“亲爱的，我们有整个星期的时间去解决。” 我吻了一下她柔软的头发，那上面还留有阳光的温暖。“或许会车到山前必有路呢。”
“妈妈，您常常这样说。总是期望，有用吗！”
直到开始准备晚餐，我才想起那个年轻人，我走向门廊去拿盘子。我假设着，如果发现他在老柳树旁，就像艾丽斯那样沮丧地坐着，我就在送他上路前，也吻一下他的额头。可是他已经走了，我只能默默地祝福他，年轻人，保重。
整个星期，太阳一直都炙烤着大地。我在凉爽的早上浇园子，每一满杯的水都祝愿植物能茁壮成长，开花结果。 这个每天早上的习惯，成了我们每早的祷告。当我端着令人同情的水在园中浇水时，我为杰克和艾丽斯找工作而祷告，祷告杰克一路平安，为荒芜、贫瘠的大地祷告，为来来去去、要求很低的年轻人祷告。
他在我家门前逗留的一个星期后，我和往常一样在园中浇水。一阵阵热风把一张张脏报纸吹过园子，吹进了篱笆，最后被树枝挂住。报纸就像大鸟的翅膀似的拍打着。当我穿过园子，将报纸收集起来时，邮箱上一块白色的东西映入我的眼帘。我立刻意识到是杰克，急忙跑了过去。
是一封没有邮票、没有收信人姓名、没有地址的信封，但是里面有一张有铅笔字迹的褐色纸，上面写着：
寄给园中的夫人：
在您给了我吃的，容我休息之后，我在一家商店找到了一份工作。
您让我感到值得尊敬。此时，让我来帮助您吧。
信纸中夹有3张1圆的钞票。
我凝视着手中的钱，好像再次看到那个蓬头散发、衣衫褴褛的年轻人。我的嘴唇抖了起来，但这不是哭泣的时候。“艾丽斯，亲爱的，快点。” 我一边往屋里跑，一边大叫着。“去商店买一双你能找到的最好的鞋吧。你明早将是艾克米商店应征者中最优雅的女孩。”
“妈妈，您醒了吗？您准备享用自己的生日宴了吗？”
我睁开眼睛，看到了周围我爱的人：优雅的艾丽斯，此时也已头发灰白，体态龙钟；年轻的丽贝卡，快活而可爱，所有的人，无论老少都很可爱。
“您刚才在讲故事给自己听吗，妈妈？” 艾丽斯戏弄地问道，“是一个很幸福的故事吧，妈妈。您刚才脸上还挂着笑容呢。”
“确实是一个美丽的故事。”
当我挣扎着站起来时，丽贝卡的新鞋从我的膝盖上掉了下去，发出轻柔的碰击声。
A Pair of New Shoes
Anonymous
“Don’t you just love my new shoes？”
Rebecca’s eyes shine with delight as she places a pair of elegant high…heeled shoes in my lap。 The shoes are impeccable1 in their simplicity； and nothing but my old knobby2 hands mar their sleek lines。
“Such fine leather！ These are lovely。”
“And only eighty…five dollars！”
“Heavens！I must be getting old； Rebecca。 That seems a great deal of money for a pair of shoes。”
“Oh； Nana； I knew you’d say that。”
Rebecca’s lustrous hair swings in a soft curl as she leans forward to touch my cheek with a kiss。 Her perfume embodies the essence of spring and of youth。 At twenty…three； she is the baby of the family。 txt小说上传分享
一双新鞋（3）
“Now； don’t fall asleep； Nana。 Your party’s about to begin；”she whispers； and slips out of the room。
Sleep。 It would be so easy to let my wrinkled eyelids droop and to fall asleep like a fat old cat in the sun。 I blink several times to keep awake and turn my gaze to the dining room where a silver bowl of yellow roses graces the table in honor of my eighty…sixth birthday。 The linen has been laid and soon I shall feel its crispness beneath my fingertips。 The heavy silverware is in place and for a moment I wonder if my weak； old hands will handle it without embarrassing clatters on the delicate china。 The forting sound of voices and dinner preparations lulls me and I begin to caress the smooth； cool leather of Rebecca’s new shoes； which lie in my lap。 With each touch； I relax； I let go。 With each touch I remember another pair of shoes so long ago。 Was I only thirty…nine？ Impossible！ I can almost hear the voice that called to me as I stood in my garden on that scorching3 afternoon in that relentless summer of 1935。
“Missus； say； Missus！”
The husky voice startled me and I turned quickly。 The man at the fence was young； hardly twenty； with blond hair tousled like a little boy’s。 His clothes were dusty and rumpled； and I eyed him warily。 I often saw ragged； tired； solitary men pass by the house from the rail yards nearby； men off the freights； men moving about the country； looking for work。 My Jack was out there somewhere； too。
“Missus； could I please have a drink of water？”
“e into the yard。” I called； and pointed to the enameled cup that hung over the outdoor tap。 I had just filled three pails of water for my garden and had set them to warm in the sun。 The tap still dripped。
He drank in great gulps； swallowing slowly； and then splashed water on his face and ran his hands over his dusty hair and along the back of his neck。 “That feels good；” he said； by way of thanks； and stood there； self…conscious and awkward； a sudden tenseness ing over him when he noticed the pails sitting in the sun。
“Have you any work I can do for you？ Weed and water your garden？”
Some garden！ The bean and tomato plants struggled to survive in ground that was hard and cracked； and the sparse patch of lawn was no better。 What work could I offer him？ The house required a coat of paint； but paint cost money； and I had none。 I made a pretense of looking around； before shaking my head。
