Isela's Love

by Sasha Cain

  “Oh God, Isela. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t understand, Mae. Why would he do such a thing? He has a baby...and the baby’s momma. Why did he have to involve me? He could’ve simply asked me about Bashua. I would’ve told him. He didn’t have to deceive me. He didn’t have to trick me into letting him...why would he hurt me like this?”

  Dropping the letter, Mae rushed over to Isela. She threw her arms around her, trying to comfort her. “I don’t know, Izzy. I wish I could tell you.” She held Isela at arm’s length. “I’m sure he really does care...”

  Mae stopped mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, Isela.”

  Isela wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head. A tear rolled down her cheek. “It feels like someone rammed a tree trunk through my gut. It’s awful, Mae.”

  “Have you spoken with him?”

  Isela shook her head. “Why? So I can listen to more of his lies?” she asked bitterly.

  “Maybe he can explain.”

  “You saw the letter, Mae. It doesn’t need to be explained.”

  “Maybe he has a good reason for wanting to speak with Bashua.”

  “I’m sure he does. Clearly it was worth destroying his family as well as my life. Not that he ever really cared.”

  “You can’t know that, Isela, unless you talk to him.”

  Isela wiped her eye with the back of her hand. “I’m going to work. Are you coming?”

  “Um, you might want to wait a minute.” Mae pointed a finger at Isela. “Your eyes. They’re a mess.”

  “Are they red?”

  “Very, and swollen. It’s pretty obvious you’ve been crying.”

  “I refuse to give Keeri or Brendan that satisfaction,” Isela said, stepping up to the basin of water. She wet a cloth and pressed it to her eyes. Leaning back, she let the cool streams of water run down her face, soothing her skin.

  Mae cleared her throat. Isela lowered the rag. Mae motioned with her head toward the open door. Brendan stood in the doorframe, staring at Isela. Isela stared back, her throat closing up around the enormous lump forming there.

  “Isela, what is it?” Brendan asked, genuine concern lacing his voice. Isela narrowed her eyes, still red-rimmed from crying.

  “Huh, like you care,” Mae said defensively, giving Brendan a swift kick in the shin.

  “Ow, Mae, what the hell?”

  “You mess with my friend, you mess with me,” Mae said firmly.

  Brendan looked at Isela. “What the hell is she talking about?”

  Isela didn’t move or speak. Crouching down, Mae scooped up the letter off the floor, slapping it against Brendan’s chest. “Like you don’t know.”

  Brenda skimmed over the letter. He met Isela’s gaze, swallowing hard. “Isela, please. I can explain.”

  Isela shook her head, holding her hand up, palm out. “No. There’s nothing I want to hear from you, right now. Whatever you want to say? You should’ve said it before you screwed me.”

  Brendan visibly winced. He took a step toward Isela. She took a step back holding up a finger. Her jaw set, anger began to bubble inside her.

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  “Isela—”

  “Get out, Brendan. Get out of my room and leave me alone.”

  He shook his head this time. “I won’t...not until you let me explain.”

  “Fine,” she said, heading for the door. “I’ll go.”

  As she pushed past him, he said, “Isela, I would never hurt you.”

  She stopped, without turning around. “You already have,” she said sadly before breaking into a run toward the parlor. Brendan turned to run after her, but Mae grabbed onto his arm.

  “Leave her alone,” Mae warned. “Haven’t you hurt her enough with your lies?”

  Brendan glanced at Mae’s chubby fingers gripping his arm, then back to her face.

  “That’s just it, Mae. I can’t leave her alone. I love her.”

  Mae gasped, letting go. Brendan rushed out the door to give chase to Isela. Isela heard him running behind her, so when she rounded the corner by the kitchen door, she slipped inside. Nobody was in there at this time of day.

  Before Brendan could get to her, she ducked down under the table, pulling the tablecloth over her, concealing her from his view.

  He burst through the door seconds later, panting. He glanced around.

  “Isela,” he called out, desperately.

