“Did you want him to die?”

“Of course not.”

“Would he want you to die?”

“No.”

“Does Madeleine want you to die?”

“No.”

“Does Kyle want you to die?”

“No.”

Claret looked into Gurney’s eyes, as if assessing his understanding, before going on. “Everyone who loves you wants you to live.”

“I suppose so.”

“So this obsessive need of yours to atone for Danny’s death, to deal with your guilt by exposing yourself to the risk of being killed … it’s terribly selfish, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Gurney’s own voice sounded lifeless to him, somehow disconnected, as though coming from someone else.

“You’re the only one for whom it seems to make any sense.”

“Danny’s death was my fault.”

“And the fault of the drunk driver who hit him. And his own fault for stepping off the sidewalk into the street, which you’d probably warned him a hundred times not to do. And the fault of the pigeon he was following. And the fault of whatever God made the pigeon and the street and the drunk and the car and every past event that brought them all together at that unfortunate moment. Who are you to imagine you made all that happen?”

Claret paused, as if to catch his breath, to gather his strength, then spoke in a rising voice. “Your arrogance is outrageous. Your disregard for the people who love you is outrageous. David, listen to me. You must not cause pain to those who love you. If your great sin was a failure to pay attention, then pay attention now. You have a wife. What right do you have to risk her husband’s life? You have a son. What right do you have to risk his father’s life?”

The emotional energy expended in this short speech seemed to exhaust him.

Gurney sat motionless, speechless, empty, waiting. The room seemed very small. He could hear a faint ringing in his ears.

Claret smiled, his voice softer now, the softness somehow conveying a greater conviction, the conviction of the dying. “Listen to me, David. There is nothing in life that matters but love. Nothing but love.”

Chapter 38

A Fondness for Fire

Gurney had no clear recollection of leaving City Island, of making his way through the Bronx, or of crossing the George Washington Bridge. It wasn’t until he was driving north on Palisades Parkway that he regained a sense of normalcy. Along with that normalcy came the discovery that he was too low on gas to make it back to Walnut Crossing.