With unbearable effort his lips articulate an “I,” then “love,” and finally “you.” Last of all, in an exhalation, Henri pronounces the words “Forgive me” so loudly that everyone beside the bed hears them. This both breaks my heart and heals it.

“Of course,” I say.

He squeezes my hand harder and harder, and again I whisper, “I love you, forever and ever.” He continues to gaze at me with infinite love and unbearable terror in his eyes.

Henri doesn’t breathe again. With an expression of stunned surprise, he falls back into a boundless void, leaving me behind. His hand lets go of mine, but I hold on to it. I hold it tight as Sam rushes to Maddie’s bedside and grabs her outstretched hand, as Dr. Saul gives instructions for resuscitation, as Dmitry tries to push me aside, as the machine that has measured Henri’s heartbeat for the past forty-six long days and nights draws a straight line under everything, as the final beep rings out—and I know that Henri will never return.

Nurse Marion flings a window wide open. I sense Henri Skinner linger in the ward for one minute more, and then he turns away and silently abandons life.

EPILOGUE

Henri

At certain times, herring gulls and great black-backed gulls wheel together in tight circles over the bay. One of those times is now, as the water takes on that metallic blue color and the setting sun spreads its lava on the surface of the sea.

I’m waiting for them and so when they arrive, I’m not surprised to see Madelyn holding my son’s hand. They walk along the very edge of this small beach not far from Ty Kerk, a place where both the tides and the worlds blur into one another.

Eddie, Sam, and Madelyn. I approach them silently, without their noticing me. I lay my arms on Eddie’s and Sam’s shoulders, and together we watch the sun go down. These sunsets at the world’s end—or, some would say, its beginning—are the most beautiful to be found anywhere on earth. Every day they paint the sky in different colors. Today the clouds trail away into small blobs, and planes trace zigzag vapor trails across a white-gold canvas that brightens to the color of ripe apricots at the edges.

“Hello, Henri,” says Eddie, smiling at the sea, and the sparkling light pours into her eyes.

“Hello, my darling.”

It is always said that we may take no earthly treasures with us when we die. No money or possessions, none of our beauty or power. That is correct. Some who have switched worlds have been intensely bewildered at first that they were unable to carry anything tangible with them.