  She held her breath. Brendan hit the table with his fist, startling her.

  “Fuck!” he cursed. He turned and ran out of the kitchen. Isela remained curled up under the table until she was sure Brendan was gone.

  ****

  Brendan had awakened that morning in a spectacular mood. He’d dreamed of Isela and when he woke up, it was with the realization that he’d fallen in love with her. Anxious to tell her, he hurried right to her room, only to find she thought he’d betrayed her.

  He desperately scanned the parlor for any sign of her. She’d run from him, thinking he’d lied to her. Believing he’d used her. The sight of her reddened, puffy eyes cut into him like a blade with a jagged edge. Knowing he’d caused her tears tore at him, weighting down his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He had to tell her the truth...about everything. He couldn’t bear the idea of hurting her further...or losing her.

  Pete stood across the room, measuring off an area next to the opposite hall door. Brendan sprinted over to him.

  “Have you seen Isela?” he asked casually.

  Pete furrowed his brows together. “Who?”

  “Isela? The redhead from the other day.”

  “Oh, that Isela. No, I haven’t. Why are you looking for her.”

  “We had a bit of a...misunderstanding. I just wanted to clear things up.”

  “Uh huh,” Pete acknowledged suspiciously.

  Brendan pretended to act confused. Pete rolled his eyes, placing his hands on hips.

  “Dude, you really need to work on your poker face, seriously.”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “Save it, bro. You are so obviously into that girl. It’s written all over your face. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Just don’t let Guarros catch you sniffing around her.”

  “So I hear.”

  “So what happened anyway? What made you come charging in here like a man on a mission, looking like a whipped puppy? Lovers’ quarrel?”

  Brendan dropped his gaze to his feet, shaking his head. “I fucked up, Pete.”

  Brendan had the man’s full attention, now.

  “I lied to her and she found out. Now she hates me.”

  “Another woman?” Pete asked.

  “What? No, of course not. Nothing like that.

  “Oh I get it. You’re into some weird sex shit.”

  Brendan raised an eyebrow. “No. Man, what is wrong with you? If you see her, let me know, okay?”

  “What about work?”

  “Cover for me, will ya? I gotta find her.”

  Pete gestured with his hands for Brendan to go.

  Brendan slapped him on the back. “Thanks man, I owe you one,” he hollered as he turned around. Before he could return to his search, Guarros entered the room.

  “Going somewhere, Mr. Malone?” he asked.

  Pete spoke up. “Ah, yeah. I sent him to get something to mark off these measurements.”

  Guarros trained his attention to Pete with a frown. “Perhaps if you gathered the necessary materials for a task before you begin, you wouldn’t need to waste time and manpower picking up your slack.”

  “It’s my fault, not his,” Brendan interjected.

  “Did I ask you for your thoughts, Mr. Malone?”

  “No, sir, you did not.”

  “Exactly. So keep them to yourself and get your asses back to work. Both of you.” He stalked away, but not before stopping in front of one of the guards. He made sure Brendan could hear him. “Watch this one. Make sure he does his share of work. He has a tendency to wander off
. Don’t let it happen.” Guarros signaled to one of the other inmates. “Go get something to mark off some measurements, and do it quick,” he barked.

  The young man took off like a rocket. Guarros turned back to Brendan, giving him a smug smile. “See there? Now you can stay and get something done.”

  Brendan said nothing. Clenching his jaw, he moved over next to Pete and began helping him as Guarros sauntered away.

  “Tough break,” Pete said.

  “I have got to find a way to talk to her.” He glanced over to the guard Guarros had personally assigned to him. “It’ll be some trick with robo-prick eagle-eying me all afternoon.” He kicked a discarded container out of frustration.

  Pete eyed him curiously. “You’re really into this chick, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t even know how this happened. I don’t do this. I’m far too transient to fall for a woman.”

  Pete laughed. “Transient? I got news for ya, bro. You’re a level two. You ain’t goin’ nowhere any time soon.”

