Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' (29 page)

Noelani, spot-lit from behind in
the heavenly glow from the sparkling window behind her, continued
in her coloratura performance, and Chris leaned to Alani in awe,
whispering, “Why
doesn’t
she sing professionally? My, God! She’s amazing!”
Alani merely gave a tiny nod in affirmation, her attention wavering
from the spectacle of her mother to the unrestrained admiration of
Chris. She wondered silently to herself if he would leap up in
applause at her conclusion.

Walter hovered over his putt,
smiling serenely at an easy 'gimme'. He tapped the ball with a
smirk, again looking skyward as he exclaimed softly, “Ha!” He bent
down to retrieve his small victory, only to find that it wasn’t
there. Walter glared into the empty cup and growled,
“Son-of-a-BITCH! You have
got
to be kidding- I do not BELIEVE this-!” and
gripped his new putter in disgust, clenching it tightly as if to
choke some modicum of compliance into it. “Fuck!” he spat, and
violently stuffed the offending club into the bag being held by the
tolerant and silent caddy.

The song wove on, the sound gliding and soaring
through the air by the combined virtuosity of musician and
vocalist, and Chris gazed around to those fortunate few who were
gathered to witness this minor miracle, nodding in sympathetic
agreement at their various reactions. The Priest, beaming and
proud; a woman of mixed and exotic heritage, fanning herself with a
colorful fan as she watched in rapturous attention; still another,
eyes closed in almost ecstatic delight, swaying slightly from side
to side as she listened. He looked to his left to Alani, now
noticing a trembling of lips and welling of tears as she looked to
her blessed mother with a look of deep and heartfelt love and
admiration. He took a stuttering breath and his vision blurred with
a burning of the promise of tears of his own as he reflected on his
own wealth of blessings over these most extraordinary of days.

Walter stood in silent
contemplation at the foot of his nemesis, the par-three
17
^th
where he had angrily resigned the day before. He took a deep
breath and exhaled a gusty sigh, and then extended his hand to his
silent accomplice, his gaze locked on the gently waving flag in the
distance as he said without looking, “…seven.”

Apparently quite the contrarian,
the ancient caddy handed him the
eight
iron. Glaring at it in
disgust, Walter handed it back angrily, “Damn it, I said
seven
- Don't you speak
English?” The old man remained resolute, insistently gesturing with
the offered club as he looked downrange to the tops of the palm
trees swaying in the distance. Walter gestured in vexation, his
hands out to his sides in appeal, “Oh my God! Just give me the
fucking seven, dammit!”

Shaking his head mournfully, the leathery face
slowly framing a frown, the ancient and wrinkled caddy relented and
traded clubs. Walter sighed in relief, “Thank you...” Wagging the
club over the ball, he took another slow, deep breath and then hit,
watching, immobile, his eyes riveted on the ball as he chanted
under his breath, “Go! Go! Be the club, be right! C'mon, come on,
come on...”

The ball took the tiniest of hops
on the gently sloping green and rolled slowly in a delicate arc
toward the hole. It stopped, perched tantalizingly on the lip,
and
dropped in.
Walter screeched in triumph, leaping into the air and
punching the sky in victory, “YEEEEAAAH!!!! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh,
yes!
That's
how
it's done!” Shaking his fist tauntingly at the heavens, he called
to the fickle gods of golf, “Take
that
, you bastards! You can't
take
that one
away!” Walter casually flung the victorious club into the
air, where again it found the unmoving hand of the ancient caddy,
and he strode off toward the scene of his victory with an air of
insouciance and swagger as a dull rumble of thunder accompanied him
off the tee box- applauding, or perhaps actually mocking, his
victory.

Walter strode onto the green like a vanquishing
hero, by-passing the ball nestled in the hole with a snort and a
nod of his head, and then continued to the far edge of the green,
standing with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out,
boldly staring out to the sea. A tiny glimmer of light from a
receding tide-pool caught his attention, and he glanced below his
feet to discover a miraculous sight. There, gleaming on the rocks,
water beading on its’ brightly chromed surface, was the very putter
he had flung away in anger just the day before. Walter’s eyebrows
shot upward, disappearing beneath the brim of his gray visor.
“Well, I'll-be-damned,” he mused, looking skyward with a crooked
grin, “Thank you very much…”

Walter lowered himself carefully over the edge of
the green, his metal spikes scraping noisily on the sharp, black
rocks below as he reached for the club. A near-by flash of
lightning and menacing rumble of thunder preceded the small wave
that crashed on the rocks at his feet, driving him back cautiously.
The water slowly receded, and again Walter reached for the
discarded putter. This time a slightly larger wave crashed below
him, this one splashing him with a drizzle of spray, once again
forcing an abrupt retreat. As the water foamed and receded,
Walter’s hand darted towards the club.

Suddenly, a sun-bright bolt of lightning blasted
from the sky, dividing into a two-pronged fork and blasting the
flag-stick, the ball and the cup into smoking ruin while
simultaneously exploding the putter on the rocks and fusing it into
a smoldering mass of twisted metal. Walter flinched and crouched
with his arms overhead in supplication, a hoarse cry of “HO-LY
SHIT!!” exploding from his lips as the deafening crash of thunder
punctuated his words.

As the thunder echoed off into the
distance, Walter slowly rose and turned, a murderous gleam of rage
in his eye as he looked at the small, smoking crater that was,
until two seconds ago, his victory over adversity. With froth
spraying from his lips, his face clouding over like a thunderhead,
Walter turned to confront the ocean and sky, only to see an
ENORMOUS GREEN WAVE
towering over him, a giant hand of fate that collapsed on top
of him with a thunderclap of sound, erasing the entire scene on the
green, and much of the green as well.

As the foamy remains of the
massive rogue wave rushed back to the sea, all that remained of
Walter was his ‘Matthews’ visor, swirling lazily in a rocky
tide-pool, a solitary shaft of sunlight glittering off its’
embroidered logo as it sank and disappeared. When it was gone, a
final, oddly silent flash of lightning illuminated the ancient
caddy standing quietly at the edge of the green. He slowly shook
his head in a mournful manner and opened a large black umbrella as
it gently began to rain, raising it above his head as he retreated
into the surrounding jungle. As he sauntered toward the trees his
body became oddly translucent, slowly fading and then
suddenly
evaporating
into a swirl of luminescent mist as he casually walked away
from the scene.

Noelani’s amazing solo concluded, and a brief
silence ensued- one perhaps even more profound than applause. Chris
looked on, unmoving even as he was profoundly moved, and a single
tear broke loose and slowly coursed down his cheek, the soft sounds
of distant bells wafting through the open windows of the church as
he silently and openly wept.

‘
Between’

T
he
church glowed brightly, indeed almost-
otherworldly
as the sunlight burst
through the thinning clouds, its’ white-washed surface gleaming,
newly washed after the passing rain. Church bells pealed loud and
bright from a dozen sources as a steamy mist boiled softly up from
the dampened ground. The multi-hued and multi-cultural milieu
contained within the church now spilled out of the doors, some
lingering to greet their pastor, others slowly filing off to attend
to their individual agendas.

Chris and Noelani walked arm in arm toward the
waiting car as Buddy and Alani followed close behind, nodding
greetings and trading waves with friends and strangers alike.

“
You really should sing
professionally,” Chris insisted to Noelani, who merely raised a
hand in protest. “No, seriously, I haven’t heard anything like
that. I don’t want to sound cliché, but that was
awesome!”