The enigmatic Russ remained a mystery until the very end.  No one had ever known where he came from or anything substantial about his background.  He preferred it that way and insisted on keeping his story confidential.  The night Doc died was the last time anyone saw Russ – he left the club that night after closing up the bar and never returned.  The club’s bookkeeper was at a loss as to how to handle his last paycheck.  Russ had always wanted to receive his checks and tax information at the club where he worked and somehow arranged to have the previous bookkeeper record the club’s address and phone number as his place of residence.  She had no way to mail him his final check.  Jack suggested that – in the event Russ might return one evening after the business office was closed – the bookkeeper put his check in an envelope with ‘Russ’ typed on the outside and slip is on the second shelf of the bar between some bottles of liquor.  Everyone knew where it was and anyone could hand it to him should he return.  He never did.  The envelope containing the check was allowed to remain indefinitely – it was the source of memories – myth and legend – and it became a permanent part of the club lore.  The stories of Russ were intertwined with those of Doc and Doug, ‘Rhythm’ and ‘Torque’, Th’ Foursome and, of course, Ms. Lisa.

Kathryn came to town on a Saturday morning and went to the club.  It just happened that this was a weekend that Chip was visiting.  As was their custom, Jack, Chip and Michael were standing around the pro shop making small talk.  The door to the Pro Shop opened slowly and Kathryn stepped through.  Looking at the three – scanning slowly back and forth to try to identify them – Kathryn said, “Hi – I’m Doc’s daughter, Kathryn.”  Chip’s jaw dropped and the breath was sucked out of his chest – this could be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  Chip was frozen.

Jack stepped up and said, “Nice to meet you.  I’m Jack – and his is Chip – the one with his jaw hanging – and Michael.  We have known your Dad for a long time.  We all played golf with Doc that day he –“

“Died,” Kathryn added.  “It’s okay to say, ‘the day he died.”  Pause.  “Well – it’s nice to meet you – I’ve heard a lot about you.”  No one knew what to say next, so Kathryn kept the helm of the conversation.  “I came to get Doc’s clubs – you called – remember?”

Jack responded, “Yes – of course.  Michael – would –“

“Got it!” Michael answered reflexively.  He brought the clubs from the back room and stood the bag up in the middle of the room.  “I’ll be happy to carry them to your car, if you like.”

“That’s okay,” Kathryn said as she stared at the bag thoughtfully for a moment.  She reached over and withdrew the seven iron from the bag.  She placed the head of the club on the floor and took a perfect grip on the club.  Jack was taken aback mildly.  He asked, “Nice grip.  Do you play?”

“Not really.  Doc showed me how to grip the clubs many years ago.  I used to hit range balls with him from time to time – but not very often.”

“You haven’t played here before, have you?  I think I would remember.” Jack asked.

‘No – not here – but Doc talked about Seven Pines a lot. As you know – he really loved playing golf – and, from all he said about it, I think this was his favorite place to play.”

“We like to think so,” Jack said with a proud grin.  “Tell you what – if you have a little time, why don’t we go up to the driving range and let you hit a few balls?  Just for fun.”

Kathryn hesitated a moment then replied.  “Okay – could be fun.  I have time.”  She noticed the head cover on the driver and asked, “What’s this all about?”

“Oh, that’s ‘Georgie Bou’ – your Dad’s head cover for his driver,” Jack answered.

Kathryn was astute. “I think there must be a story behind this.”

“Oh, yes,” Jack answered.  “A long story – I’ll tell you about it some time.”

As Jack was about to lift her golf bag to carry it out to the driving range, the bartender stuck his head through the door and called out. “Jack – don’t know why it’s in here, but there is a phone call for you – they didn’t want to wait for me to transfer it in here.   Can you take it?”

“Sure”.  Looking at Kathryn he said, “I’ll be right back and we can head out.”

That was Chip’s cue.  “I’ll get her started, Jack.”  He moved forward swiftly and with one unbroken motion grasped the bag and hoisted it effortlessly onto his shoulder.  He held the door open for her and they headed to the driving range.  Fascinated by the events unfolding in front of him, Michael followed – a respectable distance behind.

Without looking back, Chip called out gently, “Michael -.

“Got it!”  Michael knew that Chip was asking him to go back and get a bag of range balls.

They stood on the driving range.  Chip bent over and placed a ball on a tee in front of Kathryn.  She looked at the ball, then at Chip.  She raked the ball off the tee with the head of her seven iron and rolled it onto a tuft of soft turf.  She took her stance. Chip was just saying, “You’ll find it easier to hit off the tee than-“ as Kathryn took her swing, struck ball before turf and sent it about one hundred-fifty yards down range – straight with a very nice arc.  Chip’s eyes followed the flight of the ball until it landed.  He jerked his head back to Kathryn in disbelief.  “Can you do that again?”

Without speaking, Kathryn pulled another ball over in front of her with he club and took her stance.  With little hesitation, she took another swing – this time a bit longer take away and even better weight shift.  The ball traveled as before – nearly one hundred-sixty yards – and straight.  “I thought you said you didn’t play,” Chip said.

“I don’t.”

When she finished the bag of balls, Jack stepped forward.  “Wow – Kathryn – I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be.  Doc always said that it was easy hitting range balls but a lot harder to play an actual round of golf.”

“That’s true but if you don’t hit the ball well here, you’re going to have a tough time out there.”

“I suppose.”

As Kathryn was returning her club to the bag, Jack offered, “You should think about taking the game up seriously.  You could become a very low handicapper.”

With that Kathryn paused, placed her hand ion ‘Georgie Boy’ and gave him a tossle.  Her back was to Jack, she turned to look at him over her right shoulder.  With a grin she said, “Doc always said that golf was about more than posting a low score or earning a low handicap – a lot more.”  As she finished her sentence, an intense sparkle emanated from her right eye that nearly caused Jack’s heart to stop.   She reached for the strap on the bag and noticed that Chip was about to do the same.  Without looking at him, she held out her left hand as if to say ‘no thank you’ and lifted the bag smoothly onto her right shoulder and walked to the parking lot.

Jack and Chip could not take their eyes off her.  “That’s a hell of woman!” Chip proclaimed.

“Got that right,” Jack echoed.