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“Oh.” Heloise’s voice was an excited huff as she bounced out the door, her feet all a tangle.

“Joseph, she can’t get her balance.”

“Ma!” Joseph dashed after her.

But he was too late. The sickening thunk-thunk-thunk as Heloise tumbled down the stairs had already come to a stop.

Chapter Six

Rebekah woke with a crick in her neck. Carefully, she pulled her head up from the uneven quilt that still lay tucked underneath her.

She tried to push up on the arm that had moments before been bent beneath her.

This arm’s as useless as a hunk of dead wood.

Her arm pulsed back to life as the blood rushed into it.

I must have fallen asleep. Still, she was sleep-dumb from exhaustion. The moonlight streamed in through the window and cast a pale, silvery sheen on the floor.

Rebekah flexed her arm. She winced from the pain that stabbed in her neck and shoulder.

The sounds of the men who still worked outside met her ears. Her father’s jovial voice rang out above the rest as he joshed with Lucas, Simon, and the rest of the Gasthof Village men who had come to lend their strong hands. She lifted a hand to her stiff neck.

Rebekah heard Mr. Yoder’s voice saying something in German about the women having left for the night. Someone else answered that was unfortunate because he could use a slice of stuffed crust apple pie right about now. Their genial laughter wafted in through her open window like soft, melodic breezes.

She rubbed her tense neck muscles so hard, her fingers tingled as she tried to think back to when exactly she fell asleep.

Was it after Joseph and Lucas splinted Heloise’s broken leg and took her home?

No, she remembered the relief she felt when she learned that Heloise’s only injury from her fall had been a broken leg.

After a moment of rubbing, a loud pop from an odd place between her shoulder and neck brought her momentary relief. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Moving her tingling arm gingerly, she shifted her position in the bed.

Was it after Mrs. Yoder came up to check on Ma’s progress?

No, she remembered Mrs. Yoder’s soft voice telling her that her mother’s labor was progressing slowly. She had claimed to be positive that it would be at least a few days longer before the baby would make an appearance.

Gently, Rebekah picked up the quilt piece and examined it. Her throbbing arm made it hang lopsided before her. She’d worked on it for what seemed like forever, but there was still so much that needed to be completed before it was finished.

She glanced into the bag. It contained more than enough squares to finish the quilt. Then, she looked back to her handiwork. It simply didn’t look the way a quilt was supposed to look. Especially not like Elnora’s at this stage in the process.

The stitches were crooked. They made Katie’s look closer to perfect than hers had ever been. Her morning star pattern, which was constructed from pieces of dresses she had saved from her younger days, was off-center and uneven. Not even her squares were uniform. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to cut any two squares the same size. Even worse, the fabric was rumpled from constantly being shoved into her bag.

“At least I’ve finally gotten the knack of double-stitching so that my pieces actually stay together,” she muttered.

Despite everything, the result was little more than a sad excuse for a quilt-in-progress. Rebekah yawned in the thick, damp air. She leaned sideways and placed her project on the bedside dresser.

“Help, please,” a breathy voice managed from the hallway.

“Ma?”

She slid her legs over the side of her bed and eased them down until her feet met the hardwood floor. Her father had laid this floor expertly in only a few days, or so she’d heard tale.

Shards of pain sparked up her leg and her stomach lurched. She choked on the yell that strangled in her throat as the rest of her body joined her feet on the floor. Tears blurred her wobbly vision.

A strained groan came from the direction of her parent’s room.

Rebekah shook the foggy stars from her head.

Standing up isn’t an option. She flexed her multi-hued ankle as she sat on the chilled floor that had moments before been her ally. Nope, certainly not an option.

A series of pants echoed in the dark hallway.

“I’m coming, Ma.”

Ignoring the seeping dankness, she stretched out on the floor in her thin nightgown and pulled herself along the smooth boards with her hands. She slithered to the doorway like a snake through the grass.

Rebekah managed to navigate around the doorframe only to knock her head on something stationary that shouldn’t be there. “Ow!”

Her mother’s labored breathing drew Rebekah’s attention from her own sudden pain.

“Rebekah,” she rasped. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter’s head had just met her nose. Hard.

“Ma, are you okay?” The absurdity of that question filled the air. Of course her pregnant mother, lying here alone in the early morning darkness, was not okay.

“The baby.”

She didn’t wait for her to finish. She scurried to her mother’s feet and paled at what she saw.

By muted moonlight, it was obvious that the dark pool beneath her mother was blood.

“Mrs. Yoder said the baby wouldn’t be coming for a while,” Rebekah stammered. She chewed the inside of her lip as the sea of churning thoughts attempted to push a coherent solution to this predicament into the forefront of her mind. It didn’t work.

Clear fluid puddled around her mother in stark contrast to the crimson stains. “Something’s wrong.” Tension broke her words in unnatural places. “With the baby—something’s wrong.”

Helpless tears sprang into Rebekah’s eyes without warning. “What, Ma. Tell me what’s wrong.” She swiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”

A grunt from Elnora gave her pause. “I have to push.”

She fumbled with her mother’s nightgown. “You push if you need—” Rebekah sucked in a hard breath. “Ma, I see feet.”

Elnora stopped panting. “Feet?” She shook her head in tiny shakes. “Oh, Rebekah, no. No!”

“What do I do?” Hysteria rose in her throat and pinged the ends of her words.

“Turn him. Turn the baby.”

The sea of thoughts began to churn again in Rebekah’s mind. This time, they were vicious and wild.

Are sens