She stopped then and turned her face toward him and the hateful wind. Another woman wouldhave squinted or at least teared if the wind whipped her face as it did Sethe's. Another womanmight have shot him a look of apprehension, pleading, anger even, because what he said suresounded like part one of Goodbye, I'm gone.
Sethe looked at him steadily, calmly, already ready to accept, release or excuse an in-need-ortroubleman. Agreeing, saying okay, all right, in advance, because she didn't believe any of them — over the long haul — could measure up. And whatever the reason, it was all right. No fault.
Nobody's fault.
He knew what she was thinking and even though she was wrong — he was not leaving her,wouldn't ever — the thing he had in mind to tell her was going to be worse. So, when he saw thediminished expectation in her eyes, the melancholy without blame, he could not say it. He couldnot say to this woman who did not squint in the wind, "I am not a man.""Well, say it, Paul D, whether I like it or not."Since he could not say what he planned to, he said something he didn't know was on his mind. "Iwant you pregnant, Sethe. Would you do that for me?"Now she was laughing and so was he.
"You came by here to ask me that? You are one crazy-headed man. You right; I don't like it. Don'tyou think I'm too old to start that all over again?" She slipped her fingers in his hand for all theworld like the hand-holding shadows on the side of the road.
"Think about it," he said. And suddenly it was a solution: a way to hold on to her, document hismanhood and break out of the girl's spell — all in one. He put the tips of Sethe's fingers on hischeek. Laughing, she pulled them away lest somebody passing the alley see them misbehaving inpublic, in daylight, in the wind.
Still, he'd gotten a little more time, bought it, in fact, and hoped the price wouldn't wreck him. Likepaying for an afternoon in the coin of life to come.
They left off playing, let go hands and hunched forward as they left the alley and entered the street.
The wind was quieter there but the dried-out cold it left behind kept pedestrians fast-moving, stiffinside their coats. No men leaned against door frames or storefront windows. The wheels ofwagons delivering feed or wood screeched as though they hurt. Hitched horses in front of thesaloons shivered and closed their eyes. Four women, walking two abreast, approached, their shoesloud on the wooden walkway. Paul D touched Sethe's elbow to guide her as they stepped from theslats to the dirt to let the women pass.
Half an hour later, when they reached the city's edge, Sethe and Paul D resumed catching andsnatching each other's fingers, stealing quick pats on the behind. Joyfully embarrassed to be thatgrownup and that young at the same time.
Resolve, he thought. That was all it took, and no motherless gal was going to break it up. No lazy,stray pup of a woman could turn him around, make him doubt himself, wonder, plead or confess.
Convinced of it, that he could do it, he threw his arm around Sethe's shoulders and squeezed. Shelet her head touch his chest, and since the moment was valuable to both of them, they stopped andstood that way — not breathing, not even caring if a passerby passed them by. The winter light was low. Sethe closed her eyes. Paul D looked at the black trees lining the roadside, theirdefending arms raised against attack. Softly, suddenly, it began to snow, like a present come downfrom the sky. Sethe opened her eyes to it and said, "Mercy." And it seemed to Paul D that it was —a little mercy — something given to them on purpose to mark what they were feeling so theywould remember it later on when they needed to.
Down came the dry flakes, fat enough and heavy enough to crash like nickels on stone. It alwayssurprised him, how quiet it was. Not like rain, but like a secret.
"Run!" he said.
"You run," said Sethe. "I been on my feet all day.""Where I been? Sitting down?" and he pulled her along.
"Stop! Stop!" she said. "I don't have the legs for this." "Then give em to me," he said and beforeshe knew it he had backed into her, hoisted her on his back and was running down the road pastbrown fields turning white.
Breathless at last, he stopped and she slid back down on her own two feet, weak from laughter.
"You need some babies, somebody to play with in the snow." Sethe secured her headcloth.
Paul D smiled and warmed his hands with his breath. "I sure would like to give it a try. Need awilling partner though.""I'll say," she answered. "Very, very willing."It was nearly four o'clock now and 124 was half a mile ahead. Floating toward them, barely visiblein the drifting snow, was a figure, and although it was the same figure that had been meeting Sethefor four months, so complete was the attention she and Paul D were paying to themselves theyboth felt a jolt when they saw her close in.
