感心系列(29)-------门阶上的天使

□(美)希勒瑞·白奇埃尔德

李威 译

　　那天早上，当本把牛奶送到我堂兄家时，不像往常那么愉快。这个瘦小的中年男人看起来没有和人交谈的心情。
　　这是1962年11月底，我们到加利福尼亚州的劳恩德尔镇不过几个星期。在找房子期间，我和丈夫、孩子们一直住在堂兄家里。
　　当本把牛奶器皿从金属托架上拿下来的时候，终于面色阴郁地说出了事情的大概。他告诉我，有两个客户没结帐就离开了小镇，他将不得不自己掏钱赔补。其中一个只欠10元，但另一个却拖欠了79元，并且没有留下地址。本对于自己允许欠帐的愚蠢行为感到万分沮丧。
　　“她是个美丽的女人，”他说，“有6个孩子，而且另一个也快要出生了。她总是说，‘等我丈夫一找到第二职业，我很快就付你钱。’我相信了她。我多蠢!本以为我做了一件好事，但我得到了教训。”
　　我所能说的只有，“我很遗憾。”

　　我再次看到他时，他看起来怒气更盛。他谈到那些喝光了他牛奶的脏孩子们时，气得头发都竖起来了。
　　当本离开后，我发现自己对他的难题很感兴趣，并希望能帮助他。我想到圣诞节快到了，并且记起我的祖母常说的一句话：“当别人拿走你东西的时候，你就给他们，这样你就永远不会感到遭受了掠夺。”
　　下一次，本送牛奶来，我告诉他我有办法使他对那79元感觉好过一些。
　　“没有什么办法，”他说，“不过说来听听。”
　　“把牛奶送给那妇人，作为圣诞礼物送给那些需要它的孩子们。”
　　“你在开玩笑吗?”他回答，“我甚至还没有给我妻子送过那么贵重的礼物哩！”
　　“你知道圣经上说，‘我是一个陌生人，你接纳了我。’你只是接纳了她和她的孩子们。”
　　“你怎么不说她接纳了我?你的问题在于那不是你的79元。”
　　我不再说什么，但我仍然相信我的建议是正确的。
　　他再来时，我们会拿这个开玩笑。“你还没有给她牛奶吗?”我会这样说。
　　“没有，”他会反驳说，“不过我正在考虑送一件价值79元的礼物给我的妻子，除非另一个美丽的母亲又想利用我的同情心。”
　　每一次我问这个问题，他都好像变得更轻松一点。
　　然后，圣诞节前6天，那件事发生了。他来的时候，脸上绽放着笑容，眼睛闪闪发光。“我做过了!”他说。“我把牛奶作为圣诞礼物送给她了。这不容易，但我失去了什么呢?都过去了，不是吗?”
　　“是的。”我真替他高兴。
　　“我真的觉得好多了。这正是圣诞节我有一个好心情的缘故。是我使那些孩子们有许多的牛奶放进他们的麦片粥里。”
　　假日来了，又过去了。两个星期后，一月的一个阳光明媚的早晨，本差不多是跑着来的。“等一等，听我说。”
　　他说，他的路线和以前不同了，要替另一个牛奶工送牛奶。他听到有人叫他的名字，就回头去，看到一个妇人正沿着街道跑过来，手里挥着钱。他立即认出了她——那个有很多孩子、没有付帐的女人。她正抱着一个用小毛毯裹着的婴儿。她的长长的褐色头发一直遮到她的眼睛。
　　“本，等一会儿。”她喊道，“我有钱给你。”
　　本停住卡车，走出来。
　　“我很抱歉，”她说，“我真的一直想付你钱，”她解释说，丈夫有一天晚上回家，说他找到了一个便宜点的公寓，也找到了一份晚上干的工作。于是他们搬了家，但她却忘了留下一个寄送地址。“我已经有一点积蓄了。”她说，“这儿是20元，先还一部分。”
　　“没关系，”本回答，“已经付过帐了。”
　　“付过了？”她惊呼，“什么意思，谁付的?”
　　“我。”
　　她朝他看着，好像他是天使加百列(替上帝把好消息报告给世人的天使——译者注)，然后她哭了。
　　“那么，”我问，“你做了什么?”
　　“我不知道该做什么，因此我伸出一只胳膊抱着她，不知怎么，我也哭了，我一点都不明白我哭什么。然后我想到了那些孩子们有牛奶放在麦片粥里，你知道怎么样?我真高兴你对我说那些话。”
　　“你没拿那20元?”
　　“当然没有，”他愤怒地回答，“我是把牛奶作为圣诞礼物送给她的，不是吗?”

