Sloan shook his head. “No need for that.”

“How did I get in here?” Ginger finally asked.

“Sloan carried you.” Kate picked up the receiver of the old rotary phone from the end table. She tapped her foot as she waited for someone to answer and then said, “Hello, Dr. Emerson,” and then she went on to explain what had happened.

“I’m fine,” Ginger said over Kate’s conversation. “I’m terrified of snakes, and that thing wrapped its body around my leg, and . . .” She shuddered as the sentence trailed off.

Kate laid the receiver back on the base. “Okay, then. Dr. Emerson is out of town. Thank goodness he gave me his cell phone number for emergencies. He will see you on Thursday when he gets back, but for now you are to make sure the baby is moving at least every hour and drink lots of fluids and be careful where you walk.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” Connie said.

“What?” Ginger frowned.

“We have to be sure the baby is moving, so I’ll take the first watch through the night,” she explained.

“You ladies need to be fresh for Easter tomorrow. I’ll sit with her all night. I did lots of all-night guard duty in the service,” Sloan said.

Ginger slung her legs off the sofa and shook her head. “No one is sitting up with me. The baby is kicking right now, so it’s all right. I was scared out of my mind, and my leg began to cramp, and I thought Sloan would never cut through that ugly thing’s head, but it’s over now.”

Lord, have mercy! She had never had to hold her foot on a snake or fainted before, but she’d lived through equally harrowing situations. “I’m going to the kitchen to get a glass of sweet tea. Can I pour one for anyone else?” She stood up, and the room swayed a little before she got her footing.

“I’ll get the tea,” Connie said.

“You sit down and tell us all the details,” Kate demanded.

“Why don’t I tell y’all and we can give Ginger a break? I was hopin’ she couldn’t see anything from right above the snake.” Sloan stood in the middle of the living room, back straight and shoulders squared off like he was about to talk to his commander.

Connie headed to the kitchen with Betsy right behind her.

“Don’t you say a word before we get back,” Connie demanded. “Do you hear that?”

“Sounds like someone out on the porch,” Ginger said, hearing a scuffling sound.

Kate cocked her head to one side, then got up and went to the front door. She eased it open and said, “Tinker, you can come inside, but you leave that thing on the porch.”

As if he understood her, he raced into the house, went straight to the sofa, and jumped up onto Sloan’s lap. Ginger sat down on the other end of the sofa, and the dog moved over between them.

“He thinks he killed that snake, doesn’t he?” Ginger smiled.

Sloan scratched his ears. “He probably does, and we’ll let him think he’s a ferocious dog.”

Connie returned carrying a tray with five glasses of tea on it. “Y’all didn’t start without us, did you?”

Betsy came in behind her with a full pitcher. “I was afraid Connie would stumble and fall with a heavy tray. She’s not too steady on her feet.”

“Speak for yourself, Elizabeth Carson.” Connie shot a dirty look toward her sister.

“Elizabeth?” Ginger asked.

“Betsy is Elizabeth,” Kate said. “The name on my birth certificate is Katherine, and Connie’s is Constance. Mama thought we needed a dignified name in case we ever wanted to become doctors or lawyers, but she liked shortened names for what she called everyday livin’. Now that we’re all here, tell us this snake story.”

Just hearing the word made Ginger remember how that creature felt wrapped around her bare leg. With a shudder, she nodded toward Sloan. “You tell them. You were the hero.”

Sloan’s face went blank for a split second. Ginger had learned at a young age to read people’s expressions, and it had benefited her very well in her formative years. She’d learned to tell if a new foster mother or father was angry and how to sidestep the issue in whatever way she could. Sloan was remembering something bad, and it took him a minute to shake it off.

“Well.” He rubbed his chin and went on to tell the story, ending with, “I was just glad that Ginger stepped on it where she did and not halfway down the body, where it could have flipped over and bitten her.”

