Coming From Behind Ch. 05-06

"You sure you still want to do this?" she grinned.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I forgot to ask you. What have you heard from Norman Fears?"

"Nothing. I called him yesterday and gave him my new cell number. He started giving me the usual guff about not being able to hold off the other bidders much longer and I told him that if I couldn't get my bid in soon to go ahead and accept the best other bid. I told him I wouldn't hold that against him."

"Whoa, you do like to live on the edge, don't you?"

"I'm pretty much certain he doesn't have any other bids. Now the ball's in his court. Let's see how he responds. He should be getting fairly antsy by now, especially since I've had my phone turned off all day," I smiled, pulling it out of my pocket and turning it on.

"Oh look ... a message from Mr. Fears. I wonder what that's about," I laughed.

Catherine was shaking her head but had a smile on her lips at the same time. I think she was enjoying this as much as I was.

"Are you going to call him?"

"Yes indeed. It's Friday afternoon and it wouldn't be polite to let him sit in ignorance for the whole weekend."

I punched in his number and listened. It was picked up after two rings.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fears. It's Terry Monahan. I'm sure I know why you are calling. I'm afraid I won't have my bid ready until Monday morning. I've taken on another project that is keeping me occupied today and through the weekend. I'm awfully sorry about that. I'll understand if you choose to go ahead with someone else."

"This really is inconvenient, Mr. Monahan. I've made a special effort to give you additional time and you've failed to make each extension. Are you positive this time that you will have a proposal on Monday morning?"

"Yes, Mr. Fears, I am positive. How about if we meet at ten o'clock and we can present our proposal?"

"Very well, Mr. Monahan, but this is the last extension I can possibly grant. Please do not fail to meet this deadline."

"I promise I'll have my proposal to you at ten o'clock this coming Monday morning. You have my solemn word, sir."

"Very well, I'll see you then. Good day, Mr. Monahan."

"Good day, Mr. Fears, and have a good weekend," I finished, snapping the phone closed. I had a smile on my face. Another two days he'd have to sweat it out. Perfect!

"If you're right, he must be going crazy by now," Catherine laughed.

"Oh ... I hope so. He only dislikes me now. By late Monday morning he's going to hate me."

Catherine was shaking her head in wonder. "I'm sure glad I'm on your side."

I gave her a sincere smile. "I'm glad you're on my side too."

Catherine had showered and changed before we sat down so with the clubs in my car we headed back to Lake Oswego to drop her off at her apartment. I thought about inviting her to dinner but she was concentrating on this tournament and I felt I would be smart to leave the socializing until after it was over.

Saturday dawned cloudy, cool and windy. Catherine chose brown slacks, brown shoes, a light tan sweater and a nylon shell to begin with. As she warmed up, I could see that she wasn't quite as sharp as she was yesterday but I said nothing. It wasn't my place to give her advice or upset her routine. I was here to carry her bag and give her encouragement.

The weather had a big effect on the scoreboard that day. The wind was unpredictable as it blew among the trees. It was generally from the southeast, but it would swirl through the big evergreens causing high shots to drift off line, sometimes quite dramatically.

If Catherine had any advantage it was her course knowledge and experience playing in all kinds of weather here and on the pro tour. Just the same, she fought the elements all day and ended up two over for the round and even for the tournament. Any other day that would have put her well back but no one was able to rise to the occasion and she was still in fourth place, just three strokes back.

"You didn't have much fun out there today," I remarked as we shared a drink afterwards.

"I'm not fond of playing in windy conditions. I have a hell of a time judging my approach shots because I hit the ball high. A couple of times I was tempted to choke down on a five iron and run the ball up, but I chickened out and stuck with what I was used to."

"You hit most of your fairways again today so the wind didn't bother your drives as much. You didn't hit as many greens in regulation as you did yesterday. You had to do a lot of scrambling to save par. I think you only had a couple of decent birdie opportunities all day. Maybe tomorrow will be better."

