Roberta Radcliffe

In her opinion, it was going to be bad enough them seeing her walking with the aid of a cane. Senator Radcliffe asked nicely, and between the hospital physio and getting access to the ATF's main building to use their gym, camera pictures of her on sticks were non-existent. Which of course frustrated the news outlets. She had only done a few interviews and a couple of personal appearances for charities she was associated with since getting back on her feet.

Out of the public eye, she was on first name terms with the owner and all the staff of the golf range and a signed up member of our town's golf club. Even fifty percent fit, she bettered the club record the day the club Pro went out with her for a round at seven in the morning. Due to some work being done on the clubhouse, the course wasn't due to open until ten that morning. Not that she needed to, but she swore the club pro to secrecy on her score. Only the pro, Bobbie and a golf cart, plus three members of the committee who followed the group around the course in their own cart knew.

The announcement was due that evening. Then the scathing televised attack by one of the sports commentators led to Bobbie asking if the announcement could be pushed back. The committee, having heard the same rant agreed.

The commentator was of the opinion that since her 'jogging' accident he believed that Roberta Radcliffe would never play golf on a professional level again. If she took part in the tournament she would also embarrass the name of golf, not only to the nation but to the world.

That hurt my wife. It was clear to those around her that the commentator had his own agenda, but he was also playing a dangerous game. I sat and listened to her holding her father off. This insect had besmirched his daughter and Charles Radcliffe wasn't going to stand for it. Between her mother and Bobbie, they talked him down and although reluctant he was willing to leave things alone, for now.

When she put the phone down she looked at me and said. "Am I going to have to ask you to leave things be as well?"

She had climbed onto my lap by then so I couldn't escape.

"I think you know me too well Bobbie." I leaned in and kissed the side of her head. "He's pissed me off, but if you want me to step aside then I will, for now. But prove your point soon sweetheart. He's insulted my wife, and I can't let that pass for long, okay?"

I could feel her body heat increase. I knew how she was going to thank me, so I held onto her as I stood from my chair and carried her to our bedroom so she could thank me without our clothes getting in the way.

*******

The bile coming from the sports commentator continued right up to and including the start of the tournament. In an effort to try and diffuse the atmosphere that was creeping onto the course, Bobbie offered to do a live interview with the commentator. He found excuse after excuse not to do one. I guess he was a believer in the saying, "Never let the truth get in the way of a good lie".

I was also playing a dangerous game. I'm an undercover agent working for the ATF. It's not a good idea for an undercover agent to be seen on national television or at a golf course that's live feeding to the world. The place was soaked with cameras. A few phone calls after the War council meeting got Bobbie booked in, I just happened to have the next room to her. Add into the mix an inter connecting door, and we didn't do too bad out of the deal. I also met Terry Hanrahan at the hotel and liked him instantly. He reminded me that he was my wife's caddy due to fear of a slow and agonizing death threat, plus the money was good as well.

We both looked at Bobbie, who instantly rolled her eyes and said. "Look, I was desperate to keep him, okay? Josie would have gotten him if I hadn't nabbed him first."

We both smiled at her discomfort. They went all golf talk after that, so I excused myself and sat on the balcony. Looking out at the view reminded me that this very hotel was where it all started, just shy of a year ago. I let my mind go as memories of our year together gathered their own momentum, my smile never left my lips.

Arms came around me and her chin rested on my shoulder.

I pointed to the woods and said. "Do you think we should go and thank the bear?"

My body felt her giggling. She whispered since her mouth was nibbling on my ear. "I love that bear now, because of what she gave me. By that I mean you, if you're having a guy moment, but as for thanking her in person, not in this lifetime. I don't plan to name our first born after her either."

*******

The sun soaked the course once again on the final day of the competition, and to the avid golf fan, it felt like Ground Hog Day all over again. With Roberta and Josie holding such a lead between them, the rest of the pack must have felt like they were here to make up the numbers. Josie Fuller was two strokes up with four holes to go before it was her turn to hold that trophy.

