"What do I do now?" CeeCee asked.

"Boil water." Genevieve spoke without opening her eyes. "Get clean towels. It's cold in here. We'll have to keep the baby warm after it comes. Boil scissors and something to tie... Oh. Oh." She screamed, then started panting again. "Go!" she shouted between breaths. "Do it!"

CeeCee ran back into the kitchen and pulled the huge spaghetti pot from one of the lower cabinets. She put it under the tap and started the water running. "Tim," she said out loud. "Please come. Please come now. Please please please."

She went through the utensils drawer, hunting for scissors, and found none. She foraged through the other drawers. Nothing. But there was a knife block on the counter and she pulled out the chef's knife and examined the sleek blade. It looked sharp enough. Something to tie... Something to tie... Genevieve had said. CeeCee knew she meant the cord that ran from inside the mother to the baby's navel. What part did you tie? What could she use? Genevieve had said. CeeCee knew she meant the cord that ran from inside the mother to the baby's navel. What part did you tie? What could she use? My poor baby, My poor baby, Genevieve had said. CeeCee choked back a sob. How would she get through this? And how would she keep a premature baby alive? Genevieve had said. CeeCee choked back a sob. How would she get through this? And how would she keep a premature baby alive?

The pot was full of water and so heavy she could barely lift it onto one of the ancient electric burners. It would take forever to boil. She ran back to the bedroom.

Genevieve was propped up on the pillows, panting again, her knees bent and her legs spread wide open. CeeCee didn't know where to look. "Are you okay?" she asked.

The woman didn't answer. Her body relaxed momentarily and she shut her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her entire face was crimson. CeeCee went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth with warm water. She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the cloth over Genevieve's face, the way she used to do with her mother. "The water's heating up," she said.

"Boil scissors," Genevieve said.

"I can't find scissors, but I have a knife."

"And string. Is there string?"

"I couldn't find any, but maybe I can-"

"Your shoelaces."

CeeCee looked down at her tennis shoes. "Okay," she said.

"Both of them. You need two."

"Okay," she repeated, trying to sound calm. Genevieve's sweater was pulled up nearly to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and the huge perfect orb of her belly was exposed. CeeCee felt nauseous at the thought of the baby trying to push its way out of that snug enclosure.

"Put a clean towel under me," Genevieve said. "There's going to be some blood. Listen, Sleeping Beauty. If I hemorrhage, and we'd better pray that I don't, you're supposed to ma.s.sage my uterus. That's what the nurses did the last time."

"How do I do that?" Was Genevieve telling her to reach inside her to find her uterus?

"On my belly. Here." Genevieve rested her hand on her ma.s.sive belly. "Ma.s.sage here to make the uterus contract after the baby is born."

"All right," she said, hoping it wouldn't come to that. She got a stack of clean towels from the hallway closet. Slipping one of them under Genevieve's bottom, she got an idea. "I'll be back in a minute," she said. In the bathroom, she pulled down the plastic shower curtain and carried it back into the bedroom. Genevieve was screaming again. Writhing. CeeCee vowed she would never have a baby. She wouldn't have the strength to go through this. She managed to get the shower curtain under the towel, then went back to see if the water was boiling.

It was. She dropped the knife into the pot, then sat down on the floor and unlaced her shoes, slowly, taking her time, because she was afraid to go back in the bedroom. Standing up, she dropped her laces into the boiling water.

"Help!" Genevieve cried.

CeeCee had no choice but to return to the bedroom.

"You've got to catch it," Genevieve said as soon as CeeCee entered the room. "I need to push. I don't know if I'm supposed to yet, though. I don't know when. I don't know when. when."

"Let me get the knife and laces," CeeCee said, anxious to leave the room again. In the kitchen, she poured most of the water into the sink, then carried the pot into the bedroom, where she set it on the rug near the bed.

"Can you see it?" Genevieve asked.

