绿里奇迹(英文版)-第52章

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I　did。　The　first　morning　passed；　and　the　first　afternoon；　then　the　first　shift　back　at　work。　Time　takes　it　all；　whether　you　want　it　to　or　not。　Time　takes　it　all；　time　bears　it　away；　and　in　the　end　there　is　only　darkness。　Sometimes　we　find　others　in　that　darkness；　and　sometimes　we　lose　them　there　again。　That's　all　I　know；　except　that　this　happened　in　1932；　when　the　state　penitentiary　was　still　at　Cold　Mountain。　
And　the　electric　chair；　of　course。　
12。　
A　round　quarter　past　two　in　the　afternoon；　my　friend　Elaine　Connelly　came　to　me　where　I　sat　in　the　sunroom；　with　the　last　pages　of　my　story　squared　up　neatly　in　front　of　me。　Her　face　was　very　pale；　and　there　were　shiny　places　under　her　eyes。　I　think　she　had　been　crying。　
Me；　I'd　been　looking。　Just　that。　Looking　out　the　window　and　over　the　hills　to　the　east；　my　right　hand　throbbing　at　the　end　of　its　wrist。　But　it　was　a　peaceful　throb；　somehow。　I　felt　empty；　husked　out。　A　feeling　that　was　terrible　and　wonderful　at　the　same　time。　
It　was　hard　to　meet　Elaine's　eyes　…　l　was　afraid　of　the　hate　and　contempt　I　might　see　there　…　but　they　were　all　right。　Sad　and　wondering；　but　all　right。　No　hate；　no　contempt；　and　no　disbelief。　
〃Do　you　want　the　rest　of　the　story？〃　I　asked。　I　tapped　the　little　pile　of　script　with　my　aching　hand。　
〃It's　here；　but　I'll　understand　if　you'd　just　as　soon　not　…　〃　
〃It　isn't　a　question　of　what　I　want〃；　she　said。　〃I　have　to　know　how　it　came　out；　although　I　guess　there　is　no　doubt　that　you　executed　him。　The　intervention　of　Providence…with…a…capital…P　is　greatly　overrated　in　the　lives　of　ordinary　humans；　I　think。　But　before　I　take　those　pages　。。。　Paul　。。。〃　
She　stopped；　as　if　unsure　how　to　go　on。　I　waited。　Sometimes　you　can't　help　people。　Sometimes　it's　better　not　even　to　try。　
〃Paul；　you　speak　in　here　as　though　you　had　two　grown　children　in　1932　…　not　just　one；　but　two。　If　you　didn't　get　married　to　your　Janice　when　you　were　twelve　and　she　was　eleven；　something　like　that　…　〃　
I　smiled　a　little。　〃We　were　young　when　we　married　…　a　lot　of　hill…people　are；　my　own　mother　was　…　but　not　that　young。〃　
〃Then　how　old　are　you？　I've　always　assumed　you　were　in　your　early　eighties；　my　age；　possibly　even　a　little　younger；　but　according　to　this。。。〃　
〃I　was　forty　the　year　John　walked　the　Green　Mile〃；　I　said。　〃I　was　born　in　1892。　That　makes　me　a　hundred　and　four；　unless　my　reckoning's　out。〃　
She　stared　at　me；　speechless。　
I　held　out　the　rest　of　the　manuscript；　remembering　again　how　John　had　touched　me；　there　in　his　cell。　
You　won't　'splode；　he'd　said；　smiling　a　bit　at　the　very　idea；　and　I　hadn't　。。。　but　something　had　happened　to　me；　all　the　same。　Something　lasting。　
〃Read　the　rest　of　it〃；　I　said。　〃What　answers　I　have　are　in　there。〃　
〃All　right〃；　she　almost　whispered。　〃I'm　a　little　afraid　to；　I　can't　lie　about　that；　but　。。。　all　right。　Where　will　you　be？〃　
I　stood　up；　stretched；　listened　to　my　spine　crackle　in　my　back。　One　thing　that　I　knew　for　sure　was　that　I　was　sick　to　death　of　the　sunroom。　〃Out　on　the　croquet　course。　There's　still　something　I　want　to　show　you；　and　it's　in　that　direction。〃　
〃Is　it　。。。　scary？〃　In　her　timid　look　I　saw　the　little　girl　she　had　been　back　when　men　wore　straw　boaters　in　the　summer　and　raccoon　coats　in　the　winter。　
〃No〃；　I　said；　smiling。　〃Not　scary。〃　
