“Quinn knew what he was getting into when he married Maggie,” Caddy said. The boys ran backward in the ninety-five-degree heat, the sky turning a soft pink and blue over the metal visitors’ stands across the field. “That’s why I’m glad I never had to mess with an ex-husband or some dumb ass who wants to get to know his son years later. No, ma’am. Jason is all mine.”

Caddy knew her mother wouldn’t follow up. As much as she adored her grandson, she’d only asked once who his father might be. The hard truth of it was even Caddy didn’t know, the boy born in a wild, spun-out fucking kaleidoscope time in Memphis filled with Jack Daniel’s, little white pills, and boys. House parties and lap dances and waking up in places she never knew she’d visited. There had been a garage rock drummer, a boxer, two pro wrestlers, but all those she’d ruled out on account of Jason being half black. Caddy Colson returned home damn-near ten years ago to Tibbehah County toting a black baby and everyone wanting to know her business. But she’d gotten clean and straight after a couple of tries and God could’ve never blessed her with a better son than Jason.

“How’d you enjoy the fair?”

“It was hot,” Caddy said. “Boys didn’t want to leave. They spent all day running around without shoes in all the dust, chasing Hondo and living off hot dogs and funnel fries.”

“You think Jason is fast on account of him being part black?”

“Momma, that’s so wrong.”

“Well, tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing,” her momma said. “I mean, he didn’t get that speed from our side of the family. It’s why Quinn ended up in the recruiting office instead of signing with Ole Miss.”

“Quinn ended up in the recruiting office because he couldn’t stay out of trouble,” Caddy said. “Uncle Hamp gave him two options, jail or the Army. Do you really think he had a choice?”

“Look at those little boys run,” Jean said. “My two grandboys. I couldn’t be any prouder.”