"It will need to be. I won't win playing like I did today. I'm three down as it is, so I need a hot round and I need the other girls to weaken. Anyway," she smiled, "that's my plan and I'm sticking to it."

I gave her a big smile and patted her hand. I liked her attitude and I was really enjoying being with her. I felt a little stronger on the bag today. I was getting my legs back and the cooler weather had been a help in keeping me from fatigue.

The wind dropped overnight and when I picked Catherine up, she was back to wearing shorts with a light sweater as on the day before. The shell was in her bag if needed. A few clouds looked like they would burn off as the day went on and it should warm up to seasonal temperatures, the mid-to-high sixties.

Our tee time was later since we were in the next to last group. It would be almost noon by the time we teed off. I bought some sandwiches and water at the restaurant and packed them in the bag. Even if Catherine didn't want to eat, I would. It was going to be a long, tense day, something I hadn't experienced before at this close range. I was nervous and I thought Catherine would be too, but she didn't show it. She looked as calm and focused as she always did.

On the practice tee she was back to hitting those nice, crisp shots I'd seen on Friday. If she kept that up she'd have a good chance to compete for the win. She spent a bit of extra time around the putting and chipping green, getting used to reading the greens. The holes would be in their third different location today, so every putt would be from a different perspective.

Finally, our group was called and we moved onto the tee. Catherine hit second and launched a nice solid drive that didn't slide back toward the middle and ended up in the first cut of rough on the right side about two-seventy out. Not a problem from what I could see.

When she hit her second shot, a solid nine iron, it flew off the club face, landing just behind the pin to the right but rolling away and off the back of the green. She had an improbable birdie chance from there. I watched her but she didn't portray any emotion that I could see. She didn't want to give anything away to her opponents.

That bit of practice on the chipping area paid off as she rolled as lovely, low, seven iron chip down the slope stopping two feet past the pin. It was almost a tap-in for par. Her opponents parred as well and nothing had changed. I looked back up the fairway and saw one of the final group was well off the fairway with a very difficult shot to the green. I don't think Catherine noticed but I would be watching them and, when we could see it, the leader board.

By the turn, Catherine was two under for the round and the tournament and could have been four under with a bit of luck on the greens. She had lipped out two ten-foot attempts. She was making everything else inside that distance. I looked at the leader board and saw that one of her competitors had fallen away, now one over par for the tournament. One down, two to go. The others were just as they had started, so at this point Catherine had gained two strokes and was only one behind.

I know she was aware of her position but you couldn't tell anything from her expression and she said absolutely nothing to me about it. She was trying hard to keep herself on an even keel and just play her game. So far it was working.

I offered her a sandwich as we waited on the eleventh tee and she accepted a half along with a water bottle. The sky had broken and we were in sunshine with the temperature rising. She had removed her sweater and had taken a few practice swings to get used to the new feeling. I was admiring her very feminine figure as she did so, thinking just how attractive this woman was.

On the back nine we had a couple of television cameras following the last three groups. They were from local TV stations as this tournament wasn't being broadcast live. The marshals were busy keeping them from getting in the way or distracting the golfers. It didn't look like either cameraman had any experience shooting a golf tournament. Just the same, if it bothered Catherine or her opponents, it didn't show.

The gallery was sparse up until the fourteenth hole. It was a long par three, listed at two-oh-nine. I assumed Catherine would hit a five wood but she asked for her hybrid three. I almost said something about it not being enough club but held my tongue. This was her game not mine and I was in no position to judge. When I looked more carefully, I saw a downhill shot with only one long trap along the left side of the green. This shouldn't be too difficult.

The pin was tight to the left side so any errant shot to the left would likely end up in the trap, or worse, in a depression left of the trap. The sensible shot was to the middle of the green. Catherine still held the honor and set up what looked like a straight shot at the center of the green. Even if it wasn't enough club she would have a wide open chip to the pin. Probably a safe shot then. What did I know?