  Brendan shot Pete a nervous look. “Yeah, of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Probably how to get your lady back.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Not me, dude. Chicks are a complete mystery to me. You are on your own.”

  ****

  Once the coast was clear, Isela crawled out from under the table. She stood up, took a deep breath, and with her head held high, she marched out of the kitchen toward the duty board, praying her assigned tasks would take her as far from Brendan as she could get.

  She could feel his gaze upon her as she walked by, but she refused to return it, ignoring him when he called out to her. The pain in his voice stabbed at her, just for a moment. She remembered the letter and suddenly the pain piercing her heart was her own.

  She breathed, relieved when she read her name next to the chore of weeding Center Court. Center Court was an area outside where the inmates and servants could gather at designated times, in small, supervised groups without fear of being attacked by monsters. The prison buildings blocked off the square area from the outside world of Midland.

  Benches and makeshift tables lined the well-worn path on the outer perimeter. Some of the servants had planted flowers, so the beds needed to be maintained. Isela was grateful for the opportunity to be outside, not to mention away from Brendan.

  Glancing around the yard, inhaling the fragrances of the different flowers melding together, she noticed a section near the west side that hadn’t been touched in a while. The weeds had overtaken the flowers. Apparently, nobody had wanted to take on that big of a job. Isela welcomed it. She could concentrate on her work without having to make small talk with anybody, which was fine because she doubted she’d be very good company for anyone right then.

  She attacked the offending plants with enthusiasm, trying not to think about Brendan. Despite her best efforts, her mind drifted to thoughts of the woman mentioned in the letter, Maggie. The letter said she loved Brendan. She and the baby. A baby.

  How could he have kept that from her? Isela wondered. Did the child resemble Brendan? Did it have his silky brown hair or eyes like melted chocolate? Was it a boy or a girl? How long had he been with Maggie? Isela had so many questions, but she knew she’d never ask. She supposed Maggie was beautiful. Undoubtedly she had a perfect body and a voice like warm honey.

  Why? Why had Brendan done this? All he’d have had to do was to ask her what he wanted to know and she would have told him. He didn’t need to pretend their relationship was anything more than it was. Whatever his reason for being here, clearly involved the hunter.

  Were they working for Guarros? Spying? That couldn’t be it. Isela had been certain the hunter didn’t trust the warden. Why would he work for him? Unless he had to. Perhaps Guarros was blackmailing the hunter and that’s why he didn’t like him. And how did Bashua fit in? It didn’t matter. Whatever Brendan’s reasons were for pretending to be an inmate didn’t give him the right to trick her into sleeping with him and then walking away with no explanation.

  He chose to lie to her. He made the decision to say all those lovely things to her without meaning them, to promise her a future with him, and by doing that, he’d given her hope. She’d given herself to him, completely, physically as well as emotionally. Then he betrayed her...as well the woman who was probably his wife.

  After all, he’d slept with another woman, knowing all the while, he had his child and a woman who loved him waiting at home. Isela wondered how she could have been so wrong about Brendan. Did Maggie know her husband’s activities, impersonating an inmate and seducing servants? Doubtful.

  Although, Isela was fairly certain Maggie had never lived in a prison, slaving away for someone like Guarros. She’d probably never even seen a prison. No, Maggie probably stayed at home doing all of the things a perfect wife and mother did. Not that Isela would know what that entailed.

  Unable to stop herself, Isela thought of Brendan’s gaze, how it burned through her. She remembered the sweet taste of his kiss, how he held her so tenderly and yet with arms like steel. The way his touch sent electric heat spiraling through her body and how she’d miss him.

  The tears began to fall slowly, streaming down her cheeks. Isela pulled weed after weed, clawing and tearing at the ground as her soft tears changed to wretched sobs racking her body until her fingers were raw. Finally, the beds were free of weeds and her tears had run dry.

  She gathered the refuse and deposited the piles into the compost bin. The sun shined high in the sky. They’d be serving the midday meal soon. Isela headed inside to clean up so she could begin the preparations.

