Free A Wedding in Truhart by Cynthia Tennent Page A

it’s the right way to hold your club. You want to stand like so,” he said as he showed me the basic golf stance. Unfortunately, he was leaning all wrong from the hips up. “Make sure to balance your feet and keep your head from bobbing as you swing.”
    Travis went into great detail. He explained how his shoes were the same ones Phil Mickelson wore and revealed how much they cost. If he thought that would help his stance he was an idiot. I tried desperately to look attentive as he continued. I held the club all wrong and Kevin corrected my grip and smiled at me when I did it right. Nick just leaned against the cart and glared. Fortunately, I was the only one who knew he was glaring. To everyone else he looked like he was sending me an encouraging smile. I barely heard Travis Hartwick as he continued with his tutorial. I kept thinking about Nick’s words. Why did he take everything so seriously?
    We waited patiently as Travis practiced a minimum of ten times before actually taking his shot. The shot faded slightly, which I could have predicted by the way he was standing. He marched back to the cart and said nothing.
    Kevin and Nick went next. They hit their balls in a nice arc and landed a good distance down the fairway. While Kevin demonstrated his swing, Nick did not acknowledge me in any way, but as he lined up to swing I couldn’t help peeking. His wide shoulders and trim backside made my mouth go dry. Even as annoyed as I was, Nick made me feel like a schoolgirl watching the quarterback from the bleachers. When he swung I was reminded of what a good athlete he had always been. Whether it was golf, football, or baseball, he was a natural.
    I swallowed and moved toward the ladies’ tee. I feigned worry as I looked back at the group behind me. “Am I going to be okay? What if I hit someone?”
    â€œDon’t worry, Annie, the group ahead of us is almost at the next hole. You’ll be fine. We’ll give you a few practice swings,” said Kevin.
    He walked over to me and stood behind me with his arms around my shoulders as he moved me through a swing. Richard made a comment about Kevin’s enthusiasm and I laughed nervously, glancing back at the carts. Nick was seemingly fascinated with his clubs and never glanced my way.
    Stepping back, Kevin encouraged me to try on my own. I slowly moved the club, getting the feel of the grip in my hands and adjusting to its length. Then I stepped back in place, gauged the ball with my driver, then readjusted for a miss, and swung.
    Afterward I looked down at the ball. It was still on the tee. “Oh no!”
    â€œDon’t worry, it happens to everyone, although you Northerners have a habit of over swinging and topping the ball, I must say,” said Travis. “Try again.”
    I tried two more times before I finally hit the ball. I wasn’t going for power at this point, just a nice easy swing. I struck the ball fairly well, I had to admit. It sailed forward and landed about ten yards behind Kevin’s ball, right in the middle of the fairway. I was pleased.
    A silence fell over the group behind me.
    â€œWow. That was pretty good, Annie.”
    â€œWell, I had great teachers,” I said, smiling.
    As we played the first few holes, I tried to keep it low-key and shot just to the right of the green. I found myself enjoying the challenge of purposely missing my target.
    My brother used to say that for people who sing well, it is really hard to deliberately sing off-key. But for golf, I found I could challenge myself to hit the ball at a different target, say ten yards to the right or left. It was kind of fun. For a little extra entertainment I found myself aiming for Nick’s ball. If we were playing croquet I could have knocked him right out of range into the lake near the third hole. For now I had to settle for a little amusement by getting in his way and messing up as much of his game as I could. He remained