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Golf Lessons Ch. 01

By: CeeeEsss



Thank you, Erik Thread for your editing skills and suggestions.

This is part one of a three part story. The story is finished. Each chapter will be posted on the site about every day, which means the entire story will have been posted before the first part appears on the list of new stories. People seldom step outside of their personality. They may successfully hide some of their personality from even those who know them well, yet still they remain true to that personality.

*

Stephanie was holding the ladder and passing tools up to me as I cleaned and checked the condition of the rain gutters along the north side of the house. She was also managing the water hose I was using to wash out the gutters, a chore I hadn't done since the previous year. We lived in the house her two times great-grandfather had built. After renting it from the estate for four years, we purchased the house. Less than a year later, we bought the remaining farm land from the estate to give Stephanie, her brother, and two sisters the remainder of their share of the farm's value.

In the eight years we'd owned the house, I'd continued to repair or rebuild it where needed, bringing it from an older farm house to something a lot more modern. We didn't want to spoil the idea that it was an older home with beadboard walls, a variety of decorative woods in the large rooms, and high ceilings, so repairs and alterations took a lot of time and extra work to match the workmanship inside the house. We were doing this work while trying to stay within our family budget. 

The original house was built when lifestyles were much more elegant than how we live today. Originally, there were two bedrooms, a large country kitchen, a front room, and a very large, partially enclosed, back porch. Later a much larger parlor, study, and formal dining room were added. Last, the upper floor added six more bedrooms. The large area above the bedrooms was an unfinished, open attic, only part of which had flooring. Thrifty homeowners had used the open space to store broken or no longer used furniture and wooden boxes of clothing, along with the left-overs of several generations. 

After Steph's father quit farming, he kept twenty acres around the house and began to sell the remainder of the land as three to five acre homesites. The old farmhouse, the barn and other outbuildings, were eventually surrounded by newer homes, many of them trying to look like farmhouses. 

The nearest neighbor's house looked so much like our barn it was difficult to believe it was only ten years old. The wood on the new two-story building had weathered and the roof outline matched the barn's classic gambrel roof so well the two buildings looked like twins. The main difference between the appearance of the two buildings was that our barn did not have double-pane insulated windows along the sides. Even though the huge doors on the ends looked the same, theirs didn't slide open.

We still owned about sixty acres beyond our twenty-acre surround, and had been approached by a company planning to build a golf course. Our land was one of several sites they were interested in. The money sounded good, although it wasn't much more than we could get if we sold the land to people interested in building homes.

The golf course people preferred our land because in one corner was a long irregularly shaped stock tank that was partially fed by a small stream when there was even a small amount of rainfall. The rolling land, including the low-lying area around the stock tank, required much less earth moving to build their golf course . 

In the fifteen-plus years since any of the land grew a crop, trees had matured and other spaces were overgrown with high grasses and small brush. The farmers on two sides of that land were anxious to sell and willing to negotiate a very good deal with the development company, which was rumored to be considering a high-end housing development and a retail center to complement the course. 

"Hey Paul," my wife called up to me. "You know it's our turn for the 4th of July barbecue."

Because Steph couldn't see my face, I told her what I really thought. "I'll pass."

She knew I was teasing, "Don't be like that. You enjoy it as much as I do. You get to show off what you've done to this old barn."

As I started down the ladder, I asked, "I thought you liked the house?"

"I'm starting to enjoy it, now that you've finished my new kitchen. When do we get a larger master bath?"

"We need to sell another five acre tract before we can afford to buy the materials."

"Quit your job and get a real one and we could afford it sooner."

I started to tell her my job was more real than the one she kept talking about, but never made a phone call or looked in the newspaper want ads. "That's not going to happen, but you could go to work."

"I don't want to work. It would tie me to a schedule. I'd have to take off work to drive the girls to their events. Besides, I can't go to work in jeans and sweatshirts."

I stopped myself from saying there was a lot more clothing in her closet than jeans and sweatshirts, but I did say, "Then I guess your big modern master bath won't happen until we sell another plot of land."

"We could go to the bank and borrow enough."

"Yes," I answered as I took the last step off the ladder. "But we'd have another payment. That means we'd have to cut some of the extras out of our budget, the girl's piano and gymnastic lessons, plus there would be no more gym or cheer leader summer camps."

"It wouldn't cost that much."

"It would if we tried to pay it off as fast as we could. Otherwise, all we're paying is interest to the bank."

"Well, are you thinking about that other job offer?"

"Not hardly. Both of those guys owned businesses that failed within the first three years. When they fail again, I'd be out of a job and my old one would no longer be available. I think I'll stay where I am. In another year, Spike is going to retire and I'll get paid for the job I'm already doing." I stopped beside Stephanie and looked at her. She wasn't happy, and with me the only wage earner, I couldn't give her a life any better than what we had. Her occasional comments that our lives were too plain showed her dissatisfaction, but still she acknowledged we had a pretty good life. 

Including my last two years of high school, I'd worked almost twenty years to get where I was and I wasn't going to put in with a couple of guys who had big plans and no money with which to implement them. They wanted me as a partner because I had the land they wanted for their big garden center with statuary, artificial ponds, and landscape advice. It was a good idea but the area wouldn't support something like that for another ten to fifteen years. A large city was expanding in our direction, but it was going to be at least that long before we would see any substantial changes to our small rural town.

"Come on, Honey," I was trying to encourage her. "In a year I'll be warehouse manager. In two years, the house will be paid off and we will have three teenagers in high school. That's pretty damn close to the American dream."

Her voice was shrill when she told me the same thing I'd heard for more than two years, "There's no excitement in my life. I need something different, Paul."

Steph took a step back, put her hands on her hips, and declared, "You're a stick in the mud, and I'm the mud. UGH."

Before I could say anything to counter her complaints about our lives, she stomped off around the side of the house, leaving me with my mouth open. I usually didn't mind watching her walk away from me. She had a cute ass, and the way she moved it could always entice me into giving it a little rub or a pat. But I just didn't like that I couldn't always make her happy.

When I got to the house I reminded Stephanie, "The bus is coming. Don't forget to give Cindy the check for this month's bus fees."

"I wrote the check, but I think it's still in my checkbook."

Charles Jerome, who lived down the road, was a history teacher at the nearby high school. He jumped at the chance to purchase a school bus the district was selling. He and I, and a couple of the other fathers in the neighborhood, rebuilt the motor. After paying for the parts, the only remaining cost for each family was gasoline and insurance. We continued to pay during the summer, building up a fund that would cover future repairs and might eventually be enough to purchase a newer vehicle.

Charles drove all the kids to school. If our children had to ride the regular district school bus, they would leave home when it was still dark and not get home until almost two hours after school ended. In the winter they would get home when it was already dark. We figured it was a bargain having the kids at home those extra hours instead of on a rowdy school bus with drivers who really didn't care what the kids did as long as nothing hit them in the back of the head. 

Charles was an ex-marine, which meant the children sat in their assigned seats and some of them even got their homework done on the bus. Occasionally there was a little subtle tutoring going on. When Troy's algebra grades started going down, Charles assigned him to a different seat, beside Charles's son, Dillon. Within two weeks, Troy's algebra grades began to climb again. Soon Troy had a new friend who spent almost as much time at our house as he did at his own home. 

I walked to the coat rack by the back door and took her big heavy handbag off one of the coat pegs. I got to her about the same time she reached for the ringing telephone. She fished around in her handbag for the checkbook as she jiggled the telephone against her shoulder. I started to take the checkbook from her so she could manage the telephone, but she jerked it out of my hand, turned around and tore the check out, handed it to me, and then put the strap of her purse over her shoulder. 

As soon as she mentioned the name Rob, I knew she was talking to her older sister. "The 4th is on a Saturday. Are you and Rob going to spend that night with us?" This question was followed by Steph shaking her head, "No, no, I asked Tina, but she said it would be too hard for them to get home and go to church on Sunday. You know she won't miss a single Sunday at church." When she asked her next question, I knew they were talking about their brother, "Are they spending the night?" She paused a moment and said, "I didn't think so. Sharon won't stay in a dump like this. She'll want a fancy hotel so she can show off her expensive clothes." 

I left the room to go outside for my extension ladder. I was getting a little tired of the way Stephanie talked about the house. We had done so much work in a few years. Six months earlier, I'd given her the choice of new living room furniture or a rebuilt master bathroom. She was upset that she couldn't have both and hadn't stopped reminding me the bathroom was a job I had not yet begun.

There wasn't anything wrong with the master bath, even though it was rather small and it hadn't been updated in forty years. The tile was all good and the bathtub was certainly large enough for a generous bubble bath, but it was not like the one she saw in an architectural magazine with a Jacuzzi tub, nor did it have a double sink vanity, special lighting, or his and her toilet stalls. I might enjoy a tub like that after a full day of handling heavy sacks of feed corn or fertilizer, but I thought her other wants were just a little excessive for a house that was well over one hundred years old when we began living there.

We had other bathrooms too. Formerly a small bedroom, the upstairs bathroom was shared by the children and a guest room, but it was never going to be large enough as long as there were two teen girls in the family. Our son had often gone out to the workshop and taken his shower in the small room we'd built for the times we were so dirty we didn't want to mess up one of the bathrooms in the house. 

We'd taken an old tin box, sealed the seams, and mounted it on the roof of the workshop. Solar heated water wasn't as hot as what we had inside, but it was better than a cold shower. Although the floor and walls were wood, they dried quickly. We occasionally teased the girls and Steph that they could use our shower but they couldn't use their favorite soaps and shampoos because we allowed the water to drain into the small vegetable garden. The cosmetics they used weren't biodegradable.

We had a third bathroom, which shared a wall with the kitchen. Half of the room was under the stairwell. I'd turned off the water supply to that room until I could replace the old pipes. It was the house's original bathroom with a pedestal sink, claw foot tub, and a shower curtain ring suspended from the ceiling. A small alcove held the water closet, which included an overhead tank with a pull chain. I was looking for parts to repair the original water heater, if that was possible. Otherwise, it would be left in the room as a conversation piece. We wanted to keep that bathroom, particularly because it was adjacent to a small bedroom that held a bed and other furniture used by Steph's great-grandfather who built the house. Even though both rooms were small and had no windows, they were a favorite when we had overnight guests. Stephanie liked to call it the Guest Suite.