As usual, her shot lifted high into the blue sky above the trees then began to turn left. Not a great deal ... just enough that when it landed on the front of the green it ran up toward the pin, stopping fifteen feet short and slightly to the right. Some safety shot. I just shook my head. It was her best shot of the day in my opinion. She must have thought so too because for the first time she had a smile as I exchanged her hybrid for the putter.

I thought for a moment that she would miss the putt to the right but at the last moment it broke for the cup and dropped inside the right edge. She fist pumped her pleasure and walked back to me once again with a smile. Three under and now tied for the lead we thought. As she handed me the putter she muttered "local knowledge" under her breath. Local knowledge indeed. First the club selection, then the putt.

We heard a brief roar and applause behind us and I assumed one of our opponents had scored a birdie. Sure enough, a few minutes later the word came down that we were once more one down to the morning leader, Miranda Caldwell. However, there were four holes to play and the fifteenth was both an opportunity and a challenge.

We were playing from what were essentially the blue tees, so it was five-hundred and thirty yards of immediate dog-leg left to a long, straight fairway. Traps left and right at the driving areas and a lightly guarded green to the right of the end of the fairway. It was rated the number two stroke hole, so I assumed it would be tough.

Catherine still held the honor as both her opponents had begun to fade. She hit her usual right to left draw, aiming down the middle to finish on the left side of the wide fairway. Again, it was textbook. She was like a machine with that driver. Moreover, she didn't show the slightest sign of pressure. She was one behind with not much time to make a move. This had to be one of her best opportunities.

I was about to hand her the three metal when she asked for the five.

"I want enough room for a wedge, Terry. I can't get there in two so I want to be in the right position to get at the pin."

I nodded and handed her the club. It was the first time I could remember her explaining her thinking. Was this a sign of pressure? I wondered and yet I agreed completely with her thinking. She proved herself to be right with a lovely straight shot to the right side of the fairway, about seventy-five yards from the center of the green. The pin was tucked to the back left-center of the green, daring a big hitter to go for it.

All three of our group laid up, none of them choosing to go for the green even though I thought one of them had the length to make it. Considering they were now three and four shots back, it might have been worth a try but, that's not what they decided. With a competitor's ball already twenty feet left and short of the pin, it was Catherine's turn. She took her sand wedge, surveyed the line, then stepped up and lifted another high lob toward the pin. It dropped as softly as a penny on a blanket five feet from the hole and stayed there. Perfect.

This time as she came back to me she raised her hand in the universal high-five salute and I met it on cue. Yes indeed, the emotions were beginning to show. The excitement of playing at the top of her game was beginning to come out late in the contest. Now it was a matter of containing those emotions and finishing this game.

She made the putt with ease and passed me the putter with a smile that spoke volumes for just how pumped she was with how things were going. Three holes to play and at least tied for the lead now at four under for the round and the tournament.

"If Miranda has a big drive, she'll go for this in two," she said as we walked to the sixteenth.

I didn't respond. I wasn't even sure if she was talking to me or to herself. Better now to just stay quiet and let her play.

Sixteen was a short par three, playing just one-hundred and thirty yards today. The green was surrounded by traps and I remembered from my round that anything long off the back would end up a long way from the pin. The target was very small, and a birdie here would be no small accomplishment.

Catherine stood looking at the green for several seconds before coming over to me and asking for her nine iron. Again, I wondered if that wasn't too much club but I said nothing and tried not to betray my opinion with my expression. My training in the board room had taught me well and I didn't detect any doubt on Catherine's face.

As it turned out, I shouldn't have worried. She hit what seemed to be a soft shot, again very high. I watched it land fifteen feet to the left of the pin near the left edge of the green. There were several traps that might have come into play if she'd tried to go directly for the flag, as tempting as that might be. Once more the smart shot told me she was still in control of her game. There was no need to panic.