〃All　right。〃　She　took　the　pages。　〃I'm　going　to　take　these　down　to　my　room。　I'll　see　you　out　on　the　croquet　course　around。。。〃　She　riffled　the　manuscript；　estimating。　〃Four？　Is　that　all　right？〃　
〃Perfect；〃　I　said；　thinking　of　the　too…curious　Brad　Dolan。　He　would　be　gone　by　then。　
She　reached　out；　gave　my　arm　a　little　squeeze；　and　left　the　room。　I　stood　where　I　was　for　a　moment；　looking　down　at　the　table；　taking　in　the　fact　that　it　was　bare　again　except　for　the　breakfast　tray　Elaine　had　brought　me　that　morning；　my　scattered　papers　at　last　gone。　I　somehow　couldn't　believe　I　was　done　。。。　and　as　you　can　see；　since　all　this　was　written　after　I　recorded　John　Coffey's　execution　and　gave　the　last　batch　of　pages　to　Elaine；　I　was　not。　And　even　then；　part　of　me　knew　why。　
Alabama。　
I　filched　the　last　piece　of　cold　toast　off　the　tray；　went　downstairs；　and　out　onto　the　croquet　course。　There　I　sat　in　the　sun；　watching　half　a　dozen　pairs　and　one　slow　but　cheerful　foursome　pass　by　waving　their　mallets；　thinking　my　old　man's　thoughts　and　letting　the　sun　warm　my　old　man's　bones。　
Around　two…forty…five；　the　three…to…eleven　shift　started　to　trickle　in　from　the　parking　lot；　and　at　three；　the　day…shift　folks　left。　Most　were　in　groups；　but　Brad　Dolan；　I　saw；　was　walking　alone。　That　was　sort　of　a　happy　sight；　maybe　the　world　hasn't　gone　entirely　to　hell；　after　all。　One　of　his　joke…books　was　sticking　out　of　his　back　pocket。　The　path　to　the　parking　lot　goes　by　the　croquet　course；　so　he　saw　me　there；　but　he　didn't　give　me　either　a　wave　or　a　scowl。　That　was　fine　by　me。　He　got　into　his　old　Chevrolet　with　the　bumper　sticker　reading　I　HAVE　SEEN　GOD　AND　HIS　NAME　IS　NEWT。　Then　he　was　gone　to　wherever　he　goes　when　he　isn't　here；　laying　a　thin　trail　of　discount　motor　oil　behind。　
Around　four　o'clock；　Elaine　joined　me；　just　as　she　had　promised。　From　the　look　of　her　eyes；　she'd　done　a　little　more　crying。　She　put　her　arms　around　me　and　hugged　me　tight。　〃Poor　John　Coffey〃；　she　said。　〃And　poor　Paul　Edgebe；　too。〃　
Poor　Paul；　I　heard　Jan　saying。　Poor　old　guy。　
Elaine　began　to　cry　again。　I　held　her；　there　on　the　croquet　course　in　the　late　sunshine。　Our　shadows　looked　as　if　they　were　dancing。　Perhaps　in　the　Make　Believe　Ballroom　we　used　to　listen　to　on　the　radio　back　in　those　days。　
At　last　she　got　herself　under　control　and　drew　back　from　me。　She　found　a　Kleenex　in　her　blouse　pocket　and　wiped　her　streaming　eyes　with　it。　〃What　happened　to　the　Warden's　wife；　Paul？　What　happened　with　Melly？〃　
〃She　was　considered　the　marvel　of　the　age；　at　least　by　the　doctors　at　Indianola　Hospital；〃　I　said。　I　took　her　arm　and　we　began　to　walk　toward　the　path　which　led　away　from　the　employees；　parking　lot　and　into　the　woods。　Toward　the　shed　down　by　the　wall　between　Georgia　Pines　and　the　world　of　younger　people。　〃She　died　…　of　a　heart　attack；　not　a　brain　tumor　…　ten　or　eleven　years　later。　In　forty…three；　I　think。　Hal　died　of　a　stroke　right　around　Pearl　Harbor　Day…could　have　been　on　Pearl　Harbor　Day；　for　all　I　remember　…　so　she　outlived　him　by　two　years。　Sort　of　ironic。〃　
〃And　Janice？〃　
〃I'm　not　quite　prepared　for　that　today〃；　I　said。　〃I'll　tell　you　another　time。〃　
〃Promise？〃　