There was still one more chore I needed to do for the day. I was waiting for the children to get home because I would need a little help and I didn't want my wife crawling around in the attic. She had some problems with sneezing whenever I started any demolition, probably from stirring up so much dust. 

While Steph finished her telephone conversation with her older sister, I fixed me a big glass of ice water and sat at the kitchen table to wait for our son and daughters to come inside. They left their backpacks around the large dining room table and came into the kitchen for drinks and snacks before they started their homework. I wanted to catch our son before he did anything else.

The noise increased when the children filled the kitchen. I got a high five from Cindy, Troy, and Lulu. After the children finished their snacks, I told Troy to put on some old clothes so he could crawl into the corner of the attic for me.

Not long after moving into the house, I'd discovered a treasure trove. After completing each phase of the construction, the original builder had saved every scrap of wood he could and it was saving us a bundle of money. The decorative wood molding stacked in the attic was the same as was used when the house was built, wood that was no longer available, and was very expensive to reproduce. 

Troy went up the ladder ahead of me. When he started crawling into the corner of the attic, I stood in the taller part of the attic with my flashlight and the piece of wood I needed to match. 

Lulu crawled up the ladder and stuck her head through the opening, asking for permission to look through one of the boxes of old clothing. She wanted to see if she could find an old ladies hat her grandmother had worn. 

"Troy, I need a piece of molding that's more than seven feet long."

In a slightly muffled voice, he called from the low-ceilinged corner of the attic. "Hand me the measuring tape."

"You don't need it. How tall are you?"

"Five, seven."

"Stretch your arms out, son. From fingertip to fingertip is about the same as your height. Just get me a length that's about that long plus the length of one arm."

Troy held up a board to show me, "There's one here on top that's already finished. One end has a miter cut."

"No that's from another door facing, the same thing I'm trying to replace."

"Okay, here's an unfinished one, but it's probably ten feet long."

"Keep looking, I'm saving the two longest ones for the facing on both sides above the dining room doors." 

I didn't see what Lulu tossed down to the floor below, but I watched her as she carefully climbed down the ladder. Stephanie was going to have a fit about something coming from the attic. She would notice it the first time she walked into Lulu's room. She would back out of the room sneezing, demanding the young girl take her newest treasure outside and dust it off.

Troy finally backed out of the corner, dragging a length of wood molding with him. I matched the profile to the one I held, and then gave mine to him to put with the other wood. I was saving everything I could, too. I still had several windows that were going to need some facing replaced. As we backed down the ladder, I reminded Troy to go shower or his mother would sneeze all evening. He teased me that he might start sneezing, too, so he wouldn't have to crawl into that corner any more. 

I took the length of wood out to my shop and waved as Steph drove off, taking the girls to a gymnastic class. Then I went back into the house to measure the facing I was replacing inside the guest bedroom. I was surprised to see Steph had stripped the old bed with the high backed headboard. She had removed the mattress pad, too. I was trying to recall when we had last had guests use the room. None of our family ever went into that small dark room. I couldn't understand why Steph had decided the sheets on the bed needed to be washed.

After I cut the board and nailed it in place, I began cleaning up after myself. I unplugged the small oscillating fan that was sitting on the kitchen stool so I could use that electric receptacle for the vacuum cleaner. I almost dropped the fan in shock. I ran my hand up and down the surface of the old cotton-filled mattress and felt an area that was cool to the touch. It had been wet recently but was now dry. At least the mattress ticking was dry. The cotton inside the mattress might still be wet, but this wasn't our bed. 

I felt sick to my stomach. I saw red and heard a roar inside my head. I'm not a violent man, but at that moment, I could have done serious damage to anyone who got in my way. Without thinking about what I was doing, I went back out to my shop and got a beer out of my small refrigerator. I sat down on the old tree stump I was letting rot before I tried to dig it up. I was still breathing hard, almost panting, while trying to calm myself down so I could think rationally. Before I exploded in a wild rage, I needed to examine what I knew about my wife.

Charles Jerome drove the bus down the road and turned into my driveway. "Hey Paul, are you getting an early start on your weekend?"

I waved him toward the refrigerator in the corner of my shop and didn't give him much attention until he was sitting on the bench next to the outside wall of the shop.

As he popped the tab on his can of beer, he said, "I need to borrow your heavy duty car jack. One of the tires has a slow leak."

I didn't say much. I don't recall if I really said anything, my head was still swimming from my discovery. I just let Charles chatter... The spare tire was almost bald ... It was only good in an emergency ... It was a weekend ... Charles just had time to get the tire removed, repaired, and reinstalled before he would need to drive the bus on Monday. He'd tried to make the tire last through the next week, which was the last week of school before summer vacation ... He was afraid the tire wasn't going to make it ... He'd been keeping his small air compressor under the driver's seat for at least two weeks.

I guess I helped Charles remove the tire and load it into his truck when his wife drove by to pick him up. Their son Dillon got out of the truck, waved at me and went inside the house to look for Troy. About all I really recall is getting another beer and returning to sit on the tree stump to think about the question Charles asked regarding the golf course people. He asked if they were talking to me again about selling the last sixty acres of land. His wife had noticed another one of their vehicles in our driveway earlier in the day.


Golf Lessons Ch. 01



The development company had three identical large, white sport utility vehicles. The vehicles had artwork on both sides and the rear indicating they belonged to a combination golf course and country club. All three SUV's had brought people to look at the site one afternoon. More than a dozen people had climbed out of the vehicles in their jeans and hiking boots. They spent several hours walking around.

After that, I only saw one vehicle come anywhere near the property. The man who drove it introduced himself as Tino Palinte, bragging that he would be the golf pro when the golf course was completed. He insisted on calling me Mr. Hudson, but he called my wife, Steph, just as I did, and just as her family did. Everyone else always called her Stephanie, even casual acquaintances. 

Racking my brain, I tried to remember everything I could about Tino Palente. I recalled him saying he had a temporary office at another golf course the development company owned about forty-five miles away. The first time he came by the house, he gave us coupons for free golf lessons, saying each of us could have three lessons or one of us could use both coupons. Steph seemed excited but I wasn't really interested. I got enough physical exercise doing my job. I took the coupons and tacked them in one corner of the small bulletin board beside the refrigerator where Steph kept things like food coupons she wanted to use when she went grocery shopping.

Tino returned to talk to Steph and me one more time. He offered to purchase the property and give us just a little higher price than the development company had offered. I wasn't certain what was going on, but I thought I should know. I contacted the other two land owners the combination golf and development company was talking to and discovered Tino had made them the same offer. Evidently, he thought he could get control of the properties and make a little extra for himself by putting the land deals together and selling it as one package. 

I love my wife. In my entire life, I have never loved another woman. We went to school together, I was a grade ahead of her, but that didn't bother either of us. We didn't really start dating until a few months before I graduated. I wasn't a virgin, but I'd only had a couple of short-term girlfriends with whom I'd had more than hand-holding or kissing dates. Stephanie was a virgin. I didn't get to take her to her senior prom, but we had a date the next night. She wasn't a virgin after that night. We were married a few months later and were parents less than a year after that.

My last two years of high school, I had a job at the local feed store. It's really a lot more than a place to buy animal feed. They sell tools, farm implements, hardware, and even some boots and clothing. My job has always been in the warehouse, receiving shipments and loading the heavier merchandise purchased by farmers and hunters. The half suburban, half rural location of the store brought customers for a rough circle of more than a hundred miles.

In almost seventeen years of marriage, I can't recall ever looking at another woman. I'm sure I've enjoyed seeing other women who were pretty or had a nice figure, but I've never been attracted to any of them. Yesterday, I would have said Stephanie had never looked at another man. As I sat on the old rotting tree stump, I could not honestly say that now.

There had been one incident that bothered me, but the way Steph acted about it, I soon learned not to let on that it bothered me. A few years after we married, Steph and I attended a party at my brother's house. The house was full of people having a very good time with several groups spilling out to the back yard. My brother Mark's brother was a few years older than Stephanie and me. Darren was a gregarious person, enjoyed being the center of attention, and flirted with all the women. He seemed to target Stephanie, partly because she was so shy. 

Sometime during the evening, I looked up. Darren was walking beside Stephanie as they returned from the side of the house. She was inebriated enough that she stumbled a couple of times as they walked across the grass. As soon as she saw me, she shrugged off his arm and walked quickly to my side. Darren followed and tried to explain that Steph had been sick and he was just helping her. Her lipstick was smeared and the top button on her blouse was undone. I took her home and put her to bed. That meant I undressed her. I discovered she wasn't wearing panties. That I knew of, she had never gone anywhere without underwear. 

Sephanie was upset the next morning when I asked about her panties. She got up late complaining about a headache. She didn't like to be teased about drinking too much the previous evening. She finally put her arms around my neck and whispered that she had planned to ask me to drive to our old necking spot to see if we could still contort ourselves to have a little fun in the front seat of my pickup. I reminded her that before we married I'd had a much older truck with a bench seat. The newer truck I was now driving had contoured seats separated by a padded armrest. 

For a few years after that, anytime Mark or Gail asked us to a party at their house, or to some kind of family gathering, Stephanie would inquire if Darren would be there. If he was around, Steph stayed close to me and barely spoke to him. About two years later Darren moved out of town. In the following years, Gail may have mentioned him a few times and he may have been come home for an occasional holiday. But by that time I had no reason to suspect a repeat of that single incident, one that I wasn't sure had even happened. Or if it had, I attributed it to Steph having too much to drink around a man who was a predator. 

Stephanie and I enjoyed sex with each other. It wasn't like the two or three times a day of the first couple of years we were married, but it was at least once a week and often more than that, depending on the season and how late I worked that week. In the winter, it was more like twice a week. We both enjoyed oral sex. I can't say it's our favorite, because I'll never tire of watching Steph's face below me when I'm pushing into her. Her eyes open wide and her mouth makes a little 'O', then she takes a deep breath and pushes back at me. It's as if my cock has found a place it never wants to leave. 

There were a few times and occasionally as long as two weeks, when Steph just didn't seem interested in making love. Aside from her female reasons for not having sex, those weeks bothered me, but I attributed them to hormones because she also seemed nervous and short-tempered. They weren't seasonal or predictable and the girls didn't seem to have more than the usual amount of activities to attend. I heard some of the men at work make the same comments about their wives moods.

