"Fore," Blaze hollered and pointed to his left as Mrs. Whitney's pull hook screamed toward a foursome on the seventeenth fairway. Fortunately the ball landed short of the other golfers but rolled into the wrong fairway.
"Ms Whitney, it's all right, you have a decent shot at the green," he said smiling at her.
I'm pleased at the professional and diplomatic way he handled that situation. As his conscious, I've been preparing him for the rigors of life since he was born and the golf course, even as a caddy, is a good place to deal with stress and tension.
Mrs. Whitney of the most prosperous law practice in Society Hill: Whitney, McMurry and Webster, was playing a match against Mrs. Ravenel, and they were even playing the eighteenth hole. They were both competitive and hated to lose. Mrs. Ravanel the smaller of the two had driven 180 yards down the right middle. At 5'9" and 145 pounds Mrs. Whitney was the longer but less accurate striker of the ball. As usual she was dressed to impress in an all white ensemble that displayed her hour-glass figure.
Blaze had known Mrs. Whitney since he had been in the sixth grade and since puberty, like most of the guys at Society Hill High School, had appreciated her beauty and build.
"That shot probably cost me the match." Mrs. Whitney trudged beside Blaze; she placed her hand on his black arm and said dejectedly. At the same time she marveled at the smoothness of his skin, his muscularity, and his powerful lion-like stride.
"It depends upon the lie, if it's okay then you have a good chance of getting to the green while Mrs. Ravenel is at least fifty yards further from the green than you," Blaze said as a matter of fact. He had noticed that she had been touching him and leaning on him for more advice than usual.
I forgot to tell you Blaze is the product of a mixed marriage, white father and black mother. He inherited both intelligence; top five in the senior class; athletic ability: football, basketball, and golf; had the build of a swimmer; and was almost as dark as his mother. The family was borderline poor but Blaze's athletic prowess give him and his family an unusually high standing in the small settlement of Society Hill.
Mrs. Ravenel's second shot was short of the green but almost a sure a par because of her excellent short game.
"Damn her, doesn't she ever miss a shot," Mrs. Whitney murmured.
Blaze handed her a six iron and said, "You only have one hundred and thirty yards to the green. Take several practice swings, calm yourself, go through your routine, and put it on the green. I know you can do it."
She smiled and said, "Blaze whatever what I do without you? You're a darling."
Blaze returned her smile then he stepped back waited and watched.
I wonder if that statement has two meanings. She's been unusually touchy, feely and complimentary today. Is she coming on to my boy, thought his conscious?
The swing was as fluid and smooth as Tiger Woods. The ball flew high and straight, landed just short of the green and rolled up to three feet of the hole. Mrs. Whitney dropped her club and jumped into Blaze's surprised arms. She quickly realized what she had done but loved the feel of his body against hers. Releasing him she said while brushing off her skirt, "I'm sorry Blaze; I'm so thrilled."
"That's all right ma'am, I understand," he said pleased with her shot but more with the feel of her ample breasts against his chest. She's certainly acting strange, he thought.
Mrs. Ravenel chip shot went long and Mrs. Whitney made her short putt to win the hole and match. She was outwardly gracious with her victory but inwardly she had the feelings of a lioness after a kill: pride, satisfaction, and glory.
"Congratulations Elizabeth it took a great shot to beat me, but you need to be more careful about your behavior around that boy." Mrs. Ravenel said in her typical arrogant manner while nodding toward Blaze.
"Oh Peggy It was just the thrill of the moment. I was so excited about my shot. Your such a good player and I never expected to win," she said secretly pleased with herself as they parte d ways.
She paid Blaze double the usual fee. "The extra is for your help with the match. Do you need a ride home?" she whispered while holding his hand."
Looking longingly into his brown eyes she thought, please say yes, I want to give you a real reward.
"That would be nice but do you think that's a good idea?" He asked looking around and thinking about the possible ramifications for both of them.
No, no, no don't agree to that. You know the kind of trouble you can get your black ass into. Accepting a ride from a white woman is dangerous in a small South Carolina town, his conscious thought. Her behavior hasn't been normal. She's acting like a teenager with raging hormones. Think of a reason to say no.
"This is the Twenty-first Century Blaze. I'm giving you a ride," she said while thinking, hopefully the ride of his life.
"How soon are you going to leave?"
"I'm going to shower and change my clothes."
"Okay, I'll be able to do the same. Where should I meet you?
"I'll pick you up at the portico."
"I don't think that's a good idea Mrs. Whitney, it's too public a place. How about the entrance to the parking lot?"
"Blaze you're so sweet thinking of my reputation. Okay I'll pick you up there in about twenty minutes."
He wasn't thinking only about her reputation. If the wrong people saw them together he could be in deep shit.
His conscious was relieved, he had suggested the change of location, but still thought accepting a ride was a bad, even a dangerous idea.
* * *
A light blue Lexus paused at the entrance to the parking lot and Blaze jumped into the passenger's side of the car.