〃Promise。〃　But　that　was　one　I　never　kept。　Three　months　after　the　day　we　walked　down　into　the　woods　together　（I　would　have　held　her　hand；　if　I　hadn't　been　afraid　of　hurting　her　bunched　and　swollen　fingers）；　Elaine　Connelly　died　quietly　in　her　bed。　As　with　Melinda　Moores；　death　came　as　the　result　of　a　heart　attack。　The　orderly　who　found　her　said　she　looked　peaceful；　as　if　it　had　e　suddenly　and　without　much　pain。　I　hope　he　was　right　about　that。　I　loved　Elaine。　And　I　miss　her。　Her　and　Janice　and　Brutal　and　just　all　of　them。　
We　reached　the　second　shed　on　the　path；　the　one　down　by　the　wall。　It　stood　back　in　a　bower　of　scrub　pines；　its　sagging　roof　and　boarded…over　windows　laced　and　dappled　with　shadows。　I　started　toward　it。　Elaine　hung　back　a　moment；　looking　fearful。　
〃It's　all　right；〃　I　said。　〃Really。　e　on。〃　
There　was　no　latch　on　the　door　…　there　had　been　once；　but　it　had　been　torn　away　…　and　so　I　used　a　folded…over　square　of　cardboard　to　wedge　it　shut。　I　pulled　it　free　now；　and　stepped　into　the　shed。　I　left　the　door　as　wide　open　as　it　would　go；　because　it　was　dark　inside。　
〃Paul；　what？　。。。　Oh。　Oh！〃　That　second　〃oh〃　was　just　shy　of　a　scream。　
There　was　a　table　pushed　off　to　one　side。　On　it　was　a　flashlight　and　a　brown　paper　bag。　On　the　dirty　floor　was　a　Hav…A…Tampa　cigar　box　I'd　gotten　from　the　concession　man　who　refills　the　home's　soft…drink　and　candy　machines。　I'd　asked　him　for　it　special；　and　since　his　pany　also　sells　tobacco　products；　it　was　easy　for　him　to　get。　I　offered　to　pay　him　for　it　…　they　were　valuable　modities　when　I　worked　at　Cold　Mountain；　as　I　may　have　told　you　…　but　he　just　laughed　me　off。　
Peering　over　the　edge　of　it　were　a　pair　of　bright　little　oilspot　eyes。　
〃Mr。　Jingles；〃　I　said　in　a　low　voice。　〃e　over　here。　e　on　over　here；　old　boy；　and　see　this　lady。〃　
I　squatted　down　…　it　hurt；　but　I　managed　…　and　held　out　my　hand。　At　first　I　didn't　think　he　was　going　to　be　able　to　get　over　the　side　of　the　box　this　time；　but　he　made　it　with　one　final　lunge。　He　landed　on　his　side；　then　regained　his　feet；　and　came　over　to　me。　He　ran　with　a　hitching　limp　in　one　of　his　back　legs；　the　injury　that　Percy　had　inflicted　had　e　back　in　Mr。　Jingles's　old　age。　His　old；　old　age。　Except　for　the　top　of　his　head　and　the　tip　of　his　tail；　his　fur　had　gone　entirely　gray。　
He　hopped　onto　the　palm　of　my　hand。　I　raised　him　up　and　he　stretched　his　neck　out；　sniffing　at　my　breath　with　his　ears　laid　back　and　his　tiny　dark　eyes　avid。　I　held　my　hand　out　toward　Elaine；　who　looked　at　the　mouse　with　wide…eyed　wonder；　her　lips　parted。　
〃It　can't　be〃；　she　said；　and　raised　her　eyes　to　me。　〃Oh　Paul；　it　isn't　。　。。　it　can't　be！〃　
〃Watch；〃　I　said；　〃and　then　tell　me　that。〃　
From　the　bag　on　the　table　I　took　a　spool　which　I　had　colored　myself　…　not　with　Crayolas　but　with　Magic　Markers；　an　invention　undreamed　of　in　1932。　It　came　to　the　same；　though。　It　was　as　bright　as　Del's　had　been；　maybe　brighter。　Messieurs　et　mesdames；　I　thought。　Bienvenue　au　cirque　du　mousie！　
I　squatted　again；　and　Mr。　Jingles　ran　off　my　palm。　He　was　old；　but　as　obsessed　as　ever。　From　the　moment　I　had　taken　the　spool　out　of　the　bag；　he'd　had　eyes　for　nothing　else。　I　rolled　it　across　the　shed's　uneven；　splintery　floor；　and　he　was　after　it　at　once。　He　didn't　run　with　his　old　speed；　and　his　limp　was　painful　to　watch；　but　why　should　he　have　been　either　fast　or　surefooted？　As　I've　said；　he　was　old；　a　Methuselah　of　a　mouse。　Sixty…four；　at　least。　
