"I don't know about lonely," said Denver's mother. "Mad, maybe, but I don't see how it could belonely spending every minute with us like it does.""Must be something you got it wants."Sethe shrugged. "It's just a baby.""My sister," said Denver. "She died in this house."Paul D scratched the hair under his jaw. "Reminds me of that headless bride back behind SweetHome. Remember that, Sethe? Used to roam them woods regular.""How could I forget? Worrisome . . .""How come everybody run off from Sweet Home can't stop talking about it? Look like if it was sosweet you would have stayed.""Girl, who you talking to?"Paul D laughed. "True, true. She's right, Sethe. It wasn't sweet and it sure wasn't home." He shookhis head.
"But it's where we were," said Sethe. "All together. Comes back whether we want it to or not." Sheshivered a little. A light ripple of skin on her arm, which she caressed back into sleep. "Denver,"she said, "start up that stove. Can't have a friend stop by and don't feed him.""Don't go to any trouble on my account," Paul D said.
"Bread ain't trouble. The rest I brought back from where I work. Least I can do, cooking fromdawn to noon, is bring dinner home. You got any objections to pike?""If he don't object to me I don't object to him."At it again, thought Denver. Her back to them, she jostled the kindlin and almost lost the fire.
"Why don't you spend the night, Mr. Garner? You and Ma'am can talk about Sweet Home all nightlong."Sethe took two swift steps to the stove, but before she could yank Denver's collar, the girl leanedforward and began to cry.
"What is the matter with you? I never knew you to behave this way.""Leave her be," said Paul D. "I'm a stranger to her.""That's just it. She got no cause to act up with a stranger. Oh baby, what is it? Did somethinghappen?"But Denver was shaking now and sobbing so she could not speak.
The tears she had not shed for nine years wetting her far too womanly breasts.