Years ago — when 124 was alive — she had women friends, men friends from all around to sharegrief with. Then there was no one, for they would not visit her while the baby ghost filled thehouse, and she returned their disapproval with the potent pride of the mistreated. But now therewas someone to share it, and he had beat the spirit away the very day he entered her house and nosign of it since. A blessing, but in its place he brought another kind of haunting: Halle's facesmeared with butter and the dabber too; his own mouth jammed full of iron, and Lord knows whatelse he could tell her if he wanted to.
The fingers touching the back of her neck were stronger now — the strokes bolder as though BabySuggs were gathering strength. Putting the thumbs at the nape, while the fingers pressed the sides.
Harder, harder, the fingers moved slowly around toward her windpipe, making little circles on theway. Sethe was actually more surprised than frightened to find that she was being strangled. Or soit seemed. In any case, Baby Suggs' fingers had a grip on her that would not let her breathe.
Tumbling forward from her seat on the rock, she clawed at the hands that were not there. Her feetwere thrashing by the time Denver got to her and then Beloved.
"Ma'am! Ma'am!" Denver shouted. "Ma'ammy!" and turned her mother over on her back.
The fingers left off and Sethe had to swallow huge draughts of air before she recognized herdaughter's face next to her own and Beloved's hovering above.
"You all right?""Somebody choked me," said Sethe.
"Who?"Sethe rubbed her neck and struggled to a sitting position. "Grandma Baby, I reckon. I just askedher to rub my neck, like she used to and she was doing fine and then just got crazy with it, Iguess.""She wouldn't do that to you, Ma'am. Grandma Baby? Uh uh.""Help me up from here.""Look." Beloved was pointing at Sethe's neck.
"What is it? What you see?" asked Sethe.
"Bruises," said Denver.
"On my neck?""Here," said Beloved. "Here and here, too." She reached out her hand and touched the splotches,gathering color darker than Sethe's dark throat, and her fingers were mighty cool.
"That don't help nothing," Denver said, but Beloved was leaning in, her two hands stroking thedamp skin that felt like chamois and looked like taffeta.
Sethe moaned. The girl's fingers were so cool and knowing. Sethe's knotted, private, walk-onwaterlife gave in a bit, softened, and it seemed that the glimpse of happiness she caught in theshadows swinging hands on the road to the carnival was a likelihood — if she could just managethe news Paul D brought and the news he kept to himself. Just manage it. Not break, fall or cryeach time a hateful picture drifted in front of her face. Not develop some permanent craziness likeBaby Suggs' friend, a young woman in a bonnet whose food was full of tears. Like Aunt Phyllis,who slept with her eyes wide open. Like Jackson Till, who slept under the bed. All she wanted wasto go on. As she had. Alone with her daughter in a haunted house she managed every damn thing.
Why now, with Paul D instead of the ghost, was she breaking up? getting scared? needing Baby?
The worst was over, wasn't it? She had already got through, hadn't she? With the ghost in 124 shecould bear, do, solve anything. Now a hint of what had happened to Halie and she cut out like arabbit looking for its mother.
Beloved's fingers were heavenly. Under them and breathing evenly again, the anguish rolled down.
The peace Sethe had come there to find crept into her.
We must look a sight, she thought, and closed her eyes to see it: the three women in the middle ofthe Clearing, at the base of the rock where Baby Suggs, holy, had loved. One seated, yielding upher throat to the kind hands of one of the two kneeling before her. Denver watched the faces of theother two. Beloved watched the work her thumbs were doing and must have loved what she sawbecause she leaned over and kissed the tenderness under Sethe's chin.
