around and opened the door, extending her arm again to escort Louise to her front porch.

"I'm really glad we ran into each other tonight, Lou."

"So am I, and I'm really glad that we decided to take a Mulligan," the tall woman answered smiling, squeezing the arm of her new companion.

An excited yapping from the other side of the door startled the golf pro as they stepped onto the porch.

"Who's that?" Marty asked.

"That's, uh…my Doberman pinscher. He's very protective," Louise answered sternly.

"Well, he certainly sounds vicious. What is he, three weeks old?"

Both women laughed, not sure how best to get through this awkward moment. The dance, the drive home, now the doorstep. Louise hadn't had a moment like this in 35 years.

"Listen, uh, Lou?" Marty stammered nervously. "If I were to take the day off on Monday, would you be interested in riding out to Sanibel for lunch, and maybe walking on the beach over there?"

Louise's heart hammered. Since Rhonda died, she hadn't been out with another woman…at least not on a date, and that's exactly what this sounded like. But she really, really liked Marty Beck and wanted to be absolutely sure before panicking completely. "You mean like a…date?"

"Well, yeah…it could be a date." Noting the wide eyes of her companion, Marty backpedaled quickly. "But it doesn't have to be. We could just be friends." That sounded so lame. "Of course, I'd really like it if it was a date. I'd like it a lot."

Louise wouldn't look at her, but she appeared to be thinking really hard. After a torturous eternity, the tall woman finally answered. "Okay, Marty. Why don't we say it's a date!"

"Grrreat!" Marty exclaimed, realizing with embarrassment that she'd sounded just like Tony the Tiger. "I'll pick you up at…11?"

"I'll be ready." Oh my God, I'm going out on a date in less than three days!

"Okay." Marty's feet felt like they were glued to the front porch. Their plans made, there really wasn't any reason at all for her to still be standing there, but it just seemed like things were sort of…unfinished.

Louise was thinking the same thing. Both of them knew what finished a moment like this. It was a big step - a huge step, really - and if she'd thought about it too much, she probably would have stopped herself; but the words were out before she knew it. "So do you think you'd like to…kiss me goodnight…maybe?"

Marty sure hoped she'd heard right, or she was going to get slapped for sure. Stepping forward, she slipped one hand around Louise's shapely waist and another on the back of her neck. Ever so slowly, she pulled the beautiful red lips toward her own. They were soft…warm…and unexpectedly inviting. Boldly, she ever-so-gently teased them apart, shuddering when the warm mouth opened to allow her in. Tenderly, their tongues met and Marty got a taste of the passion that brewed underneath the surface of Louise Stevens' staid exterior.

Louise too awakened to sensations of arousal, surprised to discover a yearning for this woman who held her so close. That was sweet, really sweet. Louise wrapped her arms around the petite woman's middle and laid her cheek against the soft blonde hair. "Do you think you'd like to…come in and meet Petie and help me drink a pot of coffee? I bet we could find a lot to talk about."

Marty smiled. She couldn't think of anything she'd like better. She wanted to know all there was to know about Lou Stevens.

May 2002

For the fourth or fifth time, Louise strode through the darkened house, checking the windows and doors one last time. The patio furniture was stacked neatly in the corner of the garage; the kitchen was bare of all perishables; and the thermostat was set for a warm 82 degrees. A timer would turn on three lights every evening at dusk.

"You ready to go, sweetheart?" Marty called from the front porch.

Louise smiled at the endearment; she was Marty Beck's sweetheart, and Marty was hers. After the Valentine's dance, there had been no looking back for either one of them. A force neither of them could withstand pushed them past their early missteps, and into each other's heart. Within only a couple of weeks they became lovers, and now they were headed to Marty's condo in the North Carolina mountains for the summer and fall season. Louise knew her own heart well enough to recognize true love - and this adorable little golf pro was the real deal.

"Is Petie in the car already?"

"Yep! We're just waiting for you." The little blonde strode back to 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.

The End.

Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you thought of Lou Marty.
kgmacgregor@yahoo.com

Continued in Mulligan II

The Athenaeum's Scroll Archive

 ~ Mulligan II: In the Rough ~
by KG MacGregor

Disclaimers: Hmmm…original characters who might just make you think of someone else.

Marty and Lou are back in this sequel to Mulligan, which was written for the 2003 Academy's Valentine's Day Special. There's ROMANCE ahead, and best of all, it's between two women!

Many thanks to my beta reader Tami, who has no idea how to dress 60-year-olds; and to my Sweetcakes, who loves to find mistakes.

Mulligan II: In the Rough
By KG MacGregor
© 2003
kgmacgregor@yahoo.com

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 for breakfast and stopped to wave 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 mountains.

"Well I hope whoever it was doesn't think everyone up here is as crazy as you are," she chided.

"I'm only crazy about you," the golf pro answered sweetly. "Let me grab a shower. What time are we supposed to be there tonight?"

"About seven-thirty. You better hurry." They had been invited to dinner at the home of Carol and Joyce, two of Marty's longtime friends here in North Carolina. They were year-round residents of the High Country, Carol now retired from the local gas company and Joyce working at the Linville post office. Both were members at Elk Ridge, but Joyce's job made it hard for them to play during the week. Carol and Louise had played a few times together, usually paired up with another twosome when things got busy at the course.

Twenty minutes later, Marty emerged from her shower, fresh and clean, wearing her best khaki shorts and the aloha shirt Katie had given her for Mother's Day.

"Don't you look cute!"

"I have to look cute when I go out with you. I don't want people to think you have bad taste."

"Silly." Louise filled her dog's water bowl and bade him goodnight as Marty turned out the lights and waited at the front door. In no time, they were pulling into the drive at their friends' home, looking forward to a relaxing night of socializing.

Carol and Joyce lived in a beautiful mountain home they had built themselves off Highway 105. The wrap-around deck offered a spectacular view of Grandfather Mountain, and it was here that they dined this evening.

"So have any of you had a chance to meet Charlene Rogers yet?" Joyce asked the group.

"Who's that?" Carol asked.

"She's from Winston-Salem. She came by the post office yesterday to sign up for a box. She said she was moving up here to play golf all summer and I asked her where. She told me she'd just joined at Elk Ridge."

"I met her today. In fact, we play a round this afternoon," Marty answered innocently.

"You better tighten her leash, Louise. Charlene Rogers is a looker, and I'd bet money she's on the prowl," Joyce warned.

"I didn't get that from her at all," the golf pro defended. "She just seemed really nice."

"I don't think I have to worry about Marty," Louise kidded. "She doesn't like sleeping on the couch."

"You're so whipped, Marty," Carol teased.

"There could be worse things in this world, Carol."

Later that night as the women got ready for bed, Louise brought up the subject of the newcomer from Winston-Salem. "So this Charlene Rogers, is she as pretty as Joyce says?"

Marty shrugged, tossing her shirt on the bedside chair. "Yeah, she's attractive, I guess."

Neither woman really noticed when Louise automatically retrieved the shirt and hung it back in the closet. Slipping up behind the cute little blonde, she wrapped her arms around Marty's waist just as she raised the nightshirt above her head. "So is Joyce right? Should I tighten your leash?" she growled playfully.

"You know better than that, Lou," she said defensively. As far as Marty was concerned, there would never be another temptation as long as she had Lou Stevens to come home to.

"Yes, I do. I just know what a big flirt you are," she teased, biting into Marty's neck from behind.

"I'd say you're the one who's being the flirt right now, Miss Stevens. You got something in mind?"

"Why don't you lose that nightshirt and we'll see!"

**********

Louise really did like it here in North Carolina. She and Rhonda had visited several years ago in the summertime when Linda and Shirley had gotten that timeshare. How things had changed in her life since then!

She still missed Rhonda from time to time, but Marty had taken care of that ache that was her constant companion after her lover had died. Her days with the impish golf pro were filled with laughter, good times, and a genuine love that warmed her soul.

Louise wondered what Rhonda would think of Marty Beck. That was easy. Rhonda liked everybody, and she would have loved Marty's sense of humor. Funny, that was something the two had in common, though Louise sensed early on that Marty's had a more "adult" flavor, probably because she'd been around golfers all her life. Her language was certainly more colorful.

She hadn't had any trouble finding things to do in this new place, but Louise had to admit that the days were sometimes pretty long when Marty was out on the course. That's why she looked forward to Mondays, when they played a round in the afternoon; to Wednesdays, when she played with Carol and had a chance to pop in at the clubhouse; and most of all to Fridays, when Marty had the day off.

But today was Sunday, and the urge to see her sweetheart was almost more than she could stand. All she wanted was a quick hello and one of those patented Marty Beck grins.

"I think I'll go hit a bucket of balls, Petie. Will you hold down the fort?"

The terrier's ears went up, as they did each time he heard his name. But his mistress wasn't paying him any mind. No, she was wrestling with that clanging bag of sticks again. This was good, though. She always came home happy.

The course was predictably crowded for the weekend, and that meant that Marty was probably working the counter or giving a lesson. Louise scanned the clubhouse for her lover before heading out to the range tees. Off to the left, the familiar blonde hair caught her eye. A man and a woman were working in tandem on their chip shots as the golf pro gave assistance. The tall woman smiled to herself, happy at once to see Marty doing what she loved.

Louise emptied some of the range balls into the trough, selecting a nine-iron to start.

Smack!

That felt pretty good.

Smack!

The ball dropped softly only a few feet from the 75-yard marker.

Deciding not to press her luck, she tucked her iron away and extracted a fairway wood. These shots had been giving her a little trouble lately, and it would be good to work out the kinks in how she was following through.

Smack!

Topped it.

Smack!

That one didn't go straight at all.

