The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(76)

“I’ll get the flashlight,” Patricia said, turning to go back inside.

“No,” Carter said. “He’ll come home the minute he’s cold and hungry.”

“What if he gets to Coleman Boulevard and someone offers him a ride?” Patricia asked.

“Patty,” Carter said. “I admire your imagination, but that’s not going to happen. Blue is going to wander around the Old Village and sneak back home in an hour. He didn’t even take a jacket.”

“But—” she began.

“I do this for a living, remember?” he said. “I’m going to run to Kmart and pick up some new phone cords. He’ll be back before I am.”



* * *



—

He wasn’t. After supper, Patricia kept clearing out the kitchen cabinets, watching the numbers on the microwave clock crawl from 6:45, to 7:30, to a minute after eight.

“Carter,” she said. “I really think we need to do something.”

“Discipline takes discipline,” he said.

She pulled the garbage cans around to the front porch and dropped the air popper and the old ice cream maker into them, and unhooked everything from the saltwater fish tank and put it in the laundry room sink to dry. Finally, the microwave clock read 10:00.

I won’t say anything until 10:15, Patricia promised herself, stuffing old cookbooks into plastic Harris Teeter bags.

“Carter,” she said, at 10:11. “I’m going to get in the car and drive around.”

He sighed, and put down the paper.

“Patty—” he began, and the phone rang.

Carter got there before Patricia.

“Yes?” he said, and she saw his shoulders relax. “Thank God. Of course…uh-huh, uh-huh…if you don’t mind…of course…”

He showed no sign of hanging up, or even telling her what was happening, so Patricia ran to the living room and picked up the extension.

“Korey, get off the phone,” Carter said.

“It’s me,” Patricia said. “Hello?”

“Hello, Patricia,” a smooth, low voice said.

“James,” she said.

“I don’t want you to worry,” James Harris told them. “Blue’s with me. He came by a couple of hours ago and we’ve been talking. I told him he could chill here but he had to tell his mom and dad where he was. I know you guys must be tearing your hair out.”

“That’s…very kind of you,” Patricia said. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” James Harris said. “I don’t want to meddle in your home life, but he’s asked to spend the night. I have a guest bedroom.”

James Harris and Carter had drinks at the back bar of the Yacht Club once a week. They went dove hunting with Horse. They’d taken Blue and Korey night shrimping at Seewee Farms. He’d even had supper with them five or six times when Carter was out of town, and every time she saw him, Patricia didn’t think about what she’d seen. She made herself remote, and cool, but pleasant. The children adored him, and he had given Blue a computer game called Command something for Christmas, and Carter talked to him about his career, and he had opinions about music that Korey actually tolerated, so Patricia tried. But she still didn’t want Blue in James Harris’s house alone overnight.

“We don’t want to impose,” Patricia said, her voice high and hard in her chest.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Carter said. “We could use the time to let the air clear.”

“It’s no worry,” James Harris said. “I’m happy to have the company. Hold on a minute.”

There was a pause, a thump in her ear, and then Patricia heard her son breathing.

“Blue?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

“Mom,” Blue said. She heard him swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”

Tears spiked Patricia’s eyes. She wanted him in her arms. Now.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” she said.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you and I’m sorry for what I did to Rufus,” Blue said, swallowing, breathing hard. “And, Dad, if you want me to take the test, James says I should.”

“I want what’s best for you,” Carter said. “Your mom and I both do.”

“I love you,” Blue said in a rush.

“Listen to your Uncle James,” Carter said, and then James Harris was back on the phone.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with,” he said. “You’re both sure this is fine?”

“Of course it is,” Carter said. “We’re very grateful.”

Patricia took a breath to say something, and then stopped.

“Yes,” she said. “Of course it’s fine. Thank you.”

This was better for her family. James Harris had proven himself so many times. He’d talked her son around from quivering with rage to telling her he loved her. She had to stop dwelling on something she thought she maybe remembered from so many years ago.

It’s not such a big thing, she said to herself, to ignore some crazy, terrible idea you were once convinced was once true in exchange for all this, for the dock, and the car, and the trip to London, and your ear, and college for the children, and step aerobics for Korey, and a friend for Blue, and for so much of everything. It isn’t such a bad trade at all.