forget. They were cordial and professional, but their conversation the night before ratcheted up the tension between them.
After leaving Lily’s house, Sean had driven around for a long time, thinking about what she’d said. You can’t fix this with a lie or another deception. Fighting every instinct, he’d gone to Greg Duncan’s and the two of them had a long and difficult talk.
This morning, Sean had told Cameron about the deal he’d worked out with Duncan. That was what kept him going through the game today, Sean realized—the look on Cameron’s face when the weight of knowing about Ashley passed into someone else’s hands.
“All that’s left is to finish the tournament, then,” Cameron had said.
When Sean looked at Cameron now, he could see how much his nephew had matured over the summer. No longer a raging boy, he still carried a burden of grief that would always be a part of him, but now he bore it as a man.
“What?” Cameron asked.
“What do you mean, what?”
“You’re looking at me funny. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” said Sean. Then he lowered his voice and told the truth. “I’m proud of you.”
Cameron’s reaction made Sean wonder why he hadn’t said so sooner. “Yeah, same here,” said his nephew.
Though Sean held the lead, Duncan had won the previous hole, giving him honors to hit first at number eighteen. It was a challenging, four-hundred-yard par four and the pressure was on Duncan, who needed an eagle—a nearly impossible two under par—to win.
Duncan’s drive flew three hundred twenty yards and landed dead center in the fairway.
For the first time during this tournament, Sean’s stomach knotted. This was a bad time for an attack of nerves. He squinted at the hole, measuring it, remembering all the ways he’d played it successfully in the past. He wished Lily and the girls were here. Hell, he wished Derek was here. Derek was the champion, not Sean. It was stupid to pretend he could fill his brother’s shoes.
He knew he was in trouble the minute the grooved iron face made contact with the ball. Within a heartbeat, he saw the shot go bad, a deadly snap hook that flew out of bounds and landed in the rough.
“An instant two-stroke penalty,” the commentator murmured in a stage whisper.
Duncan pressed his advantage, his next shot sending the ball just inches from the cup. The spectators buzzed and shifted in a wave, their emotions vacillating from one player to the other.
In the rough, Sean addressed the ball. Cameron didn’t say a word, but Sean could feel the tension emanating from him. Sean was seized by doubts. What in God’s name was he doing, and who the hell did he think he was? Derek Holloway?
He lowered the club to the coarse grass next to the ball. He saw the rough grass bend, and the ball moved—slightly, imperceptibly—and nudged the tip of the iron. It was a tiny touch, like a fleeting kiss. But a touch nonetheless.
It was over, then. The rules were clear. He had to call a penalty on himself.
No one saw. Not even Cameron had noticed. If Sean said nothing, if he hit out of the rough and got back in the game, no one would be the wiser.
His hand began its determined assent to signal the marshals.
“Uncle Sean,” whispered Cameron, “please.”
Sean realized then that the boy had seen the ball move, too. That was always the case in golf, as in life, it seemed. No error went undetected. If this was Derek’s call, he’d keep it to himself, because Derek always did what he had to do in order to win. But that was Derek’s game, Sean reflected. Not his. He looked his nephew straight in the eye and raised his hand. Cameron looked as though he wanted to cry, but at the same time, a grudging admiration shone on his face.
The spectators erupted when he called the penalty on himself. Even Duncan looked stunned. Sean felt weirdly calm now. He stood to lose the tournament by one stroke.
Then he saw something in the gallery—a flash of white with giant colored polka dots. He stood stock-still and then laughed aloud. “Better late than never, girls,” he said, even though he knew they couldn’t hear him. Their jackets and hats stood out in the crowd. “Better late than never.”
Cameron was grinning, too. “I knew they’d come.”
“Sure you did,” said Sean. “Now, step aside. I need to get this onto the green.”
To his credit, Cameron didn’t look dubious in the least. Sean felt a