贝比•萨格斯亲吻了她的嘴，不让她马上去见孩子们。她说他们正睡着呢，再说塞丝的样子太难看了，不能在夜里叫醒他们。她接过新生儿，把她递给一个戴软帽的年轻女人，告诉她先别洗两只眼睛，等得到妈妈的尿再说。
“她哭出声了吗？
”贝比问。
“哭了一小会儿。
”
“足够了。我们先来把当妈妈的收拾干净吧。
”
她把塞丝领进起居室，在酒精灯下一部分一部分地清洗她，先从脸开始洗起。然后，她坐在塞丝身旁，一边等着下一锅水烧热，一边缝着一条灰棉布裙子。塞丝睡着了，直到洗胳膊和手的时候才醒过来。每洗过一处，贝比就用被子盖上她，到厨房里再烧上一锅水。她一面撕开床单，一面缝 缀着灰棉布，同时还监督那个边哭边做饭的戴软帽女人照料婴儿。塞丝的腿洗净之后，贝比看着她的脚，轻轻地擦干腿。她总共用了两锅热水来擦洗塞丝的两腿之间，然后用床单裹住她的肚子和阴部。最后她才来对付那双难以辨认的脚。
“你觉出来了吗？
”
“觉出什么？
”塞丝问。
“没事儿。起来吧。
”她把塞丝扶到摇椅上，把她的脚放进一桶杜松盐水里。她就这样坐着泡了一夜。贝比用猪油弄软她乳头上的硬壳，然后再冲洗掉。黎明时分，安静的婴儿醒过来，喝到了妈妈的乳汁。
“上帝保佑，没出什么问题。
”贝比道，“你奶完孩子就叫我。
”贝比•萨格斯正要转身走开，突然瞥见床单上有块黑渍。她皱起眉头，看着正弯下身子给婴儿喂奶的儿媳妇。鲜血的玫瑰盛开在盖着塞丝肩膀的毯子上。贝比•萨格斯用手捂住嘴。新生儿吃完奶，睡着了———眼睛半睁，在梦里吧嗒着舌头———老太太一声不吭地往开遍鲜花的后背上涂油，又往新缝的裙子里垫了双层的布。
这还不是真的。还不是。可是当她的两个睡眼惺忪的儿子和那个“都会爬了？
”的女儿被带进来时，是不是真的都无关紧要了。塞丝躺在床上，他们上上下下、左左右右地绕着她，尤其难得的是一个不缺。小女儿透明的口水滴在塞丝脸上，她开心地大笑着，笑得太响了，搞得那“都会爬了？
”
的小宝贝直眨巴眼睛。巴格勒和霍华德先是互激对方第一个去摸她的难看的脚丫，接着就一起玩起它们来。她不停地亲吻他们。她亲吻他们的脖梗子、脑袋顶和手掌心，当她又掀起他们的衬衫去亲吻那圆鼓鼓的小肚皮时，儿子们认为可以到此为止了。她停了下来，因为他们问道：
“爸爸来啦？
”
她没有哭。她说“快了”，而且笑着，这样他们就会以为她眼里的泪光仅仅是爱。过了好一会儿，塞丝让贝比•萨格斯把男孩们轰走，于是，她才能穿上婆婆在头天晚上缝起来的那条灰棉布裙子。最后，她躺下来，怀里摇着“都会爬了？
”的女儿。她用右手的两个指头捏起左乳头，孩子张开了嘴。她和奶水一块儿到家了。
贝比•萨格斯一进来就笑她们，她对塞丝说，她的宝贝女儿多壮实，多机灵，都会爬了。然后她弯腰收拾起曾经是塞丝的衣服的那团烂布。
“没什么值得留的东西。
”她说。
塞丝抬起眼睛。
“等等，”她叫道，“翻一翻，看内衣里还系没系着什么东西。
”
贝比•萨格斯用手指将煮过的衣裳一点点摸了一遍，碰到石子样的东西。她把它们递给塞丝。
“告别礼物？
”
“结婚礼物。
”
“要是有个新郎一道来就更好了。
”她盯着塞丝手里的东西，“你觉得他怎么样了？
”
“我不知道。
”塞丝答道，“说好了在那儿碰头的，可他不在。我只好逃出来。非逃不可。
”塞丝看了一会儿那吃奶孩子的睡眼，然后盯着贝比•萨格斯的脸。
“他会成功的。要是我能，黑尔当然也能。
”
“好吧，戴上耳环吧。也许它们能照亮他的道路。
”她把宝石递给塞丝，同时确信她的儿子已经死了。
“我得在耳朵上穿洞。
”
“我来吧，”贝比•萨格斯说，“一会儿就好。
”
塞丝把耳环晃得叮叮作响，逗弄那个“都会爬了？
”的女儿，让她一次次地去够它们。
在“林间空地”上，塞丝找到了从前贝比训众的那块石头，记起了阳光中蒸腾的树叶的气味、雷鸣般的脚步声，以及把荚果扯下七叶树枝的呐喊。在贝比•萨格斯的心灵的率领下，人们尽情发泄。
塞丝度过了二十八天———整整一轮月缺月圆———的非奴隶生活。从小女孩滴在她脸上的纯净透明的口水，到她的油腻的血，一共是二十八天，是痊愈、轻松和真心交谈的日子，是交朋会友的日子：她知道了四五十个其他黑人的名字，了解他们的看法、习惯，他们待过的地方、干过的事；体验他们的甘苦，聊以抚慰自己的创痛。一个人教了她字母表；另一个教她做针线。大家一起教她体会黎明时醒来并决定这一天干些什么的滋味。这样，她熬过了等待黑尔的时光。一点一点地，在124号和“林间空地”上，同大家在一起，她赢得了自我。解放自我是一回事；赢得那个解放了的自我的所有权却是另一回事。
此刻，她坐在贝比•萨格斯的石头上，丹芙和宠儿从树林里望着她。再不会有那一天了，她想，黑尔永远不会来敲门了。不知道的时候很苦；知道了更苦。
只要手指，她心中暗道。只要让我再次感觉到你的手指按住我的脖子后面，我就会全部放下，从这绝境中辟出一条路来。塞丝低下头，可以肯定———它们来了。如今更轻了，比鸟羽的抚摸更轻，但绝对是爱抚的手指。她得放松一点，让它们抚摸，轻而又轻地抚摸，几乎是孩子的动作，不是在揉，而是在用手指亲吻。不过她仍然感激她的努力；贝比•萨格斯遥远的爱可以同她所知的一切切肤之爱相媲美。不用说手上的动作，单是那试图满足她要求的愿望，就足以把她的灵魂升到一个地方，使她能够接着走下一步：请求一些澄清真相的话语；请求一些建议，告诉她怎样才能跟上一个贪恋消息的大脑。这个世界最乐于提供这种令人忍无可忍的消息了。