I never thought she was genuinely a critical person, but the longer we were married her disparaging remarks about my job got on my nerves. We did have a pretty good life and were able to find the money in our budget for something special she really wanted. There was also enough extra that I could buy something I really wanted, like the time I dithered over a special set of router bits and Steph insisted I order them because I would enjoy them. She even found the set online for a better price than I could have bought them locally.

I'm a tall muscular guy and Steph is a slender willowy person, but she has more sexual energy than I do. Her orgasms are almost violent, she thrashes and squirms and heaves her hips up at me as if she could buck me off. But the part I like the best is Steph is a gusher. It's not just a little liquid. It's juice that squirts all over me, over and over, especially when I use my fingers inside her. I love the taste of her. When she lets me lick her to an orgasm, her juice gets in my hair, coats my face, splatters on my shoulders, and runs down my chest. When she is under me, it splashes on my balls, runs down my thighs, and leaves a puddle on the bed. 

We've tried everything from a waterproof mattress cover, to towels under her hips. None of that works. The waterproof mattress cover gets brittle and leaks. The towels never move across the bed with her thrashing. We have finally given up trying to prevent the puddle on the bed and simply enjoy that part of making love to each other. We just know that one or both of us will spend the rest of the night sleeping on a towel to absorb her ejaculate. She leaves the covers folded at the foot of the bed the next morning. We know we will need to replace our mattress every few years. 

All of that was the reason for my agitation. During the first few years of our marriage, the morning after we had sex, Steph would strip the bed, including the mattress pad, and place a fan to blow on the bed to dry it during the day. That is exactly how I found her great-grandfather's bed when I was replacing one side of the door facing between the bedroom and the bathroom. I was certain my wife had sex in that bed sometime during the day while I was at work.

After Charles's question about the golf pro's SUV in our driveway, I was wondering how long my wife had been unfaithful to her marriage vows. The first visit from the golf and development company had been almost six months earlier, before Christmas. That is the holiday when Steph's brother noticed the door facing had split along the grain in the wood. Some time around that date was probably the last time I'd been in that bedroom. I'd tacked the coupons for free golf lessons under a Valentine card from Steph's younger sister. It was now the first week of June and I was contemplating that I might have been a cuckold for as long as six, but more than likely, around four months. 

Troy came outside to tell me supper was ready. I wasn't really aware when Steph and the girls got home from their class. I may have spoken to them or they may have hurried into the house with the box of fried chicken we often had for supper the nights after the girl's gym class. I'd already had four bottles of beer and considered telling Troy to inform his mother that I was drinking my meal. Instead, I used the old waist-high vegetable washing sink on the outside of the garden shed to wash my face and hands. 

With all three children talking about their weekend plans and the upcoming last week of school, I could get by with being silent. The coupons for golf lessons were missing from the corner of the bulletin board. Steph gave me several strange looks, but I tried to keep a calm look on my face. I couldn't recall if I'd plugged in the fan or just walked out of the old bedroom and left things lying around. Frankly, I didn't care. In another two hours, I was going to confront my wife about what I'd figured out.

As soon as supper was over, I went back outside. It wasn't unusual for me to spend an evening in my workshop. There were always a few projects in process, some things I was building, or repairs in progress or a piece of antique furniture I was rebuilding. Occasionally I did some work for other people, but I didn't do very much of that. I was too slow, too much of a perfectionist for most people who just wanted a piece of furniture repaired, rather than restored.

I didn't really need a clock. I could tell time by when the lights in the upstairs bedrooms turned on, and then turned off, indicating the kids had gone to bed. Not long after the last upstairs light turned off, Stephanie would come outside to tell me it was bedtime.

At supper, the girls had talked about how I was able to watch them in competition the next day. The gymnastic meet was almost a two-hour drive, which meant we would need to leave the house by seven in the morning. About once a month, I had a Saturday and Sunday off, rather than Sunday and Monday. 

When Steph walked around the corner of the shop, she found me sitting on the tree stump with a fresh bottle of beer. "Hi, baby. Do you have one of those for me?"

Stephanie and I enjoyed sitting outside in the late evenings if it wasn't too hot. We often had our best conversations in the near darkness with the light inside the shop spilling out beside us. I waved my hand at the door to the shop and waited for Steph to return and sit on the same bench Charles had used earlier in the afternoon. She crossed one leg over the other, swinging her foot, and looked at me. She turned her head toward the road as a car passed by, going a little slower than traffic usually does. 

"Do you think they're lost or looking for someone?" Stephanie asked for probably the thousandth time since we'd first moved into the house. It was her usual question when an unknown vehicle drove by. There were only eight houses on our road and we knew every vehicle that belonged to each house. We were enough distance from the highway that it was quiet when we sat outside. 

I was so disillusioned I didn't have the energy to raise my voice. "Did you enjoy the golf lessons?"

"Golf lessons, what golf lessons, Paul?"

In the last four or five hours I'd already had six bottles of beer and they weren't doing any good, all I really wanted to do was go to sleep. I didn't have the energy for this confrontation. "How long Steph?"

My heart started beating a little faster when Steph asked with such innocence, "How long what, Paul?" 

I looked straight at her, "How long have you been fucking around?"

"Paul!" The shock in her voice was much louder than she had previously spoken.

I stood up and glared at her, "How long, dammit? Don't lie to me. How long have you been fucking the golf pro?"

I took one step toward her and her head jerked back against the outside wall of the shop. I'd never hit my wife and her thinking or reacting as if I might do so made me even angrier. "How long, Stephanie? How long?"

Stephanie stood and stomped her foot, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sit down!" I growled. I waited until she had done so before I took a step back to sit on the stump.

Stephanie was shaking. She put her bottle of beer on the ground beside her feet and wrapped her arms around herself. I heard her sniff once, but otherwise she was just breathing fast.

"Now," I announced. "We will start all over. Did you enjoy the golf lessons?"

"Yes," The word was so softly spoken I could barely hear her.

"Was that a 'Yes' I heard?"

This time it was a little louder, "Yes."

"Next, have you been fucking the golf pro?"

"Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Paul, I ..."

"STOP!" I demanded. "Do not lie to me." I took a deep breath and asked my next question. "How long have you been fucking the golf pro?"

Stephanie's voice was shaking and she was stuttering so badly I could barely understand her. "Tony's been ... he's only been here ... he came over here just ... just a few times."

"Stephanie, I'm going to ask you one more time. How long have you been fucking the golf pro?"

By this time, Stephanie was crying and sobbing, rocking back and forth, putting her forehead on her knees, and then lifting her head. Talking was difficult for her, but I wasn't going to relent. "How long?" 

"A couple of months, maybe three months."

"Is that once a week, twice a week, or more often than that, for three months, Stephanie?"

"Yes, no, I don't know. Something like that, yes."

"Get the hell out of my sight." I waved my arm toward the house and couldn't even think about looking at her.

I calmly finished my beer then took a shower in the wooden shower stall. I wrapped the towel around my hips, turned off the lights, and closed the workshop. I didn't bother to be quiet, if I woke Stephanie up, that was just too bad. I walked into the master bedroom and got a change of clothes from my closet.

Stephanie heard me open my dresser drawer for clean underwear, "Paul?" Her voice was full of tears but I didn't really care. "Can we talk?"

"Not tonight Steph," I answered as I went to the den. I probably wasn't going to sleep very much anyway. I could toss and turn on the couch or my recliner as easily as I could in a bed. I sure as hell wasn't going to sleep in a bed with a woman I felt was now a stranger to me. Thoughts that for several months I'd had sloppy seconds turned my stomach. I was already lying down when I thought about having oral sex with my wife during the past few months. If I wasn't already so tired, I think I would have gotten up and thrown up the beer I'd tried to use to drown my thoughts.

* * * *

Shortly after five in the morning, I was making a pot of coffee. I got the girls up and told them they had thirty minutes to be ready to leave for the gymnastic competition. I left a note for Troy with a couple of chores he needed to do and told him he could spend the night with Dillon Jerome if Dillon's parents didn't mind. When I returned to the kitchen, Stephanie was pouring herself a cup of coffee. She looked at me and smiled then opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something.

I held up my hand to stop her. My voice was low, but Stephanie could not mistake what I was telling her. "I'm taking the girls to their competition and you're not going with us. Troy has chores to do then he's spending the night with Dillon. If you can't handle them, he can help you carry your suitcases to the car before he leaves. Don't be here when I get home."

Stephanie turned and glared at me. "This is my house too, Paul."

"Maybe it's half yours, but you can't pay the bills and I can. You'd better find somewhere to live that you can afford. Leave your keys here so I don't have to get a locksmith to change all the locks."

"Paul!" Stephanie screamed.

"I need at least a week Stephanie. I'll talk to you next Saturday. If you're still here when I get home, I'll throw your clothes on the front porch and you after them."

"You can't kick me out of my own home." She may be part right, but we had purchased the house and land from the estate. Steph received money, one-fourth of the total, and she'd spent most of it on some furniture and a new car.

"Try me, Stephanie. Just give me a tiny reason to go to a divorce attorney on Monday morning and include a restraining order, because I'm just one step away from it. Take your clothes and leave. I've already told you what I'll do if you're here when I get home later."

Stephanie sobbed and burst into tears. Ten seconds later, the door to the master bedroom slammed shut.

* * * *

... to be continued. 



Golf Lessons Ch. 02



Thank you, Erik Thread for your editing skills and suggestions.

This is part two of a three part story. The story is finished. Chapters are posted on the site about every day, which means the entire story will have been posted before the first part appears on the list of new stories. People seldom step outside of their personality. They may successfully hide some of their personality from even those who know them well, yet still they remain true to that personality.

Even though the girls wanted to check on their mother, I explained that she wasn't feeling well and we didn't have time to waste. Instead of taking time for breakfast, I stopped at a drive-thru fast food restaurant for bacon and egg sandwiches, which was really a treat. They didn't often get fast food breakfast. I was not enjoying the thoughts about what my wife was doing in the afternoons that prevented her from being at home preparing supper, which was why we so often had take-out food for supper.

Both girls had a good day. Cindy got some very good scores, but still didn't finish in the top ten, which was her goal. Lulu did very well on her floor exercise, but her other routines had pretty blatant mistakes. 

The three of us had a long conversation on the way home. Cindy said she had talked to her mother about it before, but felt Stephanie was pushing her to stay in gymnastics. Lulu seemed to think she was taking gymnastics because Cindy did. 