Roberta (Bobbie) Hesler had been limping since the tenth hole; the commentator said it was because she slipped getting out of the bunker. It was a bad fall, the crowed fell silent as her foot went to pull herself out of the bunker, the edge of the bunker gave way and her upward momentum changed instantly. She hit the bottom of the bunker with her holding her weakened leg.

Terry Hanrahan went in after her and strategically placed himself between the camera and her. The crowd and the camera could hear them whispering but nothing meaningful. Bobbie eventually nodded and Terry then helped her up and out of the bunker. The crowd applauded her while Terry took a step back. Bobbie looked straight into the camera lens and her hand clasped her wedding ring that was on a chain around her neck.

To others, it was an innocent gesture, but I was already out of my chair and grabbing my coat and car keys. Bobbie had just told me she was in trouble, although she did stop short of using the signal that she wanted me by her side.

I knew the signs, for months she rode that thin line between getting back to full fitness and causing damage to her weakened leg. Her body had been idle long enough for the rest of her muscles to complain as well as the muscles in her now cast free leg. Her mind fought back and eventually her body complied. I would say she was a good two to three months early in getting to this point. It just showed the willpower of my wife.

Still watching everything while getting ready to leave, she walked over to her ball and dropped it in for par. Bobbie hit the ball from the Tee of the Fourteenth, it was looking good, right up until a sudden gust of wind not only held her ball back but dropped it just off the course and a good three feet into the rough.

As she walked on, Terry Hanrahan caught up with her, cleaned her club then placed it back into the bag while alongside her.

Bobbie focused on the path she was on, her limp getting steadily worse. "If you have any words of wisdom, I could do with a few at the moment."

It seems that Terry did have a few words, the dish mic pointed at them both shared his wisdom with the world as well, when he said. "Don't swing the club when you can sense the wind picking up."

To the seasoned golfers out there, it earned a laugh from those sitting at home watching. It caused Bobbie to stop in her tracks and glare at Terry. Now Terry Hanrahan is a happily married man with three gorgeous munchkins. He's had his fair share of petulant children and decided to nip Bobbie's tude in the bud right now while she still had a chance of pissing all over Josie's parade.

The whole world watching this saw him place her golf bag on the grass and grab Bobbie by the shoulders. He then leaned in and whispered something to Bobbie. At first she tried to pull away, and one of the marshals went to intercede before Bobbie waved him away. All the while the camera noted that her caddie was still speaking, but couldn't get any sound so he was clearly whispering into her ear.

When Terry was done he picked up her bag again and looked at her. The mic picked up the question he asked her. "Are you coming? We're losing daylight."

I don't know about the rest of the world, but I held my breath. I had seen first-hand the rapport between Bobbie and Terry, but hearing him say that and within range of an open mic, was uncommon, even for him. Bobbie stood straighter, nodded her head and walked alongside Terry, her eyes focused on everything in front of her.

Her limp was barely visible from that moment on. She pulled one shot back off of the fourteenth and again off of the seventeenth. When the camera zoomed in on Josie Fuller, it was clear she was trying to bury her own emotions. Memories of last year sneaking back to haunt her.

Nerves did eventually win out as Josie attempted to putt an eleven footer. It caught the lip of the hole and wandered off by a good four feet from the hole. I can only guess that her mind was on the tie breaker, because when she stood over her ball to tap it in for par, it rimmed the hole once again and stopped a foot from the hole. All Bobbie had to do now was putt a three footer and the trophy was hers once again.

She was leaving nothing to chance, what Jodie had done with her ball had cost her dearly. Bobbie knelt down to get a better perspective, on the way down, she regretted it. She had to grit her teeth and use her putter to stand once again. Every line on her face, every grimace and wiped away tear was televised to the world. Even the growing crowd around the eighteenth hole watched in total silence.

Most turned and watched via the big screen off to the left, the pain seemed to be etched deeper on her face from that view. Roberta stood over her ball; her eyes seemed to follow some invisible line that she expected her ball to travel. Her right hand came away from her putter and wiped away the tears so she could see better, that old adage of hearing a pin drop seemed to come to life at that very moment

*******

The only sounds emanating from around her were the commercial aircraft flying overhead. She putted and the crowed screamed, the ball didn't even slow, it rode the path she set it on and dropped straight into the hole. I think even the plane flying overhead would have heard the crowed as they screamed and applauded. Even with the crowd going mad and the noise volume increasing, camera six never left Roberta.