她知道保罗•D在给她的生活增加某种东西———某种她想信任又怕信任的东西。现在他又增加了更多的东西：令她心碎的新的画面和旧的记忆。将它们加进对黑尔一无所知的空白———这空白有时会染上一种理所当然的怨恨，也许是针对他的懦弱、愚蠢，也许是针对他的倒霉———这没有确切消息来充实的空白，现在充满了一种崭新的悲伤，谁又说得出还会有多少悲伤即将来临呢。多年以前———那时124号仍旧生气勃勃———曾经有来自四面八方的女友、男友，来帮她分担悲伤。然后就一个也没有了，因为他们不愿意到一个小鬼魂肆虐的房子里来看她，而她也以受虐者强烈的骄傲回敬大家的不满。可是现在又有个人来分担了，而且他刚走进大门那天，鬼魂就被他赶跑了，至今仍无影无踪。这本是一种赐福，然而他取代了它的位置，又带来了另一种纠缠：黑尔涂满牛油和酸酪的脸，他自己勒着铁嚼子的嘴；天知道，愿意的话，他还会告诉她些什么。
抚摸着她后脖子的手指这时有力些了———手法更大胆了，好像贝比•萨格斯正在积聚力气。大拇指放在后颈上，其余的手指按着两边。重了一些，又重了一些，手指慢慢移向她的气管，一路划着小圆圈。塞丝与其说是恐惧，不如说是惊讶地发现自己正在被扼杀。至少表面上如此。不管怎么说，贝比•萨格斯的手指扼得她喘不过气来。她从坐着的石头上向前摔去，抓扯着不存在的手。她正双脚乱踢，丹芙来到身边；接着宠儿也来了。
“太太!太太!”丹芙叫着。
“妈妈!”她把妈妈翻过来，让她仰卧着。
手指松开了，塞丝大口大口地吞着空气，然后辨认出自己身旁女儿的脸和上面游移不定的宠儿的脸。
“你没事吧？
”
“有人要掐死我。
”塞丝说。
“谁？”
塞丝揉着脖子，挣扎着坐起来。
“贝比奶奶，我估计。我不过求她揉揉脖子，像她从前那样，起初她揉得好好的，可后来就揉疯了，我猜是。
”
“她不可能对你那样，太太。贝比奶奶？不可能。
”
“帮我起来。
”
“看哪。
”宠儿指着塞丝的脖子。
“是什么？你看见什么了？
”塞丝问。
“伤。”丹芙道。
“在我脖子上？
”
“这儿，”宠儿道，“这儿，还有这儿。
”她伸手摸着那些斑点，发现它们的颜色比塞丝黑黑的脖子还黑；她的手指冰凉冰凉的。
“那没用。
”丹芙说道，可是宠儿仍然探出身子，用两只手去抚摸塞丝湿乎乎的皮肤。她的皮肤摸起来像羚羊皮，看着像塔夫绸。
塞丝呻吟着。这姑娘的手指如此清凉，如此体贴。塞丝盘根错节、秘不示人、如履薄冰的一生稍稍退让了一些，柔和了一些；看样子，她在去狂欢节的路上从携手的影子中找到的一线幸福是可能的———只要她能对付保罗•D带给她的和保留给自己的那些消息。只要她能对付。而不是每见到一幅可恨的画面漂到她面前，就垮掉、倒下，或者哭泣。不是像贝比•萨格斯的朋友，那个以泪泡饭的戴软帽的年轻姑娘那样，表现出一种持久的疯狂。像菲莉丝大妈那样，瞪圆了眼睛睡觉。像杰克逊•梯尔那样，在床底下睡觉。她只想活下去，像她过去那样。独自和女儿待在闹鬼的房子里，所有该死的事情都由她来顶着。为什么这时候，保罗•D替代了那个 鬼魂以后，她却垮了？害怕了？需要贝比了？最糟糕的已经过去了，不是吗？她已经挺过来了，不是吗？小鬼魂统治124号的时候她还能忍受，能做事，能解决一切问题。如今，有了一点关于黑尔如何如何的线索，她反倒像一只寻找妈妈的兔子一样六神无主了。
宠儿的手指太美妙了。在它们的抚慰下，塞丝再次均匀地呼吸，痛苦平息了。塞丝来这里寻找的安宁悄悄潜入了她的内心。
我们肯定是个奇观，她想道，于是又闭上眼睛去看：三个女人，在“林间空地”中央，在圣贝比•萨格斯热爱的石头脚下。一个坐着，其余两个跪在她面前，她把脖子伸向其中一个人亲切的双手。
丹芙盯着另外两个人的脸。宠儿则看着自己拇指的动作，而且肯定爱着她眼前的这个人，因为她探出身去吻了塞丝下巴下面的柔软部分。
Chapter 23
They stayed that way for awhile because neither Denver nor Sethe knew how not to: how to stop and not love the look or feelof the lips that kept on kissing. Then Sethe, grabbing Beloved's hair and blinking rapidly, separatedherself. She later believed that it was because the girl's breath was exactly like new milk that shesaid to her, stern and frowning, "You too old for that."She looked at Denver, and seeing panic about to become something more, stood up quickly,breaking the tableau apart.
