第58章 不存在的女儿 (1)

　　The Memory Keeper’s Daughter

　　医生戴维亲自为妻子接生，发现双胞胎中的女

　　婴患有唐氏症。不忍面对女儿为智障的现实，他让

　　护士将女儿送走，并对妻子诺拉谎称她已经夭折。

　　善意的欺骗竟成了一家人的梦魇……25 年间，诺拉

　　不能承受丧女之痛，开始出走、酗酒，而戴维终日

　　被满心愧疚纠缠却无法言说，只能带着一架“记忆

　　守护者”牌相机去寻找女婴、女孩、少女的影子，

　　仿佛要为他那不存在的女儿留下成长的记录。暗恋

　　戴维的护士卡罗琳并没有送走女孩，她搬到另一个

　　城市隐姓埋名，以一己之力对抗社会的不公，尽力

　　给女儿一个温暖的家……多年后，戴维和卡罗琳再

　　次相遇，她对他说：“你逃过了很多心痛，但你也错

　　过了无数的喜悦。”

　　[ 美] 金·爱德华兹（ Kim Edwards）

　　March 1964

　　The snow started to fall several hours before her labor

　　began. A few flakes first，in the dull gray late-afternoon sky，and

　　then wind-driven swirls and eddies around the edges of their

　　wide front porch. He stood by her side at the window，watching

　　sharp gusts of snow billow，then swirl and drift to the ground.

　　All around the neighborhood，lights came on，and the naked

　　branches of the trees turned white.

　　After dinner he built a fire，venturing out into the weather

　　for wood he had piled against the garage the previous autumn.

　　The air was bright and cold against his face，and the snow in the

　　driveway was already halfway to his knees. He gathered logs，

　　shaking off their soft white caps and carrying them inside. The

　　kindling in the iron grate caught fire immediately，and he sat for a

　　time on the hearth，cross-legged，adding logs and watching the

　　flames leap，blue-edged and hypnotic. Outside，snow continued

　　to fall quietly through the darkness，as bright and thick as static in

　　the cones of light cast by the streetlights. By the time he rose and

　　looked out the window，their car had become a soft white hill on

　　the edge of the street. Already his footprints in the driveway had

　　filled and disappeared.

　　He brushed ashes from his hands and sat on the sofa

　　beside his wife，her feet propped on pillows，her swollen ankles

　　crossed，a copy of Dr. Spock balanced on her belly. Absorbed，

　　she licked her index finger absently each time she turned a page.

　　Her hands were slender，her fingers short and sturdy，and she

　　bit her bottom lip lightly，intently，as she read. Watching her，he

　　felt a surge of love and wonder: that she was his wife，that their

　　baby，due in just three weeks，would soon be born. Their first

　　child，this would be. They had been married just a year.

　　She looked up，smiling，when he tucked the blanket around

　　her legs.“ You know，I’ve been wondering what it’s like，”she said.

　　“Before we’re born，I mean. It’s too bad we can’t remember.”She

　　opened her robe and pulled up the sweater she wore underneath，

　　revealing a belly as round and hard as a melon. She ran her hand

　　across its smooth surface，firelight playing across her skin，

　　casting reddish gold onto her hair. “Do you suppose it’s like

　　being inside a great lantern? The book says light-permeates my

　　skin，that the baby can already see.”

　　“I don’t know，”he said.

　　She laughed.“ Why not?”she asked.“ You’re the doctor.”

　　“I’m just an orthopedic surgeon，”he reminded her.“I could

　　tell you the ossification pattern for fetal bones，but that’s about

　　it.”He lifted her foot，both delicate and swollen inside the light

　　blue sock，and began to massage it gently: the powerful tarsal

　　bone of her heel，the metatarsals and the phalanges，hidden

　　beneath skin and densely layered muscles like a fan about to

　　open. Her breathing filled the quiet room，her foot warmed his

　　hands，and he imagined the perfect，secret，symmetry of bones.

　　In pregnancy she seemed to him beautiful but fragile，fine blue

　　veins faintly visible through her pale white skin.

　　It had been an excellent pregnancy，without medical

　　restrictions. Even so，he had not been able to make love to her

　　for several months. He found himself wanting to protect her

　　instead，to carry her up flights of stairs，to wrap her in blankets，

　　to bring her cups of custard.“ I’m not an invalid，”she protested

　　each time，laughing.“ I’m not some fledgling you discovered on

　　the lawn.”Still，she was pleased by his attentions. Sometimes

　　he woke and watched her as she slept: the flutter of her eyelids，

　　the slow even movement of her chest，her outflung hand，small

　　enough that he could enclose it completely with his own.

　　She was eleven years younger than he was. He had first

　　seen her not much more than a year ago，as she rode up an

　　escalator in a department store downtown，one gray November

　　Saturday while he was buying ties. He was thirty-three years old

　　and new to Lexington，Kentucky，and she had risen out of the

　　crowd like some kind of vision，her blond hair swept back in an

　　elegant chignon，pearls glimmering at her throat and on her ears.

　　She was wearing a coat of dark green wool，and her skin was