“Me too.” Ginger picked up a glass of tea and sipped it, then laid her free hand on her stomach. “The baby just kicked very hard. Matter of fact, I can tell that it was a knee or an elbow just by the way it feels. So he or she is fine, too.”

“She’s probably tellin’ you that she wants to meet all of us before you take her away to some other place,” Connie said.

Ginger moved her hand to the other side. “And there’s another one. I do believe that she likes sweet tea.”

“A true Southern lady.” Kate smiled.

“Now that I see you’re all right, I should be going.” Sloan picked up the last glass of tea and downed it with one long drink. “Thanks for the tea, and I’m right sorry about that scare.”

“Don’t be,” Ginger told him. “Like I said before, you’re the hero. You saved my life and my baby’s life and even kept me from falling. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. But one more thing—will you please throw what’s left of that snake across the road as you leave?” She stared at him and wondered if there was a Superman cape and outfit under his camouflage.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a slight nod as he stood up and headed to the door with Tinker right beside him.

“Well, now.” Connie sighed. “That’s a lot of excitement for old ladies.”

Kate’s index finger shot up in a blur. “Who are you callin’ old? None of us have earned that title, and for your information, baby sister, I don’t ever want it. I’m going to be young until the day I die.”

Ginger chuckled. “On that note, I’m going to go upstairs and take a long, soaking bath before I go to bed.”

“You be careful gettin’ in and out of that tub, young lady.” Connie shook a finger at her. “You could slip, and Dr. Emerson won’t be back until Thursday.”

“And I’m leavin’ on Monday, remember?” Ginger said.

“Oh, no!” Kate shook her head. “We can’t let you do that. Rule number two.”

Ginger drew her brows down and tried to remember the second rule on the list in the living room. “What’s that one?”

“Help people in distress,” Connie sing-songed.

“But I’m not in distress,” Ginger argued.

“You were when you fainted, and now we’re going to take care of you like Mama would if she was still here. You’re in no shape to be travelin’ on a bus.” Connie shivered. “Or hitchhiking. You never know about truckers. I watch them cop shows on the television. I’m going out on the porch for a cigarette. Lord only knows I need one to calm my nerves when I think about how near you came to bein’ snakebit.”

Ginger didn’t really want to leave, and it would be nice to have a doctor verify her due date and tell her what she was having . . . “Thank you, all, for letting me stay on a while longer. I appreciate it more than you realize.”

“You are very welcome.” Kate picked up the tray and headed for the kitchen. “I swear, Connie, Doc has told you at least a thousand times you need to stop that nasty habit.”

“And he’s told you”—Connie did a head wiggle that any dramatic teenage girl would envy—“that if you didn’t stop samplin’ your moonshine, you were going to get a bad liver.”

Ginger glanced over at Betsy.

The middle sister shrugged. “I don’t smoke cigarettes or drink. I will admit to havin’ a little joint before I go to bed at night, but I don’t buy it. I just grow a little in the backyard flower bed for personal use.”

“Hells bells!” Connie turned around and frowned. “She crossbreeds the stuff and has the best shit in the county, and, honey,” Connie whispered as if she were letting Ginger in on a big secret, “we ain’t had to pay money for groceries since the year after she went to Woodstock.”

Ginger wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond to that, so she just smiled. “Sounds like you’ve got the bartering system down pretty good.”

“Yep, we do,” Betsy said as she went upstairs. “And on that note, I’m going to my room. I’ll see all y’all tomorrow morning.”

“If Mama had been alive when Woodstock happened, she wouldn’t have let Betsy go.” Kate came back into the room. “But she’d passed years before that, and Betsy was determined to fly to New York and listen to the music. She came back telling us about smokin’ pot and how it made her feel. Six months later, she was growin’ it in the backyard. What could I say? I was making moonshine, and Connie had been smokin’ cigarettes for years and years.”

“I was just glad she didn’t come home pregnant,” Connie said. “Oh!” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to . . .” She trailed off.