Page 73 of Convergence

“I was hoping we could stay here and think about it before we decide to go anywhere,” Everett said, and pulled me onto his lap.

“I think that’s a great idea,” I agreed and snuggled into Ev’s chest.

We spent most of the next few days in bed. We slept, we had sex, and we avoided contact with everyone. Mrs. Monroe delivered food and water to us and often found us asleep or quietly reading. She knew we needed time to rest and delivered blankets, cookies, library books, and chamomile tea regularly. We came out of our hibernation after the new year and started interacting with the Monroes again. Easton had stayed for the New Year and to visit with his parents more.

New Year’s Eve celebrations all over the country were canceled or had increased security. We opted not to watch any of the holiday shows, not wanting to see the New Year’s merchandise be used. We knew the authorities had cleaned or replaced the merchandise and decorations, but we still felt anxious. No incidents occurred like Daisy and Hoffmann had planned, and everyone was safe.

A few news stations reached out to us for interviews, and we agreed to a few of them. We filmed them in the Monroe’s living room, with the large fireplace in the background and family portraits on the hearth. We knew closure was needed and our names needed to be cleared if we ever wanted to have a life after this. Closure for us meant telling our story and maintaining our honor. It meant standing tall, speaking out, and knowing our merit.

Epilogue

Two Years Later

My phone was ringing on the table near where I had been sitting for lunch. I stopped pouring my coffee and went to it when I saw Nate’s name. He rarely called during the day, seeing as he often spent his lunch helping his students with their homework. Nate had turned his love of science and cheerful personality into a career of teaching middle schoolers basic biology.

“Mr. Gibson, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I teased as I answered.

“They got him,” Nate said breathlessly on the other end.

“Who?” I asked, dropping my teasing tone.

I heard the crunch of gravel as he jogged, and then the beeping sound of his car unlocking as he approached it. “Hoffmann!”

“Holy shit, you’re kidding!” I said and rushed to the break room TV and turned it on. The scrolling text on the news channel confirmed what he was saying. “Did you tell Ev?”

“No, I called you first. You’re the furthest from home,” Nate said, and I heard him driving out of the parking lot.

I worked in the lab Everett and I started eighteen months ago. He had continued working on the family farm, but we had opened a lab and hired a great team to work on creating safer pesticides and antibiotics for animals. It had been Everett’s dream from the start, and I found purpose, comfort, and pride in my work. Today, Ev was working with a few local farmers who had agreed to trial some of our products.

“Okay, I’ll be home in thirty,” I said and hung up.

I let my team know I was leaving and quickly packed up. I had learned to drive in the few weeks after we’d gotten to Tennessee, and was now comfortable, and licensed, behind the wheel. Driving home, I thought back to Daisy’s trial. It happened quickly, as investigators had hoped to find information about her radical group in her testimony, but she betrayed nothing. She was found guilty and our testimonies aided in her conviction. It hadn’t felt like closure knowing Hoffmann and other members of the group were out there, but it had felt good seeing the progress.

I tuned my radio to a local station, and I heard the news reporter come on. “News out of Los Angeles this morning where a Gerald Hoffmann has been apprehended. Hoffmann is believed to be a member of a radical group responsible for the planned biological attacks on New York City two years ago. Francesca Rossi was apprehended in New York at the time of the planned attack after three college students were set to take the blame. Hoffmann was reported to be apprehended with the same biological weapon Rossi had been in possession of at the time of her arrest. Officials say the weapon has not been activated, and the city remains safe.”

I pulled into the driveway of the house that had once been the “Old Barn” on the Monroe’s property before we had it renovated to be our home. Everett wanted to stay near his parents and the farm since he was set to inherit it when they retired, and Nate and I felt no ties to our home states. Nate’s parents visited in the summer for a week, and he kept a positive relationship with his mom. His relationship with his dad remained tense, though less combative than Nate had described in the past. My dad called occasionally, and my relationship with him had continued to wane. His grief over losing my mom had been so ingrained in his daily life that moving forward seemed impossible, so he never changed his ways. I knew he felt relief knowing I was safe and settled, but he didn’t know how to express it other than letting go.

I jumped out of the car and met both Nate and Everett on our front porch, where they were waiting for me. We embraced before settling on the front steps in the warm sun. Nate grabbed us a few bottles of beer from the fridge and returned to us to celebrate. Nate was wearing his teacher’s uniform of khaki pants, a pale blue button down, and his school’s lanyard ID. A few binder clips lined the cuff of his right sleeve, and a pencil was still behind his left ear. He had cut his hair and still wore it long but cleanly styled. Everett was wearing a pair of dirty jeans and a fitted and worn dark gray t-shirt. His short hair was flattened where his hat had smashed it down, and he had mud on one knee. He knocked his boots together to get some of the caked-on mud off as he snapped open his beer. I was wearing my black slacks, pale pink button-down blouse, and my stark white lab coat. My last name was embroidered on the pocket of my lab coat, and I tied my hair back in a slick ponytail. I was looking at us with admiration of our achievements over the past two years, comparing our appearances and demeanors to the ones we’d worn when we limped home to Tennessee.

“It’s over now, right?” Nate asked us.

“For us it is,” Everett answered, and sipped from his beer.

“Finally,” I said, my voice choked with emotion.

“Technically, there could be more of them out there,” Nate said, apprehension in his voice.

Everett squeezed Nate’s knee comfortingly. “Those others don’t know us. They don’t care about us. And coming after us would only get them caught. We’re safe.”

Nate swallowed a large gulp of his beer.

“Let’s celebrate,” I said, my heart beating hard in my chest. My tone was light but higher in pitch than usual as I stood. Both guys turned to look at me. Nate’s expression was one of confusion, and Everett’s was wary. “Wait here.” I turned and went into the house, the screen door shutting behind me.

“Think it’s lingerie?” I heard Nate ask Everett.

I giggled as I went up to our master bathroom and rummaged under the sink for the tampon box in the back. I grinned as I pulled out two ring boxes. It had been with my first paycheck that I’d gone out and bought the guys’ rings. It was silly and a little unorthodox, but so was our entire life‌. I sat on my haunches before the sink cabinet and thought back to the terribly anxious, silent, and unsure person I was when I walked into the house at Truman College. I owed everything I had the courage to be to these men. And I wanted to show them how much they meant to me. I slipped the boxes into my deep lab coat pocket and hurried back outside. They were still on the front steps and my heart beat wildly when I saw them.

I didn’t have a speech planned. No grand declarations. No balloons, no roses, no secret camera to catch their reactions. It was us, on the porch, with a few beers, and the sound of tractors and birds in the distance. I hopped down the steps and turned to face them in front of where their legs were outstretched in the dry dirt. I couldn’t look at their faces yet, so I reached into my pocket and pulled out both boxes. Everett’s cowboy boot dragged backwards and clunked against the wooden step as he sat up suddenly from his relaxed sprawl, seeing what I was holding. I got down on one knee and, with shaking and fumbling fingers, opened each box and held them out. I almost tipped over in my nervousness and contemplated getting on both knees rather than one.

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