by Billy Coffey
Praise for Billy Coffey
“During the course of one fateful night—his first game in the Major League—Billy Coffey’s main character, Paul Owen, is confronted by his childhood love, aspirations, and regrets. Baseball fans will love the behind-the-scenes peek into a night game in the Major Leagues, but even non-baseball fans will be pulled into the beauty and tension of Coffey’s writing, the lovely and tragic Blue Ridge Mountain settings, and his compelling characters who make both selfless and heartbreaking choices. This is a powerful story of grief, love, forgiveness, and holy mystery, and I loved it. Billy Coffey is a master storyteller.”
—LAUREN DENTON, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE HIDEAWAY
“In one evening, a single baseball game, Coffey invites us into a lifetime. With lyrical prose and aching description, we join Owen Cross on a journey of love, loss, faith, the unexpected—and America’s favorite pastime.”
—KATHERINE REAY, AUTHOR OF DEAR MR. KNIGHTLEY AND A PORTRAIT OF EMILY PRICE
“As a life-long baseball fan, I’ve always wondered if I’d rather pitch that perfect gem, or hit one out of the park. With lyrical heartfelt prose, plenty of well-timed curveballs, and a father-and-son passion for America’s favorite pastime, Billy Coffey manages to do both in Steal Away Home.”
—JAMES MARKERT, AUTHOR OF THE ANGELS’ SHARE
“Poignant and moving, Some Small Magic is a beautiful tale of hope set against the backdrop of small-town Virginia, Tennessee, and finally the town of Fairhope. Coffey writes with purpose, each word set in just the right place, pulling readers into the novel with rich descriptions and full emotion.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4 STARS
“Some Small Magic is sweet, terrible, truthful, and breathtaking. Despite the absolutely hopeless conditions of his life and health, Abel believes magic can happen, and with a child’s belief he goes out on a dangerous journey to search for the most wonderful magic of all. In the end, he just might find it.”
—BOOK REPORTER.COM
“Unforgettable. Evocative as memory, haunted as the South. Some Small Magic is big story magic written on the heart. Don’t read if you’re not prepared to be broken and awestruck at once.”
—TOSCA LEE, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
“On one level, this novel continues a long line of appealing road books, as three adventurers hop trains, scrounge meals, and sleep in barns as they cross the rural South. But Some Small Magic is also a tale of a journey from doubt to faith, and from hardscrabble despair to the highest form of hope. It’s a vivid and compelling read, with characters so alive you expect them to step out of the pages and say hello. The final pages are so beautiful they hurt a little.”
—STEPHEN KIERNAN, AUTHOR OF THE CURIOSITY AND THE BAKER’S SECRET
“Rich, vivid language and description make up Coffey’s latest. Bobby’s voice is intense and rich. His flaws cause him to stand out against the colorful characters who surround him. An inventive, intricate plot, cleverly written and filled with humor, There Will Be Stars is a truly engaging, entertaining read.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4 STARS
“In the first line of the book, Coffey’s hillbilly narrator invites his accidental guest (that would be us, the readers) to ‘come on out of that sun’ and set a spell. The spell is immediate. We are altogether bewitched by the teller, by his lyrical telling, and by the tale itself, whose darkness is infernal . . . Everything is at stake in this battle between good and evil—including the identity of the narrator, revealed at last. To Christians and non-Christians alike, this roaring tale will leave a powerful mark.”
—BOOKPAGE ON THE CURSE OF CROW HOLLOW
“Coffey spins a wicked tale . . . [The Curse of Crow Hollow] blends folklore, superstition, and subconscious dread in the vein of Shirley Jackson’s ‘The Lottery.’”
—KIRKUS REVIEWS
“An edge-of-your-seat, don’t-read-in-the-dark book with amazing characters . . . Coffey takes readers on a wild roller-coaster ride without ever going over the top.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4½ STARS, TOP PICK! ON THE CURSE OF CROW HOLLOW
“Conjures a sense of genteel Southern charm . . . This creepy tale will delight enthusiasts of Tosca Lee’s Demon and other horror stories.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL ON THE CURSE OF CROW HOLLOW
“With lyrical writing and a rich narrative voice, Billy Coffey effortlessly weaves a coming-of-age story into a suspenseful, page-turning novel. In the Heart of the Dark Wood is a beautiful journey that takes the reader down a road filled with Southern gothic characters and settings, perfectly balanced with redemption and triumph of the human spirit.”
—MICHAEL MORRIS, AUTHOR OF SLOW WAY HOME AND MAN IN THE BLUE MOON
“Coffey pens a coming-of-age story about the tribulations of the heart that is profoundly believable. The dialogues between characters are intensely rewarding to follow, and readers will anticipate the danger ahead; they will not pull away from the novel until it is finished. Suspense and mysteries of spirit make for a winning combination for any reader.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4½ STARS, ON IN THE HEART OF THE DARK WOOD
“In Billy Coffey’s The Devil Walks in Mattingly, past misdeeds haunt a husband and wife in a way that blurs the line between the real world and something beyond. The sleepy town of Mattingly, Virginia, recalls Flannery O’Conner with its glimpses of the grotesque and supernatural.”