Angel on a Doorstep
BY SHIRLEY BACHELDER
(Originally published in Reader's Digest)

When Ben delivered milk to my cousin's home that morning, he wasn't his usual sunny self. The slight, middle-aged man seemed in no mood for talking.
It was late November 1962, and as a newcomer to Lawndale, Calif., I was delighted that milkmen still brought bottles of milk to doorsteps. In the weeks that my husband, kids and I had been staying with my cousin while house-hunting, I had come to enjoy Ben's jovial repartee.
Today, however, he was the epitome of gloom as he dropped off his wares from hiswire carrier. It took slow, careful questioning to extract the story from him. With some embarrassment, he told me two customers had left town without paying their bills, and he would have to cover the losses. One of the debtors owed only $10
, but the other was $79 in arrears and had left no forwarding address. Ben was distraught at his stupidity for allowing this bill to grow so large.
"She was a pretty woman," he said, "with six children and another on the way. She was always saying, `I'm going to pay you soon, when my husband gets a second job. I believed her. What a fool I was! I thought I was doing a good thing, but I've learned my lesson. I've been had!"
All I could say was, "I'm so sorry."
The next time I saw him, his anger seemed worse. He bristled as he talked about the messy young ones who had drunk up all his milk. The charming family had turned into a parcel of brats.
I repeated my condolences and let the matter rest. But when Ben left, I found myself caught up in his problem and longed to help. Worried that this incident would sour a warm person, I mulled over what to do. Then, remembering that Christmas was coming, I thought of what my grandmother used to say: "When someone has taken
from you, give it to them, and then you can never be robbed."
The next time Ben delivered milk, I told him I had a way to make him feel better about the $79.
"Nothing will do that," he said, "but tell me anyway."
"Give the woman the milk. Make it a Christmas present to the kids who needed it."
"Are you kidding?" he replied. "I don't even get my wife a Christmas gift that expensive."
"You know the Bible says, 'I was a stranger and you took me in.' You just took h
er in with all her little children."
"Don't you mean she took me in? The trouble with you is, it wasn't your $79."
I let the subject drop, but I still believed in my suggestion.
We'd joke about it when he'd come. "Have you given her the milk yet?" I'd say.
"No," he'd snap back, "but I'm thinking of giving my wife a $79 present, unless another pretty mother starts playing on my sympathies."
Every time I'd ask the question, it seemed he lightened up a bit more.
Then, six days before Christmas, it happened. He arrived with a tremendous smile and a glint in his eyes. "I did it!" he said. "I gave her the milk as a Christmas present. It wasn't easy, but what did I have to lose? It was gone, wasn't it?"
"Yes," I said, rejoicing with him. "But you've got to really mean it in your heart."
"I know. I do. And I really feel better. That's why I have this good feeling about Christmas. Those kids had lots of milk on their cereal just because of me."
The holidays came and went. On a sunny January morning two weeks later, Ben almost ran up the walk. "Wait till you hear this," he said, grinning.
He explained he had been on a different route, covering for another milkman. He heard his name being called, looked over his shoulder and saw a woman running down the street, waving money. He recognized her immediately--the woman with all the kids, the one who didn't pay her bill. She was carrying an infant in a tiny blanket, and the woman's long brown hair kept getting in her eyes.
"Ben, wait a minute!" she shouted. "I've got money for you."
Ben stopped the truck and got out.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I really have been meaning to pay you." She explained that her husband had come home one night and announced he'd found a cheaper apartment. He'd also gotten a night job. With all that had happened, she'd forgotten to leave a forwarding address. "But I've been saving," she said. "Here's $20 toward the bill."
"That's all right," Ben replied. "It's been paid."
"Paid!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean? Who paid it?"
"I did."
She looked at him as if he were the Angel Gabriel and started to cry.
"Well," I asked, "what did you do?"
"I didn't know what to do, so I put an arm around her. Before I knew what was happening, I started to cry, and I didn't have the foggiest idea what I was crying about. Then I thought of all those kids having milk on their cereal, and you know what? I was really glad you talked me into this."
"You didn't take the $20?"
"Heck no," he replied indignantly. "I gave her the milk as a Christmas present, didn't I?"