"You know, there's a 50-cent surcharge for every ball that leaves the driving range."

Louise smiled at the familiar line, turning at once to see…to see Marty approach a woman she'd noticed earlier having a good deal of trouble making solid contact with the ball. The woman was quite attractive, but appeared to have had only minimal instruction in the game of golf.

"Oh my! I'm so embarrassed. I can't seem to get in any sort of rhythm. I'm just terrible at this," the woman gushed with obvious discomfiture.

"No, you're not terrible at all. You just need a few pointers and some time to practice," the golf pro encouraged. "Here, let me show you a couple of things, Charlene."

That must be Charlene Rogers, Louise thought.

"I don't think anyone can help this lousy swing, Martha."

"I told you. My friends call me Marty," the golf pro said, smiling as moved toward the golfer.

At the other end of the mats, the tall woman grew steamed at the exchange. "My friends call me Marty. Won't you be my friend?" she muttered angrily.

The golf pro stepped behind Charlene to help her find the right position for addressing the ball. An abrupt movement a few mats away caused her to look up, where she met glaring blue eyes that radiated both anger and hurt. "Hi, Lou!" Marty smiled tentatively, surprised at seeing her sweetheart here at the range.

Louise shoved her club back into the bag forcefully and heaved it onto her shoulder. With dozens of balls scattered at her feet, the long-legged golfer stomped off in a huff.

Oh shit! "Excuse me," Marty said to a baffled Charlene. "Lou, wait up!"

"Mary Louise Stevens, you are such a fool," she chastised herself.

"Lou," Marty panted breathlessly, finally catching her lover at the trunk of her car. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong, Martha Beck. What's wrong is that I fell for that silly little '50-cent surcharge' line just like apparently everybody else. I didn't know you had flirting down to such a routine."

"Flirting? Lou, I wasn't flirting with that woman!"

"Fine! You can call it something else if you want to, but I call 'em as I see 'em." Louise slammed her trunk emphatically, causing Marty to jump back.

"Lou, come on! I give golf lessons for a living. It's important for me to be friendly, especially when I see people who could really use the help. I wasn't flirting." Marty vividly recalled pleading the same case again and again before Angela, almost word for word.

Louise wanted to believe she was overreacting; wanted to think she'd just imagined something that wasn't there. But Marty had a history of fooling around; she'd said so herself. And Louise wasn't going to just ignore this when there was a chance she'd get her heart broken.

"Marty, I think we'd better step back and see what's going on here. I don't want to find myself wearing Angela's shoes."

The blonde woman's jaw dropped at the last remark. Angrily, she reached for the car door as Louise moved to pull it shut. "Now you wait a minute. How the hell did this get to be about that?"

The tall woman jutted her chin out defiantly. She could be hurtful too.

"Let me tell you something," Marty started, her face growing redder by the second. "In the first place, that was eight years ago. In the second place, I did that to Angela - not to you - so I don't have to answer to you for it. And in the third place," her green eyes were like lasers pinning Louise to her seat, "I didn't tell you about it so you could throw it in my face." With that last retort, Marty spun in the dirt and stormed off toward the pool of carts. She didn't dare go near another human being for fear of tearing off someone's head. Within moments, she commandeered a cart and wheeled out recklessly toward the first tee.

Louise sat frozen in her car, stupefied at what had transpired. Okay, so what exactly had transpired? All she knew was that she'd been feeling on top of the world only 15 minutes ago, and now she felt like throwing up.

**********

Petie scampered out of the way of the flying newspaper. He couldn't remember ever seeing his mistress this angry, even when he used to…you know. "I'm sorry, baby. Come here." Louise bent down to pet the cowering dog. "You're my best friend, you know that?"

Yeah, he knew. She was his too.

"What am I going to do, Petie? I screwed up. She admitted to making a mistake, and told me how bad it made her feel. And I threw that right in her face, just like she said." Louise had berated herself for a whole day, not eating much and not sleeping well at all. Marty had come home at her usual time, but had gone straight into the guest room and locked the door without speaking. This morning, she was gone when Lou got up.

Louise had played the whole thing over again and again in her head, and knew without a doubt that she was wrong, wrong, wrong.

The Boston terrier looked at her sheepishly.

"That's right. I need to apologize." Marty liked giving flowers, but she didn't seem like the type that would enjoy getting them. No, and besides, flowers wouldn't be near enough. When Rhonda got really mad, it always took jewelry.

Jewelry! Hurriedly, Louise went into the master bedroom and opened the bottom drawer in the bureau Marty had emptied for her things. Sifting through the golf shirts, she extracted the mahogany box that she had been afraid to leave behind in Florida. It held the collection of gold, silver, and jewels that Rhonda had worn through the years. Most of these items were chosen by Louise, given as gifts at Christmas, birthdays, and Valentine's Day.

There! Louise studied the small gold lapel pin, only an inch and a half long, a lady golfer in the midst of her backswing. A tiny diamond chip represented the ball on the tee. She'd given the pin in Rhonda's Christmas stocking the year they'd both taken up golf. Her lover had worn it often, and it was one of Louise's favorites.

No reason for this to sit in the dark box, she reasoned. If it weren't enough for a peace offering, she could always come back and get the small emerald earrings. Now wouldn't Marty look nice in those!

The tall woman checked the clock: 12:45. Technically, she and the cute little golf pro still had a tee time in 30 minutes. Louise wondered if she'd show.

**********

"Why don't you go beat the shit out of a bucket of balls, Marty?" Joe Baxter had had enough of his partner's surly disposition, now going on two days. Yesterday afternoon, she'd rearranged every single rack in the pro shop, so that he couldn't find a thing. This morning, she'd gone out on foot with a squirt bottle and a rag to clean the tee markers - all 108 of them! Next, she'd probably want to pull out all the cups and wash them, or trim the greens with a razor.

"I don't know, Joe. The way I'm feeling right now, that might not be such a good idea."

"Maybe you ought to just take the day off. I can manage," he offered. They'd had a rush this morning around eight, but weren't expecting another crowd. Mondays were kind of slow.

"Thanks, but I think I'd go nuts at home. But I'll try not to drive you crazy here, okay?"

Marty was frustrated. She felt awful about the scene with Lou yesterday, and especially about going into the guest room and locking the door. No matter how bad things were, they needed to be able to talk, and she'd behaved pretty childishly. Still, she couldn't understand why Lou had gotten so upset. She needed to be outgoing and friendly in her job; and besides, she enjoyed it. And she was shocked when Lou had mentioned Angela; she hadn't expected something so below the belt.

A lone figure entered the pro shop, hesitating for a moment at the door, then wending through the racks to the end of the counter where the blonde pored over her order list.

"Hi, Marty."

Marty's heart raced at the sound of the familiar deep voice. Looking up, she met the tired blue eyes in a quiet gaze. From the look of things, Marty wasn't the only one who'd missed some sleep.

"Hey, Lou."

"Could we…go somewhere and talk…in private?" the tall woman asked nervously.

The golf pro gestured toward the fitting room. "That closet is about the only place."

Quietly, the two women walked into the small room and closed the door. Marty turned to face her lover. "Okay?"

Louise nodded solemnly. "Marty, I'm sorry. It was wrong, what I said. Especially that part about Angela. I'm so ashamed of myself.""

The petite woman's insides were jumping up and down with excitement, but her face remained stoic.

Louise continued. "Really, it was…uncalled for. I don't handle being jealous very well."

"You had no reason to be jealous, Lou."

"I…I know. It was childish of me. It's just that I thought your '50-cent surcharge' line was kind of cute, and I wanted it to be just for me," she admitted, the corners of her mouth turning up in a bashful smile.

Relief coursed through Marty's veins as she took in the obviously contrite Louise Stevens, who was saying everything she needed to hear. Taking the long hand in her own, she rubbed her thumb along the back of the palm.

"I hate to disappoint you, Lou, but I bet I've used that line 500 times. And I bet I've complimented a thousand women, maybe two. But in the past eight years…," she stepped closer, "I've only kissed one."

Comforted by Marty's admission, Louise brought her mouth lower to meet the approaching lips. As soon as they touched, she reached forward and drew the stocky woman tight to her chest. The kiss that followed was hard, conveying feelings more like desperation than passion. "Will you forgive me?"

"Absolutely." The petite blonde rested her forehead underneath Louise's chin.

"Marty, I have something for you, if you'll take it, that is." Louise fished into her pocket and brought out the pin. "It's a pin for your lapel, or your collar, or just on your vest."

Marty drew back to get a look at what Lou was holding. She'd left her glasses on the counter in the other room and was having trouble making out what the pin looked like. "Is that a diamond?"

"Yeah, but just a little one. This was Rhonda's. I gave it to her for Christmas one year. I liked it, and she used to wear it a lot. I'd like for you to have it, Marty."

The golf pro was deeply touched by the gesture, but there was no way she could take something so precious. "Lou, I don't think I should."

"Please take it." Not taking no for an answer, Louise snaked her long fingers underneath the golfer's vest and pinned it into place on the left shoulder. "It'll be nice to be able to look at it again."

Marty touched it and tested to make sure it was secure. She was overwhelmed that Lou was giving her something so important. "Thank you," she whispered.

Louise pulled her into a second kiss, this one tender, almost chaste. "Thank you for wearing it," she said as the kiss ended. "Now, are we still on for a round of golf?"

"You bet," Marty grinned.

**********

Marty stepped out onto the deck carrying two glasses of red wine. "You coming, Petie?"

The dog scampered out in reply. Marty had tacked chicken wire around the edges of the deck to keep the pooch from slipping off between the railings. This way, he could sit outside whenever they did.

