Fast Greens Read Online Free

strangers.
    Sitting in William March’s office that day, I suppose it was the Wild Indian side of me that felt so certain I could never cheat.
    â€œOh hell, I knew that already,” March told me. “I mean you are Jewel’s kid. That says it all right there. I was just testing you.”
    I smiled at him uncomfortably, not sure what he was getting at.
    â€œNo, what I really need is an honest caddie, not for me, but for the other team. There’s a big match coming up, and I promised to find a bag-shagger for Roscoe’s partner. The guy’s a player.”
    â€œWho is it?” I asked.
    â€œNone other than Carl Larsen, state amateur champion.”
    I sat up straight. Carl “Beast” Larsen was the longest hitter in Texas, and he’d actually played against the pros.
    Trying not to look too eager, I asked March about the pay.
    â€œOh, that’s between you and your golfer,” March said. “But if he pays you less than twenty, come see me about it.”
    Twenty dollars? The going rate was six bucks plus a tip that might get you up to ten. This was too good to be true.
    March picked up a silver dollar off his desk and absentmindedly began to roll it one-handed across the backs of his fingers, sliding it back in a circle with his thumb.
    â€œSo whadaya say, son? Can I count on you?”
    I was about to say yes, but hesitated for a moment. There was something in that last question I didn’t quite understand. If I was caddying for the other team, why would March be counting on me? Then I remembered the twenty bucks, and I knew that at the very least he could count on me to do my job.
    â€œYes Sir,” I told him. “Count me in.”
    For the first time since I’d been there, March smiled at me. He had a very memorable smile.
    Now that we had come to that simple agreement, March seemed eager to talk about the big match and its participants. About the only thing he didn’t tell me was who his own partner would be. Had I known he would be playing with Sandy, I’d never have agreed to caddie for Beast.
    Soon Jewel was honking for me out at the curb. It seemed I had been there only minutes, but I looked to the big clock on the wall and was surprised to find that it had been exactly one hour, just as she had promised. Saying a quick good-bye, I bolted for the door before March could even get out of his chair.
    I was climbing into Jewel’s car when March came running down the sidewalk, arriving out of breath and almost out of words as we were about to pull away. Resting his arms on my half-open window, he knelt down so he could look straight across at Jewel who, after her trip to the beauty parlor, looked like she’d come right out of some movie magazine.
    Not a word passed between the two. From either side of me their gazes met, and there on Cedar Street in Austin, Texas, in June of 1965, time stood still. I heard no ringing of church bells nor the sound of passing cars. It was almost as if the sun stood motionless in the sky. In front of my eyes the second hand of the heavy gold watch on March’s wrist was frozen like a ship in ice.
    Across from me, I noticed for the first time that Jewel’s hair was different than I had seen before, though my mind raced to photos I had seen from her youth. I realized then that William March was lost in the sights and smells and sounds of a sweeter day, when life had been good and love easy. At first there was only sadness in his eyes, like sails hanging limp on a ship becalmed at sea. Then somewhere on the far horizon of their lost youth, a breath of sweet wind came rushing to the rescue of that floundering ship, flying across the blue and unfurling his eyes in a glorious recollection of a girl and a dress and a place so far away; and yet so close.
    If that same memory shone in Jewel’s face, it was also adorned by a single tear, which emerged slowly from the corner of one eye and slid down her cheekbone.