The Golfer

    This is a story about neglecting those we love. Sometimes we set our priorities on work, sports, addictions, or some other excuse. This story is a reminder that neglect carries a heavy price for those you love. 

    Everyone wants affection and love, and in this story the neglect of a father leads to a rather unusual response from his daughter. It also involves the issue of abortion for dramatic purposes and does not express my views one way or another.

   If you like this story and want to spread this important message, please share the story with your friends on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and other social sites. You may also suggest your pastor present this story in a sermon.

The Golfer

Mike Hatfield turned and squinted to line himself up perfectly.

    “It’s going to rain tomorrow, Mike; that means you better make the shot before we get drenched,” Benny said.

      “You’re just trying to rattle me because I’m the best golfer on this course. Hand me the #3 iron and I’ll show you how a pro makes a 200-yard shot,” Mike replied.

      “You should be using a #5 wood, Mike, you’re not that good.” Benny grinned.

      “Watch this, Benny boy.” Mike placed his golf ball on the Tee. After shuffling his feet and making a couple of practice swings, he hit the ball hard, watching it sail towards hole 14 before veering into the sand trap.

      “Nice slice,” Benny said, laughing.

      “The wind caught it.”

      “There’s not even a breeze in the air today, Mike – except for the hot air coming out of your mouth.”

      “I don’t need your sarcasm, Benny.” Mike lugged his golf bag to the sand trap and withdrew his pitching wedge. “Just watch how quickly I recover the ball.”

      Mike swung his club twice, raising a cloud of sand. On his third attempt he hit something besides sand. He got on his knees and dug at the sand with his hands.

      Then he saw it.

      “Oh, my God.” Mike fell backwards, yelling for Benny.

      “What’s wrong, did a snake bite you? Benny asked.

      “There’s a dead baby in here! Quick, dial 911.” Mike was breathing heavily and trembling.

     For once, Benny had a serious look on his face. He dialed 911 and gave the dispatcher their location at the east end of Greenacres Golf Course. The police showed up within 10 minutes, as did a homicide detective named Wesley Langford.

      “Okay, who found this” he asked, pointing to the fetus. The uniform cops were taking photos and placing a yellow crime scene ribbon around the sand trap.

      “I did, detective. I was trying to knock my golf ball out of the sand when I uncovered it. My name’s Mike Hatfield, and my golfing buddy here is Benny Sanders.”

      Detective Langford checked their driver’s licenses and wrote down the identifying information. “Here’s the skinny, gentleman: I’ve called the forensics team to sift through this sand trap for any evidence on who might have buried the fetus and whether there are additional bodies in here. Right now, it looks like somebody aborted their baby and dumped it, but we must treat this as a possible homicide until we find the mother. That is, assuming she wasn’t also killed.”

      “Abortion is homicide, detective” Mike was a vocal opponent of abortion.

      “Not according to the Supreme Court, Sir.

      “The Supreme Court can go to hell, as far as I’m concerned.” Mike’s face was red with rage.

      “I’m not here to debate the issue, Mr. Hatfield. What I need you to do is come downtown to the police station and sign your statement. We’re located on Oak Street.”

      “No problem, detective. Benny and I will pack it in for today; I can’t concentrate, anyway.” Mike got in his car and followed detective Langford to the police station. He was still angry over the murder of an unborn child – a human being discarded like trash. He felt that only a monster could do such a thing.

      Mike followed the detective to his office and signed an affidavit detailing his discovery of the dead fetus. When he stood to leave, Langford suggested.

      “Mr. Hatfield, I told the Chief how upset you were over the abandoned fetus. He’s a trained counselor who’s dealt with the abortion issue for twenty years as a trained counselor. He’s willing to see you.”

      “Lead the way,” Mike said.

      The Chief’s office was at the end of the corridor. After knocking, detective Langford opened the door and introduced Mike Hatfield before leaving. The Chief was finishing a phone call and motioned for Mike to sit down. “Good evening, Mr. Hatfield. I’m Gordon Franklin, the ostensible chief of police in this little burg.” He extended his hand across the desk to shake. “Detective Langford filled me in on your gruesome discovery at the Greenacres Golf Course, Mr. Hatfield.”

