The boys changed into their swimming trunks and I walked with them through Mama’s massive backyard, heading for the swimming hole in the bend of the river.
Funny how you can never be too intrinsically disordered when other people want you to babysit their kids.
“Noah’s going to hell,” Eli announced.
He was twelve and knew everything.
“Who said that?” I asked.
“Mrs. Parson.”
“Who’s that?”
“She’s our Bible study teacher. She says Catholics are going to hell.”
“Hell is other people,” I said.
“Catholics worship Mary,” he said knowledgeably.
“Do they?”
“That what’s Mrs. Parson says.”
“Good for her,” I said.
“Who’s Mary?” Josh asked. He was ten, a year older than Noah, and much brighter, I thought, than his brother. Or, at least, he was calmer and not so quick to offer blustery Bapt