—BOOKPAGE
“Hailing from a small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains, author Billy Coffey has become quite the captivating storyteller, penning three books filled with rich prose and relatable characters. His fourth novel, The Devil Walks in Mattingly, tackles the themes of redemption, guilt, and sin as three people live with the knowledge of what really happen to a young man two decades earlier. The truth threatens to come out as the characters are confronted with consequences and haunted by their memories in a story that will hold your attention until the last page.”
—SOUTHERN LIVING
“Billy Coffey is one of the most lyrical writers of our time. His latest work, The Devil Walks in Mattingly, is not a page-turner to be devoured in a one-night frenzy. Instead, it should be valued as a literary delicacy, with each savory syllable sipped slowly. By allowing ourselves to steep in this story, readers are treated to a delightful sensory escape one delicious word at a time. Even then, we leave his imaginary world hungry for more, eager for another serving of Coffey’s tremendous talent.”
—JULIE CANTRELL, NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF INTO THE FREE AND WHEN MOUNTAINS MOVE
“This inspirational novel of sin and redemption is set in Mattingly, Va., a back-country village where the supernatural is as real as any reality. Coffey has a profound sense of Southern spirituality. His narrative moves the reader from Jake and Kate’s false heaven to a terrible hell, then back again to a glorious grace.”
—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY ON THE DEVIL WALKS IN MATTINGLY
“[A]n inspirational and atmospheric tale.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL, STARRED REVIEW OF WHEN MOCKINGBIRDS SING
“This intriguing read challenges mainstream religious ideas of how God might be revealed to both the devout and the doubtful.”
—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY REVIEW OF WHEN MOCKINGBIRDS SING
“Readers will appreciate how slim the line is between belief and unbelief, faith and fiction, and love and hate as supplied through this telling story of the human heart always in need of rescue.”
—CBA RETAILERS + RESOURCES REVIEW OF WHEN MOCKINGBIRDS SING
“Billy Coffey is a minstrel who writes with intense depth of feeling and vibrant, rich description. The characters who live in this book face challenges that stretch the deepest fabric of their beings. You will remember
When Mockingbirds Sing long after you finish it.”
—ROBERT WHITLOW, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE CHOICE
“When Mockingbirds Sing by Billy Coffey made me realize how often we think we know how God works, when in reality we don’t have a clue. God’s ways are so much more mysterious than we can imagine. Billy Coffey is an author we’re going to be hearing more about. I’ll be looking for his next book!”
—COLLEEN COBLE, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE INN AT OCEAN’S EDGE AND THE HOPE BEACH SERIES
“When Mockingbirds Sing is a mesmerizing tale about believing in the unseen. From the vividly etched small town to the compelling characters—torn between fear and faith—there is much to savor in Coffey’s story.”
—BETH WEBB HART, AUTHOR OF MOON OVER EDISTO
“When Mockingbirds Sing is a lovely, dark, fervent tale that grips and won’t let go. At some point, I entered its pages so fully, the sky opened up and gale winds blew outside. It’s that good.”
—NICOLE SEITZ, AUTHOR OF SAVING CICADAS AND THE INHERITANCE OF BEAUTY
“Some stories invite you in, but Billy Coffey’s When Mockingbirds Sing grabs you by the collar and embraces you flat out. Beautifully written with characters made of flesh and bone, Coffey haunts you with truth, compelling you to turn the page. His best book yet.”
—MARY DEMUTH, AUTHOR OF DAISY CHAIN
“An engrossing novel on so many levels. A story of mystery, hope, opening our ears in a way we can truly hear, and the choice of belief. Coffey has penned a captivating tale that will linger with you long after the final page is turned.”
—JAMES L. RUBART, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF ROOMS AND THE LONG JOURNEY TO JAKE PALMER ON WHEN MOCKINGBIRDS SING
“A modern-day parable featuring a cast of colorful characters, this story begs us all to step into the Maybe and have the faith of a child.”
—MARYBETH WHALEN, AUTHOR OF THE GUEST BOOK AND FOUNDER OF SHEREADS.ORG
“Billy Coffey’s When Mockingbirds Sing will touch your heart and stir your soul.”
—RICHARD L. MABRY, MD, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF STRESS TEST AND THE PRESCRIPTION FOR TROUBLE SERIES
Other Novels by Billy Coffey
Some Small Magic
There Will Be Stars
The Curse of Crow Hollow
In the Heart of the Dark Wood
The Devil Walks in Mattingly
When Mockingbirds Sing
Paper Angels
Snow Day
Steal Away Home
© 2018 by Billy Coffey
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible. Public domain.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Epub Edition November 2017 ISBN 9780718084455
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Coffey, Billy, author.
