She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. ’ She drew a heavy breath. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she suffered monthly. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. Michelle seemed so innocent and sweet.
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