Both of them agreed that they should consider the years they had spent taking gymnastics was good exercise, but they might do just as well joining some other kind of activity. The older they got, the coach grew less tolerant of even minor mistakes. Lulu admitted that she and a couple of the other girls in her class cry because they couldn't meet the coach's demands. 

Cindy seemed relieved when I suggested she give some serious thought to whether she really wanted to go to the summer camp she was scheduled to attend in three weeks. Lulu said she would rather go to church camp, but Mom had said she couldn't do both. Neither of them wanted to go to cheerleading camp. They didn't feel they were popular enough to be elected as cheerleaders and they didn't like the way the more popular girls excluded them from their group. 

I saved any mention about a problem their mother and I might be involved with until we were almost home. I didn't go into detail, but both girls had heard their mother screaming at me earlier that morning. I simply said that Stephanie and I felt a week or so apart might give us a chance to calm down. She had her cell phone and I was sure she would be happy to know how well each of them had done at their competition.

Cindy and Lulu were so tired by the time we got home, they were only interested in a sandwich for supper, a hasty bath, and their beds. Cindy said she was so tired she didn't even have the energy to call her mom.

All day, I had ignored calls to my cell phone. There were several calls from Stephanie, but I erased them without listening to anything she wanted to say. I returned her younger sister's call, assuming that was probably where Stephanie had gone. 

"Tina, its Paul, you called?"

"Good Lord, Paul, what's going on?"

"You'll have to ask Steph. I told her I didn't want to talk to her for a week until I'd calmed down."

"She told me the same thing. She's been trying to call you all day."

Repeating myself, I said, "I don't want to talk about it. You'll have to ask her why."

"Well, are you still going to have the 4th of July barbecue at your house?"

"Oh, well, I'm not sure. Let me think about that. Tell you what; I'll let you know in a few days. How's that?"

"Okay. If you decide you can't do it, we can have it here again this year. In fact, why don't we just plan on doing it here, anyway?"

"Tina, give me a couple of days, okay? Better yet, I'll call you next Sunday morning and give you a definite decision. That's not too late, is it?"

"No, it will still give me three weeks to get ready."

"Is Steph handy? I'd like to tell her something."

Stephanie's voice was very different from what it was earlier in the day and it appeared she had finally stopped crying. "Paul?"

"Stephanie, don't call me. I told you I'd talk to you next Saturday night. I expect you to have some kind of an explanation, without tears or theatrics. Good-bye."

When I finally walked into our bedroom, it looked empty. I couldn't really put my finger on anything that was missing I just knew things were gone. The bathroom was the most difficult. All of Steph's shampoos, rinses, and soaps were gone. The shelf above the sink where she kept her cosmetics was almost bare. I took a shower as fast as I could and went to bed. 

* * * *

By Monday, I could think straight and my stomach had stopped hurting. I had allowed the children to skip church on Sunday morning. I didn't want to risk Stephanie trapping me in front of a group of people who might hear what I would tell my wife. 

Mid-morning Monday, I took an hour off work to go by the bank. I had my name removed from our joint accounts and moved most of the money in the checking account and all of the savings to new accounts which had only my signature. That included the automatic debit of the mortgage payment on the house and the other payment on the land. 

I also asked for a six month print out of every check and debit from the checking account. I'd spent some time on our computer trying to figure out the bank balance, but Stephanie wasn't very good about noting to whom a check was written. She used abbreviations or left the payee blank. I had to assume the amounts were correct because they always balanced with the paper statements in the drawer, but copies of the checks were not attached to the statements. I couldn't determine where some of my income was going. My mental calculations showed that each month the balance was between two and three hundred less than I thought it should be. For almost a year, I'd been asking Stephanie if she was paying extra principal on the bank loans, but she had been telling me there wasn't enough to make extra payments.

I called the two credit card companies and argued until they finally relented when I agreed to transfer the balances to new accounts in my name. What I was doing might not have an effect on our credit report, but I was trying to send a message to my wife. 

I had always been proud that Stephanie wanted to be a stay-at-home mother. It never bothered me that she didn't have an income because I felt comfortable with her pride that her full-time job was taking care of our home, our children, and me. However, if I was going to devote my time and energy working for our family and my wife, and make a good home for us to live in, I expected the same from her. The only time I was not working at my job, or at home, Stephanie was with me. We seldom went out at night. I did not stop on the way home for a drink with the boys. I did not go to lunch with the gang. I took a lunchbox with me every day. The money I saved went to extra things for our family. 

We didn't drive new cars, we ate healthy meals, and we had a lot to show for our efforts. We might have take-out meals two nights a week but that was because Steph said there wasn't enough time to take the children to all of their functions and cook a large meal. I felt we had at least as much, if not more than, her sisters or her brother, all three of whom lived in double income homes. Her sisters had two children each and her brother had one son. All five of those children spent their days in daycare facilities, or after school programs, which meant they were with babysitters for more of their waking hours than they were with a parent.

I really loved my wife. I may not have told her as often as she wanted to hear it, but she had to know that so much of what I did was to make her happy. I'd heard her tell her sisters or a friend how happy she was or how great our marriage was. I wasn't overbearing, most of the decisions made for our family were the result of a discussion and an agreement between both of us. Sometimes the children helped make those decisions, similar to the discussion the girls and I'd had Saturday. 

Cindy would be a junior in high school next year. She already understood how important good grades were. She'd been taught that college was a necessity and much easier with a scholarship. Troy would be a sophomore and understood that a sports scholarship might be a possibility, but good grades would earn him a better scholarship than he could get from sports, even if he managed to get through high school without a sports-ending injury. 

There was no way I could understand what Stephanie had done, or why she had done it. As much as I could, I concentrated on my job during the day. I worked around heavy machinery, tall stacks of merchandise, and sharp farm implements. Inattention to my surroundings was dangerous. 

In the evenings, I went over the print-outs from the bank. I had to know where all of my income went. If I was going to do what was best for my family, I needed a budget and from the weekend's examination of the bank statements, I'd learned there was very little wiggle room. The only extra expenses I could find that Stephanie had managed to put into our budget, which I knew nothing about, were her on-going golf lessons and the things she paid for in the golf pro shop. However, this included a rather expensive set of golf clubs and some clothing. There was also at least one monthly expense to one of the local women's lingerie shops, but I'd never seen her in anything other than the modest underwear she had always worn. All of this explained why there was nothing extra to pay on the bank loans. 

I could not understand what Stephanie had done. I know she had mentioned that she had no excitement in her life. I really didn't think golf lessons and sexy panties could give her that much excitement. Did she believe she had to flaunt her body to attract a man, or had he encouraged her to be that kind of person? For myself, I always preferred her wearing absolutely nothing when she allowed me to stroke every inch of her luscious body. She knew it, too. All she needed to do was walk out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than her skin and I was instantly erect ready to satisfy her until she and I were both exhausted.

At night now, I was miserable. One night I was so angry with Stephanie I wanted to do something that would hurt her as much as I was hurting. The next night I missed her so much I had all sorts of arguments with myself trying to convince me that I could live with what she had done to us and to our family. The following night I drank the rest of the beer in the small refrigerator in the shop. I didn't refill the beer supply. Alcohol wasn't going to solve anything, and I didn't want to compound the problems I already had. 

The kids helped me keep up with everything at home. They did their homework and regular chores and then helped start some kind of meal for our supper. We weren't eating as well as when Steph was there to prepare meals, but we weren't starving, either. I was careful to let them know the reason their mother wasn't at home was a personal problem between her and me. They hadn't done anything to cause the problem. I was just giving Mom and me a chance to cool down before we talked about a solution. I don't think they were overly concerned. They knew where she was and could call her anytime they liked, and they were busy with the last week of school.

I thought about calling our pastor, but he would only hear my side of the story and tell me I had to talk to Steph before we could begin to find a solution. I considered going to a lawyer, but I really didn't know one and I didn't feel I was ready for that. If we decided a divorce was best, lawyers and their fees were something I would tackle when that time came. I considered going to see my brother's wife. Gail was a counselor, but her specialty was alcohol and substance abuse. I wasn't ready to talk about what Steph had done and I hadn't heard her side of the story yet.

Basically, I did nothing but worry, until Thursday night after the kids went to bed. Friday would be their final day of school before their summer vacation. The girls were going to end-of-school slumber parties on Saturday night. I'd called Charles Jerome to make sure Troy could spend that night with Dillon. I didn't want the conversation between Stephanie and me interrupted. 

Unlike Stephanie, I hardly ever sat down at the computer unless I was going to send an email to my brother. I'm not the best typist, but I do better than hunt and peck. I should have had a good spell checker for all of my school work. My poor spelling skills were probably the reason my handwriting was so sloppy. Half the time I wrote something, I couldn't read it a few days later. I wanted this typed so there would be no doubt what I was thinking. After making some mistakes, I found something that approximated the marriage vows Stephanie and I had said at our wedding. By trial and error, I got it copied to an email message because I wasn't familiar with creating a document in any other program. 

After each of the phrases, I inserted what each one of them meant to me and explained how I felt I had honored that vow, or failed to do so. Then I changed the color of the type to show how well I felt Stephanie had kept her vows to me, or failed to do so. It took me a long time, but I finally saved the message and went to bed a little after midnight. For the first night since I'd told Steph to leave, I slept until the alarm.

Friday night as soon as supper was over, I returned to my email message and read the whole thing. Then I added anything I'd thought of during the day. The last thing I did before I went to bed was print the message. It was five pages long. I wasn't showing myself as a faultless, shining angel, I knew I had some faults, but I wasn't that bad, either. Stephanie was a good person, a wonderful mother, and an interesting and captivating companion. Yet I saw some things that I did not like. I didn't realize how strongly I felt about those marriage vows. I knew they almost brought me to tears when I attended a wedding. I wasn't sure if they were as important to my wife. I was hoping to discover how she felt the next evening.

* * * *

The three Saturdays each month I work, are the longest, hardest days of the month. The only good thing about working on a Saturday, aside from the overtime pay, was having Sunday and Monday off. During the hottest part of the year, the warehouse felt like an oven with temperatures hovering near triple digits. It had taken several years, but I'd finally convinced the owner that some kind of air movement would help. An extra set of doors on the back end of the building was helping some, but it was still taking a lot of time to create an open isle down the center of the warehouse. I'd mounted thermometers on the support posts to keep track of how well my efforts were working. The owner, Brad Wilson, had even begun to check the thermometers when he walked through the warehouse to the employee's parking lot, on his way to lunch.

