“So he’s consistent at least.”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Are you going to be all right?”
I swallowed. “Eventually. I hope.”
“Home tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
“Travel safe. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I ended the call and buried my phone in my suitcase again.
Hours later, I was still tossing and turning in the dark. It was almost worse than the nightmare. Sleep absolutely refused to come, and the thought of my phone in my suitcase was killing me.
Should I do what Emme said? Should I listen to his messages? Should I risk whatever healing I’d done this week, put what little peace I’d found with myself in jeopardy? Did I want to trade that in for another apology? Because I didn’t believe for one second that he actually loved me. He couldn’t.
But something in me would not rest. As if I were compelled by an outside force, I got out of bed and dug out my phone again.
Just the texts, I told myself as I plugged it in. I’d read his texts and then put my phone away.
There were two, both from late Tuesday night.
Maren, can we talk?
And then:
I don’t blame you for ignoring me. But if you have it in your heart to give me a few minutes, I’d really love to talk to you. Call me when you can.
I frowned at the screen. That did not sound like a man in love. That sounded like someone who wanted a favor. Or a man who was selling something.
Well, I wasn’t buying any insincerity today, thank you very much.
Then I noticed he’d left me a voice message on Wednesday morning. Convinced it could only reinforce my belief that Emme had been fooled just as I had been, I listened to it.
“Maren, it’s me. You’ve probably seen my messages by now. You haven’t called, which means you’re either too upset with me to talk or you need more time to think about it. I get that. I’ll be on a plane to Boston most of today, but you could reach me in the next couple hours or later tonight. I’ll be on your time zone by then. I don’t know if Finn told you or not, but I decided to have the surgery. It will be on Friday. I’d really like to talk to you before then, if possible. I … hope you’re well. I miss you.”
The sound of his voice sent chills up my spine and blanketed my arms with goose bumps, but I still hadn’t heard anything that suggested he’d changed his mind about us. To me, it sounded like he just wanted to apologize again, and he wanted me to offer my forgiveness before he went into surgery.
If that was the case, a text back would suffice. A simple I forgive you, good luck tomorrow. There was no way I could call him, like he’d requested—I’d break down and cry, and I was so tired of tears.
I typed out the message and hit send. A few seconds later, I got a Failed to Send text. I tried again, but it failed a second time. Sighing, I gave up on the text and decided to send an email to Finn. Dallas would probably hate that, but I had no other option. It was either Finn passing the message along or nothing. I didn’t have an email address for Dallas.
I opened my inbox. And there it was—a message from Dallas.
Subject: Those who understand us enslave something in us.
I recognized the words right away—they were from his tattoo, the first one I’d asked him about—and my breath caught in my lungs.
Before I could stop myself, I read through the email, my heart pounding faster with every word. I covered my mouth with my hand.
Was this real?
I read the entire thing over and over again.
My God, no wonder Emme had called me. If he’d sounded half as sincere on the phone as he had in this email, I’d have believed him too.
But should I?
My head said no.
My heart said yes.
My gut … I wasn’t sure yet. My inner voice was still silent.
Setting the phone down next to me, I pulled the covers up to my chin and lay there, shivering and scared and wide-eyed in the dark.
I wanted more than anything for his words to be true, for his feelings to exist as he’d described them. I’d never heard him so forthright about his fears or talk about the future like that.
I picked up my phone again and reread the ending.
For the first time in my life, I’m looking ahead and thinking to myself, I’m not done.
I’m not done living, and I’m not done loving you, Maren Devine. Not by a long shot.
Granted, I’m not much of a catch right now, but I swear to God if you’ll give me that second chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you the happiest woman alive.
You once asked me to let you love me, and I promised I would. Let me keep my promise.
Now, then, always and only yours,
Dallas
My eyes filled. My stomach churned. What if this was just his fear and adrenaline talking? What if he woke up after the surgery and said, Sorry, changed my mind. What if I showed up at the hospital and he refused to see me?
But … what if he meant these things? What if my head was wrong? What if my heart knew the truth? Which part of myself could I trust?
I closed my eyes. I breathed deeply, in and out, aware of each breath, turning my focus inward. Somewhere inside me was the answer, I was sure of it.
I heard Madam Psuka’s voice. Then the moment the dream is preparing you for has not yet come. The story is not done.
I drifted deeper.
Still the voice was hers. Be stronger. Be braver. Trust yourself. Open yourself up to all possibilities. Stop seeing yourself trapped in a cycle of heartbreak, and a way out will present itself to you—but not if you refuse to let it. Not if you refuse love.
And deeper still, until I’m in a room full of people, but they can’t see me.
I keep trying to talk to them, but I can’t speak. I can’t even open my mouth.
I look down and notice I’m naked.
That’s when I see the snake.
Slithering through the crowd along the dark wood floor, it’s heading straight for me.
Panicked, I start running for the door at the end of the room, carrying the clock. It’s ticking loudly.
