She knew what was happening.

“Helen,” she said.

Joy swept over her. She leapt to her feet and jogged through the brush and the straight pines. She left her flowers behind and made her way through undergrowth, fallen logs, and hanging vines. She ran so hard it felt like her heart was going to split.

When she neared the railcar, there were customers on the porch, standing in a clot. The group of gawkers had gathered near Helen’s door. Rachel cut through the men, making her way toward the water pump with a bucket in her hand.

When Rachel saw Marigold, she started crying. “It’s Helen,” Rachel said. “Something’s wrong.”

“Let me through,” said Marigold.

She muscled her way through the men. She saw Helen lying on her bed, a puddle of blood beneath her.

“Marigold,” said Helen, who was panting. “Help me.”

Forty-Five
O Little Child

“Call a doctor,” Marigold told Rachel.

“Doctor won’t do nothing for us,” Helen shouted.

“’Course he will. I’ll just send Rachel into town and call him. Rachel, don’t forget to tell him about all the blood.”

“Can’t,” said Helen. “He won’t come.”

“What?”

“He’s a Baptist deacon. We tried calling him for Chelsea’s broken ankle and he wouldn’t come.”

“What do you mean he wouldn’t come?”

“He just told us to leave him alone.”

“We need a doctor,” said Marigold.

“We don’t need no stupid doctor,” cried Helen.

“Yes, we do.”

“It’s too late for doctors,” said Rachel. “You’re gonna have to do it, Marigold.”

“Why me?”

“Because you are the only one who has ever had a baby,” said Laughing Girl.

“Fine, then get more towels!”

“Okay.”

“And another pillow!”

“Right.”

“And blankets.”

“Should she be drunk for this?” said Laughing Girl. “My mother was very drunk when she had me. She told me it was her first time being drunk, and my first time too.”

Helen let out a high-pitched scream. More blood was gathering beneath her.

“I can’t do this!” said Marigold. “I need a doctor or somebody.”

“Look, he’s coming!” Rachel hollered, pointing.

Marigold started to fall apart. She almost passed out when she saw the top of the little head.

Laughing Girl covered her mouth. “He’s never gonna fit.”

Marigold pushed Laughing Girl out of the way. “Get me some more towels.”

Then Helen touched Marigold’s hand. “What’s happening to me, Marigold?” she said.

“I don’t know. Just hang on, you’re gonna be okay,” Marigold said.

“I’m scared, Marigold.”

“Don’t be, but I need you to push or that baby’s not going anywhere.”

“I can’t,” said Helen. “I don’t have the strength.”

“I see the head,” said Laughing Girl. “Should I be doing something?”

“Is she supposed to bleed this much?” said Rachel.