Friday, when Brad returned from lunch, he stopped me as he was walking through the warehouse. "I need to talk to you, Paul." 

"Now or later?" I asked.

"We might as well do it now. I need to leave early today."

I followed Brad through the warehouse and the back of the store to his office. As he walked by his secretary bookkeeper, he told her not to transfer any calls for a while.

Brad's office was almost cold in comparison to where I'd been working all day. My shirt was slightly damp and the cold air felt good. Brad told me to sit down and make myself comfortable. He poured us a cup of coffee with both of us grimacing at how strong it was.

I wasn't sure what was coming, so I just waited for Brad to say what was on his mind. "You know I learn something new every day. Teachers are paid for a full year but their contracts usually start with the new school term."

I wasn't sure what Brad was trying to tell me, so I just sat and listened. He took a deep breath and said, "Spike stopped by before he left last night. His wife isn't going to apply for a position with the school next year. Congratulations, Paul. If you want it, when school starts, the position of Warehouse Manager is yours."

"Wow," I exclaimed. I took a deep breath and nodded, "You're damn right I want it." 

"That's a pretty good increase in your pay."

"Yeah," I agreed. "And a better distribution of weekend work, I hope."

"That will sort of make you number two around here." He waited a minute for me to process that information, and then he said, "Spike was never interested, but I wanted to know if you would agree to spend some of your time, between now and then, working in the front?" 

"I don't know, Brad. I've never done that before."

"I think you can handle it. I also think it will help you in the warehouse. To prove how much confidence I have, I'm offering to increase your pay for the time you work out front. That, plus what you will earn as Warehouse Manager will eventually give you about a twenty-five percent raise."

Thinking about how much the extra income would mean to my family, I told Brad, "I can't afford to pass up an offer like that. What days do I need to work the front?"

"Let's start with Friday and Saturday. It will give you Sunday and any other day you choose as your days off. That also means you need to have confidence in your number two."

He and I grinned. We both knew I wasn't going to select anyone but his son as my assistant. The young man was a recent college graduate, but was working his way through every department, in expectation he would some day be the owner of the business. Not only was he the owner's son, he was dependable and the one we called on when we had a special order to put together quickly or a situation that needed a little extra attention. He seemed to carry, inside his head, an accurate map of every item in the warehouse. He'd already beat me a couple of times when we were looking for an item we needed to load in a customer's vehicle sitting at the rear loading dock.

I didn't need to say anything before Brad advised me, "Just don't make it easy for him, Paul. He needs to know this business, not slide through because he's my son."

"I hear you, sir. Thanks for your confidence in me, but he really is the best person for the job."

"I'm glad to know that. I think its best we keep this under our hats for the time being. We'll let everyone think you're just checking out how much you like working inside the store."

I nodded and stood when, in his gruff manner indicating our meeting was ended, Brad said, "Get out of here, we've both got work to do."

* * * * 

I had very little time to think about my promotion until I was driving home that evening. I suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The extra income was the solution to what I really wanted to do. I took the first opportunity I found to turn around and drive to the hardware store. When I turned into my driveway, I drove my truck into the shed we always used as a garage and unloaded the plumbing supplies I'd purchased on my way home. I stopped for a minute to look around at everything we had, shaking my head again at Stephanie's dissatisfaction with our lives. 

While I took my shower and found something for supper, I was finally beginning to smile. I was ready for the confrontation with my wife. I would let her explain what she had done, but I was going to tell her a few things, too.

When Steph drove into the driveway, I was sitting on my old tree stump drinking a can of soft drink. I'd just read my five pages and didn't want to change a single word. I was beginning to think I might keep the small volunteer tree that was growing from one of the roots of the old tree. I could fill the core of the stump with cement and keep it from rotting as fast. I might even shape the top of it to make a little more comfortable seat. After a couple of years, I'd have a little shade from the new growth. 




Golf Lessons Ch. 02



I couldn't help thinking that the old tree and the new one were sort of like my marriage. Maybe something good would grow out of what had died.

I asked Steph if she wanted a soda. She shook her head so I told her to have a seat on the nearby bench.

"Oh, okay. I ... ah ... I sort of wanted to go inside the house."

I was shaking my head, "I don't think so. I'd rather hear why you still want to be part of what happens in that house."

"Oh, okay." I think Steph was a little surprised. She wasn't accustomed to me being so firm or not listening to her requests. I waited for her to speak, but it appeared she didn't have much to tell me. 

After looking back at the house again, she asked, "Where are the kids? Don't I get to see them?"

"Not tonight."

Steph took a deep breath, showing her exasperation, "What do you want, Paul?"

"I want exactly what I told you I wanted. You need to tell me why, why you decided that what you wanted to do with another man was more important than our family or me."

"It wasn't like that, Paul. I love you. I've never loved anyone but you. I just ..." she shrugged her shoulders. "It was something that just happened. I wasn't doing it to hurt you. I can't explain it any better than that."

"Steph, you aren't telling me anything. You haven't told me that you enjoyed being with another man more than you enjoyed being with me. Do you want to say he's a better lover? Are you so dissatisfied with the way we live you no longer want to be married to me."

She kept shaking her head in denial and shrugging her shoulders because she didn't have any answers. I wasn't happy with her explanation, particularly because she was so insistent that she loved me. I finally asked her, "So, what DO you want?"

Steph shrugged her shoulders, "I want to come home. Everything I have is here."

"Didn't you give some thought to that before you decided to fuck up what we had?"

"That's not what ... No, I wasn't thinking about it like that."

"Well, I HAVE been thinking. I'm going to see a lawyer on Monday. I'm going to divorce you and ask for custody of all three children."

Stephanie was on her feet, her arms stiff at her sides, and her hands clenched into fists, "You can't divorce me."

"Oh yes I can. I'll get custody of the kids, too. It's my word against yours."

"I'll get a lawyer and fight you. You won't get custody either."

I stood up, turned to Steph, and demanded, "Sit down!" I waited until she backed up to sit on the bench, and I resumed my seat. 

"I'm not sure you realize what you've had for the last few years, so I'm going to tell you. If you want to object to anything I say, save it and I'll give you a chance to have your say." Stephanie folded her arms across her chest and started patting her foot. "I'll listen to anything you want to tell me, but we will be civil and talk about this without yelling at each other or making threats." 

I held up my hand to let her know I didn't want her to say anything. "The vows we said at our wedding were for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance and thereto I plight thee my troth.

"Just in case you don't understand what we said during our wedding, 'Plight thee my troth' means I gave my promise of truthfulness. You 'gave' me your troth, which meant you were promising to be truthful to me. You have broken your promise. You've lied to me. You've given yourself to another man, allowed him to have something that was mine alone. So, I'm going to get a divorce. I will also ask for custody of the children. It will be much easier for both of us, and the children, if you don't fight the divorce or custody of the children."

No matter how long I'd thought about it, I couldn't make myself say it any other way. "I love you Stephanie, but I cannot live with you. It is difficult for me to be civil to you after what you've done to our family, and the vows we spoke when we were married. It's going to take me a long time to stop loving you, but I can already feel that love dying." I turned to look at her for a moment. She had stopped patting her foot and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I don't know about you, but I seem to recall the minister asking us if we agreed to live in the holy estate of matrimony. He asked if we could love, honor, comfort, and cherish each other from that day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto each other for as long as we lived. When you have the opportunity to talk, I want you to tell me what part of 'forsaking all others' you did not understand.

"You know, we were pretty young when we got married and maybe we didn't understand everything we should have. But since then we've attended quite a few weddings. Every time I sit and listen to the couple exchange vows, it's as if I'm renewing my vows to you. I know you've had those same feelings because you take my hand and squeeze it." I waited a moment, sort of wishing Stephanie would say something, but I wasn't sure I had the patience to hear it. 

"I'm sure both of us would prefer to keep our marriage intact for the sake of our children. They aren't dumb. They would soon learn we weren't happy and they would begin to feel they were at fault. You and I would be miserable with our lives. You have always been the best mother I've ever known. I'll do anything I can to see you have as much time with them as you want, but I'm also interested in giving you some freedom, freedom you've never had before. Maybe you will take the time to find what you feel was missing from our marriage." 

After a moment of silence, I leaned forward with my arms on my thighs and looked at the ground between my feet. I could not look at her any longer. "When I put that ring on your finger I promised to worship you with my body and endow you with all my worldly goods. I believe I've done that. I have never touched another woman with my body. Every ounce of my energy has been devoted to provide the worldly goods our family enjoyed. 

"I'm sure part of the divorce will mean I'll have to pay you your share of what we've built together. Instead of selling the house, I'll agree to give you a monthly payment toward your share. I'm going to use our savings plus what I can borrow from my retirement account to pay off the house, the land, and the credit cards. That means you won't get half of my retirement account, but it will also get us out of debt. In exchange, I expect you to agree that any land we sell will be divided between the debt against my retirement fund, payments to a similar fund for you, and college funds for the children."

I turned my head to take a quick look at my wife. She was beginning to pay attention. She had moved her hands to the edges of the bench beside her hips and was leaning slightly forward. I could tell she was thinking. "I'll help you find a place to live. I'm sure that we can find enough furniture so you can live comfortably, but I'll not help you take on any debt before the divorce is final. After that, whatever you do is your responsibility. For the first two years, I will not ask you to pay child support. That would be like the two of us exchanging money. After that, instead of you paying child support we can adjust the amount I pay. If you get a job, the money I give you should be enough for you to manage your life."

I sat up, looked at Stephanie, and told her, "Your turn."

"You're not going to forgive me, are you?"

"If I understand forgiveness, it also means I must no longer permit the sin to affect me. If that is correct, then I cannot forgive you. I don't know if that will change, I guess it depends on what you do."

"I won't be able to afford a very large apartment or a place to live. How am I going to have room for the children when they come to visit?"

"I've thought about that. I'll finish the plumbing in the downstairs guest room and you may spend Friday and Saturday night there on the weekends you have the children."

You're not ... you're not going to have other women in my house ..."

"I don't think you have the right to ask that or know anything about my private life. You gave up that right, Stephanie."

