I’m Locked in a Nice Motel Room Working On My Novella

It’s called “The Future Tense of Water” and has the confusing locations noted in the last blog post.

***

1.

There are marks in the landscape. You can see them everywhere. A palm print in ochre. A spiral of dots. Masked dancers etched into the stone of a canyon.
Water has come and gone here, come and gone again. At dusk, there are insects in the long grass, and horsetails growing ancient and segmented in the marshy earth. These are old, much older than flowers and the pollinators they depend on to bring forth fruit. Small frogs are chirping. The great rock walls are red, the fields green, the sky darkening, and a sliver of moon rises above the river. When there is a river. Sometimes the river flows. Sometimes the canyon is dry. A twisted gnarled pine tree adds a small ring each dry year, a wider ring each wet.
The stars mark the sky. Polaris points true north, but it won’t always, not above this canyon, not from this latitude, not from this world. The North Star will no longer be polar, just one star among many.
The morning star rises and sets, as does the evening star. They are the same star, a wanderer. Some call it after the goddess of love. For others, it is a warrior who descends cyclically into the underworld.
The river flows. It runs dry. Two figures are etched in rock, huge queens with headdresses and feathered masks. They seem to be holding hands. Right now, the river flows, but no one knows the future tense of water.
The canyon is vast and silent, except for the sound of wind, and then of a child singing.

Novella Question: Does A Dying Woman Get Her own POV?

Right in the middle of the semester, I got hit with an idea for a novella. I saw the whole thing laid out clearly. Terrible timing though, as I’m really busy. But I started writing a bit anyway. Almost like taking dictation at first. But as I get deeper into the first draft, I have some questions.
Set-up—five very different women meet in a new mom’s group about 30 years ago. Flash forward to the present. One has a terminal disease, and has asked the others to assist in her suicide. The time line is twelve hours–the day they help her. Back stories are told as reminiscence/flashback.
Of the group, the ill woman is the one secretly liked the least by the group. She is elusive (or private). Not an engaged mom, and given to romantic entanglements. But beautiful, intelligent, and caring in her own way.
The question–do I give her a pov? At first I thought not–four characters is already a lot, and they have children, partners, exes. Then she wanted a chapter of her own–a kind of suicide note. Then I realized she might have left a will. Then a man who’d loved her wanted to speak.
What to do? I don’t want to have to re-read AS I LAY DYING. Ideas?