RAINWATER held on to pine needles for dear life and Beloved could not take her eyes off Sethe.
Stooping to shake the damper, or snapping sticks for kindlin, Sethe was licked, tasted, eaten byBeloved's eyes. Like a familiar, she hovered, never leaving the room Sethe was in unless requiredand told to. She rose early in the dark to be there, waiting, in the kitchen when Sethe came down tomake fast bread before she left for work. In lamplight, and over the flames of the cooking stove,their two shadows clashed and crossed on the ceiling like black swords. She was in the window attwo when Sethe returned, or the doorway; then the porch, its steps, the path, the road, till finally,surrendering to the habit, Beloved began inching down Bluestone Road further and further eachday to meet Sethe and walk her back to 124. It was as though every afternoon she doubted anewthe older woman's return.
Sethe was flattered by Beloved's open, quiet devotion. The same adoration from her daughter (hadit been forthcoming) would have annoyed her; made her chill at the thought of having raised aridiculously dependent child. But the company of this sweet, if peculiar, guest pleased her the waya zealot pleases his teacher.
Time came when lamps had to be lit early because night arrived sooner and sooner. Sethe wasleaving for work in the dark; Paul D was walking home in it. On one such evening dark and cool,Sethe cut a rutabaga into four pieces and left them stewing. She gave Denver a half peck of peas tosort and soak overnight. Then she sat herself down to rest. The heat of the stove made her drowsyand she was sliding into sleep when she felt Beloved touch her. A touch no heavier than a featherbut loaded, nevertheless, with desire. Sethe stirred and looked around. First at Beloved's soft newhand on her shoulder, then into her eyes. The longing she saw there was bottomless. Some pleabarely in control. Sethe patted Beloved's fingers and glanced at Denver, whose eyes were fixed onher pea-sorting task.