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“I understand what happened,” Bourne said after a time, “and yet I don’t.”
Sara put her arm around his waist, half turned him toward her. “Being what he was, he never had a chance.”
“That’s the part I don’t understand.”
“Then understand that you gave him something precious, something he never could have dreamed would be his. You accepted him, befriended him, helped him to grow up.”
“I helped him to his death.”
“No, Jason, that was his choice. An adult’s choice. Finally, he understood that he needed to put away childish things. He needed to return to his father.”
“He tried to fit in,” Bourne said, “but he didn’t belong anywhere else.”
“That’s right.” She took his hand in hers. “That’s all of it.” She kissed him hard on the lips. “That’s the end.”
The child, his voice plaintive against the centuries-old wall, sang on. Soon enough, other voices joined in.