When he dropped to the grass and placed his head on folded arms； I felt his tiredness and despair。 A sudden tightness caught at my throat。 He could be my son； I thought。 He looks as young as Alice。 I knew he must be hungry。 What could I give him？ The icebox held so little： some milk； a knob of butter； and a few slices of bologna for Aice’s supper。
一双新鞋（4）
“e in out of the sun。 Sit on the porch；” I said； surprised at the frankness of my mand。 “I’ll get you something to eat。” Emotions had a way of getting mixed up these difficult days and I couldn’t trust mine； just as I couldn’t bear the shame…faced look of gratitude in his eyes。 As I climbed the steps to the house； I became angry at myself； at my helplessness； at my empty cupboards； at the unrelenting drought； at the whole damned suffering country。
I sliced a loaf of bread with vicious swipes of the knife； jerked open the ice…box for milk； twisted the lid off a jar of home…made jam； as though my frenzied actions would wipe out the feeling of guilt at offering him so little。 When I carried the food to the porch； I saw the boy near the garden； rinsing his shirt in one of the pails。 I beckoned to him； left him my scanty offering； and returned indoors。
Despite the drawn blinds； the house had trapped the heat and had bee an airless box of yellow light。 My flowered print dress clung to me in wet patches。 On each patch； the faded daisies4 dared to bloom。 I dropped into an armchair and swung my swollen feet up on a hassock。
When the sharp slap of the screen door awakened me； I was startled。
“Mama； where are you？”
I struggled to my feet and found Alice sitting at the kitchen table； her head and shoulders bowed in dejection。
“Mama； Acme Stores are hiring next week。” She raised her head and stared into my face。 “The employment officer said girls would be hired only if they were properly dressed。” Her brown eyes sought confirmation that I understood her statement。 “That means stockings and a decent pair of shoes； Mama； and look at me！” She thrust out her feet in their dusty running shoes。
Instinctively； I glanced at the old felt slippers I wore。 There were no shoes in the house that could meet Acme’s standards； and there was no money to buy a new pair。 My heart ached with the folly of having sent my young one to find work； and I stepped behind her chair to fort her with a hug。
“Honey； we have a whole week to work on it。” I kissed her soft hair； still warm from the sun。 “Maybe something will e our way。”
“That’s what you always say； Mama。 What’s the use of hoping！”
It wasn’t till I began to prepare our meager supper that I remembered the young man； and I went to the porch for my tray。 Had I found him sitting at the old wicker table； as dejected5 as Alice； I suppose I would have kissed the top of his head； too； before sending him on his way。 I sent him a silent wish； instead。 Take care； young man。
All that week the sun continued to scorch the land。 I watered my garden in the cool of the mornings； with each cupful willing the plants to grow and bear fruit。 This morning ritual of mine became my morning prayer。 As I stooped in the garden with my pitiful cups of water； I prayed for Jack and Alice to find work； I prayed for Jack’s safety on the road； I prayed for the forlorn； beaten land； and for the young man who had e and gone and had asked for so little。书 包 网 txt小说上传分享
一双新鞋（5）
The week after his stop at my gate； I watered； as usual。 A hot； fitful breeze sent sheets of torn and dirty newspapers scudding across the yard and into the caragana hedge。 Trapped in the branches； the papers flapped and rustled like large alien birds。 As I crossed the yard to gather them up； a flash of white in the mailbox caught my eye。 Jack； I thought immediately； and hurried to the box。
The envelope bore no stamp； no name； and no address； but contained a message penciled on a scrap of brown paper：
To the lady in the garden：
I got a job at a warehouse after you fed me and let me rest。
You helped me feel and look respectable。 Now； let me help you。
Folded within the paper were three one…dollar bills。
I stared at the money in my hand and saw a