Title: Steal away home / Billy Coffey.
Description: Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas Nelson, 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017029802 | ISBN 9780718084448 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Baseball stories. | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3603.O3165 S74 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017029802
Printed in the United States of America
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For Dad, who taught me the love of the game.
Contents
Praise for Billy Coffey
Other Novels by Billy Coffey
Author’s Note
Pregame
Top 1
Bottom 1
Top 2
Bottom 2
Top 3
Bottom 3
Top 4
Bottom 4
Top 5
Bottom 5
Top 6
Bottom 6
Top 7
Stretch
Bottom 7
Top 8
Bottom 8
Top 9
Bottom 9
Postgame
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Author’s Note
The great thing about writing fiction is that very often you don’t need to make anything up at all, or that whatever needs to be made up can be fit neatly within the folds of reality. There was indeed a baseball game played between the Baltimore Orioles and the New York Yankees on June 5, 2001, followed the next night by a strawberry moon. While certain players and personnel of the Baltimore Orioles have been dramatized, the actual play-by-play is a matter of record.
I can well imagine myself sitting down that night seventeen years ago to watch Jason Johnson and Mike Mussina duel it out under the Yankee Stadium lights, just as I’m sure I stood on my porch the next night to watch that moon rise. Maybe that’s when Owen Cross stood up and began waving in some corner of my subconscious.
But there are times when I’m certain he’s been with me for much longer than that. No writer works from a blank slate. Every character and setting is in some way a reflection of the person who crafts them. That’s been true for all the characters in all of my books. Owen most of all.
It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone . . . Of course, there are those who learn after the first few times. They grow out of sports. And there are others who were born with the wisdom to know that nothing lasts. These are the truly tough among us, the ones who can live without illusion, or without even the hope of illusion. I am not that grown-up or up-to-date. I am a simpler creature, tied to more primitive patterns and cycles. I need to think something lasts forever, and it might as well be that state of being that is a game; it might as well be that, in a green field, in the sun.
—A. BARTLETT GIAMATTI
What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life . . . to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?
—GEORGE ELIOT
Pregame
-1-
June 5, 2001
We cross the river when I see in the rearview that the cabbie has something to say to me. His voice carries over the traffic and jackhammering and the bustle of the city: “You ain’t got a chance, you know that. Right? My guys, they’ll murder ya.”
I meet the old man’s eyes with my own.
“Always got your number,” he says, spinning the last word in that peculiar northeastern way—numbah. “Know why that is?”
“Luck?”
He grins.
The cab trundles on. Across the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge and an East River that seems at rest, its skin a brackish and polluted russet. Onward sits a mass of ball fields laid out in clover patterns. Infields more sand than dirt, grass the color of dying wheat. I think, Nothing can grow here but concrete.
I tip my head at the thin glaze of grime over the window. “How far’s it?”
“Forget about it”—Fahgetaboutit—�
��I’ll get you there.”
A tangle of brown walls and roofs rises to our right. The cabbie calls it Mott Haven. I see the Harlem River winding like a dirty thread past the maze of cars to our left.
“Where’d you get the call from?”
“Bowie,” I tell him.
“Yeah? For good?”
“Only tonight. Cup a coffee, then I’m back.”
“Well, enjoy it, mister,” he says. He’s got me by thirty years at least, but I let it go. “Greatest place to be in the greatest city in the world, that’s where we’re headed. I coulda made it. You know? Could be you.” He shakes his head. At the memory or the traffic, I cannot know. Then he adds, “Knees.”
The road dips into what looks like a tunnel, plunging the cab into dim evening. Exhaust trickles through unseen cracks. I wonder how anybody can breathe here. There are no woods. No hills. The only mountains are made of concrete and windows.
“Here, coming up on the right. End of the tunnel.”
The cab lurches upward toward sunlight. I press my head against the glass and the residue of a hundred hands. Through a copse of trees rises a curved façade of fading stone like a hand reaching heavenward. The size of it. I have never felt so far from home and so close.
“Yeah.” The cabbie laughs a smoker’s chuckle and tilts the cap back on his head. Watching me while maneuvering among cars. “You rubes. Crack me up. Haunted. You know? Whole place. Them ghosts rise up. Seen it a thousand times. October rolls ’round, they come. It’s our year.”
The façade winks from sight amid a jumble of buildings and roads and comes once more as we approach the exit ramp. Two words are writ large along the ring of its top, each letter dark blue and capped and spelling a dream. The green sign above the overpass says E 161 St Yankee Stadium Macombs Dam Br Next Right. The cab wheels rightward into the lane. At the curve, the building rises. Here trees and shrubs bloom in the June warmth.
I ask him, “You got any idea where I go?”
“’Round the side, that’s where I’ll take you. You ain’t the first rook I hauled up here. Won’t be the last.”