Madeleine doesn’t understand. Denis has lost; he should be bitter and angry. Then her head finds the strength to turn, and her heart wails when she sees him. Purdue. The boy stands in the weeds not even twenty feet away. He let the train go without him. He has come back for her.
They will die together.
She can’t even summon the will to scream. To voice her despair, to shout to God, to say no, don’t let this happen.
“It will be quick when the moment comes,” Denis tells her calmly. “I promise you that. No pain.”
He’s talking about Purdue. He is talking about shooting him, killing the boy. This devil thinks those words will be of comfort to her, that somehow he is easing the struggle of her last breaths. Instead, it has the opposite effect. He transforms her into something superhuman. He gives her new life. Endorphins surge through her blood.
She is on her back on the wet ground, but the rifle is still right there with her. Her finger is still curled around the trigger. The heavy gun is suddenly weightless. A smile forms on her mouth, a smile that warns him of disaster, but he has nowhere to go, and he cannot move fast enough to get away. He is an old man. His mouth opens; his lips form an O of surprise, the last expression they will ever make. The barrel of the gun rises and spits flame. A single shot. A single bullet. It travels through his skull.
Denis is dead.
Relief floods Madeleine like a warm spring. She lets go of the gun and lets go of everything else, too. Everything in her body relaxes. The pain vanishes. Her limbs feel as if they are becoming one with the soft earth below her. She stares at the sky, seeing something bright, a brilliant star that has somehow burned through the dark clouds. That star is where she is headed. She is going home.
We all die alone, she thinks.
But Madeleine is not alone.
Purdue kneels beside her, his young face pouring out tears that mix with the rain. He is holding her hand to his cheek, but she doesn’t feel the touch of his skin. She doesn’t feel anything at all.
“Madeleine,” he begs, his voice choking up. “Please get up. Please don’t leave me. We’re safe. We can be together now.”
Oh, my sweet.
Oh, if only we could.
She wants to tell him that everything will be all right. He will be fine. He will live. He will grow, he will thrive, he will love, he will marry, he will hold the hands of children of his own. She wants to tell him that life is about leaving, but that love is about memories. She wants to tell him about the bright star cascading through the night sky. There are so many things to say, so many lessons to share.
But that is for some other world.
This moment is for the angels.
She gives away her last breath without words, but she is happy at the end. Her eyes gaze into his young face for one final moment before the shadows come, and then they see nothing at all.
41
The train whistle screamed in the distance. It was time. This was the end.
Lisa could feel the vibration under the floor of the church, the earth trembling as tons of steel drew closer, and she knew that Purdue had to run. He had to get away, and she had to protect him as he did. She could draw their fire, the way Madeleine had. She got to her feet with the AR-15 loaded and ready in her arms. She extended a hand to Purdue, but the boy didn’t move from where he was. He sat there, staring up at her with his big blue eyes.
“Purdue, you have to go now,” she told him. “You have to run and get on that train. This is your way out. You’ll be safe in Canada. I told you, it’s so beautiful up there. I want you to see it.”
“I really have to go?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Like the boy in the book?”
“Exactly.”
“But he didn’t get on the train. He came back for Madeleine.”
“Yes, but only to say goodbye. Then he had to leave. He went to Canada, and he was happy there. That’s the end of the story.”
“But Madeleine died,” Purdue complained.
“I know.”
“That’s too sad. I don’t like that. We need to change the ending.”
“Life doesn’t work that way, Purdue. I wish it did, but there are some things we can’t change.”
The train whistle sounded again, so loud it made Lisa cover her ears. She held out her hands again for the boy to take them. He needed to get up. He needed to run. But he sat on the floor like a statue. His eyes were wide and curious, staring back at her.
“Please,” she urged him. “You need to run for that train. Go. I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“By dying?” he asked.
“If that’s what it takes.”
The boy shook his head. “No.”
“Purdue. You can’t worry about me. That’s not your job. I’m the one who has to rescue you. Don’t you understand? I didn’t get us this far only to lose you. I made a promise. I’m going to save you.”
The boy smiled from the floor as he looked up at her. His smile was blinding. She felt utterly lost in the warmth of that smile and in the love that radiated from his eyes. All the cold went away. The church glowed around them.
“But you can’t save me,” he said to her.
“Yes. Yes, I can. I have to. That’s my job. That’s my responsibility. That’s the only reason for me to be alive. If I can’t save you, there’s no point to anything. Your life is more important than mine.”
“You can’t save me. Don’t you see? I’m already gone.”
Lisa’s headache throbbed behind her forehead, and she squeezed her skull with her hand as if she could force out the pain that way. “What are you talking about?” she asked the boy. “What are you saying?”
“You know.”
“No. I don’t. I don’t know anything at all. All I know is that you have to get on that train.”
“That was in the book,” Purdue told her. “This isn’t the book. The book is just in your head, Lisa. This has all been in your head. You have to let go of it now. You have to let go of me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. You know. You’ve always known.” The boy scrambled to his feet and tugged on her sleeve. “Who am I?”
“What?”
“Who am I? Tell me my name.”
“You’re Purdue,” Lisa said.
“No, I’m not. I have a name.”
“I don’t know what it is. You never told me. You kept it from me. You hid it from me. You wouldn’t tell me your name.”
“Because you already know,” the boy said.
“No.” Lisa sobbed. “No. I don’t.”
“What’s my name?”
Lisa wrenched away from the boy and backed up among the pews. She pointed to the rear of the church. “You have to go. Go now. I have to save you. We’re running out of time.”
“Who am I?”
“You’re Purdue.”
“No. You know my name. You know who I am. Just say it. Please? What’s my name?”
Lisa stared at him. She stared at this perfect boy in front of her. Ten years old. His whole life in front of him. Cities and rivers and mountains to explore. Smart as a whip, always able to make her laugh. Fascinated by everything. Jumping in the backyard while Lisa worked on her books. Playing hide-and-seek with Noah. Sitting in her lap as Lisa read to him.