Excerpt
Prologue
IN 1974, THE City of Edmonton built five diamonds at the Southside Industrial Park, which backed onto Palm Dairy on the southern edge of town. They were built so the Ladies Fastball League could be moved, quickly and quietly, out of the McCauley neighbourhood and the city could build a stadium for the Commonwealth Games in 1978. The Commonwealth Stadium was going to be one of the city's crowning achievements, and after the Games, the Edmonton Eskimos, the local football team, was going to use it. But before that could happen, the city had to move the women and their softball out of the way.
All the diamonds at the Southside Industrial Park were originally supposed to be for women's softball. The park was also supposed to have a concession and bathrooms. It was supposed to be fantastic, so the women wouldn't feel so angry about having to move.
Of course, none of that panned out, exactly. Goldstick Park and men's baseball got the concession and washrooms, and two of the diamonds at Southside were designated for men. Diamond One was for baseball and Diamond Three was for men's softball. Diamonds Two, Four, and Five were built for the Ladies League. A league that fielded one hundred teams a year, and they got three diamonds.
I was dead, but even I knew a rip-off when I heard one.
MY BODY WAS buried just behind second base on Diamond Two in the spring of 1974, before the diamonds were finished. Before the city of Edmonton named the ball park John Fry, after a local politician and do-gooder. Before the lights and the shale were put in. Before everything.
The park was a cold, quiet place that year. All I could do was watch the workmen as they finished the diamonds and added the bleachers. Then, I sat in those newly built bleachers and wished that somebody would find me and get me the hell out of there.
I even had dreams, in those early days, about finding my family and somehow letting them know what happened to me. My parents must have been going out of their minds, wondering. It would have seemed to them that I'd fallen off the face of the earth. Like I hadn't cared how much I'd hurt them. Like I'd just walked away, without a backward glance.
But I couldn't find the gumption to leave that spot, and the dreams about my family faded. The living women showed up in the summer of 1975 and started to play softball, and my nightmares about how I died slowly faded, too.
Then the dead came, and all I thought about was softball . . .
I hadn't played softball growing up. Lots of girls did, but my parents didn't see what use a game like that would give me later in life.
"You need to learn how to type, and how to keep a clean house," they'd say to me. "So you can get a man."
That bit of advice is kind of what got me stuck at Diamond Two, if you want to know the truth. But that was ancient history. Better left buried. Just like me.
I learned to play from the other dead who came to the diamond after me. They'd known the game, loved the game, and wanted it to keep going. The diamonds were only used by the living twice a night for most of the spring and summer. We had the rest of the year to play our own games, whenever we wanted.
Until Marie Jenner wandered onto Diamond Two.
Then, it all blew up.