The cameraman zoomed in slightly as she pulled her card out and signed it. The limp was more pronounced, and she had to use her putter as a cane and for some momentary respite from her once again damaged leg. The pain on her face was seen by millions, causing the cameraman to once again pan back a little more.

Terry came into focus right behind her as she was seen on national television handing her card to one of the officials, before she dropped her putter and fell to the ground. Not one sound came from the crowd, her scream in agony held everyone back. The microphone on camera six was active but turned down, but the other microphones around the course were a better quality so the producer leaned on them rather than the mic on camera six that was aimed at Bobbie.

Terry was on her immediately. The whole crowed fell silent as she screamed again, her hands desperately rubbing her damaged leg. National television watched as Terry knelt down and scooped her into his arms. Her was face buried into Terry's chest as she pulled air back into her lungs, so she could once again scream through the pain.

Camera six did something unexpected, he zoomed in slightly on the little girl standing at the edge of the green. The fear in her eyes could clearly be seen by the cameraman. The tears running down her pink cheeks and the little hands pressed against her ears, in the hope of drowning out the desperate screams of agony had an effect on the man on the tower holding camera six.

This little girl watched in fear as Terry practically ran behind the main stand to the medical center.

The mother turned her daughter away from the scene in front of her and lifted the girl into her arms and close to her chest. Camera six watched from above and some distance away as mother tried so desperately hard to ease the fear in the little girl. The mother kissed her cheek and the little girl moved her hands away from her ears.

Going on an instinct that had kept him in a job for so many years, the man on camera six, turned up the mike so he could hear what mother and daughter were going to say. The director heard the new sound and looked once again at the pictures coming from camera six.

"It's going to be okay Stacy; the doctors will make her better."

Again that instinct honed from years as a cameraman screamed at his thoughts as he gently turned the dial slightly to pull both faces to full screen, just in time to hear the little girl say. "Its okay mommy, I will pray for her tonight when I go to bed. I will pray real hard for the lady."

The tear that ran down the cheek of her mother were matched by the man called Camera six.

The director looked at the sound station and said. "Make a copy of everything. I'm making you responsible for this. Mess this up and we may lose the scoop of the year, so get it right."

*******

With my coat again in my hands I was walking to the door when my cell rang. I answered it instantly.

My boss's voice came through. "Don't go to the course, I sent your sister the second Bobbie rolled down the bunker, so she will be there before you. Get to the hospital and use the back entrance. I will phone ahead and speak to hospital security. They will look out for you."

I managed a thank you and closed my phone down. To me I may be an undercover agent working for the ATF, but that was my wife hurting out there. It was my boss trying to do the right thing and keep my face away from the cameras. At least until the Sanchez case came to trial, only then could I become, just another agent.

Two of the course judges had to come to the medical center. Even they took one look and knew that both television and radio would have to wait for interviews.

Those still in the area heard the ambulance leave with sirens and lights highlighting once again the damage to her.

*******

I got to the hospital ten minutes after the ambulance. I matched the surgeon though, we recognized each other at the main doors.

"I told her I would watch it all again on my television. God damn it, I so didn't want this to happen." He stopped and turned to me. "I need to go and attend to your wife, I will do what I can, phone her folks for me."

Thinking ahead, I grabbed his arm, two security people came running when I did. He waved them back and looked curiously at me. "Doc, she's three months pregnant."

He bit his lower lip and nodded, thanking me for letting him know. This time it was him running down the corridor.

I nodded to the two security guys who now took an interest in me and sat out of the way. Both mother and father were already heading for the car and would be here when they could. My sister found me sitting on the same chair an hour later. She held my hand as I hung onto some sanity. The urge to hurt a commentator for continually bad mouthing my wife, was oh so close to overwhelming right now.