He　reached　the　spool；　which　struck　the　far　wall　and　bounced　back。　He　went　around　it；　then　lay　down　on　his　side。　Elaine　started　forward　and　I　held　her　back。　After　a　moment；　Mr。　Jingles　found　his　feet　again。　Slowly；　so　slowly；　he　nosed　the　spool　back　to　me。　When　he'd　first　e　…　I'd　found　him　lying　on　the　steps　leading　to　the　kitchen　in　just　that　same　way；　as　if　he'd　travelled　a　long　distance　and　was　exhausted　…　he　had　still　been　able　to　guide　the　spool　with　his　paws；　as　he　had　done　all　those　years　ago　on　the　Green　Mile。　That　was　beyond　him；　now；　his　hindquarters　would　no　longer　support　him。　Yet　his　nose　was　as　educated　as　ever。　He　just　had　to　go　from　one　end　of　the　spool　to　the　other　to　keep　it　on　course。　When　he　reached　me；　I　picked　him　up　in　one　hand　…　no　more　than　a　feather；　he　weighed　…　and　the　spool　in　the　other。　His　bright　dark　eyes　never　left　it。　
〃Don't　do　it　again；　Paul；〃　Elaine　said　in　a　broken　voice。　〃I　can't　bear　to　watch　him。〃　
I　understood　how　she　felt；　but　thought　she　was　wrong　to　ask　it。　He　loved　chasing　and　fetching　the　spool；　after　all　the　years；　he　still　loved　it　just　as　much。　We　should　all　be　so　fortunate　in　our　passions。　
〃There　are　peppermint　candies　in　the　bag；　too；〃　I　said。　〃Canada　Mints。　I　think　he　still　likes　them　…　he　won't　stop　sniffing；　if　I　hold　one　out　to　him　…　but　his　digestion　has　gotten　too　bad　to　eat　them。　I　bring　him　toast；　instead。〃　
I　squatted　again；　broke　a　small　fragment　off　the　piece　I'd　brought　with　me　from　the　sunroom；　and　put　it　on　the　floor。　Mr。　Jingles　sniffed　at　it；　then　picked　it　up　in　his　paws　and　began　to　eat。　His　tail　was　coiled　neatly　around　him。　He　finished；　then　looked　expectantly　up。　
〃Sometimes　us　old　fellas　can　surprise　you　with　our　appetites〃；　I　said　to　Elaine；　and　handed　her　the　toast。　〃You　try。〃　
She　broke　off　another　fragment　and　dropped　it　on　the　floor。　Mr。　Jingles　approached　it；　sniffed；　looked　at　Elaine　。。。　then　picked　it　up　and　began　to　eat。　
〃You　see？〃　I　said。　〃He　knows　you're　not　a　floater。　
〃Where　did　he　e　from；　Paul？〃　
〃Haven't　a　clue。　One　day　when　I　went　out　for　my　early…morning　walk；　he　was　just　here；　lying　on　the　kitchen　steps。　I　knew　who　he　was　right　away；　but　I　got　a　spool　out　of　the　laundry　room　occasional　basket　just　to　be　sure。　And　I　got　him　a　cigar　box。　Lined　it　with　the　softest　stuff　I　could　find。　He's　like　us；　Ellie；　I　think…most　days　just　one　big　sore　place。　Still；　he　hasn't　lost　all　his　zest　for　living。　He　still　likes　his　spool；　and　he　still　likes　a　visit　from　his　old　blockmate。　Sixty　years　I　held　the　story　of　John　Coffey　inside　me；　sixty　and　more；　and　now　I've　told　it。　I　kind　of　had　the　idea　that's　why　he　came　back。　To　let　me　know　I　should　hurry　up　and　do　it　while　there　was　still　time。　Because　I'm　like　him　…　getting　there。〃　
〃Getting　where？〃　
〃Oh；　you　know〃；　I　said；　and　we　watched　Mr。　Jingles　for　awhile　in　silence。　Then；　for　no　reason　I　could　tell　you；　I　tossed　the　spool　again；　even　though　Elaine　had　asked　me　not　to。　Maybe　only　because；　in　a　way；　
him　chasing　a　spool　was　like　old　people　having　their　slow　and　careful　version　of　sex　…　you　might　not　want　to　watch　it；　you　who　are　young　and　convinced　that；　when　it　es　to　old　age；　an　exception　will　be　made　in　your　case；　but　they　still　want　to　do　it。　
Mr。　Jingles　set　off　after　the　rolling　spool　again；　clearly　with　pain；　and　just　as　clearly　（to　me；　at　least）　with　all　his　old；　obsessive　enjoyment。　
〃Ivy…glass　windows；〃