Eventually, I reached the door but discover there is no handle. And it won’t budge.
For the first time, I turn around and face the snake. It stops short of me.
I hear a voice. It is my own, not speaking aloud, but inside me. It says, I am not afraid to love.
The snake hisses, as if it heard me.
I welcome the voice, and it speaks again. I am not afraid to love.
The snake begins to vanish.
I am not afraid to love.
The room is empty now; the people have disappeared. I look at the snake again and discover it’s gone.
I am not afraid to love.
I walk to the center of the room and set the clock on the floor, where it continues to tick loudly, neither fast nor slow, but with a steady, reassuring rhythm. Then I turn and look around. The closed door is still there. But there is another door as well, on the opposite side of the room. It has a handle.
I am not afraid to love.
I move toward the door, slowly at first, but eventually start to run. When I reach the door, breathless and exhilarated, I grab the handle and pull hard. It’s heavy and does not open easily, but I don’t give up. I grasp harder and pull with all my strength, will it to give with all my might. I don’t know what’s on the other side, but I know I have to get there.
With one final heave, the door swings open.
“I am not afraid to love,” I whisper.
And I run through.
I woke up with a start, my eyelids flying open. Immediately it all comes back to me—the phone call with Emme, the messages and email from Dallas, the dream.
“Shit!” I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I look at the clock on the bedside table and see it’s after seven already. “Shit, shit, shit!” Was Dallas in surgery already? I’d never replied to his email!
“Hello?” she said sleepily.
“Hey, it’s me. Listen. I’m not coming home today. I’m going to Boston.”
“You are?” Suddenly she was wide awake.
“Yes. I read Dallas’s messages.”
She squealed. “You did?”
“Yes.” My stomach was jumping around like mad. “And at first I wasn’t sure what to believe, but now I think you were right and he is being sincere. At least, my gut is telling me that.”
“Oh God, Maren. I’m going to feel really bad if I’m wrong.”
“You won’t have to.” I shut my suitcase and zipped it up. “This is my choice. I know it’s a risk, but I’m willing to take it. I can’t be afraid of love, Emme. Madam Psuka was right. Even if it means getting hurt again, choosing love is always the right thing to do.”
Emme sniffed. “I’m going to cry.”
“Don’t cry. I need you.”
“Anything. What can I do?”
“Can you book me a hotel room in Boston? I don’t even know what hospital he’s in, and I won’t until I get hold of Finn, but any place will do.” I glanced around the room one last time.
“Consider it done. How are you getting to Boston?”
“I don’t know that either.”
She laughed. “This is crazy, Maren. But I kind of love it.”
“Wish me luck.”
“I don’t think you’re going to need it, but good luck.”
We hung up, and I rushed out of the room, dragging my suitcase behind me.
It turned out the easiest way for me to get to Boston was by bus. I caught a taxi into Bangor in time to get on the nine a.m. coach, and sank into my seat with relief. I felt like I’d hardly stopped moving since I’d woken up this morning. Once I was on my way, I used my phone to send an email to Finn.
Hey Finn, it’s Maren Devine. Dallas reached out to me, and I’m on my way to Boston. Can you please let me know which hospital he’s in? Thank you!
I gave him my phone number in case he wanted to text back, then sat back and exhaled. My emotions were all over the place—anxiety about the operation, relief about Dallas’s email, excitement about seeing him, uncertainty about the future. There were a lot of questions to be answered, but I told myself they could all wait. Right now, the most important thing was getting to his side. I felt terrible that he’d gone into surgery thinking I didn’t want him back. Hopefully, I’d be there when he woke up.
Hurry, I willed the bus driver. Hurry.
It was after noon, and I still had about an hour to go before reaching Boston when I got a text from Finn.
Maren, great to hear from you. Dallas is out of surgery, and the doctor said it went well. He was able to get it all.
I paused, dropping the phone to my lap, and tears welled in my eyes. I closed them in a silent prayer of thanks, and wiped beneath them when I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over.
“Would you like a tissue?” asked the woman next to me, pulling a travel pack of Kleenex from her purse. She reminded me of one of the little old ladies in my Yoga for Seniors class.
I smiled at her and took one. “Thanks. It’s good news. I’m just a little emotional.”
“I understand.” She smiled back.
I dabbed at my eyes and went back to the text.
We are at Mass General. He’s in ICU right now, but all vitals are good. Text me when you arrive and I will come get you.
I replied, saying I would, and thanking him profusely. I wondered if he knew anything about the email Dallas had sent and what he thought about my coming to Boston. If he didn’t know, he probably thought I was nuts. Then again, he’d told me not to give up.
I texted Emme and Stella and brought them both up to speed, then I fidgeted and sighed and shifted around in my seat, impatient with the last portion of the ride. I needed to be there already!
Emme replied that she’d booked me a room at a hotel called The Liberty, and the reservation was under her name and credit card. I could switch it when I checked in. Stella replied that she was happy to hear the surgery went well and wished me luck.
