exhausted finally they lay down on their backs to recover breath. the sky above them was another country. winter stars, close enough to lick, had come out before sunset. for a moment, looking up,sethe entered the perfect peace they offered. then denver stood up and tried for a long,independent glide. the tip of her single skate hit an ice bump, and as she fell, the flapping of herarms was so wild and hopeless that all three — sethe, beloved and denver herself — laughed tillthey coughed. sethe rose to her hands and knees, laughter still shaking her chest, making her eyeswet. she stayed that way for a while, on all fours. but when her laughter died, the tears did not andit was some time before beloved or denver knew the difference. when they did they touched herlightly on the shoulders.
walking back through the woods, sethe put an arm around each girl at her side. both of them hadan arm around her waist. making their way over hard snow, they stumbled and had to hold ontight, but nobody saw them fall.
inside the house they found out they were cold. they took off their shoes, wet stockings, and puton dry woolen ones. denver fed the fire. sethe warmed a pan of milk and stirred cane syrup andvanilla into it. wrapped in quilts and blankets before the cooking stove, they drank, wiped theirnoses, and drank again.
"we could roast some taters," said denver.
"tomorrow," said sethe. "time to sleep."she poured them each a bit more of the hot sweet milk. the stovefire roared.
"you finished with your eyes?" asked beloved.
sethe smiled. "yes, i'm finished with my eyes. drink up. time for bed."but none of them wanted to leave the warmth of the blankets, the fire and the cups for the chill ofan unheated bed. they went on sipping and watching the fire.
when the click came sethe didn't know what it was. afterward it was clear as daylight that theclick came at the very beginning — a beat, almost, before it started; before she heard three notes;before the melody was even clear. leaning forward a little, beloved was humming softly.
it was then, when beloved finished humming, that sethe recalled the click — the settling of piecesinto places designed and made especially for them. no milk spilled from her cup because her handwas not shaking. she simply turned her head and looked at beloved's profile: the chin, mouth,nose, forehead, copied and exaggerated in the huge shadow the fire threw on the wall behind her.
her hair, which denver had braided into twenty or thirty plaits, curved toward her shoulders likearms. from where she sat sethe could not examine it, not the hairline, nor the eyebrows, the lips,nor... "all i remember," baby suggs had said, "is how she loved the burned bottom of bread. herlittle hands i wouldn't know em if they slapped me.". . the birthmark, nor the color of the gums, the shape of her ears, nor...
"here. look here. this is your ma'am. if you can't tell me by my face, look here.".. the fingers, nor their nails, nor even...
but there would be time. the click had clicked; things were where they ought to be or poised andready to glide in.
"i made that song up," said sethe. "i made it up and sang it to my children. nobody knows thatsong but me and my children." beloved turned to look at sethe. "i know it," she said.
a hobnail casket of jewels found in a tree hollow should be fondled before it is opened. its lockmay have rusted or broken away from the clasp. still you should touch the nail heads, and test itsweight. no smashing with an ax head before it is decently exhumed from the grave that has hiddenit all this time. no gasp at a miracle that is truly miraculous because the magic lies in the fact thatyou knew it was there for you all along.
sethe wiped the white satin coat from the inside of the pan, brought pillows from the keeping roomfor the girls' heads. there was no tremor in her voice as she instructed them to keep the fire — -ifnot, come on upstairs.