      “Gruesome is correct,” Hatfield replied.

       “Despite the legalization of abortion, we’re still finding abandoned fetuses and half-alive bodies in garbage dumpsters, on hospital steps, and even in sewers. Usually they’re dumped by teenage girls who don’t want their parents to know they had an abortion; they simply don’t trust the abortion clinics to keep their parents from knowing about it.”

      “I support laws that force abortion clinics to tell the parents,” Hatfield said.

      “If you do that, there will be more back-room abortions with coat-hangers and deaths.”

      Hatfield changed the argument. “Chief, I can’t understand how the Supreme Court can legalize the murder of some 50-million babies in this country,” Mike said.

      “We don’t make the laws, Mr. Hatfield.”

      “The Supreme Court isn’t supposed to make laws either. That’s what they do when the overturn state laws and replace it with their opinion.” Mike stood up and banged his fist on the Chief’s desk.

      “Calm down, Sir. Let’s discuss the abortion issue for a second. I’m not taking sides, but the arguments for legalized abortions make sense for many people.”

      “Murder makes sense?” Mike asked, sitting back down.

      The Chief frowned. “The laws define murder, Mr. Hatfield, and the argument is that an unborn fetus is not a ‘person’ within the meaning of the Constitution or state law.”

      “Yeah, well how come the Supreme Court ruled that corporations are persons? That’s not in the Constitution.”

      “Well, that’s another issue.” The chief leaned back in his chair, stymied by the point Hatfield made.

      “No, it isn’t, corporations are fictional entities. They don’t exist. But an unborn baby is a living, growing person within the meaning of common sense...and God’s law, I might add. What’s more, if I shot a pregnant woman in the belly and killed her fetus, you’d charge me with a double homicide: murdering her and her baby!” Mike banged his fist on the desk so hard the pencil holder bounced and tipped over.

      “Stop banging on my desk.” Chief Franklin wondered if Hatfield should be placed on a government watch list.

      “I’m sorry, chief, but the Supreme Court is an accessory to murder, and congress is a coconspirator for going along with their rulings.”

      “Can I finish what I was saying?”

      “Yeah, go ahead,” Mike said, “but I’ve heard all the bogus arguments before.”

      “Maybe you haven’t heard this one: If the government can tell a woman she must have a baby, then it empowers the government to say you can’t have a baby. You know, like in China where they crush the skulls of live babies as they exit the womb.”

      “And like here, chief. Our 44^th president voted three times to legalize partial birth abortions.”

      “That hasn’t been legalized in our country.”

      “Yet.”

      “Hopefully never,” the chief replied.

Hatfield drove home, fuming at the decadent society he lived in. At least he’d raised his own daughter properly. She’d arrived home from college last night and was at the dinner table eating a sandwich when he came in. “Hello, Jessie, sorry I’m too late to take you out to a real dinner, as I promised. For starters, I sliced my golf ball in a sand trap, and...” Mike’s voice trailed off in mid-sentence. No point in discussing the fetus while she was eating. “So, how’s my one and only today?” 

      Jessie didn’t answer.

      “I asked you a question, Jess.”

      “I’m ecstatic,” she replied. “I like being neglected.”

      “I wasn’t neglecting you, Jess, I got tied up with some police business.”

      “You’ve neglected me all my life d-a-d-d-y.”

     Despite the brave front she put on, her hand was shaking from the confrontation. He saw it and decided to explain his late arrival.

      “Jess, I found a fetus in the sand trap.”

      “I now, I put it there.”

      “You did what?” Mike thought he misunderstood.

      “I said I put the fetus in the sand trap. Since you live on the golf course, I figured that’s one place you’d be sure to find it.”

      “You had an abortion?”

      “Not me, it belonged to my college roommate.”