"I mean, when I'm there ... you won't ... will you?"

"I'm going to repeat myself. When our divorce is final, I don't think you have the right to ask or know anything about my private life. That also means I have no right to know about your private life, doesn't it?"

For the next hour or so, Stephanie and I managed to discuss things that were important to both of us. I think I rather surprised her when I said I felt I was just taking care of the house for the next generation. Cindy liked the house because she had her own room and didn't have to share it with her younger sister. Troy enjoyed living far enough away from town that he and his friend could ride their dirt bikes along the trails they had created with very little trouble. However, Lulu loved the house and all the old furniture. She looked for things that needed to be done. She found loose boards on the barn, or on one of the outbuildings, and asked what size nail she should use. 

We never had a very large vegetable garden, because Stephanie didn't want to take care of it and I simply didn't have time. Lulu bought a Farmer's Almanac every year, knew the dates to plant her seeds, and watched to see if they sprouted. She knew the full names of the head of the household for each generation that had lived in the house. Although her mother never liked for her to go up to the attic, when she was younger, Lulu played dress up with some of the old clothing in the wooden boxes. Now she occasionally added something she found to clothes she wore to school. Stephanie would avoid going into Lulu's room because she would leave the room sneezing after finding an old dress or blanket Lulu had brought down from the attic. 

After a long discussion about finances, when I told Stephanie how much money I would give her each week until the divorce was final, I told her it was time for her to leave. She asked if she could go into the house for a few more of her things. I suggested that it might be better for her to do that later in the week when she could come to spend an evening with the children. I would leave the house for a few hours to give all four of them time together. She could get more of her clothes or other things she wanted that evening. In the meantime, I suggested she begin her search for a job and look for a suitable apartment. I'd send them a check for the security deposit and rent for the first month, after that she would have to pay her own rent.

* * * *

Monday morning I asked my boss if he could recommend a divorce lawyer. He could tell I didn't want to discuss the matter. He offered to call for the appointment then came out to tell me I had a three o'clock appointment. He shook his head and said that I didn't need to return to work after I finished my business. 

Later that afternoon, I discovered that even without professional advice, I'd done a pretty good job of making financial and legal decisions for myself, Stephanie, and the children. In fact, I'd been a little more generous than necessary, but I didn't really want to change anything. I didn't know how much I could borrow from my retirement account, but even if I couldn't get enough, the bank had assured me they would work with me to make payments for the remaining balances as easy to manage as I needed. 

After I'd given the attorney the information he needed, I told him I had a request I didn't think he would like, but it was what I wanted. "You've told me that I'm your client, but for, like an hour, can you forget that and talk to Stephanie and tell her what her options are?"

"You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I could feel my own tears gathering but I had to get through this. "I still love her. It's going to take me a long time to get over this. She's the only woman I've ever loved and I may never find another. In fact, I can't even think about looking right now. As much as she hurt me, I can't destroy her. For a lot of years she gave her full attention to me and our family and I need to give her something in return. So, yeah, can you tell her what rights she has?"

"Okay," he agreed. "However, if you will allow me to discuss a little of this with her first, I'll know better if I can honestly separate myself from acting in your behalf."

I nodded, "I understand. I'm going to caution her that she must be truthful with you or you can't help her."

"Fair enough," He agreed. "I have enough faith in my skills to tell when someone is being truthful with me. On those terms, I'll talk to her." 

I stood to leave the lawyer's office, then turned back to ask, "How long does all of this take?"

"Optimally, somewhere between sixty days and four months should see you with a final divorce decree."

* * * *

I wasn't sure why I felt like I was working against such an important deadline. Or, perhaps I just wanted it over and done with so my life could settle back into a routine. I called Stephaine's sister Tina and informed her I was not going to host the annual 4th of July barbeque. Then I asked to speak to Stephanie.

"Steph, I've spent a couple of hours with a lawyer. He will talk to you and answer any question you care to ask. He's agreed to treat both of us fairly if he can satisfy himself that we are both honest with him. Do you think you can do that?"

"I guess so."

As soon as I gave her his name and telephone number, Stephanie told me, "By the way, I have a job interview tomorrow."

"That's good. How about an apartment?"

"I'm supposed to go look at one side of a duplex tonight."

"A duplex might mean you'll have to take care of a yard."

"Not this one, the owner lives in the other half and she enjoys doing that." 

I could tell from the way she stopped talking and then the silence that Steph wanted to say something else. She stumbled around but finally said the duplex was part of an old house the owner had divided to generate a little income for herself. The half Stephanie would occupy was partially furnished, but the bedroom was small and there was no bed. She wanted to know if I would help her purchase a twin size bed.

I agreed, reminded her to call the lawyer, and hung up. It took me an hour or so to think about what Stephanie was telling me. I suspected she was trying to let me know that with such a narrow bed, she wouldn't be having anyone in bed with her. Of course I cared about that, but it seemed a little late for her to try to give me assurances that she was suddenly going to remember she had promised her faithfulness.

* * * *

It took me a couple of weeks to realize I was really going to be a single parent. Stephanie took all three children to her family's 4th of July barbecue. Although she invited me to go with them, I declined. I was going to lose a whole family I'd known and been comfortable with for almost eighteen years. I didn't think it was fair for people to take sides when a couple divorces, but I also knew Stephanie would be losing her other family, too.

Cindy and Lulu both decided they would enjoy going to a youth church camp instead of a camp for gymnasts. Stephanie called to complain that I was depriving the girls of spending time with their friends. I let her know it was the girl's decision and I was allowing them to do as they wished with their summer. Their coach called me several times, too. I think I finally figured out Stephanie had pushed the girls to have experiences she'd not had as a young girl and the coach would miss some of her income.

During one of those calls from the girl's gymnastic coach when I finally convinced her that the girls were dropping the class, Sharon Scott told me she had just learned that I had filed for a divorce. 

She wanted to know if her husband, Allen, was the cause of our marital problems. I don't recall what I answered. It was probably some kind of non-committal statement.Maybe I asked her why she would think he had anything to do with our divorce. Sharon then apologized, assuming Allen had something to do with our separation and admitted that her husband had been involved with the mother of another student, but she thought it was only a single isolated incident until she caught Stephanie and Allen outside the gym. They were in the back of the van Sharon used to take a few students to an out-of-town competition. 

According to his wife, Allen and Stephanie had taken off their shoes. Allen had taken off his shirt, Steph's blouse was unbuttoned, and the front clasp of her bra was opened. Sharon had asked her husband, but he would only admit to the single incident and said it was only oral sex. Steph had given him a blow job and Allen had fingered her to a climax. Sharon apologized for not telling me about it, but she admitted that Stephanie seldom came inside the gym. She usually dropped the girls off and picked them up later, once in a while a little late, making Sharon wait almost an hour.

By the time I learned of her dalliance with Sharon's husband, I had already filed for divorce. Other than the one drunken 'possibility' of Stephanie having stand up sex with my brother's brother, Darren, Tino Palente was the only man with whom I was certain Stephanie had had an affair. Learning about Allen Scott merely made me more determined to pursue the divorce and move on with my life.

About six weeks after the divorce was filed, Charles Jerome and Dillon invited Troy to accompany them on a three-day combination hiking and camping trip. With the girls at church camp, all of the children were gone at the same time and I was the loneliest man imaginable. There had been occasions during my marriage when all the children were gone, but I'd had Stephanie as my companion. After I had filed for divorce, there was a night or two when the children were all gone, but it was such a short time I didn't really notice I was alone. 

The third night I was alone, I decided I wanted to know if I could handle myself in a situation where I might meet single women. I found three clubs, but the women were so aggressive they almost frightened me. I was home before midnight determined never to try that again. 

* * * *

About two weeks before school was to resume, my lawyer called to tell me the date I was to appear in court for the final divorce decree. While contemplating about actually being a single man, my brother called to invite me to his house for supper. He suggested we schedule it for one of the evenings Stephanie would spend a weekend with Cindy, Troy, and Lulu. 

Stephanie and I had finally gotten over the first awkward weekends with Stephanie trying to stay up late to talk to me when I got home. I let her know I wasn't interested. She finally got the message and stopped trying to act as if we were still husband and wife. I was willing to listen to her suggestions but where we might have previously had a discussion, I had become the decision maker regarding our children. It was a role reversal she was slowly coming to understand.

About half an hour after I arrived at my brother's house, we were sitting on his back patio waiting for the charcoal to burn down so he could put our steaks on the grill. Mark's wife, Gail, walked out to the patio to introduce her co-worker, Helen Tipton, who was also invited to supper. As soon as the women went back inside to get the steaks, I gave Mark a dirty look and he shrugged his shoulders. We played cards for a couple of hours after our meal and I left early, saying I really needed to get home. I had to work the next day.

Mid week, the day before I was due in court, Helen called my cell phone saying she had asked my sister for my number. "You felt like you were shanghaied, didn't you?"




Golf Lessons Ch. 02



"A little," I admitted.

"I wish they wouldn't do that to us. Don't misunderstand me, I enjoyed the evening but I knew you were uncomfortable. I just wanted to give you my number. When your life settles down, if you're interested, give me a call." 

We talked for a little while, but it was pretty obvious we didn't have very much in common. I was a homebody and Helen enjoyed a wide circle of friends she spent a lot of time with, including evenings of dancing and late dinners. She asked if I was interested in joining them the following weekend, but I said I already had plans to take my children shopping for school clothes. Helen did not have children and had never considered being a parent.

* * * *

I expected the actual divorce proceeding to be much more formal. Instead, it seemed almost anti-climatic. The judge looked at my lawyer and asked if the paperwork was in order. He stood and said, "Yes, your honor."

Then the judge looked at Stephanie and me. He shook his head for a moment and asked, "Do either one of you have any objections to what these papers say?"

Stephanie and I answered at the same time, "No, your honor."

He tapped his gavel and announced, "Divorce granted." He looked around for a moment and said, "Next case."

The lawyer leaned over and whispered that he'd meet us out in the hall. Stephanie and I found a quiet corner where we could sit and wait. "School starts in a couple of weeks," I explained, despite knowing she was as aware as I was of the date. "If you have an evening free next week, would you like to go with us to shop for the girl's school clothes?"

"Yes. You'll go with Troy?"

"I may go with him, but I suspect the only thing he needs me for is the money. He's beyond listening to my advice regarding what he should wear."

