Secret Garden. Cathryn Parry
smiled at him, happier now, because who wouldn’t smile when they were with Colin? He was special. There would never be anybody else like him.
Rhiannon stood so that she wouldn’t be hidden anymore and watched Colin leave, ushered through the door by her mum.
Colin turned back to Rhiannon as he crossed the threshold, and he gave her a secret smile.
A lump formed in her throat but she forced herself to smile, doing for him what he had just done for his mother. She would not show pain or fear. She lifted her hand in a wave. I will write to you, she mouthed to him.
* * *
BUT RHIANNON NEVER did write. Because shortly after that New Year’s Eve, her life changed, too.
Rhiannon lay in a hospital bed, her whole world turned upside down. She hated seeing people, because all they did was ask her questions and make her feel even more frightened. And even though she thought about Colin all the time, she wouldn’t want him to see her like this.
It wasn’t until weeks later that she was finally allowed to return to her castle. And once she was there, she never wanted to leave again. She never left the grounds of the estate, and she rarely saw visitors.
Staying in her own special world made her feel safe and in control. Everybody in Scotland knew that. She supposed Colin knew, too, and she took comfort from the fact that he would understand.
For years afterward, Rhiannon believed that Colin left her alone precisely because he understood her so well.
And she was grateful.
Present Day Central Texas
COLIN WALKER HAD a motto in life: take nothing seriously and keep everything light.
On a lazy summer’s Monday afternoon, he was doing just that—strolling the fairways at Sunny Times Golf Academy in Winwood Springs, Texas, sizing up the lay on a chip shot and aiming to enjoy the day with his caddie and best friend, Mack. That was when he became aware of Mack’s cell phone buzzing.
He turned toward Mack, who stood beside Colin’s golf bag. Mack stared at the screen of his phone, a concerned look on his face.
Colin was a tour pro. In his and Mack’s world, there was protocol. A caddie who wasn’t paying attention to the game was not to be tolerated. But Colin just shrugged. He figured that Mack was a grown-up, and if something needed his attention, then Colin wasn’t going to get upset.
Instead, he ambled over and pulled a nine iron from his bag. Normally, this was Mack’s job, but Mack was busy with his text message. A party of four was on the course behind them, so Colin needed to keep playing and stay with the flow of the game.
He approached the ball, knelt and squinted at it where it lay in the rough beside a green that sloped downward in a steep, thirty-degree pitch to the cup, marked with a red flag.
The flag hung limply, no movement, no breeze. Colin wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. It was hot, a humid June afternoon, and it might have been Colin’s imagination, but waves of steam seemed to be coming off the fairway.
Straightening, he strolled back to Mack. “What do you think of the lie?” Colin asked, nodding toward the gopher hole his ball was nestled against. “Nine iron, or should I use a wedge?”
“Seven,” Mack said absently, and Colin had to laugh, because a seven iron was absurd. But his caddie didn’t even smile, busily tapping out a text message, and not paying attention to the game at all.
“And people wonder why I’ve slipped to one hundred in the rankings,” Colin said with a laugh.
“One hundred twenty-four,” Mack muttered.
Colin turned. “Seriously?”
“It was on the Golf Channel this morning.”
Colin took off his glove and stretched his hand, then put the glove back on. He was trying not to think about that. To keep it light.
Mack gave him a look. Mack had risen from the college world to the minors tour to the big show—the pro tour—with Colin, and Mack knew exactly what was at stake. If Colin slipped below number 125 on the “money list,” then he would lose his tour card. If he lost his tour card, he lost his ability to play in the tournaments with the big purses and the big attention.
The tour card was the golden ticket. People dreamed of it, prayed for it, gave up everything for it. Every golfer remembered how he felt the day he’d earned it.
A sick feeling settled in Colin’s gut, as if things were spinning out of control. He knew that if he wasn’t careful, then he was somehow going to be abandoned again. Dropped, as if he was nothing. And then everything would change for the worse.
Colin looked away from Mack, toward the red flag flying over the eighteenth hole, trying to clear his head.
“We still have the New York Cup ahead of us,” Mack said quietly. “Everything will come together. That tournament is good luck for you. Remember last year?”
“Yep,” Colin said tightly. He’d kept it light and they’d come in second place. It had been his best showing and had confirmed that he was right not to take anything too seriously. Being laid-back about life was how he’d ended up on the pro tour in the first place.
He glanced at Mack, who had turned back to his cell phone. “What are you texting about, anyway?” Colin asked, leaning toward the screen. “Did you meet a girl last night or something?”
“Nope.” Mack shoved his phone in his pocket. He seemed cagey, giving a smile that Colin knew was fake. Colin had roomed with him his first two years at the university, and of all his friends on the golf team, Mack was the only one that Colin had introduced to Daisie Lee. Daisie Lee adored Mack like a second son. “Colin-clone,” she called him. Maybe he was. Mack didn’t take anything too seriously, either.
“Go take your shot,” Mack ribbed him.
“I will when I’m ready.”
“It’s an easy chip shot. You do those in your sleep.”
“Now you’re really making me worry. What’s on your damn phone?” Playfully, Colin reached for it, but Mack swatted his hand away.
“Okay, fine.” Mack sighed, taking off his cap and wiping his brow. “I was going to tell you after you finished the hole, but if you’ve got to know now and ruin your game, great— It was Leonard, letting you know he’s here for a noon meeting.”
Leonard was Colin’s accountant and business manager. “What’s so bad about that?” Colin asked. Leonard’s management company ran Colin’s website, made his travel arrangements, took care of all the stuff that Colin didn’t enjoy doing. Leonard had even snagged Colin a few endorsements—nothing big, one with a sportswear company that was little more than a struggling start-up, and another with a ball company that, admittedly, spread money around to pretty much every tour pro, just to flood the tour as much as possible with their brand of golf balls. But every dollar counted.
“It’s nothing,” Mack said. “It’s just business.”
Colin hoped their business was still okay. He’d become used to the lifestyle—a far better living than they’d had on the minors tour. That first year in the pro tour, Colin had made close to a million dollars, and he’d bought Daisie Lee a house and a new car. He’d spread the wealth to Mack, too. Stepped up their accommodations on tour.
The thought of losing that made his guts ache.
He just...needed to keep this gig going. Keep the wolf from the door. Do what made everybody happy.
Colin gripped his nine iron and headed toward the ball.
Truth was, his game had been