乐文小说网

第38部分（第1页）

〃Poor　Del；〃　he　said　in　a　low；　hoarse　voice。　〃Poor　old　Del。〃

〃Yes；〃　I　said。　〃Poor　old　Del。　John；　are　you　okay？〃

〃Hes　out　of　it；〃　Coffey　said。　〃Dels　out　of　it。　Isnt　he；　boss？〃

〃Yes。　Answer　my　question；　John。　Are　you　okay？〃

〃Dels　out　of　it；　hes　the　lucky　one。　No　matter　how　it　happened；　hes　the　lucky　one。〃

I　thought　Delacroix　might　have　given　him　an　argument　on　that；　but　didnt　say　so。　I　glanced　around　Coffeys　cell；　instead。　〃Wheres　Mr。　Jingles？〃

〃Ran　down　there。〃　He　pointed　through　the　bars；　down　the　hall　to　the　restraint…room　door。

I　nodded。　〃Well；　hell　be　back。〃

But　he　wasnt；　Mr。　Jingless　days　on　the　Green　Mile　were　over。　The　only　trace　of　him　we　ever　happened　on　was　what　Brutal　found　that　winter：　a　few　brightly　colored　splinters　of　wood；　and　a　smell　of　peppermint　candy　wafting　out　of　a　hole　in　a　beam。

I　meant　to　walk　away　then；　but　I　didnt。　I　looked　at　John　Coffey；　and　he　back　at　me　as　if　he　knew　everything　I　was　thinking。　I　told　myself　to　get　moving；　to　just　call　it　a　night　and　get　moving；　back　to　the　duty　desk　and　my　report。　Instead　I　said　his　name：　〃John　Coffey。〃

〃Yes；　boss；〃　he　said　at　once。

Sometimes　a　man　is　cursed　with　needing　to　know　a　thing；　and　that　was　how　it　was　with　me　right　then。　I　dropped　down　on　one　knee　and　began　taking　off　one　of　my　shoes。

7。

The　rain　had　quit　by　the　time　I　got　home；　and　a　late　grin　of　moon　had　appeared　over　the　ridges　to　the　north。　My　sleepiness　seemed　to　have　gone　with　the　clouds。　I　was　wide　awake；　and　I　could　smell　Delacroix　on　me。　I　thought　I　might　smell　him　on　my　skin　…　barbecue；　me　and　you；　stinky；　pinky；　phew…phew…phew　…　for　a　long　time　to　e。

Janice　was　waiting　up；　as　she　always　did　on　execution　nights。　I　meant　not　to　tell　her　the　story；　saw　no　sense　in　harrowing　her　with　it；　but　she　got　a　clear　look　at　my　face　as　I　came　in　the　kitchen　door　and　would　have　it　all。　So　I　sat　down；　took　her　warm　hands　in　my　cold　ones　（the　heater　in　my　old　Ford　barely　worked；　and　the　weather　had　turned　a　hundred　and　eighty　degrees　since　the　storm）；　and　told　her　what　she　thought　she　wanted　to　hear。　About　halfway　through　I　broke　down　crying；　which　I　hadnt　expected。　I　was　a　little　ashamed；　but　only　a　little；　it　was　her；　you　see；　and　she　never　taxed　me　with　the　times　that　I　slipped　from　the　way　I　thought　a　man　should　be　。。。　the　way　I　thought　I　should　be；　at　any　rate。　A　man　with　a　good　wife　is　the　luckiest　of　Gods　creatures；　and　one　without　must　be　among　the　most　miserable；　I　think；　the　only　true　blessing　of　their　lives　that　they　dont　know　how　poorly　off　they　are。　I　cried；　and　she　held　my　head　against　her　breast；　and　when　my　own　storm　passed；　I　felt　better　。。。　a　little；　anyway。　And　I　believe　that　was　when　I　had　the　first　conscious　sight　of　my　idea。　Not　the　shoe；　I　dont　mean　that。　The　shoe　was　related；　but　different。　All　my　real　idea　was　right　then；　however；　was　an　odd　realization：　that　John　Coffey　and　Melinda　Moores；　different　as　they　might　have　been　in　size　and　sex　and　skin　color；　had　exactly　the　same　eyes：　woeful；　sad；　and　distant。　Dying　eyes。