Beloved did not look at Paul D; her scrutiny was for Sethe. She had no coat, no wrap, nothing onher head, but she held in her hand a long shawl. Stretching out her arms she tried to circle it aroundSethe.
"Crazy girl," said Sethe. "You the one out here with nothing on." And stepping away and in frontof Paul D, Sethe took the shawl and wrapped it around Beloved's head and shoulders. Saying,"You got to learn more sense than that," she enclosed her in her left arm. Snowflakes stuck now.
Paul D felt icy cold in the place Sethe had been before Beloved came. Trailing a yard or so behindthe women, he fought the anger that shot through his stomach all the way home. When he sawDenver silhouetted in the lamplight at the window, he could not help thinking, "And whose allyyou?"It was Sethe who did it. Unsuspecting, surely, she solved everything with one blow.
"Now I know you not sleeping out there tonight, are you, Paul D?" She smiled at him, and like afriend in need, the chimney coughed against the rush of cold shooting into it from the sky. Windowsashes shuddered in a blast of winter air.
Paul D looked up from the stew meat.
"You come upstairs. Where you belong," she said, "... and stay there."The threads of malice creeping toward him from Beloved's side of the table were held harmless inthe warmth of Sethe's smile. Once before (and only once) Paul D had been grateful to a woman.
Crawling out of the woods, cross-eyed with hunger and loneliness, he knocked at the first backdoor he came to in the colored section of Wilmington. He told the woman who opened it that he'dappreciate doing her woodpile, if she could spare him something to eat. She looked him up anddown.
"A little later on," she said and opened the door wider. She fed him pork sausage, the worst thingin the world for a starving man, but neither he nor his stomach objected. Later, when he saw palecotton sheets and two pillows in her bedroom, he had to wipe his eyes quickly, quickly so shewould not see the thankful tears of a man's first time. Soil, grass, mud, shucking, leaves, hay, cobs,sea shells — -all that he'd slept on. White cotton sheets had never crossed his mind. He fell in witha groan and the woman helped him pretend he was making love to her and not her bed linen. Hevowed that night, full of pork, deep in luxury, that he would never leave her. She would have tokill him to get him out of that bed. Eighteen months later, when he had been purchased byNorthpoint Bank and Railroad Company, he was still thankful for that introduction to sheets.
Now he was grateful a second time. He felt as though he had been plucked from the face of a cliffand put down on sure ground. In Sethe's bed he knew he could put up with two crazy girls — -aslong as Sethe made her wishes known. Stretched out to his full length, watching snowflakes streampast the window over his feet, it was easy to dismiss the doubts that took him to the alley behindthe restaurant: his expectations for himself were high, too high. What he might call cowardiceother people called common sense.
Tucked into the well of his arm, Sethe recalled Paul D's face in the street when he asked her tohave a baby for him. Although she laughed and took his hand, it had frightened her. She thoughtquickly of how good the sex would be if that is what he wanted, but mostly she was frightened bythe thought of having a baby once more.
Needing to be good enough, alert enough, strong enough, that caring — again. Having to stay alivejust that much longer. O Lord, she thought, deliver me. Unless carefree, motherlove was a killer.
What did he want her pregnant for? To hold on to her? have a sign that he passed this way? Heprobably had children everywhere anyway.
Eighteen years of roaming, he would have to have dropped a few.
No. He resented the children she had, that's what. Child, she corrected herself. Child plus Belovedwhom she thought of as her own, and that is what he resented. Sharing her with the girls. Hearingthe three of them laughing at something he wasn't in on. The code they used among themselvesthat he could not break. Maybe even the time spent on their needs and not his. They were a familysomehow and he was not the head of it.
Can you stitch this up for me, baby?
Um hm. Soon's I finish this petticoat. She just got the one she came here in and everybody needs achange.
Any pie left?
I think Denver got the last of it.
And not complaining, not even minding that he slept all over and around the house now, which sheput a stop to this night out of courtesy.
Sethe sighed and placed her hand on his chest. She knew she was building a case against him inorder to build a case against getting pregnant, and it shamed her a little. But she had all thechildren she needed. If her boys came back one day, and Denver and Beloved stayed on — well, itwould be the way it was supposed to be, no? Right after she saw the shadows holding hands at theside of the road hadn't the picture altered? And the minute she saw the dress and shoes sitting inthe front yard, she broke water. Didn't even have to see the face burning in the sunlight. She hadbeen dreaming it for years.
