“What will it take?” Wallace asked. “For you to cross.” He remembered what Nelson had told him when they’d stood below the door. “To rise.” “Ah,” Nelson said. “That’s the question, isn’t it? What will it take?” He leaned forward, tapping his cane gently against Wallace’s leg. “To know he’s in good hands. That his life is filled with joy even in the face of death. It’s not about what he needs, necessarily, because that might imply he’s lacking something. It’s about what he wants. There’s a difference. I think we forget that, sometimes.”
