But this feels like the slabs have forgotten where they belong. They have forgotten the dance completely. The earth cannot keep itself together without the dance, and I wonder if it will hurt terribly to be swallowed up in the chaos of the danceless world folding in on itself. I bend over Kat to be a cushion for whatever awaits us.

And then, just as before, the quaking stops, and the world above seems to let out the breath it was holding while the world below thrashed. I am afraid to say anything and break the calm, but my mother-heart is still pounding like a hammer and I start saying to Kat, “’Tis all right, it’s over. ’Tis all right, it’s over,” even before I am sure that it is. The sun, low in the sky, now seems hesitant to rise as it peeks at us through a filmy drape of dust. A couple of seconds tick by and the earth beneath us remains steady, like it always is, as if it has no memory of all that just happened.

Belinda cries out, her hands cradling her stomach. She is looking down in terror and disbelief at the rosy pink puddle at her feet.

I know why she sees blood and water.

“When is the baby supposed to come?” I say to her, but she cries out again in either fear or pain, perhaps both, and does not answer me.

“When is your time?” I shout.

She looks up at me with fearful eyes. “Not until next month!”

“We’ve got to get you to a doctor or hospital.” I release Kat for just a moment to grab my travel case. I open it and stuff the documents inside on top of my clothes, Da’s word book, and the strongbox. When we made our plans last night, I thought Belinda would be carrying one of the travel cases, but that will be impossible now. I need help. I need a carriage.

The street is now full of neighbors in their nightclothes staggering out of their houses and looking up and down the street. I look to Libby’s sturdy brick house, grateful to see that it appears mostly undamaged. Her chimney has partially toppled, but that is the only change I can see.

“Wait here,” I tell Belinda and Kat. “Just wait here and I shall be right back. I’m just going to see if Libby can help us. Stay with Belinda, Kat.”

I leave them in the middle of the street and run to Libby’s front door, pounding on it and trying the knob and only then remembering that Libby and her family are out of town. I dash back to Kat and Belinda, glancing up at my own house. I had forgotten just for a moment that Martin is inside it among the shattered dishes, splintered doorframes, and chunks of fallen ceiling plaster. There is no help for us inside that house, only trouble. I don’t care a whit that now Martin must wait, unable to call out for help and surrounded by brokenness. In fact, it’s rather fitting, since he is a man who excelled in crushing people.