CeeCee looked between her legs. "Oh, my G.o.d, G.o.d," she said, both awed and horrified by the sight of the baby's scalp stretching Genevieve's taut pink skin. "Yes. Doesn't it hurt?" Doesn't it hurt?"

Genevieve panted. "What...do...you...think?" she asked. "I've got to push! push! Hold your hand under its head." Hold your hand under its head."

CeeCee rested her gloved hand on the bed between Genevieve's legs. The circle of bloodstained hair grew larger with each push. "It's coming!" CeeCee said, ripping off her mask so she could see better.

Genevieve tightened her face up as she pushed again. CeeCee felt the light weight of the baby's head in her hands. She saw the crown of its head, then its small ears, but its face was pointed toward the mattress. How would its shoulders get out? Then, as if reading her thoughts, the baby turned its head in her hands, the tiny nose resting in profile on her palm. Its neck felt strange, as if something was bulging out of it, pressing against her fingers. She leaned over for a better look and it took her a moment to realize that the umbilical cord was wrapped twice around the baby's neck. She started to tell Genevieve but didn't want to alarm her any more than she already was. She pulled off her right glove, then hooked her finger beneath the cord and slipped the loops around the baby's head. Suddenly, one shoulder, then another, popped into her hands and the baby slid out onto the towel and into the world.

"It's a girl!" CeeCee announced. So tiny, she thought. Too Too tiny. And too quiet. "I'm supposed to hold it upside down now, aren't I?" tiny. And too quiet. "I'm supposed to hold it upside down now, aren't I?"

"Rub her." Genevieve could barely get the words out. "Clean out her mouth."

Before CeeCee could do either, the baby let out a mewing sound like a kitten, followed by a loud and forceful cry.

Genevieve laughed with relief and held her arms out for the baby.

"Should I clean her first or do something with the cord?"

"Give her to me," Genevieve demanded.

The baby was so slippery. CeeCee wiped her off as best she could with one of the towels, then carefully lifted her into Genevieve's arms. The baby's cry was l.u.s.ty and rhythmic, and Genevieve began sobbing.

"I want Russ here!" she said. "I need Russ."

"Who?" CeeCee asked.

"Cut the cord so I can hold her closer," Genevieve said.

CeeCee pulled one of the shoelaces out of the water. "Where do I tie it?" she asked.

"Tie one close...a couple inches from the baby. And one farther up. Then cut in between them."

CeeCee tied the laces around the cream-colored cord and pulled them as tight as she could. Then she sliced through the cord with the knife, and Genevieve drew the baby up to her lips to kiss her.

"The afterbirth has to come out, right?" CeeCee looked at the long cord coming from inside Genevieve.

"It'll come out on its own," Genevieve said. Her voice was slow, almost slurred. She had to be exhausted. "Get me a blanket...cover her," she said. "I need...try to nurse. Never could with Vivvie." She shut her eyes, pressing her head into the pillows. "The room is spinning," she said.

"Do you want water?" CeeCee asked as she opened the closet door and pulled a blanket from the top shelf. "Food?"

Genevieve didn't answer. She was staring at the ceiling, a vacant look in her eyes.

"Genevieve? Are you okay?"

"Freezing," Genevieve said. She was shivering all over.

CeeCee wrapped the blanket around and around the screaming baby, then got a second blanket and put it over Genevieve. Her skin felt cold and damp and she looked even paler than she had before.

"Can you hold her?" CeeCee asked. "I'll get you some tea."

"Mmm," Genevieve said.

"It'll be light out in a couple of hours. Then I'll get you to a hospital somehow. I promise." She thought her voice sounded calm, but she was panicky inside. She would have to drop Genevieve and the baby at the hospital without being caught herself. Genevieve would have seen the car by then. And she'd already seen her face, although she hadn't seemed to notice, or at least to care, that CeeCee was no longer wearing the mask. She had the presence of mind, though, to pull her glove back on over her hand, sticky with blood.

