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Connor and I walk hand in hand down a dark cinder block hallway. The odor of shame, guilt, and pain fills my nostrils, and misery is written all over the walls.
“You sure you feel up to this?” Connor pats the sling on my right arm, but I already feel relief in my bones just by being here.
“I’m sure.” I narrow my eyes with a smile.
“Do you want to speak to him alone first?” He squeezes my hand even tighter.
“I do, actually. I’ll turn around and peek at you when I’m ready for you to join us. Is that okay?”
Connor waits on the other side of the two-way mirror while an officer escorts me inside the visitation room. “Glass of water, ma’am?”
“Two, please.” I smile then take a deep breath as I wait.
A few seconds later, the other door opens, and an officer escorts a handcuffed Lane Stone, clad in an orange jumpsuit, inside the room. At first, he beams when he sees my face, then his appearance turns pallid as he looks back and forth between the officer and me. “Allegra, I swear, I didn’t do this!”
I keep a straight face, not letting him know why I’m here. Our relationship in my dream wasn’t entirely real, but I still see him in a different light now because of it. “Sit down, Lane.”
The officer gently pushes Lane into his chair then stands in the corner of the room.
“I want you to know while I was in my coma, I relived the past in my head in some weird way, and you were there. I know you were following me around so much because you wanted to make sure I was okay, but you have to know that Connor and I are happy. Not perfect but truly happy. Can you acknowledge that and live your own life?” I lean in and study his reaction.
“I know that. Especially after he found you that night, he wanted to kill me! If the police hadn’t arrived so quickly, he might have done it. I get it. He loves you,” Lane cries.
“With that said, I need you to let us be after today. Okay?” I tear up, relieved that he’ll stop obsessing over me, grateful that he saved me and guilty that he’s been wrongfully accused. I’m also a little depressed after realizing that the Lane in my dream isn’t the same Lane before me. Not completely. The Lane in my dream had to let go of me entirely, and through the circumstances in my dream, he learned he was wrong about Connor, something I hope this Lane realizes, too, after being falsely accused and having so much time to think.
“I will, but it’s not like I have much choice anyway.” He raises his handcuffed hands in the air.
“If you did, would you? You could get some professional help.” I angle my head with curiosity.
“Yes, absolutely. I read you, loud and clear. But do you even believe me? I swear, I didn’t—”
I interrupt. “That’s why I’m here, actually.” I shuffle in my seat. “Now that I’m awake and healed, I’ve told the police everything that happened that night.” I smile.
Lane gives me a half grin, full of optimism. “You remember?”
“I do.” I nod to the officer, who walks over and removes Lane’s handcuffs. “I’ve already jumped through all the necessary hoops to release you from this place with a clean slate. Effective, well, right now.” Another officer comes in with Lane’s belongings and hands them over while Lane and I cry. “Thank you, Lane, for coming back. I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.” I hug him with my one good arm and look in the mirror to Connor.
Connor opens the door seconds later, and I see Mayven being pushed in a wheelchair in the hall. She has two broken legs in casts, and Troy Bennett is being escorted in handcuffs by two officers next to her. Mayven catches a glimpse of Lane and me embracing, and our eyes lock. Her stare isn’t one full of anger but of shame, and mine isn’t full of hate but of disappointment and hurt.
Connor walks in and reaches a hand out to Lane with tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Lane, for bringing her back to me. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. We’re prepared to make full statements to the media with you later today, to clear your name and to let everyone know what really happened to Allegra.”
Lane looks at us both and says, “It was like a little voice inside my head told me to go back and check on you one more time, a voice that sounded a lot like... Well, it’s weird, but it sounded a lot like you, Allegra.”
***_
It’s been about four months since we saw Lane in jail, and today, the boys are both at school. Garrett’s in the seventh grade, and Mason’s starting his freshman year at UT. It’s a sunny day, and I’m sitting outside on a brick bench that Connor built for me, joined by my new Great Dane puppy named Marcus. We’re underneath an overgrown maple tree in Powell, Tennessee. I’m sitting and relaxing, waiting for Connor to bring out our iced teas from the kitchen.
The house is a freshly painted shade of linen white with dark-teal shutters. We even have the event barn painted to match, and a few goats are feeding on the grass in our backyard. I take a break from reading a book to eye the beautiful man walking my way. The man who’s all mine for the rest of our days.
About four and a half months ago, the pieces of my life began to crumble, but the story of our life fell back into place because of our love. The final pages of the book I’m reading make me giddy. I guess Mayven got what she wanted after all. I did change the title, the antagonist’s name, and the plot of Wordplay, although I doubt she appreciates her exact name being used now rather than the name Raven. I close the book’s cover and read the new title with a smile—One Little Word: A Memoir by Allegra Hudson. Marcus’s ears perk up.
The beeping of what I assume must be ambulance sirens or firetrucks in the distance grows closer and closer, momentarily making me nervous that maybe I’m hearing the beeps from my dream again and this isn’t real life. Finally, they pass us by and fade away. All I can focus on now is the man walking toward me, the man I love who also loves me. The man who can find me anywhere.