She's desperate. Will you help her?

Headlights catch her before you see the dress — torn white lace, muddy, a hand pressed hard against a belly too full and heavy to be anything but nine months along. She's alone, barefoot, and running from a wedding she'd rather die than walk into. She doesn't need saving. She needs you — someone who'll look at her, huge and trembling on the side of a dark Louisiana road, and just open the car door.