It is time for me to leave. Letting go of my sister’s hand will be my last act in this world and may well be the hardest thing I have ever done. We’ve finally found our way back to each other. I desire peace—I need it; it is the natural order—yet I yearn to stay. If only I could be reborn; if only this connection could last forever.
Now we have reached the top of the rise. Mathilda’s roof glints silver in the dying light. The Connecticut River is painted pure gold, running south to Long Island Sound. In the far distance, the salt water sparkles deep blue, and the two lighthouses at Saybrook Point have blinked on. Kate stops when she sees their beacons.
We stand there together, watching the sun set. In the east, a full moon rises. This night will never be truly dark; moonlight will illuminate this hill, the river, the sea. Kate crouches down and looks into the cardboard crate. Clementine’s dark-brown eyes watch her with gentle vigilance.
“It’s time,” Kate says.
I know, I say.
“I don’t want you to go,” she says. “Just when I’ve found you.”
I love you, I say.
“Forever,” she says.
And ever.
She slips her hand from mine, and I feel myself start to fade, to merge into the moon’s pale glow.
Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? I want to ask, but I find I can’t. Words lose their meaning; feelings are all that exist. I look down the hill and see the man with dark hair climbing up through the tall grass, coming toward us.
“I will visit you here,” my sister says, reaching into the crate to pet Clementine’s head, to trace with one finger the scars left by the hawk’s talons.
You don’t have to visit me anywhere, I say. I am with you; I am in you; I always will be. Love Sam for me, love Lulu, love each other.
Kate draws a heart in the grass. There is no blood this time; there is no need for it. The pressure of her finger makes its mark. I kiss the top of my sister’s head. She opens the door to the crate, and Clementine inches out. She hops a foot away, seems to look back at Kate, then races through the field and disappears into the hay.
“I love you,” my sister says. Her voice is quiet and happy. That is what I take with me—the sound of Kate’s happiness.
The moon rises above the tree line, and I lift with it.