  ****

  Out of the corner of his eye, Brendan watched Isela enter the kitchen area. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, wet, probably fresh from the shower. Unintentionally, Brendan’s mind wandered to the imagery of Isela standing naked in the shower lathering up her luscious curves, cool water cascading over her perfect breasts, puckering her nipples into taut little peaks.

  Overly aware of the tightening in his groin, Brendan did his best not to stare at her. It sucked the air right from Brendan’s chest when she didn’t even glance in his direction. He had to talk to her.

  Forgetting he had his own personal guard, Brendan dropped his tools and started after Isela.

  “Stop!” the guard ordered. He tackled Brendan to the ground, pinning his arms behind him. Brendan cursed, attempting to break free. The guard rammed his knee into Brendan’s back, rendering him immobile. He grunted in pain.

  As the guard hauled Brendan to his feet, he said, “You will return to your post and get back to work. You will not make any attempt to walk away, even for a second. Are we clear? Do you understand? Because if not, I’m sure the warden would be happy to explain it to you.”

  Brendan held up his hands, glancing quickly at Isela. She stood facing him, her eyes frightened, both hands covering her mouth and nose. She might have been holding her breath.

  “No, I’m good,” Brendan said. “Back to work. I’m going.”

  When he looked up again, Isela was gone. Brendan continued to scan the dining area, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, desperate to get her attention, but he didn’t see her again. He spent the rest of the day working, knowing the woman he loved was avoiding him at all costs.

  He returned to his cell at the end of the day, broken. Despite the fact that the guard, as usual, gave him plenty of opportunity to escape for a while, he remained in his cell. Where was he supposed to go? He wasn’t welcome in the only place he longed to be. He flopped down on his cot, fighting the desperate sadness soaking into his bones.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Isela hadn’t spoken to Brendan in four days. The time away hadn’t helped though. The ache in her heart hadn’t lessened. It had gotten worse, a festering hole, eating away at her.

  That afternoon, she went to see Bashua. He smiled warmly, holding his hands through the bars of his cell. Isela squeezed them. Bashua rarely came
out of his cell anymore. Isela had asked him why on several occasions, but he would simply shrug and tell her the company was more interesting on his side of the bars.

  “Well, if it isn’t my emerald angel with eyes like the sea,” he sang out. Isela blushed. He’d been calling her that as long as she could remember. He said it was because her wild red hair reminded him of the Irish girl he’d once loved, explaining that Ireland was an emerald isle in the other world surrounded by an ocean the same color as her eyes.

  “What can I do for you, angel?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure, Bash,” she replied. “You know about the meat deal Guarros made with the hunters, right?”

  “Sure, everybody’s talking about it.”

  “Right after that we got a new inmate. He and I sort of became friends, close friends.”

  Heat flooded her face. Bashua leaned in closer, an eyebrow raised, but said nothing.

  Averting her eyes, Isela continued. She told Bashua about the day Brendan saved Darrios. Then she brought up the letter. “I saw the hunter slip something into Brendan’s pocket then remove something. I meant to ask him about it, but I forgot. Next thing I know, he’s acting all lovey-dovey to me.” She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears not to form. “Then I found a letter the hunter wrote. I think something’s going on. I was hoping you could help me figure it out.”

  “Why me?”

  Isela looked him straight in the eye. “Because the hunter mentioned you by name in his letter, Bash. He told Brendan he needed to talk to you.”

  Bashua stepped back away from the bars of his cell. Rubbing his chin, he paced for several minutes. Isela took a step closer to him. Finally, he turned to her.

  “First thing we need to do is find out who this hunter is. Then we find out his relationship to your boy and to Guarros. You need to stay cozy with him without letting on any suspicion so you can get me that information.”

  Isela paled.

  “What is it?”

  Isela stared at her feet, kicking out at nothing. “He’s married, Bash.” She met his gaze again, her eyes rimmed with tears. “The note the hunter slipped him? It fell out of his pocket. That’s how I found it.”