In the Land of the Long White Cloud

bed with a woman, if you understand my meaning. If he arrives in the stables and comes across a half-grown girl…”
    “Howard is a man of honor!” Helen declared in defense of her husband.
    “A man of honor is still a man,” Mrs. Candler replied drily. “And one drunk man is as dangerous as the rest. Dorothy will sleep in the house. I’ll talk to Mr. O’Keefe.”
    Helen worried about this discussion, but her concerns proved unfounded. After he had picked up Dorothy, Howard simply carried his bedding into the stables and made his camp there.
    “It doesn’t matter to me,” he said gallantly. “I’ve slept worse places before. And the girl’s virtue has to be guarded; Mrs. Candler’s right there. There can’t be any talk.”
    Helen admired Mrs. Candler’s sense of diplomacy. Apparently, she had argued that Dorothy needed a chaperone and would not be able to look after Helen and the baby with Howard in the house.
    So in the days leading up to the birth, Helen shared her home with Dorothy, during which she spent a great deal of time trying to keep the girl calm. Dorothy was deathly afraid of the delivery—so much so that Helen suspected that her mother had not died of some mysterious disease but rather while giving birth to a sibling.
    Gwyneira, by contrast, was quite cheerful—even on a foggy day at the end of August when Helen felt especially sick and depressed. Howard had driven to Haldon that morning; he wanted to build a new shed, and the wood for it had finally arrived. He would surely not drive straight back after loading the building materials in his wagon, but instead stop at the pub for a beer and a game of cards. Dorothy milked the cow while Gwyneira kept Helen company. Her clothes were damp after the ride through the fog, and she was freezing. All the more reason to be happily settled in front of Helen’s fireplace with a cup of tea.
    “Matahorua will take care of it,” she said when Helen told her of Dorothy’s fears. “Oh, I wish I could be there. I know you’re feeling miserable right now, but you should see what it’s like for me these days. Gerald hints at it every day, and he’s not the only one. Even the ladies in Haldon look at me so…so probingly, as if I were a mare in a breeding show. And Lucas likewise seems to be angry with me. If I only knew what I was doing wrong!” Gwyneira played with the cup. She was close to tears.
    Helen frowned. “Gwyn, there’s no way a woman can do it wrong. You don’t turn him away, do you? You let him do it?”
    Gwyneira rolled her eyes. “What do you think? I know that I’m supposed to lie there still. On my back. And I’m kind and hold him and everything…what else am I supposed to do?”
    “That’s more than I’ve done,” Helen remarked. “Maybe you just need more time. You’re much younger than me, after all.”
    “Which should make it that much easier,” Gwyneira said, sighing. “That’s what my mother said anyway. Maybe it has something to do with Lucas after all? What exactly does ‘limp dick’ mean?”
    “Gwyn, how could you!” Helen was scandalized to hear such an expression come from her friend’s mouth. “That’s not something you say!”
    “The men say it when they’re talking about Lucas. Only when he’s not listening, of course. If I knew what it meant…”
    “Gwyneira!” Helen stood up to reach for the teakettle on the stove. But then she screamed and seized her stomach. “Oh no!”
    A puddle spread beneath Helen’s feet. “Mrs. Candler says this is how it begins!” she exclaimed. “But it’s not even eleven in the morning. This is so embarrassing…can you wipe that up, Gwyn?” She lurched into a chair.
    “Your water broke,” Gwyneira said. “Don’t act like that. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ll help you to bed, and then I’ll send Dorothy to fetch Matahorua.”
    Helen clenched her fists with pain. “It hurts, Gwyn, it hurts!”
    “It’ll pass soon,” Gwyn reassured her, taking Helen’s arm energetically and leading her into the bedroom. She undressed Helen, helped her into her nightgown, calmed her again, then ran into the stables to send Dorothy to the Maori village. The girl burst into tears and ran blindly out of the stables. Hopefully in the right direction. Gwyneira considered whether it might have been better for her to ride there herself, but it had taken her sister hours to bring her baby into the world. In all likelihood, it would be the same for