Louise sat sideways on the padded swing, an obvious invitation for her lover to join her. "Can I talk to you about something, sweetie?"

"Sure." It had been a couple of days since their fight, and while they appeared to have survived it, Louise had seemed a little melancholy.

"It's about…how I got so jealous the other day."

"It's okay, honey. I told you, you can trust me." Marty leaned back into her lover's arms as they rocked gently.

"I know…I think I was…reacting to something else, not to you." The older woman's voice was subdued. "I hadn't really thought about it in a long time, but in the last couple of days, it seems like I've been thinking about it all the time."

"What is it, Lou?"

Louise sighed deeply. She'd never told this story to another soul. "Rhonda cheated on me once. It nearly killed me, Marty."

The blonde woman tried to sit up but Lou squeezed her tighter around the waist. She relaxed again and started to softly stroke the long forearms. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

"It was a long time ago, March of 1980. I remember the date because it's when my father died. He was really sick and my brothers and I worked out a schedule for sitting with him. I was supposed to go down to Wheeling on Friday and stay the night, and Hiram was going to go on Saturday. Just before I left, he called and asked me if I could switch days with him. I had already taken the day off from school, so I hung around the house and fixed a nice romantic dinner for Rhonda and me for when she got home. Except that she didn't come home.

"So I cleaned everything up and the next morning, I went on down to the nursing home. I called Rhonda that night to tell her that I'd be home on Sunday and she something like 'good, because I sure was lonely in that big old bed last night.' I asked her what she did and she said she'd come home and watched TV.

"I couldn't understand her lying to me, but I figured after 13 years together, there was only one thing she'd lie about. That night, my father died and after we got through that, I just didn't want to deal with it.

"We were at Hiram's house that summer and he said something about how he wished he hadn't asked me to switch nights so he could have been with Daddy when he died. Rhonda figured it all out, then she finally asked me why I'd never said anything. I told her that I just didn't want to know anything about it, so I'd appreciate it if she didn't say anymore."

"And you never got the story?"

"I already had the story. The details weren't important."

"And she never apologized?"

"Well, I got flowers the next day. I knew that Rhonda really loved me, and it took a little while, but I forgave her. I never had to question again whether or not she strayed."

"You won't ever have to worry about that with me, Lou. I felt bad about what I did to Angela back then, but I felt a lot worse about what I'd done to myself. It took a long time to get over it. I don't ever want to feel like that again."

"You're sweet, Marty. And you're so good for me."

Hearing these kinds of things from this woman she loved so much made Marty's heart want to jump out of her chest. "I love you, Lou."

"I love you, too."

**********

The summer flew by in a blur, with Marty working six days a week and Louise taking a side trip back to Pennsylvania to visit her brothers. In early October, the women were already starting to pack for the return to Florida.

"You want to leave some stuff here, Lou? You know, in case we can get away for a week during the winter."

"What happens here in the wintertime?"

"It snows."

"And just why would anyone want to come back to that?"

"Good point. But you can leave whatever you don't think you'll need in Florida and it will be here when we get back next May."

Louise smiled at Marty's easy assumption that they'd be doing this again a year from now. They hadn't actually talked about "forever" kind of stuff, but they were sure going through the motions.

Katie and her husband Brian were trying to work on their marriage and he was now down in Cape Coral working construction. They were all living in Marty's two-bedroom duplex, so it just made sense that Marty could move her things over to Louise's house.

But that invitation didn't go over as well as the retired schoolteacher had hoped.

"I don't know, Lou. I mean, sure, I'll probably end up staying there most nights, but I think I ought to keep getting my mail and stuff at my place." She could see right away a look of hurt on her beautiful lover's face.

"If that's what you want, Marty, but I don't understand why you want to go through all that bother of going back and forth like that." Apparently, the separation was important, and Louise couldn't help but be hurt by that. She'd abandoned her home for six months to come here with Marty.

The golf pro knew how foolish it sounded to keep her things in one place and sleep in another, but giving up her home would put her in a pretty vulnerable spot. "Look, I know it sounds pretty stupid, but the last time I moved into somebody else's house, she threw me out. Now I'm not saying that I plan on getting thrown out again or anything, but I'd like to think that I can't just be tossed on the street again. You know what I'm saying?"

"You're worried if you move in that I might ask you to leave?"

Marty nodded. "I mean, if we had a fight or something…."

"Sweetheart, we're going to argue about things from time to time, but I'm not going to just ask you to leave on a whim."

Logically, Marty understood that. But her fears wouldn't let her give up that little piece of control she had, even to Louise. Hell, they had almost split up back in June over Charlene Rogers!

In the end, they agreed to the status quo, with Marty knowing she was welcome to stay each and every night, and that she could bring whatever she wanted to Louise's house.

**********

Louise stretched out to silence the obnoxious alarm. From the bed, she could see the leaves swirling in the wind on the back deck. Marty hated windy days on the golf course.

"Sweetheart, it's time to get up."

"Mmmmmm," she groaned, "don't feel like it."

"You want to sleep a little longer? I'll take Petie out and we'll just have some oatmeal for breakfast."

"No, I'll do it. Morning's are my job."

"Silly thing. I've only got two jobs: Petie and you. Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when breakfast is almost ready."

Louise slipped out of bed and into the kitchen, setting up the drip coffeemaker. Going back for her heavy robe and slippers, she saw that Marty was again fast asleep. The blonde woman hadn't felt very good when they'd gone to bed last night. Louise hoped she wasn't getting sick.

Petie waited patiently for his leash, but almost balked at going out into the crisp October air. When he was little and they lived in that cold place, he used to wear sweaters outside on chilly days. He remembered well the first time his mistress had knitted one herself. It was kind of long, he recalled, and practically covered his…you know. The first time he wore it proved pretty humiliating for both of them, and they hadn't spoken of it again.

Anyway, here they were, walking across the frosty grass to the place where he always started his day. It wasn't worth hanging around for all those smells in this nippy air, so he quickly took care of business, scuffing his feet backwards to cover his tracks.

Boy, it felt good to be back inside. Soon he'd have breakfast and there was a spot over by the sliding glass door that got good sun in the morning.

Louise poured two cups of coffee and returned to the bedroom.

"Marty? Here you go, baby. It's time to get up."

The petite blonde stretched and finally pulled herself to a sitting position. "Thanks," she said groggily as she reached for the steaming cup. "I'll get dressed and be right out." The nature of her work meant that Marty always bathed in the evening, while Louise was more of a morning person.

In a few minutes, the golf pro stumbled into the family room where the dining table was already set.

"Honey, you don't look so good. Are you sure you should be going to work today?"

"I'll be fine. I'm just tired. A nice hot breakfast should do the trick."

Louise obliged with a piping hot bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and cream. "You're going to need a heavier jacket, sweetheart. It's cool and windy out there."

"That's okay. I'll be working in the pro shop most of the day." Marty stood up and leaned over for a kiss.

"Will you call me later to let me know how you're doing?"

"Okay. Have a good day, Lou." Marty disappeared out the front door. She had four more days at the club in North Carolina before the end of the season. Then they'd take a two-week vacation before she started back at Pine Island.

**********

Marty walked through the racks, straightening the pants and jackets and buttoning all the shirts. Virtually everything was on sale here at the end of the season, and she eyed two outfits in a size 12 that would look good on Lou. If they were still here at the end of the week, she'd pick them up for Christmas presents.

Only a few dozen golfers were on the course today; no surprise, given the windy conditions. It was one thing to play in the heat, but few golfers wanted to give up a stroke on every hole to the wind.

"Hey, Marty! You 'bout ready to head back to Florida?" Jerry Bainbridge never missed a chance to play golf, no matter what the weather.

"Hi, Jerry. Yeah, I'm mostly packed." Marty grabbed the rack in hopes of fighting off a dizzy spell.

"When do you go?"

She could barely hear the man. "We're going to…" The room was starting to spin. Marty tried to focus on the rack of shirts as they got closer and closer to her face. Then the whole room went black.

**********

Louise put the last of her shorts and tops in the suitcase and zipped it up. She certainly wouldn't need any of her summer clothes in the next few days.

Petie barked excitedly to announce the arrival of someone on the porch. Before the doorbell ever rang, Louise was on her way.

"Hi, Todd. Can I help you?" Todd was one of the teenagers who worked on the grounds crew. Marty had probably sent him to the house to fetch something she needed.

"Miss Stevens, Joe Baxter said I should come get you. Something's happened to Marty."

Oh, dear God! Not again! Louise grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door and followed him quickly to his truck. "What's wrong with her, Todd?" she asked frantically.

"I don't know, ma'am. But they called the paramedics. They should be there by the time we get back."

The ride was only three or four minutes to the pro shop, but it seemed like an eternity to Louise. Before the truck even came to a stop, she was out and running toward the door. Feelings of terror flooded her senses as she entered and saw the uniformed medics crouching around her beloved Marty.

I can't lose her!

"Marty!"

"Lou," the woman mumbled, a thermometer protruding from her mouth.

"Marty, sweetheart, I'm here." Scooting between the technicians, she took the clammy hand in hers. "I love you, Marty. Don't you leave me."

"She's going to be fine," the paramedic assured as he clipped the IV into place. "It's that nasty flu going around and she got dehydrated. We're fixing her up."

"She's okay?" Louise tearfully looked at her wide-eyed lover.

"103.5! No wonder you don't feel so good, Marty. I'm going to give you a little something to bring that down, but you need to get home and get to bed, okay?"

"You heard him, Lou. I'm okay," she said, squeezing the long fingers tight. "I just got dizzy all of a sudden and passed out. Lucky for me Jerry Bainbridge was standing right there."

Louise turned around and thanked the man profusely, then turned back to the paramedics. "Should I take her to the doctor?"