Stephanie chuckled, "Cindy hasn't listened in five years. Lulu is beginning to look at me and smile then pick out what she wants."

I was laughing quietly before Stephanie finished her statement that she didn't recall giving her mother as much trouble as Cindy and Lulu.

"Your mother probably felt the same way about her mother. Our children are growing up and becoming independent people. We had better get used to it, because it's going to happen whether we like it or not."

Shopping for school clothes had always been a fun time for our family. Because of budget restraints, it might take several trips, but we had always enjoyed the evening then complained during a late supper that we shouldn't have left it so late.

I watched Stephanie's face as I offered, "If you'd like to bring your clothes for work the next day, maybe you'd like to spend the night, too."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think it's about time for us to be friends."

Steph's voice cracked when she asked, "Just friends?"

"Just friends, Stephanie, I'm still wounded. Don't pick at the scab. Give me a chance to heal and I'll give you a chance to be my friend."

* * * *

... to be continued.



Golf Lessons Ch. 03



Thank you, Erik Thread for your editing skills and suggestions, particularly with the ending of this story.

This is part three of a three part story. The story is finished. Chapters are posted on the site about every day, which means the entire story will have been posted before the first part appears on the list of new stories. People seldom step outside of their personality. They may successfully hide some of their personality from even those who know them well, yet still they remain true to that personality.

*

Troy and I were sitting on one of the low brick partitions that outlined an open area in the center of the large shopping mall. We were waiting for the girls and Stephanie to bring us their most recent purchases so we could make another trip to the car. Although it meant a longer walk, we'd parked in the secure parking lot, knowing we wanted full time guards patrolling the area.

As they walked out of the store, I marveled at how much like her mother Cindy looked. She was blonde, slender and what I'd always thought of as willowy with long slender legs and arms. She was already as tall as her mother was and would probably grow to be a few inches taller than Stephanie. I was thinking about what I had to look forward to in the next two years of watching a daughter finish high school, and the younger one who would begin to date, fall in love, and find the one special man who would be the most important man in her life. According to Cindy she was pretty sure she'd already found that young man, but she was taking it slow, knowing she still had her college years ahead of her.

Troy and Lulu were more like me, with broad shoulders, square faces, and dark brown hair. He would be a sophomore in high school next year and would probably be one of the rising star players on the football team. The year Cindy was a senior Lulu would be a freshman. I'd have three children in high school and I wasn't sure I was prepared to handle all of those changes.

"I've had enough," Stephanie declared. "If we haven't bought it tonight, it can wait a few weeks." She sat down beside me and stuck her feet out, rotating her ankles. She hugged my arm and rested her head on my shoulder for a moment. Her gesture was so familiar. It was something she had done on our first date, when I took her to a movie. In a low voice, she complained, "Remind me to never again wear heels when we go shopping." 

There was universal agreement that we'd all exhausted our capacity for the crowds, dressing rooms, and harried clerks. Troy pretty well expressed our feelings when he declared, "I'm out of here," as he began to collect the various bags around my feet, handing several to each of his sisters and taking the larger ones for himself to carry.

Troy, Cindy, and Lulu were half way down the center aisle of the mall before I could move. I think Stephanie realized what she had done about the same time I did. She sat up and stood, then took a couple of steps. I followed, feeling like some kind of line had been crossed, but I wasn't sure what that line was. The ride home was quiet. We stopped for a box of fried chicken to take home rather than going to a restaurant. It was just one of those things we had done so often that we barely discussed it.

As soon as we finished eating, almost as if it was something expected of her, Stephanie started cutting the tags off the clothing and separating them into piles for the washing machine. I protested that I could do those chores and she could use the time to visit with her children. I had several shoeboxes spread around me waiting for me to finish threading shoelaces through the various styles of very expensive shoes. I had also bought myself a new pair of dress shoes. 

"Paul, did Troy pick out these shirts?"

"No, those are clothes for work."

She pulled several ties and pairs of dark socks out of a small bag and asked, "When did you start wearing dress shirts and a tie to work?"

"Two months ago, maybe three, I guess. I work in the front on Fridays and Saturdays. Next week is Spike's last week at work. He and Jeannine bought a travel trailer. They're going to Alaska for a month."

"Does that mean ..."

"Actually," I interrupted her. "It means I'm Warehouse Manager and Assistant Store Manager." I turned to tell Troy, "Take these shoes up to your sisters, and make sure everyone's had their shower. It's lights out in thirty minutes."

I spent a few minutes cleaning up the kitchen, telling Stephanie I didn't need any help when she offered. I suggested she send Troy to her car if she needed her suitcase because as soon as the children had gone to bed I wanted to have a short conversation.

Stephanie stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment then picked up a pile of the clothing, taking it into the laundry room. A few minutes later, I heard the washing machine running. She was back with a basket for another load of clothing when I stopped her.

"I can do that later, Steph."

"Well, I can help you."

"Stephanie," My voice was a little rougher than usual. "I can do that later."

"Well, alright." She picked up her large handbag, left the kitchen, and walked to the guest bedroom, closing the door a little harder than I thought necessary.

A few minutes later, she was back in the kitchen, dressed in a flesh-colored, clinging negligee with two panels that barely covered her breasts and went behind her neck leaving most of her back bare. The covering penoir had no closure in the front and it certainly wasn't intended to hide anything, it was meant to entice. 

I wasn't sure what I had expected, probably that she was going to take off her heels and pantyhose and maybe even put on casual clothing. I never expected that she would be this blatant. I didn't sit down at the table, as we had usually done when we had a discussion. I was leaning against the kitchen counter trying to organize my thoughts.

"Have a seat, Steph."

She looked at me with a curious expression on her face, but she did take a seat at the table. I joined her and looked at as much of her as I could, and then asked, "This isn't how you usually dress when you spend the night with the kids, is it?"

Steph smiled and shook her head, "No, I thought you might like it."

"If I have given you the wrong impression, I'm sorry. I invited you to go shopping with the girls because I thought they would appreciate having your help."

"Oh, you don't need to apologize. It was nice being together as a family."

"Steph you and I are no longer part of a family. We are parents, but not partners or spouses. We are divorced."

"That doesn't mean we can't ..."

I held up my hand to silence her. I didn't want to think about what she wanted. "If, and that's a very big if, but if I ever think about having another woman in my life, it will not be one who has already proven to me that she cannot be faithful."

"You really aren't going to forgive me, are you?"

"I don't know. I DO know that I don't ever want to stick my cock into that pussy because I don't know what other man has had his cock in there."

"That's not very nice." "You're right, it isn't. I don't enjoy recreational sex. I might have gotten a thrill when I was a teenager, but that was almost twenty years ago."

When I saw the look on her face, I feared what she would say, but I tried not to react when she smirked, "You're never going to find another virgin."

"It wasn't the fact that you were a virgin, Stephanie. I loved you."

"Your daughter's not going to be a virgin much longer." I guess she thought she could hurt me or surprise me.

"Yeah, I know."

"You do?"

"Yep, and I know him. Next week she has an appointment with the doctor to begin birth control pills."

"She didn't tell me that."

"Did she tell you she knows why we are divorced?"

Steph's face turned white. I could almost smell her fear. "Oh my God. You told her?"

"Nope, Tino stopped on the road one day and asked if she was as wet a fucker as her mother."

Under her breath, Stephanie muttered, "Bastard."

I took a deep breath. "Did your neighbor give you the mail I dropped by your apartment?"

Steph nodded and I almost regretted that I needed to add, "I wasn't sure if the box was something important. I tried to deliver it before I went to work the day after it arrived and I tried that evening after work. I finally left it with her. She said you and your boyfriend had been gone for a few days. She wasn't sure if you would be back before the next weekend or if you would be gone all weekend, too."

"How long, Stephanie? How many years was I a cuckold? How many different men tasted that sweet pussy? Was I the only man in town who didn't know what a slut you were? My God, why didn't you charge for access to your cunt? We certainly could have used the money."

"Paul!"

"It's true, isn't it? I've learned of two others. Why did I never figure it out? Was it because I worked ten hours a day to provide for my family and you had too much freedom?"

Stephanie sat looking at me. Evidently, she didn't care to answer my questions. 

"How many men did you bring into this house? How many of them did you take to our bed? Was that why the master bath was so important to you, just another playroom?"

Still she sat looking at me. By now, I knew the look on her face when she had closed herself away from those around her and wasn't going to be part of our conversation. 

"You know, I could go back to see that judge and have you declared an unfit mother. I'm not going to do that. I don't want the children to know what I've learned. Instead, I'm going to suggest you discover you're conveniently too busy to spend much time with them. They are at an age when parental time is less important to them. Cindy will have her own car by Christmas."

Stephanie didn't say a word. She stood, walked across the room and closed the door to the guest bedroom behind her. A short while later I heard the door open. Less than two minutes later I heard a car start and then saw headlights going down the road. I couldn't even cry. I was too numb.

For one of the few times in my life, I wanted a strong drink. In the bookcase behind my desk was a bottle of twenty-year-old Old Parr scotch my father had given me when my first child was born. He said the scotch was as old as I was and maybe I could save some of it for my own grandchild. He didn't often display how sentimental he was. He and I had taken a drink that night to celebrate the birth of his first grandchild. I needed a drink to celebrate the final breath of my love for a woman I had never really known.

As I sipped my scotch, I admitted to myself that I had been pretty rough on Stephanie. I had no regrets, but I could have been less insulting. For many years, I had known an incident of Stephanie's unfaithfulness, or what I suspected was her unfaithfulness. It had bothered me at the time, but we only spoke about it that one time. I allowed it to grow less and less important. Now, I wondered if that incident around the side of the house with my sister's brother, which I attributed to drunkenness, was more than what I'd thought. I could not change the past and it was my misfortune that I hadn't believed my own eyes a little earlier. 

Now that the divorce was final, I knew I would experience a few looks from both males and females. I'd already had a few of those, from co-workers and people I'd known for many years. It would take some time for me to stop feeling as if I should look behind me to see if a stranger was lurking, and it might take even longer to lose the desire to ask a man how well he knew my ex-wife.

In the meantime, I had three children, two of whom were in high school and one was only a year away. I had a job with more responsibility than I'd ever had, with a better income than I expected. I was in my late thirties with a lot of time to see my children started on their own futures and I still wouldn't be too old to find someone I could learn to love. Who knows, things like that usually happen when you least expect it.

