“But you’ll give this all up soon.” Blocks was still talking. “Get married, have a family, won’t you?” he asked.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, no. Why would I give this up?” I swung around so quickly, I narrowly missed hitting him with the putter.
He jumped back and laughed a little. “You might scare off a lot of men, Jordan Baker. But personally, I like a powerful woman.”
“Oh, Blocks.” I sighed. And I wasn’t sure what else I could possibly say to the man and still maintain politeness. So I said nothing else at all. I shook my head, laughed him off, and turned my attention back to the golf ball.
* * *
“GOODNESS, THIS MAN is so annoying,” I whispered one evening on the telephone to Mary Margaret, exactly three weeks after Daisy’s wedding. “Blocks Biloxi who sells boxes, and to hear Daddy tell it you would’ve thought he knows how to spin straw into gold.”
She laughed in response, that deep-throated, husky laugh. It made me miss her desperately. And I felt a sudden surge of homesickness for my life in Charleston, for our little dorm room where we’d spent hours whispering after lights-out. It was funny how I’d longed for Louisville for so long, but now that Mary Margaret was in Charleston and I was here, Louisville didn’t really feel much like home to me any longer. Hearing her laughter now filled me with a simultaneous rush of happiness and sadness. I imagined her sitting in the hallway of our dorm, at the telephone, twirling a lock of her brown hair around her finger, pursing her pretty pink lips together as she talked. And I longed to be there right next to her.
At least I’d made Daddy install a telephone when I left for the tour last year, even though he’d complained it was really too expensive and he didn’t need one. It had allowed me to keep closer contact with him this past year, and now it was connecting me to Mary Margaret.
“Jordan, it’s so boring here without you,” she complained. “How about you cut your trip short and come back tomorrow?”
I sighed. “It’s only one more week, Ems.” She made a little bird noise on the other end of the line when I called her Ems. The nickname only I had for her. “And Daddy really doesn’t look well. He worries me.”
“But Daddy has Blocks to keep him company, doesn’t he?” I could tell from her tone she was teasing but I grimaced in response. “And I hear he’s just absolutely delightful.” She laughed again.
At the sound of her laughter, resonating all these miles across the line, I felt the tension ease in my shoulders a little and then I laughed too. What a ridiculous predicament I’d gotten myself into, all by being a good maid of honor.
We hung up a few minutes later, but I was still smiling as I walked downstairs for supper.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, I was half asleep when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. I sat up, worried Daddy was having a bad spell. “Daddy?” I called out. “Is everything all right?”
The door opened, but it wasn’t Daddy at all. Blocks walked into my room, shutting the door behind him, and dare I say, the man was almost completely naked, save his underlinen. “Blocks!” I whisper-yelled at him and turned my head away, covering my eyes loosely with my fingers. “What are you doing? Get out of here.”
“Jordan,” he said, ignoring me, walking closer to my bed. “You’ve been flirting with me for weeks. Playing hard to get.”
Laughter erupted from deep inside of me. I couldn’t stop it. It took me a moment to catch my breath, to realize he was being completely serious. “Oh, Blocks, I’m not playing hard to get.” I’d told him honestly from the get-go I wasn’t looking for a beau, and all my conversation confirmed that. I’d been polite, nothing flirtatious about it in the least. Was this about the putter?
He was next to my bed now, and he reached for my hand, pulling it roughly to his nether region, forcing my fingertips to graze the bulge beneath his underlinen. I tried to yank it away, but he held tight. “Jordan, come on,” he pleaded. “Don’t be shy.”
I was sure as hell not shy. And I was also fast, with better handeye coordination than almost any man, and certainly better than a goddamned box salesman. I slithered out of his grasp. He tried to grab for my hand again, but I dodged him.
I scrambled out of my bed and grabbed the first thing that caught my eye: the aluminum putter he’d given me. I wielded it above my head like a weapon now. “Get out,” I said. He stood there frozen, but he didn’t move. “Get out!” I shouted now, raising my voice so loud I probably woke my dear dead mama across town in the cemetery.
He stared at the putter, and then his face turned, like only in this exact moment did he understand I truly hadn’t been interested in him all along. He scrunched up his big blocky cheeks, and I almost felt bad for a second. But then without another word, he turned and scurried out of my room like a rat. As my door opened again, I caught the shadow of Daddy, lurking in the hallway.
I threw the putter aside, got back into bed, and buried my head in my pillows, mortified at what Daddy had heard. What he must think seeing Blocks run out of my room half naked. I couldn’t hear what Daddy said to Blocks, but he said something—both their voices were muffled through my pillows. Then footsteps on the stairs, and not even a few minutes later, the front door slamming shut.
“Jordan?” Daddy’s voice came softly from the hallway, and I reluctantly took my face from the pillows. He walked slowly into my room. His gait was uneven, and I could hear his breath rattling in his chest as he sat down on the edge of my bed.
“I’m sorry I woke you, Daddy.” I burned hot with a sudden rush of embarrassment, worried that Daddy might actually think I’d invited Blocks into my bedroom. “I didn’t ask him to come in here like that,” I added.
He nodded. “No… I’m sorry.” His words escaped slowly, breathlessly. “I should never have invited that man to stay with us.”
I sat up and gave Daddy a tight hug. “You were just being the kindhearted man you’ve always been,” I told him.
“I just thought… I just thought…” Daddy’s voice trailed off for a second. “He seemed like a nice enough young man at first. Daisy just got married. Maybe it’s your turn soon, too, Jordan? Otherwise, who’ll take care of you when I’m gone?”
For so many years Daddy had told me to focus on golf, and I had. But it seemed like there was something in him now that knew he might not be around much longer, that was driving him to act a little desperate. “Daddy, I don’t need a man to take care of me,” I reminded him. “That’s why you and I worked so hard to make sure I could make my own living with golf.”