"No, she's okay, really. It's just the flu. This is the fifth case this week like this, and I bet it's not the last."

Marty rested peacefully in bed for the next three days. Louise had bad dreams.

**********

"I should drive," Louise insisted.

"I'm fine! I haven't had a temperature in three days and I've eaten enough to choke a horse!"

Still, Louise was being overprotective. The scene at the pro shop had scared the living daylights out of her. "You can drive for a while, but we will take turns. And we will not drive all the way to Cape Coral in one day," she said sternly.

"Okay," Marty grinned. Secretly, she liked having Louise fuss over her like this, but she hated that the circumstances had brought back all those horrid memories of Rhonda's death. She slid into the driver's seat of the Mercury Sable and buckled her seatbelt. Louise got in with Petie on the other side.

"It's beautiful here," the tall woman sighed as they pulled out. "Thank you for bringing me, Marty."

"Thank you for coming. It really meant a lot to me that you were willing to pick up everything and move here for the summer just to be with me."

Louise reached across the console to lay her hand on the driver's knee. "I'd go anywhere to be with you, Marty. Don't you know that?"

"Really?"

"Really. And I wish you'd think again about moving all of your things into my place when we get back to Florida."

Marty turned over the proposition in her head. It was a big step, but no bigger than the one Lou had taken when came up here last May. "Lou, I just…I don't know. It makes me nervous to think about moving into someone else's house again."

"Marty Beck, in the first place, I am not just an ordinary 'someone else'. You may not have noticed, but I tend to keep my lovers for a really long time. That's why I was on my knees in front of everybody last week daring you to leave me."

Marty grinned at the memory. She'd enjoyed the public declaration of love from this woman, one who seldom gave herself away.

"In the second place, Marty, I don't give a damn about whose house we live in or where. It's my home that I want to share with you, just like you've shared yours with me. It's really very simple. Why can't you just do that?"

Marty was stunned into silence. Louise said 'damn'! She must be really serious here. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it? Okay?"

"Okay, I'll move my things into your house and it will be our home. Okay, I'll change my permanent address. Okay, I'll spend the next 30 years with you. Anything else?"

"No, that should cover it."

Marty flipped on her signal and pulled off onto a scenic overlook. Both women released their seatbelts and came together in a kiss to seal that promise. Thirty years might not be enough.

The End.

Thanks again for reading more from Marty and Lou. And thanks to the webmasters for hosting this and all that other great stuff out there.
kgmacgregor@yahoo.com

Continued in Mulligan III

The Athenaeum's Scroll Archive

 ~ Mulligan III: : Teacher's Pet ~
by KG MacGregor

Disclaimers: : Marty Lou are back, and they're still in love. This is the third story in the Mulligan series. You really ought to read the others first: Mulligan and Mulligan II: In the Rough, but if it doesn't matter to you, it doesn't matter to me either.

Thanks as always to my beta reader Tami, and to my Sweetcakes, who makes it possible for me to write about love.

Mulligan III: : Teacher's Pet
By KG MacGregor
© 2003
kgmacgregor@yahoo.com

January 1996

"You want chips or peanuts, sweetie?" Rhonda folded the plastic wrap tightly over the sandwich halves and dropped them into two separate brown paper bags.

"What kind of sandwiches did you make?"

"Pastrami and Swiss with that deli mustard you like."

"Is there soup?"

"Yeah, I fixed cream of mushroom."

"That's enough for me, I think." Louise tied her coat around her waist and grabbed the keys from the hook next to the back door. "I'm going to warm up the car. Be right back."

Both women absently fell into their morning routine, eager to get to work to see what the school day would bring. Tonight, their Westfield High School basketball teams - boys and girls - played at home against archrival Greensburg. That meant a quick supper and a return to the gymnasium, where both would lend a hand checking purses and backpacks as the excited crowd streamed in.

"There must be an inch of frost on the windows," Louise lamented as she hurried back in through the back door.

"Did you turn on the defroster?"

"Don't I always turn on the defroster?"

Rhonda chuckled. They had this conversation nearly every winter morning. That was her cue for the next line. "What if we just sat in the car and made out? That would warm it up."

On that note, Louise strode across the kitchen and folded her partner into her arms. "What if we just warmed ourselves up before we went out there?" Lowering her head, she found Rhonda's lips and covered them with her own. For almost a full minute, they shared their love and passion in a deep, soulful kiss.

"Gosh, Lou, I never get tired of that."

"Me neither." After 29 years together, their love for one another was strong and still growing. In five more years when Rhonda turned 65, they'd both retire and move to South Florida, where they could indulge freely in their two favorite pastimes: golf and each other.

"Okay, let's go get this day over with so we can come back home and do that some more."

Louise helped the heavier woman into her coat and grabbed their two lunches, holding the screen open while Rhonda locked the back door. Their life as lovers was suspended each day on this concrete porch; to those who knew them only outside of their home, these two were the quintessential old maid schoolteachers.

December 2002

Looking out from the kitchen window in their Florida home, Louise Stevens laughed aloud at her lover's backyard antics with the stubborn Boston terrier. Petie wanted badly to go to his favorite spot near the seawall, but a story in the paper last week warned pet owners of the dangers of alligators in the neighborhood canals. One particularly aggressive creature nearly made a meal of a pooping Pekingese, and that was enough for Louise to restrict Petie's range in the backyard. But for her amusement, Marty was dramatically tugging on the leash, pretending that the tiny pooch was dragging her across the grass.

Louise was thrilled at the way her canine companion and new lover had accepted each other, falling easily into a playful camaraderie that might have left someone else feeling a little jealous. But the way she connected with Marty made her want to share everything in her life, including that little black and white mama's boy who was valiantly trying to get to his preferred spot in the yard.

Watching the two go back and forth in the backyard, Louise's heart swelled with love for the blonde golf pro. After less than a year, Marty Beck was firmly entrenched in her life, and she was already richer for it. She marveled at how seamlessly they had meshed their lives, and how happy she was every day to have someone so wonderful to care about.

Marty was a jewel, albeit a diamond in the rough. Most people only knew her as the gregarious golf pro, the jokester who had a quip for nearly every occasion. But those people had no idea of Marty's sweet side, the one who played make-believe with her five-year-old grandson; the one who brought flowers to her on the 14th of every month to commemorate the first night they kissed; or the one who went all shy each time they lay together as lovers.

"There you go, Petie." Marty unclipped his leash as they entered the lanai. "Go see if your mom has breakfast ready."

The terrier bolted for the kitchen, where breakfast was the second thing on his mind.

"Were you a good boy, Petie?" Louise smiled down as the excited pooch turned in circles with glee. Setting his bowl on the floor, she stooped low to scratch behind his flattened ears. "You're the best little dog in the world. Such a handsome boy! Look at you dance!"

This was his favorite moment of the whole day.

"Mmmm, somebody made pancakes." Marty eyed the syrup bottle and covered plates. "Let me wash my hands."

Louise carried their plates to the table on the lanai and sat down. In the days after Rhonda died, she'd read the paper during breakfast to pass the time, but now she saved that task for when Marty left for work. It was fun to start the day with the bubbly golf pro; Marty's companionship had changed her whole outlook on life.

"You're teeing off at noon?" Marty took a seat and set the plate cover aside.

"I think it's 12:30. I'll have to call Linda and double-check."

"I'll look in the book when I get there and call you if you want."

"Okay." Louise had a standing foursome on Tuesdays with her friends Shirley and Linda, and their new friend, Pauline Rourke.

"Did Pauline like her new driver?" Now that the novice golfer was swinging better, Marty had recommended the largest club head available to get more distance down the middle of the fairway.

"Are you kidding? We all liked it! I bet I got another 20 yards with it last week."

"If you want one, just say the word and I'll order it."

"Believe me, I'm considering it." Louise finished her breakfast and pushed her plate aside, pouring more coffee for both of them. "Are you going to tell me what you'd like for Christmas, or is it okay for me to pick out a plaid sweater on my own?"

Marty made a face at the vision of opening such a gift and trying to smile in appreciation. "I'll think of something and let you know, I promise. Are you going to come to the Christmas party at the club with me?" It was only the week before Thanksgiving, but Marty had a lot to do to get ready for the club's member gala.

Louise hesitated out of habit. For 31 years, she and Rhonda had kept their private life private. Only their closest friends knew of their intimate relationship, and they had told no one at school, even though most of their coworkers probably surmised as much. But Marty was nothing like that. All of the staff at Pine Island Country Club knew they were lovers, and seemed to accept them. The assertive golf pro gave them no room for anything else; she was what she was, and she'd never really seen fit to pretend otherwise.

"If you want me to be there, then I shall be. But if you don't tell me what you want, you're going to be wearing a plaid sweater." In truth, she'd already purchased Marty's gift, airline tickets and their share of a condo rental in Palm Springs for March, the week of the LPGA Championship. They would go with their friends from North Carolina, Carol and Joyce, who made the trip every year, and with Florida friends Linda and Shirley.

"Okay, I'll look in the catalog at the pro shop."

"You know, honey, not every gift has to be something to do with golf."

"It doesn't?" Marty feigned surprise as she pushed her empty plate aside.

"No, believe it or not, some people give other things."

"Really? I think I'm having a crisis!"

"Well, calm yourself. If you find something in that catalog, you bring it on home. But you better hurry, or you won't have anything in your stocking but a lump of coal."

Marty grinned at Louise's teasing. She'd already gotten her sweetie a present, and it had nothing to do with golf. No sir, it was a ring, a pretty gold band with small diamonds that she hoped Louise Stevens would never take off.

"I better go. I'll see you about noon, okay?"