Terry Hanrahan came by with his wife just as the surgeon met us. "She's comfortable, I have to thank you for letting me know she was pregnant. Both mother and fetus are safe and sound. If she comes back next year, I will make a note to be on standby."

At least he had a smile on him when he said that much. Terry knew it was the least of my worries, but he had Bobbie's golf bag in his car.

"I have to admit to eyeing up eBay, could have got a fare few dollars for them as well."

Curiosity got the better of me, I looked at Terry and asked him what he said to my wife when he leaned into her.

This time Terry looked at his own wife, even she was waiting for an answer.

"I asked her if she wanted this trophy bad enough. I knew she did, but I had to force her to look at the big picture. She was losing because she was listening to the pain she was in. So I told her that she had to shut out the pain. I even promised her that I would be there for her at the end if she did."

I understood Terry now, something had been bugging me about Terry Hanrahan ever since I had met him. Now I knew, but most of all, he knew I knew. Neither of us wanted any drama so I held out my hand, he took it and we shook on it. Scarlett looked on in confusion.

I leaned into my sister and whispered so that anyone passing us couldn't hear me say. "He's ex-special forces."

Scarlett stared at her brother for a moment. So many loose ends of her brother's life finally came together with that one unguarded comment he made to her.

She pulled her brother close to her while the others were still talking; the fire in her eyes a fair warning. "You promised me Logan, you promised a full pinky promise that you would stay safe when you went into the service. I know Logan, you can deny it all you want now, but I know, between you and Terry, it takes one to know one, remember Logan."

I knew I was in for it now, my sister was right, I had made a promise and broke it when offered the transfer.

My sister's features softened, once she got over the shock of the revelations going on around her.

This time she leaned in and kissed my check. "You know that dad would shake your hand and mom would kill you right?"

I nodded in agreement. They would. Just as I knew that it was also banter time between us, we both needed this.

She instantly recognized the smirk, her own followed a second later when I said. "You can't prove anything; I will deny everything."

Charlotte took up the challenge between us, neither one of us had backed down or set out to hurt the other.

"I don't have to prove anything, I birthed the Princess remember, I'm practically swimming in family credits for doing that." Her smile got bigger when she added. "I got to keep momma in good spirits while you were off doing your impression of being Rambo's stunt double."

She just looked me up and down like she was already picturing me writhing in agony at the hands of our mother.

"Yep, when momma gets her hands on you, you're a dead-un." Her eyes got big and her smile held onto mischief with both hands once again. "Say Logan, when momma kills you, can I have your stereo."

That was always our parting shot since neither of us owned a stereo.

Scarlett kissed my cheek again and whispered. "Thank you for your service, dog breath."

She got a hug from me this time; she would keep my secret, because we had each other's backs.

*******

Not to be outdone Scarlett then hugged Terry's wife first and then Terry. Bobbie's parents came in then, so I left them to it while I went to get my wife's golf bag out of the trunk of Terry's car.

The whole world had seen Roberta (Bobbie) Hesler's dedication to the sport of golf, so much so that it could well have cost her her leg. Public opinion turned on the commentator and almost overnight, he became toxic. No television or radio station wanted to touch him.

Bobbie's recovery was slower this time. On one of my visits to her in the hospital she was just putting her cell away. She smiled and said that my entrance was good timing. She wanted a specific ball from her bag. It took me awhile but found it and came back with a marker pen the next day. She signed the ball and I had to send it onto one of her charities. Terry had the forethought to remove the ball from the eighteenth hole and place it in her bag, on the off chance that the judges were going to re-energize some extinct ruling and try and deprive Bobbie of her win. This ball won her the trophy back, it would do well at an auction.

The hospital was getting requests from every television station in the country. In the end and to take the pressure off of the hospital, Bobbie agreed to do one interview on condition that they syndicated it. The hospital prepped one of their classrooms and the whole interview went on for almost an hour. The woman interviewing Bobbie asked about her leg. Bobbie smiled and said that in time it was going to be about eighty percent. Her smile didn't even change when she reminded the reporter that at least she still had a leg.