In the kitchen, she once again put water on to boil and took a tea bag and a mug from the cabinet. She'd just delivered a baby! She would never be able to tell a soul other than Tim about it, but she knew what she'd done. Now she needed to be sure the tiny infant survived.

She longed for Tim and Marty to return, imagining their shock when they realized what had happened in their absence. Tim would be proud of her for handling it as she did. He would know the way to New Bern and they could put Genevieve and the baby on the mattress in the rear of the van. Still, how could they drop her off without being caught? Maybe they could leave her in the cabin and go somewhere to call an ambulance, telling them where to find her. That might be the best plan.

From the bedroom, the baby started her rapid, rhythmic crying again. CeeCee poured boiling water over the tea bag, dunking the bag up and down a few times to hurry the steeping. As long as the baby was crying, she was alive and okay and that was all that mattered.

She carried the mug down the hallway, but stopped short at the doorway to the bedroom. The blanket was above Genevieve's wide-apart knees. Between her legs was a pool of blood. Was that the afterbirth? Should there be so much of it? The blood had completely saturated the towel she'd placed under her and was spilling onto the plastic shower curtain.

Oh, G.o.d. There'd been nothing like this in the film she saw at school. The screaming baby had fallen from Genevieve's arms to the bed and the woman's eyes were closed. Something was terribly wrong. There'd been nothing like this in the film she saw at school. The screaming baby had fallen from Genevieve's arms to the bed and the woman's eyes were closed. Something was terribly wrong.

"Genevieve!" CeeCee dropped the full mug on the floor and picked up the bundled baby who continued to wail in her ear. Was this the hemorrhaging she'd talked about? She bent over to shake the woman by the shoulder. "Genevieve! Wake up!"

Genevieve rolled her head toward her. She opened her eyes, but didn't appear to be looking at CeeCee. She didn't appear to be looking at anything at all.

"There's a lot of blood!" CeeCee said. "Is that the afterbirth or are you hemorrhaging?" Please say afterbirth. Please say afterbirth.

Genevieve's eyes fixed on hers. "My baby," she slurred. "Don't let die."

"She's fine," CeeCee said. "Listen to her. She's fine. But-" she looked at the widening pool of blood. "I think you're hemorrhaging. How do I stop it?"

Genevieve's eyelids closed.

"Genevieve!" CeeCee shook her shoulder again. "Stay awake! Please, Genevieve!"

She climbed onto the other side of the bed, laying the baby down next to her, and put her hands on Genevieve's belly. She rubbed it lightly, afraid of hurting more than helping. Everything felt loose and flabby beneath her hands. Where was the uterus? She moved her hands around. "Genevieve!" she yelled. "Am I ma.s.saging the right spot?"

Genevieve's chin rested against her chest. Her skin was white. Waxen. She was so still. CeeCee had seen that stillness only once before-the day her mother died.

Abruptly she lifted her hands from Genevieve's belly. "Genevieve?" she whispered. She couldn't hear her own voice over the baby's wails. "Oh, G.o.d, Genevieve?" She ripped off her glove and lowered her fingers to Genevieve's wrist, knowing exactly where to touch. There was no pulse beneath her fingertips. "No!" she cried. "No, no, please!" She leaned forward to touch Genevieve's throat, searching for the artery, but she touched only cool, lifeless skin.

Paralyzed with terror, she stared at Genevieve's body. Then she shifted her gaze from the woman to the baby who lay wailing and helpless at her mother's side. She had to do something fast, and there was only one option she could think of.

Grabbing the screaming baby, she ran into the living room. She lay the bundled infant on the sofa, then retrieved her jacket from the coat rack by the door and put it on. She was sobbing by the time she slipped the baby inside the jacket against her flannel shirt. She ran outside into the darkness and got into the driver's seat of the car. Turning the key in the ignition, she reminded herself about the clutch. She found the k.n.o.b for the headlights, and they illuminated the bleached cedar of the cabin. She managed to get the car into Reverse and backed it out onto the road. It stalled when she shifted to Drive, but she got it going again. The lights cut a path through the eerie trunks of the loblolly pines, and she drove slowly, crying and battling nausea as she searched the darkness for the roads that would lead her to Naomi and Forrest's house.