As she did every morning, Louise followed the shorter woman to the garage door and hugged her close. "I can't wait. I love you."

"I love you too."

The long kiss that followed sealed their declarations, and Marty left as usual wearing a broad smile.

**********

Louise laid out her golf clothes, dark blue shorts and a white shirt with a tan vest. Before her shower, though, she'd check her email. With Petie on her heels, she entered the small study and booted up her desktop computer. She had only one message today, this one from Spartan01. Louise smiled as she recognized the moniker for her former student, Michelle Sanders.

Michelle was in Louise's homeroom for all four years of high school, and in her math class for three. It was clear as early as her sophomore year that the girl had a fierce crush on her math teacher, but Louise was careful to neither encourage it, nor to push the impressionable student away. By her senior year, the crush had run its course, but as the teacher made plans to retire and move to Florida, Michelle asked if it would be okay to correspond by email.

The two traded friendly notes about once a month. At first, they chatted about Michelle's experiences as a freshman at Slippery Rock State University, where to her former teacher's delight, she'd decided to pursue a teaching degree in mathematics. Over time, Michelle began to share things of a more personal nature, and it was clear to Louise that the girl was probing for permission to be candid. When the teacher responded with genuine warmth and openness, Michelle told her that she was beginning to come to terms with her own sexual identity. She'd been pretty sure in high school that she was gay, but wasn't ready to follow that path. But having the chance to meet other lesbians at college had given her the courage to come out to herself, to her close friends, and to her favorite teacher.

Today's note was a nice surprise!

Hi Miss Stevens,

Our semester is almost over! I'm already cramming for finals, but I think I'll make the dean's list again. I wanted to let you know that I'll be visiting my grandmother in Sarasota with my family over Thanksgiving. We fly in on Wednesday night and stay until Sunday morning. I see on the map that Sarasota is pretty close to Cape Coral, so I was wondering if there was any chance we could get together for lunch or something. It would be really nice to see you again, and I'd love to get some career advice. Let me know if you think it would work out, but if not, that's okay and I hope you have a very nice Thanksgiving.

Love, Michelle

It would be fun to see Michelle again, Louise thought as she hit the reply key. She really enjoyed staying connected to the likable young lady, and wished in a way that Marty could meet her so she could get just a little idea of what life had been like for her at the front of the classroom. But an invitation like that was sort of risky, she thought. Michelle certainly wasn't stupid, and it wouldn't take her long to figure out who exactly Marty was. That part of her life was private, not at all something Louise wanted to share with people from her school.

Dear Michelle,

That's wonderful news about the dean's list, though I'm not the least bit surprised. And it's great news too that you're coming down with your family for Thanksgiving. Of course I'd love to see you again. Friday or Saturday would work for me, so if you'll set one of those days aside, I'll plan something. You want career advice? Retire! Have a safe trip down. I'm really looking forward to seeing you again.

Love, Louise Stevens

The teacher had never made any bones at all about the fact that she loved each and every one of her students. To herself, she acknowledged that she loved some more than others, and Michelle was definitely one of those. It had touched Louise's heart to watch the young woman struggle so awkwardly with the teenage social scene. Truth be told, it had reminded her of her own uncomfortable adolescence.

**********

"I wish you could meet her, Marty. She's such a sweet girl." Louise deposited her partner's dinner tray on the coffee table and returned to the kitchen to retrieve her own. The hockey wars were on tap tonight, with Louise's Pittsburgh Penguins taking on Marty's Tampa Bay Lightning on TV.

"Why don't you invite her over for dinner?"

Louise shook her head. "I don't know, sweetheart. I just…," she trailed off.

"Are you ashamed of me, Lou?" Marty asked, mostly joking.

"No, of course not! But Rhonda and I always kept our relationship quiet at school. I mean a lot of people might have thought they knew something, but no one really knew for sure because we never told a soul."

"Didn't people ever come to your house?"

"Yeah, but we had separate bedrooms."

Marty looked at her in amazement.

"Not separate like that, I mean separate just for appearance sake," Louise clarified. "I think some people just thought we were old maids. Every now and then, I'd hear something whispered by the kids, but it just wasn't talked about out loud, you know?"

"Yeah, I was more discreet when Katie was growing up because I didn't want her friends to give her a hard time. But she's the one who told me to be myself, that she'd handle it."

"That's because you and your daughter had a good relationship."

"That's true," Marty agreed. She and Katie had always been close. "And because there were times that she was more mature than her mother."

"Well that's still true, isn't it?" she teased. "You know, I bet more people know about you and me than knew about Rhonda and me, and we were together 31 years. Of course, I helped that along by that little scene in the pro shop at Elk Ridge," the proud woman muttered sheepishly.

Marty chuckled at the memory, but it certainly hadn't been funny at the time. Louise had been so worried that she'd declared her love in front of all the people who had gathered around to watch the paramedics deal with her bout of the flu. "You know, honey, it meant a lot to me that you said those things in front of everybody."

Without warning, tears sprang to Louise's crystal blue eyes as she relived that moment and the one that changed her life forever. Marty immediately pushed her dinner tray away and scooted closer to her lover, wrapping her in a comforting hug.

"I didn't say those things to Rhonda when she died, Marty. Not because they weren't true, but because other people were listening," she said as she began to sob. To this day, she was ashamed that she'd chosen propriety over telling Rhonda one last time that she loved her.

"It's okay, Lou. Rhonda knew how you felt about her." Marty rocked her partner slightly as she stroked the gray hair. It was hard sometimes not to feel a little jealous when Lou talked with such emotion of her former lover, but those feelings always prompted pangs of guilt that Rhonda was gone and Marty was here reaping the benefits.

Louise wasn't about to let herself off the hook that easily. Of course Rhonda had known, but the lack of candor had left her with things she had wanted to say one more time. She vowed never to miss an opportunity to remind Marty that she was loved.

"Do you know how I feel about you, little one?"

"Little one? Hello! Have you seen my ass lately, Lou? I can hardly get my pants zipped! And every time I turn around, you're filling my plate, and can I just say 'No thank you'? No! I have to eat every bite because it's all delicious and decadent and you fixed it with your loving hands. You better hope I outlive you, sweetheart, because if I don't, you're going to have to bury me in piano case!"

Louise burst out laughing at Marty's self-deprecating diatribe, not missing the chance to reach around and squeeze the derriere in question. She loved how easily her lover moved her from sadness to joy.

"Now don't go rubbing it like that! You're going to stimulate it and make it grow even bigger!"

Louise quickly brought her hands back in front and cupped the blonde woman's already large breasts.

"And if those get any bigger, I won't be able to see to putt," she laughed, enjoying her partner's sudden playfulness, especially in the wake of such a sad moment.

"Marty Beck, you are so good for me!"

The green eyes sparkled with happiness. "You're good for me, too, Lou…even if you are making me fat! But if you keep this up, we're going to have to sleep on the floor."

"Okay by me." Louise didn't mind one bit that her already stocky lover had put on about 10 pounds during their first year together, though both of them needed to watch that as they got older. They were getting lots of exercise, and both got regular checkups.

"Hey, I have an idea!" Marty's attention went back to what had started the conversation. "Does Michelle play golf?"

"As a matter of fact, she does. Or at least she took it as her physical education elective last year. That's a good idea! I could bring her out for a round and introduce the two of you."

"Okay, but if I see her flirting with you, I'm going to take her out."

"She isn't going to flirt with me! I told you, she got over all that."

"I find it pretty hard to believe somebody could get over you, Lou."

Marty said the sweetest things.

**********

"Do I look okay?" Michelle Sanders had fretted for a week about what to wear, finally talking her mom into buying her some brand new shorts and a golf shirt. Both of her parents were pleased at the chance to see their daughter's former favorite teacher again.

"You look great!" Louise enthused. Her own outfit was one that Marty had given her for her birthday back in September, long black pants and a colorful shirt with a blue vest. "And your mom and dad are so proud of you!"

"Yeah, but unlike you, I think they're surprised about how well I've done in school," the sophomore joked.

"I don't really think so," the former teacher said seriously as they got into the car. "They know how smart you are."

"Well you're about to find out what a terrible golfer I am."

"It's just for fun, you know. I was just kidding with your dad about that dollar-a-hole thing."

"Oh, sure you were. But I brought cash just in case."

"No, you're my guest today, Michelle. So tell me some more about your friends. Who all do you keep up with from Westfield?"

On the hour-long drive back to the Cape, Michelle filled her teacher in on all the gossip about her classmates. For Louise, it was almost as good as being there. She really missed her teaching days, and still intended to volunteer at the high school one of these days. Meeting Marty Beck had put those plans on hold.

"Here we are. Welcome to Pine Island Country Club."

"Wow! This is nice. Are you sure I look alright?"

"You look fine. Stop worrying. Besides, we're probably going to play in the water, in the sand, and in the woods today, so you wouldn't want to be wearing your Sunday best."

The pair got out and opened the trunk. Inside were two sets of clubs, one belonging to Louise, the other to Rhonda. Michelle realized it right away when she spotted the monogrammed bag.

"These were Miss Markosky's clubs!"

"That's right. And you have the honor of being the first person to use them in over four years." It was a very sentimental moment when she'd taken her former lover's clubs from the closet, but Louise had no misgivings at all about letting Michelle use them. Rhonda wouldn't have minded one bit.

"Boy, that really is an honor."

Together, they entered the clubhouse, where Louise immediately went to browse the racks when she saw that Marty was busy behind the counter. If she killed a little time, she could make the introduction right here as they were signing in.

"Can I help you ladies with something?" The blonde golf pro finally sauntered over to where they were looking at jackets, eyeing the lanky youth with her partner.

"I don't need anything, but I think my friend here could use a visor."

