house, through the front door, has stolen away with her in a car, the road stretched before them, a whole beautiful future stretched before them …
I try to make these images real in my mind, real enough to die with.
“Who are you?” he asks me, holding out his hand.
“Bea’s sister,” I say.
He lowers his hand.
“‘Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,’” he says. “‘Anyone who loves their sons or daughters more than me isn’t worthy of me. And anyone who doesn’t take their cross and follow after me isn’t worthy of me.’”
“Is that why you killed her?”
“You came to me so broken, Lo. I could see your loneliness, your want and your need. You thought you moved through the world invisible, but it’s not true. Your pain was so obvious, so obscene, no one could stand to look at you. But I saw you and I’ve loved you and I have given you all that you wanted.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Have you ever considered that everything that has happened was by design? That you were meant to be here? That Bea’s greatest purpose was to bring you to me?” I flinch. “I saved you once. I will save you again. Accept your atonement.”
“No.”
“Then we’ll leave it to God.”
“What does that mean?”
“‘Whoever believes in Him will never die.’”
“And if they don’t believe?”
He holds out his hand again.
I take it.
We face the lake together and he gently, silently, urges me in ahead of him. The freezing water cuts into my bones, but my scalded flesh reaches for it. Lev walks in beside me, the water lapping his clothes. He presses his body to my body, presses his mouth to the side of my face before moving it to the shell of my ear.
“Be a part of this,” he whispers.
He cups the back of my neck with one hand, the other pressing gently against my chest as he eases me into the water. The lake envelops me, taking the burn from my abdomen and bringing it to my lungs. Pressure builds behind my eyes. My legs begin to thrash and my arms grab at his arms and his hands hold me under, keeping me under. My pulse thrums loudly in my head, my chest begins to ache, desperately, and my heart calls for her, only her.
Bea …
I take a breath and I listen.
2017
He prays over her.
She can’t make out the words.
She only hears the strained, awful sound of her own breathing.
He carries her down the path. She sees the pine trees from nearly upside down, the branches crisscrossing, tangled together. He takes her to the lake and as the water covers her body, all she sees is the sky and then, suddenly, she’s a child again, on the swing outside her house again, pumping her legs hard, picking up speed, fast and faster still, taking herself higher and higher, higher than she’s ever been. She thinks, faintly, she hears her name, but it’s coming from too far below her and the sky is all around her now, stretching out before her, infinite.
PART FIVE
SEPTEMBER 2018
By the time I get to the train station, it’s raining.
Raindrops streak the windshield as I pull into a parking spot down the street. I get out of my car and feed the meter, hurrying toward the station, but the low roll of thunder overhead seems like it might be an empty promise. It’s going to pass us by, I think. When I get inside, I check the noticeboard against the wall. The train coming in from Bellwood is right on time. I make my way to its platform, cutting a path through the passengers, and wait. For one moment, I think I see a boy. I close my eyes and when I open them, he’s gone. The train makes its slow pull up and I watch stranger after stranger detrain until my eyes land on a face I recognize.
“LO!” Emmy yells. People step out of her way—gentle amusement all over their faces—as she charges toward me, launching herself in my arms, Foster close behind.
I hold her. I just hold her.
* * *
We don’t know where we’ll talk at first.
We gauge the weather. It feels dangerous to take Emmy to a sit-down place, she has so much energy to burn, but then the clouds part and the sun comes out, and we decide on a park not far from the station.
Foster and I sit at a picnic table together.