〃e　to　bed；〃　my　wife　said　at　last。　〃e　to　bed　with　me；　Paul。〃

So　I　did；　and　we　made　love；　and　when　it　was　over　she　went　to　sleep。　As　I　lay　there　watching　the　moon　grin　and　listening　to　the　walls　tick　…　they　were　at　last　pulling　in；　exchanging　summer　for　fall　…　I　thought　about　John　Coffey　saying　he　had　helped　it。　I　helped　Dels　mouse。　I　helped　Mr。　Jingles。　Hes　a　circus　mouse。　Sure。　And　maybe；　I　thought；　we　were　all　circus　mice；　running　around　with　only　the　dimmest　awareness　that　God　and　all　His　heavenly　host　were　watching　us　in　our　Bakelite　houses　through　our　ivy…glass　windows。

I　slept　a　little　as　the　day　began　to　lighten　…　two　hours；　I　guess；　maybe　three；　and　I　slept　the　way　I　always　sleep　these　days　here　in　Georgia　Pines　and　hardly　ever　did　then；　in　thin　little　licks。　What　I　went　to　sleep　thinking　about　was　the　churches　youth。　The　names　changed；　depending　on　the　whims　of　my　mother　and　her　sisters；　but　they　were　all　really　the　same；　all　The　First　Backwoods　Church　of　Praise　Jesus；　The　Lord　Is　Mighty。　In　the　shadow　of　those　blunt；　square　steeples；　the　concept　of　atonement　came　up　as　regularly　as　the　toll　of　the　bell　which　called　the　faithful　to　worship。　Only　God　could　forgive　sins；　could　and　did；　washing　them　away　in　the　agonal　blood　of　His　crucified　Son；　but　that　did　not　change　the　responsibility　of　His　children　to　atone　for　those　sins　（and　even　their　simple　errors　of　judgement）　whenever　possible。　Atonement　was　powerful；　it　was　the　lock　on　the　door　you　closed　against　the　past。

I　fell　asleep　thinking　of　piney…woods　atonement；　and　Eduard　Delacroix　on　fire　as　he　rode　the　lightning；　and　Melinda　Moores；　and　my　big　boy　with　the　endlessly　weeping　eyes。　These　thoughts　twisted　their　way　into　a　dream。　In　it；　John　Coffey　was　sitting　on　a　riverbank　and　bawling　his　inarticulate　mooncalfs　grief　up　at　the　early…summer　sky　while　on　the　other　bank　a　freight…train　stormed　endlessly　toward　a　rusty　trestle　spanning　the　Trapingus。　In　the　crook　of　each　arm　the　black　man　held　the　body　of　a　naked；　blonde…haired　girlchild。　His　fists；　huge　brown　rocks　at　the　ends　of　those　arms　were　closed。　All　around　him　crickets　chirred　and　noseeums　flocked；　the　day　hummed　with　heat。　In　my　dream　I　went　to　him；　knelt　before　him；　and　took　his　hands。　His　fists　relaxed　and　gave　up　their　secrets。　In　one　was　a　spool　colored　green　and　red　and　yellow。　In　the　other　was　a　prison　guards　shoe。

〃I　couldnt　help　it；〃　John　Coffey　said。　〃I　tried　to　take　it　back；　but　it　was　too　late。〃

And　this　time；　in　my　dream；　I　understood　him。

8。

At　nine　oclock　the　next　morning；　while　I　was　having　a　third　cup　of　coffee　in　the　kitchen　（my　wife　said　nothing；　but　I　could　see　disapproval　large　on　her　face　when　she　brought　it　to　me）；　the　telephone　rang。　I　went　into　the　parlor　to　take　it；　and　Central　told　someone　that　their　party　was　holding　the　line。　She　then　told　me　to　have　a　birdlarky　day　and　rang　off　。。。　presumably。　With　Central；　you　could　never　quite　tell　for　sure。

Hal　Mooress　voice　shocked　me。　Wavery　and　hoarse；　it　sounded　like　the　voice　of　an　octogenarian。　It　occurred　to　me　that　it　was　good　that　things　had　gone　all　right　with　Curtis　Anderson　in　the　tunnel　last　night；　good　that　he　felt　about　the　same　as　we　did　about　Percy；　because　this　man　I　was　talking　to　would　very　likely　never　work　another　day　at　Cold　Mountain。

〃Paul；　I　understand　there　was　trouble　last　night。　I　also　understand　that　our　friend　Mr。　Wetmore　war；　involved。〃

〃A　spot　of　trouble；〃　I　admitted；　holding　the　receiver　tight　to　my　ear　and　leaning　in　toward　the　horn；　〃but　the　job　got　done。　Thats　the　important　thing。〃

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