"I think we can fix her right up."

"That's a good idea," Michelle agreed readily, reaching into her back pocket for her wallet. It would be kind of nice to have something with the club name on it, since it would always be a reminder of her favorite teacher.

"Michelle, this is my very dear friend, Marty Beck. She's one of the first people I met when I moved down here. Marty, I'd like you to meet one of my favorite students from 39 years at Westfield High School, Michelle Sanders."

Marty smiled. "Hi Michelle, and welcome to Pine Island. Any friend of Lou Stevens is a friend of mine."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Beck."

"Miss Beck!" Marty wailed. "Here, you can have this visor with my compliments if you promise never to call me that again!"

All three women laughed.

"The greens were cut this morning, so they're pretty quick. The pin placement is Number 3."

"Back center?"

"That's right. Have fun, and stop by later and let me know how you did." Marty looked up to catch her lover's wink and smiled broadly.

"She's really nice," Michelle remarked as they walked out to the cart.

"She sure is, but we didn't really hit it off the first couple of times I met her."

"Really? I can't imagine you not hitting it off with anybody."

"Well, she's…a kidder. I guess it took me a while to get used to it."

"Yeah, I worry sometimes that no one gets my weird sense of humor and they just think I'm a dork."

"You're not a dork. And you look fine," she repeated, tugging on the bill of the brand new visor. "Let's play some golf!"

As expected, the novice golfer was all over the course, in the water, in the woods, and in the sand. By mutual agreement, they stopped counting strokes after eight, and Michelle beat that only three times on the front nine.

"So what's this about career advice?" Louise asked as they stopped to clean their balls on Number 10.

Michelle drew a deep breath, not quite knowing how to broach the topic, but really needing some guidance. She had imagined this conversation with Miss Stevens a number of times, even thinking that her former teacher might reveal something very personal.

"I'm…having second thoughts about going into teaching on account of what they're doing to Mr. Ulster." Darren Ulster was the band director who had taken Rhonda Markosky's place at Westfield High School.

"What do you mean? What's going on with Mr. Ulster?"

"There was this article in the paper last month about a guy who's being kicked out of the reserves because he's gay. The article mentioned that his partner was the band director at Westfield."

Louise had had an inkling that Darren was gay, but these were things they all left at home.

"So the next thing we know, the new superintendent announces at a school board meeting that Mr. Ulster's contract won't be renewed for next year. And since Mr. Ulster doesn't have tenure, he can't fight it. Mom sent me all the clippings because I was in the band. Of course, she and Dad have no idea just how close to home this all hits for me."

The retired teacher was appalled at this news. Gay teachers weren't exactly visible in their county, but there had never before been a case in which one was fired.

"Surely Mr. Meyer and the school board won't let that happen." Ted Meyer was principal at Westfield, and Louise's longtime friend. "Mr. Ulster's done a wonderful job and the students seem to like him a lot."

"I don't know, Miss Stevens. The school board keeps talking about what a good job this new superintendent is doing, so it's starting to sound like he can do whatever he wants."

For Louise, the serious turn of conversation had taken her focus from the game. Stepping aside, she waved a foursome through.

"So you're concerned that being gay will be a problem for you if you go into teaching?"

"Well, yeah. It's not fair that somebody can do a good job and be successful and still get fired for something that has nothing to do with teaching. I mean, it's not like he's even said anything at school. Even if he had of, he didn't do anything wrong." The frustration was evident in the young girl's voice.

"You're right, it isn't fair. I…," Louise shook her head in disbelief, "I just don't think Ted Meyer's going to let that happen."

"There's a school board meeting right after my semester ends, and a couple of the band parents have asked to speak on Mr. Ulster's behalf. I was thinking I might try to get on the agenda."

"Really? What would you say?"

"Basically, I'd tell them that I think that gay students need positive role models at school. I was scared to death of what I was feeling back in high school, and there wasn't anybody at all that I could talk to about it."

Though it hadn't been said as a rebuke, Louise couldn't help but feel guilty at her secret. What was worse in her mind was that she knew that the girl probably suspected the truth, but was too respectful to ask.

"That would be a very courageous thing to do, Michelle."

"Yeah, but first, I have to tell my parents. I was thinking about saying something when we got back to Pittsburgh on Sunday. We'll only have a couple of hours to talk before I have to get back to school, but I think I should tell them in person."

The older woman waved another group through. Louise felt honored to be among the few people this young girl trusted with her most closely held secret. She remembered well what it was like to worry about how her family would react. After college, she'd told one of her brothers, and he told the other one, but she'd never talked to her parents. They knew, she guessed; she brought Rhonda to Wheeling almost every time she visited and they always shared a room. But it was never discussed.

"Those are big steps, Michelle. You won't be able to take any of it back, you know."

The girl nodded grimly. "I think my parents will be okay. I mean, it's not like this is going to come out of the blue or anything. But it pretty much guarantees that I'll never be able to go back to Westmoreland County to teach."

"Unless you and the others convince the board that this is stupid to even consider. They'll all be the laughing stock of the civilized world. This kind of thing just doesn't happen anymore." At least, Louise hoped it wouldn't happen; not to Darren, and certainly not at the place where she'd taught for 39 years.

Louise looked up to see the familiar blonde driving their way.

"You guys tired, or have you lost all your balls?" the pro quipped, coming to a stop in front of their cart.

"Neither," the tall woman answered. "We're just talking about something serious is all."

Marty picked up right away on her partner's tone and knew it wasn't something to joke about. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, but thank you." Louise cast her a look that said she'd explain later, and both women watched the golf pro disappear to the next hole.

"That was really nice of her to stop," the youth remarked.

"Yeah, that's the way Marty is. I'm lucky to have her…for a friend," she quickly added.

**********

"Hey, Petie!" The golf pro squatted down to greet the excited terrier. "I'm home, Lou!" She heard her lover talking in the study.

"He can't do this, can he?" Louise had finally reached Ted Meyer at his home to get to the bottom of the Darren Ulster mess. "I just think this is awful, Ted. What kind of message does that send to the kids who are starting to deal with this kind of thing? And what does it tell them about how they should treat people!"

Marty tiptoed into the room and sat down on the couch. She could hear the exasperation in Louise's voice, and couldn't imagine what had her so upset.

"So when is the hearing?" Without a word to her lover, the taller woman lovingly ran her hand through the blonde hair. "Who's going to speak on his behalf?"

The golf pro couldn't piece together what the conversation was about, but she'd never seen Louise so obviously irritated.

"Look, Ted…I need to talk to someone here about this before I make a decision, but if there's anything at all I can do to help Darren, I will." Her voice held a barely perceptible shake. "Yes, I think it does."

"What is it, Lou? What's wrong?"

Louise related the tale from Michelle and the confirmation from her former boss. "Michelle's going to lay it all on the line to speak up about this at the school board meeting. I tell you, it makes me ashamed."

"Lou, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You and Rhonda lived in a different time."

"I know, but that 19-year-old girl's risking everything because she wants to do what's right, and I'm still sitting on this big secret, hiding my head because I'm too afraid to speak up."

"This isn't your battle, sweetheart."

"But it is, Marty. Battles like this belong to all of us. I've just never had the nerve to do my part." Louise gulped to gather her courage. "I want to help him, and I think I should."

**********

Marty tried to convince her that she didn't have to do this, but in the end, Louise made the difficult decision to journey to Greensburg to speak to the board. Even their friends Shirley and Linda, who had also taught in the county's school system, had thrown in their support. In the three years since they'd left Pennsylvania, they'd reveled in their newfound freedom.

By the time she'd made up her mind, Ted Meyer had been unable to add Louise's name onto the board's agenda at the last minute; instead, he promised to relinquish to her his allotted time. So like all of the others, she would be given four minutes to state her support for Darren Ulster.

"Call me when you get there," Marty asked as they pulled to the curb at Southwest Florida Regional Airport.

"I will."

"And call me tonight when it's finished." She squeezed the long slender hand one more time.

"I will, sweetheart. I love you." Leaning across the car seat, she planted a sweet kiss on her partner's cheek. Louise knew that her lover sometimes struggled when she was confronted with the specter of Rhonda. She wanted Marty to know how much she appreciated her extraordinary effort to accept all of this. "Thank you for being so understanding."

The next 24 hours would be grueling for the 64-year-old woman. Louise was set to fly to Pittsburgh, changing planes in Charlotte. Ted would meet her plane and the two of them would hopefully grab a quick bite to eat before going to the school board meeting. When it was over, she'd stay the night at his home, and his wife Dottie would drive her back to Pittsburgh in the morning to catch an early flight home.

Under other circumstances, she'd have enjoyed a chance to visit the school and see some of her former colleagues. But she'd promised Marty that she'd go with her to the Christmas party at the club tomorrow night; and besides, after the remarks she'd make tonight, she wasn't sure she could face her fellow teachers.

Wouldn't some of them be surprised to know that the two old maids had been cavorting for 31 years, she thought, chuckling to herself.

"Does this feel good?" Louise asked as she rubbed her friend's aching feet. Rhonda stood for most of the day, usually moving back and forth across the band room to work with individual students or instrument sections. At the end of the day, her feet were swollen and tired, and Louise would massage them for sometimes an hour or more.

For Rhonda, it was sure handy having a roommate who was so generous. And it was divine to feel Louise Stevens' hands on her body, even if it was only to relieve the soreness in her feet. "It's wonderful, Lou!"

Unbeknownst to Rhonda Markosky, Louise relished any excuse to run her hands along her friend's legs, or any other body part that seemed to need attention. She enjoyed the fact that their friendship included such physical closeness.