Paul D's chest rose and fell, rose and fell under her hand.
DENVER FINISHED washing the dishes and sat down at the table.
Beloved, who had not moved since Sethe and Paul D left the room, sat sucking her forefinger.
Denver watched her face awhile and then said, "She likes him here."Beloved went on probing her mouth with her finger. "Make him go away," she said.
"She might be mad at you if he leaves."Beloved, inserting a thumb in her mouth along with the forefinger, pulled out a back tooth. Therewas hardly any blood, but Denver said, "Ooooh, didn't that hurt you?"Beloved looked at the tooth and thought, This is it. Next would be her arm, her hand, a toe. Pieces of her would drop maybe one at a time, maybe all at once. Or on one of those mornings beforeDenver woke and after Sethe left she would fly apart. It is difficult keeping her head on her neck,her legs attached to her hips when she is by herself. Among the things she could not remember waswhen she first knew that she could wake up any day and find herself in pieces. She had twodreams: exploding, and being swallowed. When her tooth came out — an odd fragment, last in therow — she thought it was starting.
"Must be a wisdom," said Denver. "Don't it hurt?""Yes.""Then why don't you cry?""What?""If it hurts, why don't you cry?"
她停下来，把脸转向可恶的风。换一个女人，准会眯起眼睛，至少要流眼泪，如果风像抽打塞丝一样抽打她的脸。换一个女人，准会向他投去一种不安、恳求甚至愤怒的目光，因为他说的话听起来绝对像“再见，我走了”的开头。
塞丝镇定、平静地看着他，已经准备好了接受、释放或者原谅一个处在需要或困难中的男人。
事先就同意，说，好吧，没关系，因为她根本不相信它们———没完没了的死拉硬拽———会达到目的。无论原因是什么，都没关系。没错。谁都没错。
他知道她在想什么，而且尽管她误会了———他不是在离开她，永远不会———但他想告诉她的事情仍然会更糟糕。所以，当他看到期待从她的眼里消失，看到那种毫无责备的忧郁，他说不出口。他不能对这个在风中不眯眼睛的女人说：
“我不是个男子汉。
”
“得啦，说吧，保罗·D，甭管我爱不爱听。
”
本来打算好要说的他说不出来，就说了脑子里面一些自己都没意识到的想法。
“我想让你怀孕，塞丝。你愿意为我干那个吗？