We couldn't have known what happened behind us, but apparently the leader had only managed a par on fifteen as we stepped on the seventeenth tee. That was a lost shot as far as we were concerned and I got an "I told you so" look from Catherine. She knew her opponent and it had paid off.

Seventeen was a short par four, three-hundred-and-thirty yards, but with a meandering creek from the front of the tee boxes along the left side of the fairway and crossing over in front of the green and running along its right side. It was a strategy hole and I remembered how Catherine and I played it when we were last here. A three metal in front of the creek and a wedge to the green.

"You think your opponent might try to drive this green?" I asked her as we waited for the group in front to clear. Someone had gone in the creek and that had slowed them up.

"Could be," she said, turning to me with a grin. I think she was hoping that's exactly what she would do.

That was almost as many words as we had spoken the entire game. I hoped I hadn't broken her concentration, but it didn't seem so. Just the same, I vowed to shut up and keep my thoughts to myself.

Catherine had retained the honor for the entire back nine to that point and led the group off with a perfectly placed three metal on the left side of the landing area in front of the creek. I guessed that she was about a hundred yards back, almost perfect position for one of her high, soft shots. Our two opponents both laid up but were on the wider right side of the landing area. It would be a more difficult shot to get near the pin from there.

Catherine studied her shot for a few moments before coming back and asking for her pitching wedge. I had finally stopped second-guessing her club selection. It might not have been what I would hit, but it was what she was comfortable with. Catherine was away so she stepped up, checked her line, and swung. I marveled at the height she got from these shots and just how softly and smoothly she swung, still getting distance from the effort.

Her ball landed in the center of the green about fifteen feet left of the flag. Not as close as I expected but I didn't see any hint of disappointment from her. Her opponents weren't so lucky. One missed holding the green and found the trap to the right of the flag, while the other was long and in jail behind the green. Both were facing a bogey that would slide them even further down the leader board.

Catherine's putt had a slight left to right break as I read it. She must have agreed as she lined up that way and stroked the ball nicely. It ran right on her line until it got to within three feet of the cup where it bumped up and kicked slightly right, missing the right edge of the hole. A missed opportunity. She walked forward and tapped in, examining the ground around the hole and finally picking something up before walking back to me. Expressionless, she handed me the putter then showed me a tiny pebble in the palm of her hand. That had been the culprit.

"That was careless of me. I should have spotted that," was the only thing she said as we headed off to what might be our final hole, still tied for the lead. We could see the leader board near the clubhouse now and it showed what I suspected. There were only two players in contention for the trophy, Miranda Caldwell and Catherine Walston. Everyone else was at least three shots back. It was showdown time.

Number eighteen was playing four hundred and thirty yards from tee to green. The test here was to avoid a very large pond along the final one hundred yards and bracketing the entire right side of the green. There were no traps to worry about, but the narrow approach to the relatively small green was difficult to say the least. Water on the right and trees and bush on the left. Accuracy was everything and from about one-sixty or so after a decent drive it would be a challenge. I had a feeling this was the hole that was going to decide the tournament.

I remembered I had gotten away with a bogey here when I played my second off the left side of the green and into the bush. I had a playable lie, but it still took me two shots to get near the pin and walk away with a five. Catherine would have to do better than that.

Her drive was like almost every other drive that day. I couldn't remember her missing a fairway after the first and I was pretty sure she hadn't. This one was no exception. Well placed down the left side with a reasonably straight shot into the green. Still, she would have to carry some water but the way she was striking the ball that seemed like a non-factor.

Both her opponents were to the right and away, so they went first. The first shot was well to the left side of the green, away from the pin which naturally was tucked over by the water. The second was equally cautious, this time rolling off the left edge and forcing the woman to make a delicate downhill chip toward the water. She wouldn't enjoy that shot very much, I thought.

I watched Catherine carefully. There was no sign that she was tight or nervous. She went through her alignment routine and then set up. She'd chosen a seven iron and as it climbed into the air I had the feeling that this was the shot of the game for her. This one would make the difference. I was right.