For a moment, standing there in the hospital room, Gurney closes his eyes. When he does, he sees Peter Pan—all in black, with his back to him. The little man begins turning. His face is a bilious yellow, his smile blood red. Turning. Turning toward him, raising his arms like the wings of a predatory bird.

The eyes in the bilious face are the eyes of Carl Spalter. Full of horror and hate and despair. The eyes of a man who wished he’d never been born.

Gurney recoils at the vision, tries to focus on Madeleine.

She suggests that he lie down on the hospital bed. She offers to massage his neck and shoulders and back.

He agrees and soon finds himself in a drifting state of consciousness, feeling only the warmth and gentle pressure of her hands.

Her voice, soft and soothing, is the only other reality he is aware of.

In the place between exhaustion and sleep there is a locale of deep disengagement, simplicity, and clarity where he often found a kind of serenity he found nowhere else. He imagined it might be similar to the heroin addict’s rush—a surge of pure, impervious peace.

It normally was a state of isolation from all sensory stimuli—bringing with it a blessed inability to tell where his body ended and the rest of the world began—but tonight it is different. Tonight the sound of Madeleine’s voice and the penetrating warmth of her hands has been incorporated into the cocoon.

She is talking about walking on the coast of Cornwall, about the sloping green fields, the stone walls, the cliffs high above the sea …

Kayaking on a turquoise lake in Canada …

Cycling in Catskill valleys …

Picking blueberries …

Erecting bluebird houses along the border of the high pasture …

Crossing a stile on a footpath through a Scottish Highlands farm …

Her voice is as gentle and warm as the touch of her hands on his shoulders.

He can see her on a bicycle in white sneakers, yellow socks, fuchsia shorts, and a lavender nylon jacket shimmering in the sun.

Her smile is the smile of Malcolm Claret. Her voice and his voice are one.

“There is nothing in life that matters but love. Nothing but love.”

Acknowledgments