Amy sat quietly after her song, then repeated the last line before she stood, left the lean-to andwalked off a little ways to lean against a young ash. When she came back the sun was in the valleybelow and they were way above it in blue Kentucky light. "'You ain't dead yet, Lu? Lu?""Not yet.""Make you a bet. You make it through the night, you make it all the way." Amy rearranged theleaves for comfort and knelt down to massage the swollen feet again. "Give these one more realgood rub," she said, and when Sethe sucked air through her teeth, she said, "Shut up. You got tokeep your mouth shut."Careful of her tongue, Sethe bit down on her lips and let the good hands go to work to the tune of"So bees, sing soft and bees, sing low." Afterward, Amy moved to the other side of the lean-towhere, seated, she lowered her head toward her shoulder and braided her hair, saying, "Don't upand die on me in the night, you hear? I don't want to see your ugly black face hankering over me.

　　If you do die, just go on off somewhere where I can't see you, hear?""I hear," said Sethe. I'll do what I can, miss."Sethe never expected to see another thing in this world, so when she felt toes prodding her hip ittook a while to come out of a sleep she thought was death. She sat up, stiff and shivery, while Amylooked in on her juicy back.

　　"Looks like the devil," said Amy. "But you made it through.

　　Come down here, Jesus, Lu made it through. That's because of me. I'm good at sick things. Canyou walk, you think?""I have to let my water some kind of way.""Let's see you walk on em."It was not good, but it was possible, so Sethe limped, holding on first to Amy, then to a sapling.

　　"Was me did it. I'm good at sick things ain't I?""Yeah," said Sethe, "you good.""We got to get off this here hill. Come on. I'll take you down to the river. That ought to suit you.

　　Me, I'm going to the Pike. Take me straight to Boston. What's that all over your dress?""Milk.""You one mess."Sethe looked down at her stomach and touched it. The baby was dead. She had not died in thenight, but the baby had. If that was the case, then there was no stopping now. She would get thatmilk to her baby girl if she had to swim.

　　"Ain't you hungry?" Amy asked her.

　　"I ain't nothing but in a hurry, miss.""Whoa. Slow down. Want some shoes?""Say what?""I figured how," said Amy and so she had. She tore two pieces from Sethe's shawl, filled them withleaves and tied them over her feet, chattering all the while.

　　"How old are you, Lu? I been bleeding for four years but I ain't having nobody's baby. Won't catch me sweating milk cause...""I know," said Sethe. "You going to Boston."At noon they saw it; then they were near enough to hear it. By late afternoon they could drink fromit if they wanted to. Four stars were visible by the time they found, not a riverboat to stow Setheaway on, or a ferryman willing to take on a fugitive passenger — nothing like that — but a wholeboat to steal. It had one oar, lots of holes and two bird nests.

　　"There you go, Lu. Jesus looking at you."Sethe was looking at one mile of dark water, which would have to be split with one oar in a uselessboat against a current dedicated to the Mississippi hundreds of miles away. It looked like home toher, and the baby (not dead in the least) must have thought so too. As soon as Sethe got close to theriver her own water broke loose to join it. The break, followed by the redundant announcement oflabor, arched her back.

　　"What you doing that for?" asked Amy. "Ain't you got a brain in your head? Stop that right now. Isaid stop it, Lu. You the dumbest thing on this here earth. Lu! Lu!"Sethe couldn't think of anywhere to go but in. She waited for the sweet beat that followed the blastof pain. On her knees again, she crawled into the boat. It waddled under her and she had justenough time to brace her leaf-bag feet on the bench when another rip took her breath away.

　　Panting under four summer stars, she threw her legs over the sides, because here come the head, asAmy informed her as though she did not know it — as though the rip was a breakup of walnut logsin the brace, or of lightning's jagged tear through a leather sky.

　　It was stuck. Face up and drowning in its mother's blood. Amy stopped begging Jesus and began tocurse His daddy.

　　"Push!" screamed Amy.

　　"Pull," whispered Sethe.

　　And the strong hands went to work a fourth time, none too soon, for river water, seeping throughany hole it chose, was spreading over Sethe's hips. She reached one arm back and grabbed the ropewhile Amy fairly clawed at the head. When a foot rose from the river bed and kicked the bottom ofthe boat and Sethe's behind, she knew it was done and permitted herself a short faint. Coming to,she heard no cries, just Amy's encouraging coos. Nothing happened for so long they both believedthey had lost it. Sethe arched suddenly and the afterbirth shot out. Then the baby whimpered andSethe looked. Twenty inches of cord hung from its belly and it trembled in the cooling evening air.

　　Amy wrapped her skirt around it and the wet sticky women clambered ashore to see what, indeed,God had in mind.

　　Spores of bluefer............