Beautiful Little Fools(44)

Mary Margaret’s eyes popped open at the sound of Mrs. Pearce’s voice. They caught mine, and I saw in them everything she’d told me last night she was afraid of. Mrs. Pearce just stood there in the doorway, staring, her mouth agape.

I rolled out from under Mary Margaret and pulled the covers up, over both of us. “Boy, it was too warm in here last night, wasn’t it?” I made an awkward half attempt to explain away our nakedness. I heard the sound of my own voice, too high-pitched, nearly shrill. It rose up above me and hovered somewhere in the room like smoke.

Mrs. Pearce just pressed her lips together and stared, and it was probably only a few seconds, but time seemed to suspend and it felt like hours. My heart sprinted in my chest, and I could hear Mary Margaret breathing heavily, but she did not say a word. None of us did.

“You’re both late,” Mrs. Pearce finally said, turning her head away from the bed. “It’s eight thirty. Get dressed and get downstairs. We’re leaving for the course in twenty minutes, with or without you.” She spun on her heel and walked out.

“She knows,” Mary Margaret said, her voice breaking, as soon as Mrs. Pearce shut the door. “Oh my god, she knows.”

“She doesn’t know anything,” I said quickly. Though my heart still pulsed furiously; fire still filled my veins. I stood and my body felt wonderfully sore. I began to get dressed, and the silent movie flashed on again in my head, Mary Margaret touching me. And I stopped moving, closed my eyes for a second, trying to make it stop. Wanting it to go on forever.

“How could she not know?” Mary Margaret was in tears now. She got out of bed and yanked her clothes out of her bag with more force than was necessary.

I walked over to her, only half dressed in just my skirt and my brassiere. I reached for her shoulder, pulled her toward me, and hugged her tightly. I smoothed back her hair with my hands. Here we were again, in the light of day, when everything was bright and different and… gone. And I didn’t want it to be gone. I wanted to hold on to it, keep it close, keep her close. Forever. “No one knows what happened last night but us,” I whispered into her hair. “It’s just us, Ems. Mrs. Pearce can think what she wants but she’ll never say anything. She can never prove anything, and, besides, any hint of scandal would doom the tour.”

“Jordan.” My name escaped her lips like a strangled half cry. “I already miss you.”

“Shh, Ems. I’m right here,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”



* * *



GOLF HAD ALWAYS been my sanctuary and strength. After Mama died it made me into a tough little girl and then, after Daddy died, a fierce young woman.

I went out onto the course that day in Atlanta more determined than ever to focus on the ball, to play my best, to win the $1,000 tournament prize. If I won, it would be money to do with as I pleased. Not Daddy’s money. Not Aunt Sigourney’s money. Daisy had money, but Daisy’s money meant her being with Tom. I wanted money all my own. A life all my own. And choices that only I was in control of. And besides, if I was the best today, if I won the tournament, Mrs. Pearce wouldn’t dare say a word about what she thought she saw when she walked into our room this morning.

As I stood at the first tee box, I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering again the feel of Mary Margaret’s hands on my skin. I took a deep breath, inhaled. Exhaled. I parted my feet and readied my club and stared at the ball.

But when I raised my arms to swing, everything else disappeared: Mary Margaret, Mrs. Pearce, Daisy. It was just me and the club. Then I swung, and all my power and my fire channeled into that one tiny little white golf ball that soared like a dove through the air.



* * *



THE TOURNAMENT WAS to be played slowly: eighteen holes today and eighteen more tomorrow. At the end of the first eighteen, I was in first place, and all the girls came over and congratulated me, even Jerralyn. Mary Margaret gave me a long hug—she was currently in last place, and I felt, guiltily, that somehow I’d taken away her focus. Her failure today was my fault. But I consoled myself with the thought that I would buy her a present with my winnings, maybe something pretty she could wear in her hair.

“You did great, Jordan,” she said to me, interrupting my thoughts. She let go and I pulled her back, held her to me for another second, close enough to feel the pounding of her heart. I thought about what she said this morning, half in tears, that she already missed me, and I wanted her to see that everything was okay, that I was still right here.

I hugged her for another moment, but when she pulled back again, I looked up. And there standing just off to the side of the green were Mr. Hennessey and Mrs. Pearce, their heads together, both staring at me. I offered them a cool nod, raised my club a little to acknowledge my success today. And the truth was, I still felt like fire. I still felt like I was untouchable.



* * *



I AWOKE THE next morning to an empty bed. Mary Margaret had said she needed some fresh air after dinner last night, and unable to contain my exhaustion from a full day of golf and hardly any sleep the night before, I’d sat down on the bed and fallen into a long and dreamless sleep.

Now it was morning, Mary Margaret had never come to bed, or she’d slept quietly and had woken up early and already left for breakfast without me. It felt strange to be here, all alone. But I barely had time to stretch and make sense of that thought when the door opened. I looked up expecting Ems. But instead, it was Jerralyn standing there in my room, frowning, a newspaper in her hand.