I waved toward the pictures, evidence for my conviction. “You done had enough for the both of us.” I aimed a finger at her ginormous belly that held babies six and seven. “And you keep spittin’ them out every time I turn around. Seriously, you and Pa need to apply that part about controlling your urges that you shared with me in the birds and bees talk. Time to slow down on some things, missy.”

Her smile returned as she set into having one of her laughing spells. Holding her belly with both hands, she managed to say, “You keep getting me tickled like this and these two will be arriving early.”

“Only two more weeks. They got to be about ready anyway.”

“I’m ready to be out of this bed.” She readjusted, lying more on her side, but the grimace that flashed on her face gave away the fact that she was miserable.

When the doctor had diagnosed Mama with preeclampsia —a word I’d never heard before —I’d ridden my bike into town and had Miss Jones at the library help me find a book about it. I ended up with a book about pregnancy that covered conception to birth to complications. Reading it from cover to cover, I learned things I wished I could unlearn. I also knew that calling that entire natural process beautiful was a crock of bull. Nothing floral about it. Mama could shine that mess up, sprinkling flowers and pretty words on it all day long, but I wasn’t falling for it.

“You’ll change your mind.” She pulled her waist-length hair, the color of sand and sunshine, over her shoulder and began braiding it. The only times I’d ever seen her wearing it in any style other than down and free was when she was sewing tobacco or cooking. Seemed the last stages of pregnancy was the other exception. “I predict you’ll have at least three children of your own one day.”

“What? You a fortune-teller or something?” I rolled my eyes.

“No, sassy-pants. But I heard there’s one at the fair. Perhaps you should pay her a visit. See what she says.” Mama giggled, the real sassy-pants in the room.

I stood, sending out a creak from the brass bedframe, and pulled the piece of mail from my back pocket. “This came today.”

Mama took it and opened what I already knew to be a map and began unfolding it. “It’s Tennessee!”

I peeped over the edge of the giant rectangle she held with both arms spread wide. “Have you thought about backup names just in case you’re wrong like last time?”