* * * *

After Stephanie moved away from our small town, she asked to take the children for a rare weekend even less. It wasn't a surprise, however, when Stephanie took Cindy, Troy, and Lulu on a three-day trip to a large amusement park the first time they had a long three day weekend from school. Nor was I particularly surprised when Cindy drove home in her mother's six-year-old car and showed me the title, which Steph had changed to Cindy's name. Lulu said their mother had a new car that was owned by the company where Steph worked. I did not mention that it was highly unlikely their mother's position as Vice-President of Marketing was one a high school graduate would be hired to do, but was a job earned after some years of working up a rather steep corporate ladder. Cindy's wink let me know she would explain the job title to her sister, or as much as Lulu could understand. 

Troy's friendship with Dillon Jerome never waned, if you saw one, you only needed to look ten feet away to see the other. The only time they separated was when they had a date with one of the many girls who called the house at almost any hour of the day and night. However, the two boys often double-dated since they were most likely going to the same party or movie anyway. 

Cindy and Lulu's circle of friends broadened dramatically after they quit gymnastic classes. However, after a short while, the casual friendships of many girlfriends solidified to one, two, or three very close friends. In Cindy's case it was three young girls, one lived on the same road as our house and the other two were from the surrounding neighborhood. It was a challenge for me to be around four lovely young girls who seemed to have some kind of contest to see who could wear the skimpiest clothing.

Lulu's best friend was new to the area. Her mother, June, was a widow. Patty and her mother barely survived a car wreck, which took the life of Patty's father when twenty cars piled-up on a major highway. Her mother's back was badly sprained, but not broken, and Patty spent more than a month in the hospital with her legs in a cast that went from her toes to her waist. She had already had major surgery to replace some of the 'nuts and bolts' holding the bones of her legs together and expected at least one more surgery when the bones were strong enough for complete removal. 

Mother and daughter lived with June's brother and his wife plus their two sons in the house next door to Charles Jerome. I had not met June, but Patty and Lulu were inseparable. At one point, I jokingly suggested that Patty simply move into the guest room upstairs because she spent more time at our house than she did at her uncle's home. She said she couldn't move at that moment because she feared her mother would be lonely. 

* * * * 

Occasionally, instead of a second day off, I worked two half days, which gave me some extra time to spend with the kids. That also gave me more time to attend their various sporting events or to run errands. Anticipating one of Troy's football games, I'd taken a rare Friday afternoon off and stopped at the grocery store. I walked into the kitchen carrying several bags and sent Lulu and Patty out to the truck to help bring another load into the house.

As I was loading some cleaning supplies on shelves in the laundry room, I heard a woman calling, "Lulu, Patty, Lulu, I need extra hands."

I walked into the kitchen saying, "I have extra hands."

Who I saw standing in the middle of the kitchen was a woman I knew instantly was Patty's mother. My first instinct was to laugh, until she turned around to look at me. She was wearing a low cut sleeveless tee shirt that was just barely long enough to cover her panties, but she was holding the front edges of an old fashioned corset around herself. I recognized the garment as one Lulu had taken from an old box of clothing in the attic.

June was unable to latch the metal closures on the front edges. "Oh ... ah ... I was looking for the girls." 

I could tell she was embarrassed at being caught almost naked and didn't want to let go of the front edges of the corset to cover herself. Letting go would reveal she was not wearing a bra.

"I think the laces at the back need to be loosened so you can hook the front. May I help you?"

"I ... I don't think ... maybe ..."

"I promise you, Lulu can't help you. She can't lace her own shoes. I've always done it for her." I sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and told her, "Back up here. By the way, I'm Paul Hudson."

June turned around and backed toward me, "Nice ... nice to finally meet you Paul, I'm ah, I'm June, ah, oh, that's June Palmer."

"Yes, I know." I placed my hands on her waist to pull her a little nearer and hold her in place between my legs as I explained that I was going to loosen the lacing at the back and she needed to tell me if she needed more room at the top, in the middle, or at the bottom. As soon as she could close the hooks at the front, I would adjust the lacing at the back until it was comfortable. I also suggested that she take a deep breath and let it out before I made the final adjustments.

Perhaps to cover her nervousness at having a strange man touching her, June explained, "Lulu thinks this will support my back."

"She's probably right. My boss wears something similar, but it was fitted by a prosthesis place. He says it's worse than ... well, it's pretty bad." 

"I know. I have one of those. It's rigid, too tight and the nearest thing to living in a sweat box. I really don't need that much support anymore, but I'm just a little uncomfortable going without some support. This is Lulu's idea."

The girls walked in with their first load of bags and stood around for a few moments until I sent them back out for the other bags.

"Well, let's see if we can adjust this for your shape." Finally able to laugh, I told June, "I remember when Lulu brought this down from the attic. She tried wearing it when it fit from right under her arms almost down to her knees. But she insisted on wearing it."

As soon as she was able to close the front, I began to adjust the lacing at the back. The girls were putting things away, keeping an eye on what their parents were doing, grinning and nudging each other when June or I said something to each other. 

"Oh wow, I like that," June declared then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Maybe it should be just a little tighter at the bottom."

"Sit down for a little while first. I can always lace it a little tighter, or adjust it for you."

June and I were so busy talking I didn't realize Lulu and Patty made a pot of coffee and placed cups in front of June and me. I thanked them and returned to the conversation June and I were having. I don't know how long we sat at the table talking before I looked at June to ask if she was ready for a corset adjustment. June looked down at the front of the corset and looked up at me. Her face grew red, and then even redder as she realized I had been able to look at her almost bare breasts. The tightening of the corset had pulled the front of her shirt down until her areola and nipples were just barely covered.

I caught June's hand as she started to cover herself. "Please don't ... I'm enjoying looking at you."

"Paul ..."

"June, I'm not often so forward. Maybe I shouldn't say anything, but I'm very interested in you. I can't recall ever feeling so instantly attracted to a woman."

"Even your wife?"

"Yes," I was slowly acknowledging it, even to myself, "Even my wife. That was a teenage crush that grew into a marriage. I'd be willing to wager that had we both been a few years older, we might have dated a few times, and then found someone else. Sometimes a friend doesn't make a very good wife." After a moment of silence I added, "It took me a long time to learn that the kind of love you have for a friend is very different from the love you should have for a wife." 




Golf Lessons Ch. 03



June looked down at the coffee cup on the table in front of herself, "I might be one of the few people who understands that." 

I stood and offered June my hand, "I want to kiss you." When she stood up, I put my arms around her and kissed her gently, hugged her for a moment and whispered, "Actually, I like to do a lot more than kiss you, but I'll settle for a kiss this time."

"I'm not ... well, I haven't ... oh my. I'm not doing a very good job of explaining that I haven't been with a man since my husband's death."

I wasn't sure how to explain that I'd been monkish for the year following my divorce. I doubted she would accept that explanation as my very firm erection was pressing against her at the moment. 

I heard them, but I didn't dare turn around to look at them. June pressed her forehead against the top of my chest, whispering, "We have an audience."

"I know," I responded as quietly as I could. "Wanna give them a show?"

June raised her head giving me her lips. I heard the applause and then I heard nothing as I reveled in the kiss this wonderful woman shared with me. 

* * * *

By mutual consent, June and I took it slow because we both felt we had made what we thought were premature decisions when we married the first time. However, it was fairly obvious within a short time that what we had was the enduring kind of love. After a few weeks, June's brother remarked that he didn't understand why we were waiting for something to change. He said our children were more accepting of our romance than we thought. 

Within a few days, we had moved all of June and Patty into our house. For the first time in her life, Patty had a big sister and a big brother and was the happiest young girl you could imagine. Cindy and Troy were so accustomed to having her around all the time they took the addition to the family in stride. Lulu's big smile returned to her normal grin in about a week. 

After three months of no contact, the first time Stephanie called to request a weekend with Cindy, Troy, and Lulu, I had to apply some rather stern parental persuasion that they could not use having guests in the house as an excuse for not spending time with their mother. From what I learned, June answered the telephone when Stephanie called. She gave the telephone to Cindy who informed Steph that the stranger who answered the telephone would soon be her step-mother.

About the worst thing a mother can do, is make arrangements to pick up her children for a weekend but never show up and not answer her telephone when the children called. Later in the week, Steph called and gave an excuse that Cindy reported was less than believable. 

The following weekend Stephanie called again and did show up as prearranged. However, it was quite a shock for her children to see their mother, who was obviously pregnant and wearing a wedding ring they knew nothing about. Moreover, her husband did not accompany her. It was several more months, the month before their half-brother's birth, before the children met their step-father. The relationship with their mother continued to decline, with none of the children seeming to miss her. 

Following some late night discussions, some held after hours of love-making, I convinced June that she should marry me. Two weeks after the wedding, she finally agreed that four children were enough and I had a vasectomy. I did not want to risk that a pregnancy could do permanent damage to June's back.

Patty's custom of calling June, "Mother" rather than the less formal "Mom" or "Mamma" had Lulu calling her Mother within a few weeks. Troy took a little longer, but because he had always called Stephanie "Mom", he didn't feel disloyal using "Mother" for June. Cindy took a little longer. She spoke to June with more respect that I had ever heard her use with Stephanie. To her face, Cindy called her "Mother" but if she spoke to me, she used her given name. 

I had given little attention to all of Lulu's forays into the old wooden boxes in the attic. I suppose I was aware she had found an old diary or journal. I certainly wasn't aware she had used the details of a courtship in the diary as the reference for a term project for her Creative Writing class. The teacher gave the paper to her husband to read. He was a human interest reporter for the metro newspaper of the nearest large city.

Lulu, the diary, and the house certainly captured the attention of a wide readership when the reporter appeared to look at the house. He and his photographer followed Lulu around the house as she pointed out the various places the diary mentioned as places where her great-grandmother and great-grandfather had held hands or stolen a kiss during their long courtship.

The newspaper articles, along with a short video on the evening newscast brought attention to the unsold land. Before Troy graduated from high school, all three of the children's college accounts were fully funded, the debt against my retirement was fully paid, and Stephanie had received her share. 

The house was happy. That may seem like a strange statement, but it's true. The people who lived there laughed more often and the house seemed to absorb some of that joy. It also enjoyed showing off its unique style.

THE END