”
这时，她放声大笑起来，他也笑了。
“你到这儿来就为了问我这个？你是个地地道道的疯子。你说对了，我不爱听。你不觉得我从头再来一遍太老了点儿吗？
”她把手指插进他的手里，情形跟路边携手的影子简直一模一样。
“考虑一下吧。
”他说。突然间柳暗花明了：有法子抓住她不放、证明他的男子气概并且摆脱那个姑娘的魔力———一箭三雕。他把塞丝的指尖放在自己脸上。她大笑着抽回手，以免给过路人看见他们行为不端，在公共场合，在光天化日之下，在刺骨寒风中。
现在，他仍然拥有一点时间，其实是买的，但愿那价钱不至于毁了他。就仿佛买来一个下午，预支的却是将来的生活费。
他们停止了嬉闹，放开手，耸着肩出了巷子，走上大街。那里的风小一些，不过风留下的干冷使得那些缩在外套里发僵的过路人行色匆匆。没有人靠在门框上或者商店橱窗前。送食品或木料的大车的轱辘好像怕冷似的，吱吱嘎嘎的。酒店门前套住的马闭上眼睛打着哆嗦。四个女人两两并肩走了过来，她们的鞋踩在木板人行道上嗒嗒作响。保罗·D拉着塞丝的胳膊肘，带她从木板路走下土路，给女人们让道。
半小时之后，他们到了城郊，塞丝和保罗·D又得以相互把手指头抓来拽去，不时趁机摸摸屁股。这么大了还这么孩子气，他们又兴奋又难为情。
决定了，他想。就这么定了，哪个没娘的丫头都不能搞破坏。哪个懒惰的丧家狗女人都不能摆布他，让他顾虑重重、不知所措、摇尾乞怜或者忏悔表白。他坚信自己能够成功，就搂住塞丝的肩膀，紧紧箍着。她把脑袋靠上他的胸脯。这个时刻对于他们两个都很珍贵，于是他们停下来，就那样站着———屏住呼吸，甚至不在乎有没有人路过。冬日的光线是黯淡的。塞丝闭上眼睛。保罗·D看着路边成行的黑树，它们自卫的手臂高举着抵御寒冷的袭击。悄悄地，忽然开始下雪了，宛如从天而降的一件礼物。塞丝睁开两眼看着，说道：
“恩惠啊。
”而在保罗·D看来，那确实是———一点恩惠———专门赐给他们，为他们此刻的感情标上记号，以便日后需要的时候他们能够记起。
干燥的雪花落下来，又厚又重，简直可以像五分硬币一样砸在石头上。雪总是让他惊讶，雪是多么恬静啊。不像雨，而像是一个秘密。
“快跑!”他说。
“你跑吧，”塞丝道，“我立了一整天了。
”
“我在哪儿呢？坐着吗？
”他一路拽着她。
“站住!站住!”她说，“我的腿可干不了这个。
”
“那就交给我吧。
”他说道。还没等她回过味来，他已经退到她身下，用后背驮起她，在大路上跑起来，跑过开始变得洁白的褐色田野。
他终于上气不接下气地停住了，她滑下来站稳，都笑瘫了。
“你的确需要些娃娃，跟你一块儿在雪里玩。
”塞丝整理好头巾。
保罗·D边笑边呵着气暖和双手。
“我当然想试他一家伙。只是还需要个自愿的合作者。”
“我会说，”塞丝回答道，“非常、非常愿意。
”
快四点了，离124号还有半英里路。一个人影向他们飘来，在纷扬的雪花里隐约可见；尽管这同一个形象四个月来一直每天迎接塞丝，可是她和保罗·D正在如此忘情地专注于彼此，看见她在近前出现，都不禁心中一凛。
宠儿不理睬保罗·D；她的端详是给塞丝的。她没穿外套，没戴围巾，头上什么都没有，可是手里捧着一条长披肩。她伸出胳膊，想给塞丝围上。
“傻丫头，”塞丝说道，“在外面什么都没戴的是你呀。
”然后她离开保罗·D，在他面前接过披肩，围在宠儿的头和肩膀上。她说着，“你得学会懂点事”，然后用左臂搂住宠儿。这时候雪花不飞了。保罗·D觉得，宠儿来之前自己身上被塞丝靠过的部位变得冰冷冰冷的。他跟在两个女人身后一码左右，一路克制着满腔怒火。等到看见窗户上丹芙在灯光下的剪影，他忍不住想：
“你又是哪拨儿的呢？
”
是塞丝解决的。出乎意料，她安全妥当地一举解决了所有问题。
“这回我可知道你今儿晚上不睡在外边了，对吗，保罗·D？”她朝他笑道；烟囱像个帮腔的患难之交似的冲着从天上射进来的寒流直咳嗽。窗框在一阵严冬的寒风里战栗着。
保罗·D从盘子中的炖肉上抬起眼睛。
“你上楼来睡吧。到你该待的地方，”她说，“……而且待下去吧。
”
从桌子一头宠儿那边向他爬过来的缕缕恶意，在塞丝温暖的微笑里变得无关痛痒。
