Hole in One

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

Tournament Day 1

“Yes!” Greg Thorenson raised a fist to the sky in celebration and jerked it back down with a pulling motion, elbow bent.

He’d been so intent on his play in the tournament he hadn’t noticed the unexpected mass of thick gray clouds as they’d darkened and crept across the sun. Only the welcome lessening of the intense desert heat had broken through his concentration. He’d already sent his ball rolling toward the cup on the eighteenth green when a thunderclap rattled the earth and rain pounded grasses and trees with sudden ferocity. Holding his breath, he’d watched as his ball trembled with the powerful roll of thunder, then continued on a steady path, spraying water as it journeyed toward the target. Delight blossomed in his chest as he watched it drop into the hole with the distinctive hollow plop-and-rattle of a ball hitting the bottom of the cup and dancing the circle of the walls inside before suddenly dying into stillness.

“Great putt! I think we both made the cut.” Howard Roland extended his hand and spoke in a soft, southern drawl. That meant they would both move on to the next, and final, round. They’d been paired for this one, and he’d finished before Greg.

Greg looked at the genial face and lean frame of his partner for the day. “Thanks for the game. You played well, man.” This was the first time Greg had hit with the slender North Carolinian, but he’d liked him from the first tee-off. Roland was pleasant, had kept score honestly, and was a true sportsman. They grinned as they shook hands.

“I’ll never shoot as well as the famous Mr. Thorenson, but I’ll take it.”

Arnie Smith, Greg’s longtime caddie, approached them. Raindrops covered his graying hair and shoulders. “Good going, you two, but we need to get out of this storm. Lightning’s moving this way, and they’ve closed the course. They’re taking the remaining players in by cart.” He reached for Greg’s putter, and the pro readily released it to him. Arnie dried the club and slipped it into the huge black bag that was his major responsibility, then covered it with water resistant fabric matching the case.

For the first time, Greg took in the wet smell of rain tinged by the sharp scent of distant lightning strikes. Carts had rolled up as they were speaking, and they climbed on for the short ride to the elegant clubhouse of the Oasis Country Club, sanctioned for this competition by PGA West.