Chapter Fourteen.

We've had to rely on welfare and food stamps and the kindness of others. I want so much better for you than that.

The night was moonless. CeeCee was still sobbing when she reached the fork in the road, but she remembered to stay to the left. She drove slowly, afraid to take the potholes at anything more than a crawl. The baby grew so still and quiet inside her jacket that she stopped the car to make sure she was breathing. Slipping her hand beneath the blanket, she rested it on the newborn until she felt the rise and fall of the tiny chest.

"Baby, live, live," she pleaded. "Please live."

She came to another intersection. Tears blurred her vision and she couldn't clear them away long enough to get her bearing. Sitting there in the dark, she began to wonder if Genevieve was truly dead. What if CeeCee had simply been unable to find her pulse?

She was making herself crazy. Finally, she turned right, and the trees tightened around her, dark walls on either side of the car. It seemed as though she would come to a dead end at any moment with no room to turn the car around. Then suddenly, like magic, she came to a clearing. The moon slid out from beneath the clouds and illuminated the decrepit house and rusted cars. CeeCee cried harder, this time with relief.

She barely remembered to turn off the ignition before jumping out of the car, her precious cargo cradled inside her jacket. The dogs started barking from somewhere behind the house, and she braced herself for their approach as she ran up the two front steps and pounded on the door.

"Naomi!" she shouted. "Naomi!" She couldn't hear her own voice over the din from the dogs. She guessed they were chained in the backyard, since they were nowhere to be seen. The house was dark, and she was about to go around to one of the windows when a light came on inside. She pounded again. "Hurry!" she called.

Forrest opened the door a few inches. Naomi was close behind him, pulling a sweater on over her flannel pajama top.

"CeeCee?" she said, stepping next to Forrest. "What are you doing here?"

CeeCee pushed past them without waiting for an invitation.

"She died!" she screamed as she raced into the living room. "She had a baby."

"What are you talking about?" Forrest asked.

"Genevieve! The governor's wife."

"She died? died?" Naomi said. "You mean while she was with you?"

CeeCee opened her coat and held out the bundled newborn, whose face could barely be seen beneath the layers of blanket.

"Holy s.h.i.t!" Naomi's hand flew to her mouth. Quickly she grabbed the baby from CeeCee's arms. "Is it alive?" she asked, tugging the blanket away from the infant's face.

Forrest ran his hands through his hair. "Why the h.e.l.l did you bring it here?" he asked.

"Shut up, Forrest," Naomi snapped. "Where else was she supposed to bring it?"

"It's alive," CeeCee said. "It's a girl. But Genevieve's dead."

"Oh, Lord." Naomi closed her eyes. She looked as though she might keel over as the realization of what CeeCee was telling her sank in. "This is a disaster," she said.

"You should have dropped her off at a hospital," Forrest said.

"I would have if I knew where one was." CeeCee wiped the tears from her face with her hands.

The baby opened her petal-like lips and let out a howl.

"Thank G.o.d," Naomi said. "She was too quiet." She whisked the infant down the hallway and CeeCee followed her.

Naomi and Forrest's bedroom smelled of incense. Naomi laid the baby girl on the bed and carefully unwrapped her. "Get some towels out of that closet," she said. "And get me a bowl-a big bowl-of warm water from the kitchen."

CeeCee quickly moved to the closet. She felt dizzy and disoriented, as if in a dream. Or a nightmare.

Forrest must have heard Naomi's request for water, because he appeared in the doorway with a green mixing bowl full to the brim. CeeCee took the water from him and rested it on her lap as she sat down next to the infant. She watched as Naomi gently cleaned the baby, who was now crying hard, barely stopping to take in a breath between each wail. Her pink arms were screwed up at her sides, hands in tight little fists. She looked furious.