"My shoulders and back are what's aching tonight, though. I had to stow all those heavy instruments in the lockers. I'm going to have one of the kids come in over the summer and help me move all the tubas and bass drums to the bottom shelves and put the lighter stuff up top." Today had been their last day of school.

"You want me to rub your shoulders?"

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't mind. Why don't you get changed into your nightgown and lie down on your bed? I'll come in in a minute and see if I can work some of the soreness out," Louise offered innocently.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No, not at all. I'll go put my pajamas on too. That way, when you fall asleep, I can just go on to bed without making a lot of noise to get ready."

"Okay, if you're sure."

A few minutes later, Rhonda was face down on her bed with Louise beside her, firmly kneading the stiff muscles in her back.

"Do you, uh, want me to use some lotion to make it feel better?" That would mean that Rhonda would have to lift her gown, Louise knew.

"Sure."

Louise marveled at the expanse of skin as Rhonda tugged the gown above her head, laying it beside her on the pillow. Acutely aware that the woman was now completely naked beneath the covers, she warmed the lotion in her hands before spreading it smoothly across the broad back.

"That feels great," Rhonda murmured.

It certainly does, Louise thought, as her hands stroked the flattened planes. Pushing up from the base of the spine, she pressed the heels of her hands into the taut muscles on either side all the way to the shoulders, trailing her fingertips softly down the sides so that they barely brushed the sides of Rhonda's breasts. Each time, she began her ascent a half-centimeter lower, almost at the top of the beautiful, shapely behind, not quite visible from beneath the covers. If Rhonda allowed her to, she would repeat this motion for hours.

In all her life, Louise had never been so sexually aroused. Though she felt guilty over her own enjoyment of this massage, she got no signal from Rhonda to stop. Instead, she heard a deep sigh from the woman beneath her.

"Lou," Rhonda said softly as she started to turn over.

At once, the taller woman leaned back, suddenly afraid she had crossed a line. But Rhonda rolled completely onto her back, her breasts now exposed in apparent invitation. The woman's hazel eyes were pleading, and she reached to clasp Louise's wrists in her hands.

Louise sat frozen, afraid to move, and afraid not to. Did Rhonda want this too? Her answer came when the other woman led her hands….

"Are you finished with this?" the flight attendant asked, gesturing toward the empty cup in Louise's hand.

"Yes, of course." Louise spotted the airport below as they circled to land from the north. Her life had been full of moments of truth. Tonight would be another.

It was after four o'clock when she exited to baggage claim at the Greater Pittsburgh International Airport. Her former boss greeted her with a warm hug. They'd spoken not a word about what she would say this evening, but he'd gotten a subtle confirmation of his suspicions when she'd asked him to prepare a couple of photographs from Westfield's yearbook for presentation on a screen.

"It's really good to see you again, Louise. You look great. I'd say that retirement agrees with you." He wheeled the car into traffic for the hour-long trip to Greensburg.

"Thank you, Ted. I think life in general agrees with me now. I know that when I left here, I was filled with sadness, and now I have happiness back in my life again."

"And does this happiness have a name?" he probed gently.

"Marty." Louise knew from the look on his face that her answer hadn't helped him much. "She doesn't like to be called Martha."

The principal smiled and glanced over at his smirking passenger. "I'm really glad for you, Louise."

Over a hurried dinner, the retired teacher told her boss - her friend - all about Marty Beck and how they'd spent the summer and fall in the North Carolina mountains. It was delightful to be able to open up about the one thing that had made her so happy in the past year.

"You'll have to bring her with you on your next visit," Ted insisted.

"I might just do that. But you and Dottie also have a standing invitation at our house, either in Florida or North Carolina."

Louise insisted on picking up the tab, and soon, they were on their way to the school board offices.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

"Are you kidding? I just hope I don't get up there and forget how to speak."

"You'll be fine. Listen, I'm going to use about 30 seconds of our time to introduce you, if that's okay. This new superintendent doesn't know Louise Stevens, and I think he should."

Louise nodded, shaking in anticipation as they pulled into the parking lot. Getting out of the car, she spotted her former student Michelle walking with her parents.

"Ted, will you excuse me? I need to speak to the Sanders family."

"Of course."

Louise walked quickly to catch up with Michelle and her parents. "Michelle?"

The student turned at the familiar voice, her eyes wide with surprise. "Miss Stevens!"

The former teacher greeted the family like old friends. "Mr. Meyer tells me that you're on the agenda for tonight."

"That's right. I can't believe you're here!" Michelle said with excitement. Her teacher had given no clue that she would make the trip.

"It was important to me to speak out about this, too. I'm so glad you told me what was going on."

"We're very proud of Michelle," Will Sanders spoke up, placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"I'm very proud of her too," Louise agreed. Her voice filled with emotion, she pulled the girl into a strong hug and told her, "Michelle, I want you to know…that I think you're one of the most courageous people I've ever known."

Coming from her favorite teacher, those were words that Michelle Sanders would treasure forever.

Ted Meyer caught up with the group and they marched into the assembly hall with determination. The noisy room quieted when the meeting was called to order.

Louise recognized the chairman…Donald…Donald Sumter. He'd graduated in one of her first classes, back in…1964. It wasn't that he was memorable in high school; rather, he'd been on the school board for almost four terms, now in his 10th year. And the third one from the left was Annette Hartig, though her name was now Mowrey. She'd graduated back in the mid-70s, and she'd been in the band! Louise would use that.

For more than an hour, the board dispensed with other business; choosing vendors and contractors for specific projects, hearing requests for redrawing school boundaries; and proclaiming a special day to honor the Greensburg Golden Lions as State Football Champs. Finally, they reached new business, an open forum to hear from the community regarding the announced non-renewal of Darren Ulster's teaching contract.

Sumter began with the ground rules: "There are five persons on the agenda for this discussion, and each will be given the allotted four minutes to deliver their remarks. No remarks will be heard from those not on the agenda. Following these speakers, the board will adjourn to discuss the issue in private, as all issues pertaining to personnel are not subject to open review."

Taking the podium first was Darren Ulster himself, who spoke not of his sexual orientation, but of his love of teaching. He implored the board to continue to allow him to live his dream as a band director in a top school district, and he promised to always perform his duties in a professional manner.

The next two speakers were band parents, the first of whom spoke of how involvement in the band had awakened in his teenage son an interest in school. He attributed this new zeal for learning directly to the influence of Darren Ulster. The second parent spoke of Ulster's dedication to his work, evidenced by the consistent high marks in regional band competitions. Her daughter had parlayed her first chair clarinet status in such an excellent band into a college music scholarship. This too, she said, was a product of the encouragement and guidance provided by Darren Ulster.

Finally, Michelle Sanders' name was called. The girl nervously approached the podium and began.

"Hello. My name is Michelle Sanders, and I used to play in the band at Westfield High School, but I graduated two years ago. Thank you for letting me come tonight to speak on behalf of Mr. Ulster. There are three things I want to say."

It was obvious to Louise that Michelle had written down her remarks and practiced saying them over and over. Now realizing how nervous she'd grown as she waited her turn, she wished she'd done the same.

"First, I want to say that I think Mr. Ulster is a wonderful teacher. He was friendly to all of the students, and he always encouraged us to do our best.

"Second, I want to say that as a student who discovered in high school that she was gay, I would have liked very much to have had someone like Mr. Ulster to talk to. I have a number of gay friends at college now, and all of us felt like outsiders in our high schools because there wasn't anyone there to talk to about our experiences. We didn't fit in, no matter how hard we tried. One of my friends at college even said she tried to kill herself back then because she felt so all alone. I think the schools should do more for all of the students, not just the ones who are straight. They already get all the breaks."

The young woman's words weren't polished, but they were nonetheless from the heart. Her remarks held just a trace of that youthful attitude of defiance that Louise had come to appreciate over the years.

"And third, I wanted to say that I have an interest in how all of this turns out because I am studying at Slippery Rock State to become a math teacher. I want to teach because I love working with numbers, and because a math teacher inspired me. But I also want to be able to be who and what I am, without worrying that I can be fired just because I happen to be gay.

"That's all I have to say, and thank you very much for listening."

Michelle came back to her chair as several of the observers clapped. Her mother and father both stood and hugged her briefly before sitting back down. Louise leaned over and patted her arm as Ted Meyer made his way to the podium.

"Good evening, Mr. Superintendent, Chairman, and board members. I'm Ted Meyer, the principal at Westfield High School. With your permission, I'd like to yield my minutes on the floor to Miss Louise Stevens, a former teacher of mine who retired two years ago. Since you're new to this area, Mr. Superintendent, I'd like to point out that Miss Stevens was the 1979 and 1991 Teacher of the Year in Westmoreland County. The best part of my job is leading dedicated teachers like Louise Stevens and Darren Ulster."

Louise took her place at the podium as her former boss turned on the slide projector. Behind her, a large picture of Rhonda Markosky directing the high school band graced the screen.

"Thank you, Mr. Meyer. Mr. Superintendent, Chairman Sumter - nice to see you again - and board members, hello and thank you for hearing me tonight.

"I'd like to tell you a little about the woman in the picture. She was Rhonda Markosky, and she held the position of band director at Westfield for 32 years. As many of you know, Miss Markosky died in 1998, at the front of her band room doing what she loved most. Mrs. Mowrey, you were in Miss Markosky's band, were you not?"

The board member nodded, smiling at the high school memory.

"I could tell you about the thousands of students she inspired over the years, and the hundreds of awards she garnered for the school. But here was one of our proudest moments at Westfield."

Ted Meyer changed the screen to a front-page headline from the local newspaper: Westfield's Markosky named Pennsylvania State Teacher of the Year.

