My Duplicated Husband novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: Sunday Golf

The Marlow Point golf course ran down to the lake, and on Sunday morning it was nearly empty.

I sat in the passenger seat of the cart with a thermos of coffee and watched my husband try to hit a ball.

He was using the sheriff's spare clubs.

They were right-handed, and Lorne had flipped his stance to the left and refused to be told it was wrong.

The first swing took a divot the size of a dinner plate.

The ball went about nine feet.

"Strike one," the sheriff said gravely.

"It's golf. There aren't strikes."

"There are today."

The sheriff wore a flannel shirt and a plain cap.

The badge was gone from his belt, and the holster too.

He stood in the grass and watched the divot with his hands in his pockets.

"He never once missed a putt," he said, and his voice cracked on the joke.

"Eighteen holes, three years of Sundays. I thought he was the best golfer in the county."

"Rory was right-handed," Lorne said, taking his stance again. "He took lessons at fifteen."

"I spent those summers in the boat shop," Lorne said.

The second ball sliced into a pond.

The sheriff laughed.

It was a big, startled bark, and he put his hand over his face and kept laughing until he was wiping his eyes.

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