When the bus stopped, I practically mowed people down to get off it and plowed through the station to get to the taxi line. On the way to Mass General, I fidgeted some more, and my stomach growled like crazy because I hadn’t ever stopped to eat anything.
At the hospital, I got out of the cab and rushed inside, where I texted Finn. He replied in seconds that he was on his way to get me. That was when I first stopped and thought about what I looked like. I hadn’t even showered, I was wearing gray yoga pants, a backless, loose-fitting, mint green top with an orange sports bra underneath, I hadn’t combed my hair before hastily whipping it into a braid, and a quick look at my feet revealed I’d worn two different shoes. I’d bought the same pair of mesh slip-ons in navy and brown because they were so comfortable, and I’d accidentally put on one of each this morning without knowing it.
I glanced at my suitcase and wondered if it would be terrible manners to open it up here in the lobby and dig out one or the other color. But before I came to a conclusion, I heard my name.
“Maren?”
I turned and saw an older, slightly less muscular version of Dallas walking toward me, holding a Styrofoam coffee cup. The resemblance was enough to make my belly flip-flop, although, as he got closer, I saw more differences. His hair was a little thinner and darker, his forehead had more lines, and his chin didn’t have a cleft. But when he smiled, I saw Dallas again.
“Hi,” I said, throwing my arms around him before I could stop myself.
He laughed and hugged me back a little awkwardly. “Hi. I’m glad you made it.”
“Me too.” I released him and stood back. “Although I’m a little mortified. I just realized I’m wearing two different shoes.”
Smiling, Finn shook his head. “Dallas isn’t going to care about your shoes, although that’s pretty funny. Your mind must have been elsewhere this morning?”
“Uh, yeah. So everything went okay?” I asked nervously.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Is he awake?”
“He’s sleeping right now. Follow me.”
While we walked to the elevators, Finn explained the surgery to me and said that even though he’d been awake, Dallas probably wouldn’t remember much and hadn’t felt any pain. “He’s got to be in neuro-ICU for at least a day so they can monitor him closely for bleeding, infection, or seizure activity. Barring any issues like that, he’ll be moved to the tenth floor tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Okay. Did the surgeon say whether the mass was benign or malignant?”
Finn smiled. “Looks benign. We’ll know for sure when the biopsy results are back.”
“Oh, thank God.” I touched my chest, breathing a huge sigh of relief.
“I didn’t tell him you were coming,” Finn said. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”
I bit my lip. “Will the shock of seeing me hurt him?”
Finn laughed. “No. I think he’ll be very glad to know you’re here.”
“Okay.”
Finn studied the lid of his coffee cup. “He told me what happened.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. We’ve …” He cleared his throat. “We’ve been talking a lot more over the last week or so. Last night, he sort of spilled his guts to me about you.” His cheeks went a little red.
“I’m glad. He probably needed someone to talk to.”
“I think he did.”
“I never got any of his messages until last night. I was at a silent yoga retreat center in Maine. No electronic devices.”
Finn’s eyes went wide. “Really? No wonder.”
The doors opened, and I went out first, still pulling my stupid s
uitcase. “Yes, and I have a room at a hotel here in Boston, I just haven’t checked in yet. I came straight to the hospital from the bus station.”
“Don’t worry about that. Bree or I can take you over to your hotel when you’re ready. I imagine you’re anxious to see Dallas.”
I nodded quickly. My heart was galloping inside my chest. “Yes.”
“It’s one visitor at a time, so I’ll wait out here. Bree has the kids in the cafeteria for lunch, so no one’s in there now. I can keep your suitcase out here in the waiting area.”
“Okay.”
He pointed toward a closed glass door. “Right through there.”
I turned toward it and took a deep breath. My legs felt shaky as I walked toward his room and slid the door open. They nearly gave out when I saw him lying there in a railed bed, eyes closed, oxygen tube in his nose, bandage on his head, an IV in his left arm and another in his right hand.
But his face was the same, and it took my breath away. The room was sort of dark—the blinds were closed—and I moved closer, careful not to wake him. My hands kneaded together. I wanted to touch him so badly. Stroke his hair, caress his cheek, hold his hand. His arms were lying on top of the blanket…
And that’s when I saw it.
Maren, in beautiful script on the inside of his left forearm.
Tears dripped down my cheeks. When had he done that?
I sniffed, and his eyes opened. He blinked.
“Hi,” I said softly, my heart spilling over with love.
“Hi.” He paused. “Is this real?”
I laughed gently. “Yes.”
“You’re really here?”
“I’m here.” Smiling through tears, I reached over the rail and took his hand.
He closed his eyes for a moment, almost like he was praying. When he opened them, they were shining. “You got my email?”
I nodded. “Yes. It made me so happy.”
“Good.”
“Finn said the surgery was a success.”
“That’s what I hear.” He spoke slightly slower and more quietly than usual, but not enough to worry me. It was probably from the drugs. He had to be drowsy.
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