The first thing five-year-old Sophie Carter noticed was the broken glass.

It lay in glittering pieces across the kitchen floor, surrounded by a pale puddle of milk.

The second thing she noticed was her mother.

Natalie was lying beside the breakfast table with one arm trapped beneath her body. Her cheek rested against the cold tile. Her eyes were partly open, but they did not move when Sophie called her name.

“Mommy?”

Sophie stood in the doorway wearing purple pajamas and only one sock. She held her stuffed rabbit against her chest.

Her mother was eight months pregnant. Her belly looked enormous beneath her gray nightshirt.

“Mommy, you dropped your milk.”

Natalie did not answer.

Sophie stepped carefully around the broken glass and crouched beside her. She touched her mother’s shoulder.

“Wake up.”

Nothing happened.

She shook harder.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

Natalie’s lips parted slightly, but the sound that came out was not a word. It was a thin, rough breath.

Sophie began to cry.

Her teacher, Mrs. Dalton, had once told the class what to do when a grown-up fell down and would not wake up.

Find a phone.

Call three numbers.

Do not hang up.

Sophie found Natalie’s phone beneath one of the chairs. The screen was cracked, but it lit up when she pressed the side button.

Her hands shook so badly that she entered the wrong numbers twice.

On the third attempt, the call connected.

“911. What is your emergency?”

Sophie pressed the phone against her ear with both hands.

“My mommy is sleeping on the floor.”

The dispatcher’s voice softened immediately.

“My name is Rachel. What’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“How old are you, Sophie?”

Sophie held up five fingers before remembering the woman could not see her.

“Five.”

“All right, Sophie. I’m going to help you. Is your mommy breathing?”

Sophie looked at Natalie’s chest. She could not tell.

“I don’t know.”

“Put your hand near her nose. Can you feel air?”

Sophie leaned over her mother. Natalie’s breath brushed faintly against her fingers.

“A little.”

“That’s good. Don’t try to move her. Is there anyone else in the house?”

“My baby brother.”

“Where is he?”

Sophie placed one hand on Natalie’s stomach.

“He’s in Mommy.”

There was a brief silence on the line.

“How far along is your mommy?”

Sophie did not understand the question.

“He’s supposed to come after Halloween.”

Rachel’s voice remained calm, but Sophie could hear typing in the background.

“Do you know your address?”

“No.”

“Do you know the name of your street?”

Sophie shook her head.

“Our house has a blue door.”

“That’s helpful. What can you see outside?”

Sophie ran to the front window.

“There’s a red truck. And Mr. Ellis’s dog. And our swing is broken.”

Rachel continued asking questions, slowly narrowing down the location from the phone signal and Sophie’s descriptions.

Then she asked, “Did your mommy eat or drink anything?”

Sophie looked back toward the kitchen.

“Daddy made her milk.”

“When?”

“Before he left.”

“Did you see him make it?”

Sophie’s lower lip trembled.

“Yes.”

“What did he put in it?”

“He said it was vitamins for the baby.”

Rachel paused.

“What did the vitamins look like?”

“White candy.”

“Did your mommy take any medicine by herself?”

“I don’t know.”

From the living room, a clock ticked loudly.

Then Sophie heard the garage door.

The mechanical rumble filled the house.

Her body went still.

“Someone’s coming,” she whispered.

“Who is it?”

“I think Daddy.”

“Sophie, listen to me. The police and ambulance are very close. I need you to stay on the phone.”

Sophie stared at the door connecting the garage to the kitchen.

The handle moved.

She backed away from her mother.

“Daddy told me not to touch his things.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Rachel said. “Go to the front door and unlock it for the paramedics.”

The garage door opened.

Sophie screamed.

But it was not her father.

Mr. Ellis, the elderly neighbor from across the street, stepped into the kitchen. He had heard Sophie crying through the open window and seen Natalie on the floor.

Within seconds, sirens filled the street.

Paramedics rushed through the blue front door carrying medical bags and a stretcher.

One of them lifted Sophie away from the broken glass while another knelt beside Natalie.

“She’s barely breathing.”

“Pregnant, approximately thirty-four weeks.”

“Pulse is weak.”

A paramedic picked up the fallen cup and smelled the milk.

“Take this with us.”

Sophie clung to Mr. Ellis as they placed an oxygen mask over Natalie’s face.

The fetal monitor emitted a rapid series of beeps.

Then one of the paramedics looked sharply at his partner.

“Fetal heart rate is dropping.”