      “Why in the world would you bury it in the sand trap for me to find; you know I’m opposed to abortions.”

     “It’s a message for you. You’ve preached against abortion all these years, yet you’ve neglected me all these years. You spend all your time on that golf course or watching some stupid ball game. I’m alive dad, but for all practical purposes I was aborted by you at birth.”

      Jessie could not contain her emotions any longer. She dropped her arms and head on the table, sobbing uncontrollably. Mike put his hand on her shoulder; he wasn’t even capable of comforting her with a hug and suddenly realized he never had.

      “I’m sorry, Jess. Maybe unconsciously I blamed you for Martha dying during childbirth. I guess I sought refuge in sports.” Hatfield realized what a fool he had been. “We can start over, Jess, I’ll spend all my time with you from now on.”

      Her chest was heaving as her lungs gasped for more air. She ran to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. Sinking to the floor, she leaned back against the door and wailed.

      “Let me in, Jessie, so we can talk this over,” Mike begged.

      “Don’t you want to know about the fate of my college roommate? Well, don’t worry about her, either, because she bled to death after a botched do-it-yourself abortion.”

      “I’m sorry, Jess.” Mike recalled his conversation with the Chief of police. “I’m sorry your roommate wasn’t raised properly.”

      Jessie’s sobs turned to anger. “You mean the way you properly raised me, Dad?”

      “Well, at least you knew better than to get pregnant,” Mike replied.

      “Yeah, I know better, but guess what? I’m pregnant too.”

      “Don’t joke with me Jesse,” Mike said.

      “I’m not joking. I met a boy who promised me the warmth and affection you never gave. He didn’t love me, either, he just used me.” She began crying.

      Mike felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Can we talk about it without this stupid door between us?”

      “There’s always been a door between us, dad, and there’s nothing to talk about anymore, just leave me alone.”

      Mike had never been this miserable in his life. Jesse was right, he’d neglected his own flesh and blood; it wasn’t much different than aborting a fetus. His own selfish interests had caused her pain she would never forget. Forgive, perhaps, but never forget. He went to bed but couldn’t sleep.

      The next morning, he knocked on her bedroom door. No answer. However, her car was still in the driveway, so she had to be inside. He knocked still harder. When she didn’t answer, he panicked and kicked open the door. Then he saw the noose around her neck; she’d hanged herself on the closed door and was turning blue when he grabbed her in his arms. It was the first time he’d ever hugged her. Her removed the noose and placed her on the floor for CPR. He took deep breaths and blew air into her lungs before dialing 911.

      Mike Hatfield rode with the paramedics to the hospital, praying for her life and asking her forgiveness for his neglect. One hour later, a doctor came out of the emergency room to deliver the news to Mike Hatfield.

      “She’s going to be okay, Mr. Hatfield – physically, at least, except for a raw neck. There doesn’t seem to be any brain damage thanks to your quick action, but we’re still running more tests.”

      “Thank God for that,” Mike replied, sighing in relief.

      “I assume you know she’s pregnant,” the physician asked.

      “Yes, I’m aware.” Mike hung his head down, embarrassed.

      “Luckily, the fetus is undamaged, as best we can tell. However, she is obviously suffering from emotional problems since she tried to commit suicide. She’s asked to see you, and I think it’ll be okay for a few minutes. Her throat is bruised, so she can only speak in a whisper.”

      Mike entered her room cautiously, expecting her to condemn him for his failure as a father; instead, she smiled feebly.

      “I love you, dad, and I’ll love my baby when it arrives. I choose life over death. I don’t know why I tried to kill myself; maybe it was to hurt you for the neglect. Anyway, I’ll forgive you for neglecting me if you’ll forgive me for such a stupid act. I know you love me, dad, I can see it in your eyes and the glistening tears running down your cheeks.”

      “Of course I love you, Jessie. I’ve just been a fool to not realize you’re the most precious thing in my life.”

      They hugged.

The End

Copyright © 2018-2019 by Ken Pealock