"That was in 1986. Rhonda Markosky is the only Westmoreland County teacher to win that state honor, so I don't have to say anymore about what kind of teacher she was." She nodded toward Meyer, who changed to the final slide, a yearbook picture of the two teachers side by side, bundled up warmly as they cheered their football team.

"What I would like to tell you is that Rhonda Markosky was gay. I know that because she was my partner for 31 years. Throughout our years as teachers here, we kept that private, afraid that it might somehow impact our jobs. Obviously, we had good reason to feel that way. Now that I've retired, I don't have to hide from prejudices or from unfounded fears. I can stand here now and speak on behalf of the hundreds of staff, teachers and administrators in the Westmoreland County school system who are gay but who are afraid to come forward. I implore you to let them do their jobs without risk of job discrimination. Let them make their contributions to the education of your children as Rhonda Markosky did; and as Darren Ulster still does.

"And when you resolve this matter of one band director, I ask you to consider making it part of your county-wide policy to make discrimination against gays a thing of the past, as much of the country has already done. Take this opportunity to teach the children of this county that no one deserves to be thrown away. You and the students will be better for it.

"Thank you."

The proud woman stepped down amidst sporadic applause that erupted into a sustained chorus of cheers. Red-faced, she walked with Meyer back to their seats, where Michelle sat with tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry I never told you, Michelle," Louise whispered, misreading the emotion as betrayal.

"It's okay, Miss Stevens. I understand. It's just…I'm so proud of you for saying all of that."

"No, I'm the proud one, Michelle. You were my inspiration this time."

When the board returned to chambers to discuss the issues and vote on the personnel moves, Louise was inundated with a steady stream of people offering their congratulations and support. One was Darren Ulster.

"Thank you, Lou. It means the world to me that you came all this way to speak up for me like you did. I am so honored to have your support, and I'd give my right arm to be half the teacher Rhonda Markosky was."

"You're a great teacher in your own right, Darren. You have such a bright future, and I only hope you get to play it out. If not here, you have to find another place. You just can't waste that talent and enthusiasm."

When the throngs of people had come and gone, Louise found herself sitting alone with a still-crying Michelle Sanders.

"Are you going to do that all night?" she teased.

Michelle chuckled and blew her nose. "No, I hope not. But everything you said was so sweet. And it just breaks my heart that Miss Markosky is gone and now you're all alone."

Louise put her long arm around the young woman's shoulder. "It broke my heart to lose her, Michelle, and I was sad for a long time. But I'm not alone anymore."

"You're not?"

"No. I met someone new when I moved to Florida, and I was lucky enough to fall in love again."

Michelle warmed at the idea of her favorite teacher and friend having someone to love. "Well, I hope I get to meet her the next time I go see my grandmother," she stated hopefully.

"You already have."

The girl thought for a moment before her eyes grew wide with surprise. "Marty Beck, from the golf course?"

"That's right," Louise answered grinning.

"Awwww, Marty's so cute!"

Louise laughed aloud. "Yes, she certainly is. And the next time you come down, the three of us will spend some time together. I think you and Marty will like each other a lot."

**********

Louise folded the newspaper over to follow the story from the front page to its jump on page nine. It was here she was quoted.

"Of course I'm disappointed. I'm glad to know that the vote was close, though. It gives me hope that one or two forward thinking people could change the face of this school board at the next election and this injustice can be rectified. I look to the younger generations to take the lead in that, either through their parents or for those who are old enough, by exercising their right to vote. I've always had faith that the spirit of our youth would lead us all to a better way of life, to a world where we'd celebrate our differences rather than try to insulate ourselves from them."

The retired woman was exhausted. The late decision by the board to uphold the superintendent's recommendation had left her feeling drained and defeated; she struggled to sleep, and was now fighting the discomfort of the cramped airplane seat.

Despite her failure to sway the board's opinion, Louise Stevens felt a liberation of spirit she had never known. Rhonda would have been so proud to have seen her stand before all of those parents, administrators, and board members, declaring their love with confidence and dignity. Her only regret was that they hadn't both done it sooner, daring anyone to challenge their right to do the job they loved.

Marty would have been proud of her too. Ah, Marty! After just one night away, Louise missed the comforting embrace of her lover and the smile that warmed her from across the room. Marty had been so supportive of her once she'd decided to do this, listening to her spout ideas about what to say, and helping to select the pictures to show. Rhonda would have liked the little golfer, and there was no doubt that Marty would have hit it off with the band director.

It was funny in a way that Louise had never thought to compare her feelings for Marty to those for Rhonda. She always felt lucky that she got to have them both. Rhonda was right for her then; and Marty was right for her now.

"…please bring your tray tables to the upright and locked position. The flight attendants will be passing through the cabin one last time to collect any remaining service items. We'll be landing shortly."

Louise peeked out at the swamp below, glad to be back home and eager to be in her lover's arms.

**********

Louise awoke somewhat disoriented at the ringing phone. The room was already dark, which meant it was after five on this December evening. Through the bedroom door, she could hear Marty answer the call in a quiet voice.

A nap this late in the day was a rarity for the retiree, but the last 24 hours had sapped her energy. Louise smiled as she turned beneath the covers. It was also rare for her to sleep in the nude, but she and Marty had made sweet love when they returned home from the airport. She had needed badly to show her lover how she felt, just as she had needed to feel alive in Marty's love. The last thing she remembered was feeling her lover's arms and legs draped across her body as Marty gently stroked her brow and whispered words of love.

The golfer's silhouette appeared in the doorway. "Sweetheart?"

"I'm awake. Who is it?"

"It's Ted Meyer."

Louise sat up and tucked the sheet beneath her armpits, scooting over and patting the bed for Marty to sit. Petie joined them, taking his place on Louise's opposite side.

"Hi Ted…yeah, but I couldn't believe how tired I was. This getting old stuff isn't for sissies." Unconsciously, she stroked her lover's back as she listened to the news. "You're kidding! So what happens now?" She gripped Marty's shoulder with excitement. "That's great news, Ted. I'm so glad you called…No, it wasn't me at all. It was just the right thing to do…Thanks, bye."

"So what's the news?"

"You won't believe this, Marty! People saw the story in the paper today and they started calling the school board. Ted said they had almost five hundred calls before lunch, and that most people were mad. Apparently, enough of the board members got worried about their jobs and they called an emergency meeting and reversed their decision. Darren's going to get to keep his job after all."

"Lou, that's great! You did it!"

"No, I didn't do it. We all did it. It was plain as day that they were wrong, and with all the arguments in the paper, and then all the parents calling, they finally saw it themselves."

"Well, I'm still proud of you," Marty said.

"You've done this to me, Marty. Being with you just makes me want to tell everybody how happy I am all the time." Louise wrapped both arms around her partner's waist.

"You make me happy too, Lou. Are you still planning on going to the Christmas party tonight, or do you need to rest some more?"

"I'm coming with you, sweetheart. Let me go get in the shower…."

"Hold on a minute," Marty stopped her. "I know it's early, but how would you like to open a Christmas present?"

"It's nine days until Christmas!"

"I know, but this present's special. I think you might like to have it when we go out tonight. I know I'd like it."

"Okay," Louise nodded.

Marty disappeared and returned with a wrapped shoebox.

"You want me to wear new shoes?"

"Just open it."

Louise did as she was told, folding back the tissue paper to find several sleeves of golf balls. "I get it. You want me to take these new golf balls in my purse so I can slug anyone you flirt with."

"I do not flirt," the golfer said defensively. Marty nudged the box in the center aside to reveal a velvet jewelry box in the bottom. "I couldn't have you guessing what it was," she explained. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

And a surprise it was, as the sight of the diamond-studded gold band nearly stole her breath. "Oh, Marty!"

"Will you wear this for me, Lou?"

"Oh, Marty!" Louise had always been jealous of those who got to proudly display the symbol of their love. But trading rings with Rhonda would have prompted too many unwelcome questions. And now, Marty was offering to have her wear this beautiful band.

The blonde woman slipped it gently over the knuckle on Louise's left hand. "I'd appreciate it if you'd wear it all the time, Lou, and if you'd always let it remind you that I love you, and that I'm going to share the rest of your life."

"Oh, Marty!" It seemed to be all she could say. Finally, she found more words. "It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. But what about you? Shouldn't I get a ring for you too?"

"I can't really wear one, sweetheart. You know, I have these fat knuckles and then my hands sweat all day, and I usually have on a glove. But maybe if you went for a nose ring, I could do that!"

"You are so silly, Marty Beck. Just for that, I might take you up on it and get one so I can lead you wherever I want you to go."

"You don't need a nose ring for that, Lou. All you have to do is go somewhere and I'll follow you."

"Oh, Marty! I love you so much."

"I love you, too," the blonde woman answered as she hugged her lover close. "So did you get me a plaid sweater?"

"Did you want a plaid sweater? I still have eight shopping days until Christmas," she teased.

"No, that's okay. But I will be wearing something special tonight."

"What's that?"

"I thought I'd tuck a little mistletoe in my cap and see if I could get a certain tall, blue-eyed retired schoolteacher to kiss me all night."

"Well you'd better not put that cap on until you're ready to come home, or you're not even going to know you're at a Christmas party," Louise warned.

"I guess we should go put in an appearance then, huh?"

Louise was looking forward to the chance to take her partner's side at the party tonight. She wanted people to see their happiness together, and she wanted them to know that she was proud to call Marty Beck her partner. She would always regret that she and Rhonda hadn't publicly declared their love for one another; but with Marty, she had a chance to love out loud, and she wasn't going to let it pass her by.

The End.

Thanks for reading more of Marty and Lou. Drop me a line and let me know what you thought.
kgmacgregor@yahoo.com

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