曾经有一次（唯一的一次），保罗·D感激过一个女人。那次，他爬出树林，被饥饿和孤独折磨得直对眼儿，就去敲他在威尔明顿的黑人区见到的第一扇后门。他告诉开门的女人，他愿意给她劈柴，只要她肯施舍给他一点东西吃。她上上下下地打量他。
“等一小会儿。
”她说着，把门开得大一点。她喂了他猪肉香肠，对一个快饿死的人来说那是最糟糕的东西，可是他和他的肚子都没意见。然后，他见到了她卧室里的白棉布床单和两只枕头，忍不住飞快地抹了抹眼睛，以免让她看到一个男人平生头一回感激的眼泪。土地、草地、泥地、谷壳、树叶、干草、蜘蛛网、贝壳———所有这些东西他都睡过。从来没想象过白棉布床单。他呻吟着倒上去，多亏那个女人帮忙，他才有借口是跟她而不是跟她的床单做爱。那天晚上，吃饱了肉，耽于奢侈，他发誓永不离开她。要想把他赶下那张床，她非得杀了他不行。十八个月后，当他被“北极银行和铁路公司”买去时，他依然感激那次与床单的结识。
如今他第二次心怀感激。他觉得自己仿佛被人从一面悬崖峭壁上摘下来，放到坚实的地面上。
在塞丝的床上，他知道自己对付得了那两个傻丫头———只要塞丝将她的意愿公开。他尽量抻开身体，望着雪花在他脚上方流过窗户，现在，那把他带到餐馆后面巷子里的疑虑，很容易解除了：他对自己的期望很高，太高了。他所说的怯懦，别人叫做人之常情。
塞丝钻进保罗·D的臂弯，回想起他在街上求她为他怀个孩子时的那副面孔。虽然她当时大笑着拉起他的手，可还是着实吓了一跳。她很快想到，如果那真是他想要的，性交会有多么愉快，然而她主要是被再次要个孩子的想法吓坏了。需要足够过硬、足够麻利、足够强壮，还得那样操心———重来一遍。必须再多活那么久。噢主啊，她暗道，救救我吧。除非无忧无虑，否则母爱可是要命的。他要她怀孕干什么？为了抓住她？为了给这段路留个记号？反正他没准到处都有孩子呢。流浪了十八年，他肯定跟人下了几个。不对。他反感她已经有的孩子们，是这么回事。是一个孩子，她纠正了自己。一个孩子，再加上她视如己出的宠儿，那就是他反感的。他反感与姑娘们共享她。听她们三个笑着他不理解的东西。破不开她们之间使用的暗号。甚至恐怕还有花在她们而不是他身上的时间。他们怎么说也算个家庭，可他不是一家之主。
你能帮我把这个缝上么，宝贝？
当然。等我弄完这件衬裙再说。她还穿着来的时候穿的那件，谁都需要变个花样。
还剩下一点馅饼么？
我记得丹芙吃了最后一张。
没有怨言，甚至不介意他现在在房子周围四处乱睡，直到今天晚上，她才大发善心制止了这种夜不归宿的行为。
塞丝叹了口气，把手放在他的胸脯上。她知道，为了避免怀孕，自己一直在不让他尽兴，这使她感到有点不好意思。但是她自己的孩子足够了。假如她的儿子们有朝一日回家来，丹芙和宠儿又一直住下去———嗯，这正好是朝思暮想的情景，不是吗？就在她看到路边携手的影子之后，生活面貌有了多大的变化啊!还有那一刻，一看见那裙子和鞋子坐在前院，她就失禁了。甚至不用看那在阳光中燃烧的脸。她已经梦想多年了。
保罗·D的胸脯在她的手底下一起一伏，一起一伏。
丹芙洗完碗，在桌旁坐下。宠儿自打塞丝和保罗·D离开屋子就没挪过地方，坐在那儿吮着自己的食指。丹芙盯着她的脸看了一会儿，然后说道：
“她喜欢他住在这儿。
”
宠儿继续用手指抠着嘴。
“让他滚蛋。
”她说。
“他走了她会跟你发火的。
”
宠儿把大拇指也伸进嘴里，拔出一颗后槽牙。几乎没有血，可是丹芙还是叫道：
“噢———你不疼吗？
”
宠儿看着牙，心想：终于来了。下一回该是她的一只胳膊、一只手、一个脚指头了。她身上的零件也许会一点一点地，也许一股脑全掉下去。或者哪一天早晨，在丹芙醒来之前、塞丝上班之后，她会四分五裂。她独自一人的时候，很难让脑袋待在脖子上，腿安在屁股上。在她记不得的事情中有这么一件：她第一次得知她会在哪天醒来，发现自己已成为一堆碎片。她做过两个梦：一次是自己爆炸，一次是被吞噬。当她的牙脱落的时候———一块多余的碎片，一排中最后的那颗———她认为毁灭已经开始了。
“肯定是颗智齿，”丹芙道，“不疼么？
”
“疼。”
“那你怎么不哭？
”
“什么？
”
“疼的话，你怎么不哭？
”