"Come on up! Up!" Sethe waved the girls to their feet. As they left the Clearing they looked prettymuch the same as they had when they had come: Sethe in the lead, the girls a ways back. All silentas before, but with a difference. Sethe was bothered, not because of the kiss, but because, justbefore it, when she was feeling so fine letting Beloved massage away the pain, the fingers she wasloving and the ones that had soothed her before they strangled her had reminded her of somethingthat now slipped her mind. But one thing for sure, Baby Suggs had not choked her as first shethought. Denver was right, and walking in the dappled tree-light, clearer-headed now — away from the enchantment of the Clearing — Sethe remembered the tou ch of those fingers that sheknew better than her own. They had bathed her in sections, wrapped her womb, combed her hair,oiled her nipples, stitched her clothes, cleaned her feet, greased her back and dropped just aboutanything they were doing to massage Sethe's nape when, especially in the early days, her spiritsfell down under the weight of the things she remembered and those she did not: schoolteacherwriting in ink she herself had made while his nephews played on her; the face of the woman in afelt hat as she rose to stretch in the field. If she lay among all the hands in the world, she wouldknow Baby Suggs' just as she did the good hands of the whitegirl looking for velvet. But foreighteen years she had lived in a house full of touches from the other side. And the thumbs thatpressed her nape were the same. Maybe that was where it had gone to. After Paul D beat it out of124, maybe it collected itself in the Clearing. Reasonable, she thought.
Why she had taken Denver and Beloved with her didn't puzzle her now — at the time it seemedimpulse, with a vague wish for protection. And the girls had saved her, Beloved so agitated shebehaved like a two-year-old.
Like a faint smell of burning that disappears when the fire is cut off or the window opened for abreeze, the suspicion that the girl's touch was also exactly like the baby's ghost dissipated. It wasonly a tiny disturbance anyway — not strong enough to divert her from the ambition welling in hernow: she wanted Paul D. No matter what he told and knew, she wanted him in her life. More thancommemorating Halle, that is what she had come to the Clearing to figure out, and now it wasfigured. Trust and rememory, yes, the way she believed it could be when he cradled her before thecooking stove. The weight and angle of him; the true-to-life beard hair on him; arched back,educated hands. His waiting eyes and awful human power. The mind of him that knew her own.
