The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - Grady Hendrix Page 0,8

In the fall of ’91, Kitty’s beloved Minnesota Twins made it to the World Series and she got Horse to chain-saw the two pine trees in their front yard and lay out a scaled-down baseball diamond in white lime. She invited all the members of their not-quite-a-book-club over to play a game with their husbands.

“Y’all,” Slick said, at their last meeting before the game. “I need to unburden my conscience.”

“Jesus Christ,” Maryellen said, rolling her eyes. “Here it comes.”

“Don’t talk about who you don’t know,” Slick shot back. “Now, y’all, I don’t like asking people to sin—”

“If baseball’s a sin, I’m going to Hell,” Kitty said.

“My husband, he…well,” Slick said, ignoring Kitty. “Leland wouldn’t understand why we read such morbid books in our book club—”

“It’s not a book club,” Grace said.

“—and I didn’t want to worry him,” Slick forged on, “so I told him we were a Bible study group.”

No one said anything for a full fifteen seconds. Finally, Maryellen spoke. “You told your husband we’ve been reading the Bible?”

“It rewards a lifetime of study,” Slick said.

The silence stretched on as they looked at each other, incredulous, and then they all burst out laughing.

“I’m serious, y’all,” Slick said. “He won’t let me come anymore if he knows.”

They realized she was serious.

“Slick,” Kitty said, solemnly. “I promise, on Saturday, all of us will profess a sincere and deep enthusiasm for the word of God.”

And on Saturday, they all did.

The husbands bumbled together in Kitty’s front yard, shaking hands and making jokes, with their weekend stubble and their Clemson logos and their Polo shirts tucked into their stonewashed jean shorts. Kitty divided them into teams, splitting up the couples, but Patricia insisted Korey be allowed to play.

“All the other children are swimming off the dock,” Kitty said.

“She’d rather play baseball,” Patricia said.

“I’m not going to pitch underhanded just because she’s a child,” Kitty told her.

“She’ll be fine,” Patricia said.

Kitty had a strong swing and on the pitcher’s mound, she threw lethal fastballs. Korey watched her strike out Slick and Ed. Then she was up at bat.

“Mom,” she said. “What if I miss?”

“Then you tried your best,” Patricia told her.

“What if I break one of her windows?” Korey asked.

“Then I’ll buy you a frozen yogurt on the way home,” Patricia said.

But as Korey walked to home plate, a bolt of worry shot through Patricia. Korey held the bat uncomfortably and its tip wobbled in the air. Her legs looked too thin, her arms looked too weak. She was just a baby. Patricia got ready to comfort her and tell her she tried her best. Kitty gave Patricia an apologetic shrug, then drew her right arm back and sent a fastball screaming at Korey in a straight line.

There was a crack and the ball suddenly reversed direction, sailing in a high arc toward Kitty’s house, and then at the last moment it lifted, soaring over the roof, over the house, coming down somewhere deep in the woods. Everyone, even Korey, watched, frozen.

“Go, Korey!” Patricia screamed, breaking the silence. “Run!”

Korey circled the bases and her team took the game, 6–4. Korey was at bat for every single one of those points.

* * *

—

Six months later, it became clear Miss Mary could no longer live on her own. Carter and his two older brothers agreed to take turns having their mother stay with them four months at a time, and Carter, being the youngest, took her first.

Then Sandy called the day before he was supposed to drive down and pick her up, saying, “My kids are too young to be around Mama when she’s confused like this. We want them to remember her the way she used to be.”

Carter called his oldest brother, but Bobby said, “Mom wouldn’t be comfortable in Virginia, it’s too cold up here.”

Harsh words were exchanged, and then Carter, sitting on the end of their bed, jammed his thumb down hard on