“It’s a boy!” shouted Rachel. “She had a boy!”

“Hallelujah!” shouted another male voice. Whooping and hollering were heard on the porch.

Marigold whispered in Helen’s ear, “You did it, Helen.”

Helen’s eyes were lazy, and she was slick with sweat. “Let me see him. I wanna see him.”

Marigold handed the baby to her.

Helen’s face was covered with exhaustion and pride. “I want you to touch him, Marigold,” she said in a weak voice. “I want you to bless him with your . . . your hands.”

Marigold took the child from Helen. She held the child against her and remembered the way she’d once held Maggie. She placed her hand around his little head and felt the softness of his skin. And in a moment, Marigold’s entire body was ignited with the feeling of infant joy. It was as though she were drawing her first human breaths right along with the baby.

Then she handed Helen the child again, wrapped in a blanket.

“See?” said Helen. “Piece of cake. I told you we didn’t need no stupid doctor.”

Forty-Six
Judy Bronson

It was late. The train depot was empty. There were no families waiting on the large wooden platform, only one old woman with a shawl and a large suitcase. The frogs were out. So were the stars.

Judy held Coot’s arm tight. This confused Coot. He wasn’t sure why she was being so affectionate, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t want to. She was too easy to love.

Coot sat on a bench with Judy beside him. He wore his only pair of trousers and a linen shirt. Beside him was his leather bag. And it reminded him of the bus trip that had brought him to Alabama long ago. Just thinking about it made him feel both anger and warmth toward Blake.

Also beside him was Judy’s suitcase. It was a heavy case. She had stuffed so many clothes inside it that she had to sit on it just so Coot could latch it shut.

Coot had bought two tickets to Atlanta. He paid six dollars per ticket. Atlanta seemed like a good place to go. There was supposed to be good work in Atlanta, he had heard.

Coot leaned against the wall. He waited in silence, watching the cotton field in the distance.

Judy kept glancing at a large clock overhead. Coot noticed her eyes darting to it, then to him. The clock. Then him. The clock. Then him.

“Why are you so nervous?” he asked her.

She patted his hand. “I just don’t like trains.”

“You ever been to Atlanta?” said Coot. “I heard it’s huge.”

She didn’t answer. She only checked the clock again.

“Heard they got jobs everywhere,” he went on.