Her story was bearable because it was his as well — to tell, to refine and tell again. The thingsneither knew about the other — the things neither had word-shapes for — well, it would come intime: where they led him off to sucking iron; the perfect death of her crawling-already? baby.
She wanted to get back — fast. Set these idle girls to some work that would fill their wanderingheads. Rushing through the green corridor, cooler now because the sun had moved, it occurred toher that the two were alike as sisters. Their obedience and absolute reliability shot through withsurprise. Sethe understood Denver. Solitude had made her secretive — self-manipulated. Years ofhaunting had dulled her in ways you wouldn't believe and sharpened her in ways you wouldn'tbelieve either. The consequence was a timid but hard-headed daughter Sethe would die to protect.
The other, Beloved, she knew less, nothing, about — -except that there was nothing she wouldn'tdo for Sethe and that Denver and she liked each other's company. Now she thought she knew why.
They spent up or held on to their feelings in harmonious ways. What one had to give the other waspleased to take. They hung back in the trees that ringed the Clearing, then rushed into it withscreams and kisses when Sethe choked — anyhow that's how she explained it to herself for shenoticed neither competition between the two nor domination by one. On her mind was the suppershe wanted to fix for Paul D — something difficult to do, something she would do just so — tolaunch her newer, stronger life with a tender man. Those litty bitty potatoes browned on all sides,heavy on the pepper; snap beans seasoned with rind; yellow squash sprinkled with vinegar andsugar. Maybe corn cut from the cob and fried with green onions and butter. Raised bread, even.
Her mind, searching the kitchen before she got to it, was so full of her offering she did not seeright away, in the space under the white stairs, the wooden tub and Paul D sitting in it. She smiledat him and he smiled back.
"Summer must be over," she said.
"Come on in here.""Uh uh. Girls right behind me.""I don't hear nobody.""I have to cook, Paul D.""Me too." He stood up and made her stay there while he held her in his arms. Her dress soaked upthe water from his body. His jaw was near her ear. Her chin touched his shoulder.
"What you gonna cook?""I thought some snap beans.""Oh, yeah.""Fry up a little corn?""Yeah."There was no question but that she could do it. Just like the day she arrived at 124 — sure enough,she had milk enough for all.
她们就那样持续了片刻，因为丹芙和塞丝都不知如何是好：如何去制止她，而不是去体味那两片嘴唇的形状，享受它们不停亲吻的感觉。然后，塞丝抓住宠儿的头发，迅速地眨着眼睛，让自己脱了身。她事后相信，肯定是由于那姑娘的气息与鲜奶一模一样，她才皱起眉头，生硬地说：
“别这样，你也老大不小的了。
”
她看了看丹芙，发现恐慌即将演变成别的祸事，便马上站起身，打破了这个戏剧性的场面。
“快起来!起来!”塞丝把姑娘们轰起来。她们离开“林间空地”时和来的时候差不多一样：塞丝领头，姑娘们远远跟在后面。大家都像来时一样沉默，却有所不同了。塞丝很困惑，不是因为亲吻，而是因为在亲吻之前，当她舒舒服服地让宠儿用按摩驱散疼痛时，那惹人喜爱的手指，还有那先是抚慰她、然后又扼住她脖子的手指，曾让她记起了什么，可一下子又想不起来了。不过有一点是毋庸置疑的，贝比•萨格斯并没有掐她，不像她开始以为的那样。丹芙说得对。远离了“林间空地”的妖术，走在斑斑驳驳的树影中，现在塞丝头脑清晰了———她记起了那些手指，她熟悉它们胜过熟悉自己的手指。它们曾经一部分一部分地擦洗她的身体，包裹她的阴部，梳理她的头发，往她的乳头上涂油，给她缝衣服，帮她洗净双脚，往她后背上抹油，还放下手里所有的活计来按摩她的后颈，尤其是在开头的日子里，那些时候，塞丝的精神在她记得和不记得的事情的重压下濒于崩溃：“学校老师”的侄子们玩弄她，而“学校老师”在一旁用她亲手制作的墨水记录下来；一个在田里直起身来的戴毡帽的女人，她的脸庞于塞丝脑际翩然浮现。即便在世界上所有的手中间，她也能认出贝比•萨格斯的那双，就如同认出寻找天鹅绒的白人姑娘的那双好手一样。然而，十八年来，她生活的房子一直充满了来自另一个世界的触摸，而那按住她后颈的拇指又与这触摸一模一样。也许它就是到那里去了。在保罗•D把它打出124号以后，它也许就是在“林间空地”上重振旗鼓的。合情合理，她想。
