“But this can’t have much freedom.” Pa spread his arms wide and we all took in the flashing lights and chaos of the fair. “Don’t ya wanna plant some roots with your queen? You’d even have your own house and a piece of land to do it with. Us meeting is a divine appointment, my friend. Don’t ya see that?”

They kept right on going round and round until the fair was shutting down for the night. After the Deverauxs agreed to think about it and Pa left them directions out to the farm, Pa bowed his head and prayed for God to lead Foxy and Jinx to us. When I lifted my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a smile tugging at Foxy’s lips. It looked like she was in agreement but she didn’t put any words to it. Only time would tell.

We began walking off, but I whirled around and asked, “Where are you from, Mrs. Foxy?”

“New Orleans,” Foxy answered, and I knew Mama was going to love that answer.

I waved, almost losing one of those darn bottles, and turned to catch up with my family. It was a little chilly on the ride home, but I was too hyped up for it to bother me. Life was so routine that something as ordinary as meeting someone new was extraordinary to not only me but the rest of the Foster clan. We were all chatty, Boss and I leaning through the open back glass of the truck to talk about it with the others, all the way to the farm.

As soon as Pa pulled up to the house, I cradled the awkward bottles to my chest and jogged straight up to tell Mama about Foxy and her rad costume. Each hurried step made the bottles clang together, ringing out a warning of my imminent arrival. I collected all the details to share with her, hoping not to forget anything. I knew how easy it was for a moment to get tangled up, some parts shifting while other parts faded like sneakers left in the sun too long, until a memory was only a muddled reflection of the truth.

I barreled through the door to share one memory only to collect another one I would spend years distorting, reshaping, and wanting to forget. My arms went limp, glass shattered, liquid soaked my feet, and my throat burned from the scream ripping through me.

One blue baby on the bed, strangling on a whimper.

The other baby weakly crying where he was nestled in my mother’s lifeless arms.

The daisy wilted and tangled in her sweaty hair.

A stream of crimson leading away from my mother’s still body.

The Tennessee map on the floor, dotted with blood.

I instantly collected the details only to remember things we should have thought about before leaving for the fair.