Love Beyond the Sunset: Chapter 4 Isabel

Isabel learns more about the stranger

The stranger, as I’ve come to call him, met my gaze with steadfast determination, his jawline clenched and eyebrows drawn together.

Grayson was handsome, I’d give him that much. And also off limits. There was no room, or desire, for romance or a casual fling in my life.

Golden from time in the sun. Hazel eyes with long, thick eyelashes most women would pay large sums of money to have. A chiseled jawline roughened with scruff. Tall, lean, and muscular but not overly so, not in the body builder way. A heart tattoo surrounded by roses graced a defined pectoral muscle, the delicate script illegible from where I sat. His baritone voice had a gravelly tone. Not to mention the charming smile that revealed his perfect white teeth. He graced us with it before–when Maria stood up to him. Bad boy vibes from head to toe.

I knew with certainty that he was dangerous to women like me who were vulnerable–I knew it, and knew better than to let things move past my strong boundaries.

“That’s something I’d rather not get into, if you don’t mind.” He glanced down at his hands folded in his lap, hesitating for a time.

I could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

What elaborate lie are you spinning for me.

“Don’t bring trouble to my home,” I warned him. My mind was fractured in a way, still healing from grief but I would never allow anyone to hurt me or people I cared about. “If you’re into drugs or human trafficking or some other crime, it’s best you leave now. I’ll have Maria wash your clothes, Miguel will give you some shoes and I’ll drop you off at the main road. But you won’t stay here.”

The barely discernable grimace he made when I said human trafficking gave me pause. There was definitely something there. But why wouldn’t he discuss it or want police involved?

Elkton was a small town a couple hundred people short of being a city. Quiet and laid back, it boasted a sense of community and culture that drew tourists in mostly during the summer. Lucent Run, the nearby river, was the main attraction. Decent rapids just north of Elkton gave avid kayakers entertainment while others enjoyed picnicking on its grassy banks or fishing, and tubing on the water’s gentle flow farther downstream. It widened miles downstream, rippling with tidal waves, as it spilled into Oxstall Bay’s briny depths which then allowed unmonitored travel on the ocean–the very feature criminals sought.

Regardless of its good features, the river under the cover of darkness provided easy transport for drugs and other illicit activities including the skin trade.

“I can’t involve the police, Mrs. Landry. I’m also not a criminal.”

“Call me Isabel. Mrs. Landry makes me feel old.” My voice held a gentle tone, one I used most often with horses, especially the mare and foal housed in my barn. It worked well in calming the mare who bore the scars of abuse. Perhaps it would work with Grayson.

A soft huff of air coincided with the slumping of his shoulders. A sadness filled his glistening eyes. All spoke of gut wrenching emotional pain. I knew because I saw the same reflected in my eyes every time I looked in the mirror.

“I’m telling you this because I get the feeling I can trust you. This can’t go any further because the people involved are dangerous, Isabel. Do I have your word?”

The air around us is charged with electricity in much the same way as the air outside before a lightning strike nearby. Grayson, if that’s even his name, clenches the afghan with his fingers while I find myself leaning anxiously toward him eager to hear his story.

“I give you my word.”

Nothing could have prepared me for what he reveals.

“My sister, Sarah, was kidnapped when she was 17, on a graduation trip with friends. That was two years ago. The case went cold six months after the investigation started. I believe she was taken for the skin trade and I intend to find her.” His eyebrows draw together, a dark expression much like the clouds from yesterday shifting into existence. “I managed to make a few connections then infiltrate the group responsible for a lot of people going missing. I’m pretty sure they took my sister.” He falls silent again, throat working as he fights to maintain control.

Again, something I understand. Emotions are like wild horses. Some are tamed easily while others carry chaos or fury or a host of things that are felt intensely and not spoken. Those are the feelings it takes time and patience to overcome, and some refuse to give up control.

Grayson isn’t a bad man. He’s broken like so many others in this world, lost in chaos and fury tinged with desperation to find his beloved sister.

“How did you end up in the river?”

Wide eyed, fight or flight instincts rising, he takes a gulp of air. “I think they found out what I was doing. A couple guys cornered me outside a bar a couple nights ago. It was a hell of a fight. Then someone followed me the night of the storm and ran me off a bridge straight into the river. I woke up here, and honestly, that’s all I remember.”

Hazel eyes bounce between mine alternating with something in the distance. His throat continues to work nervously. My gut twists. I can’t imagine what he and his family have gone through. Even worse, what his sister has suffered. The thought makes me physically ill.

Before we can go further, Maria enters the room with a tray of coffee, broth and gelatin. She hesitates just inside the door for a few seconds as if sensing the undercurrent of electric tension sparking in the room.

“Everything okay here?” Maria asks as she sets the tray on the nightstand.

“Stellar.” Grayson confirms with the charming grin I know he wields with deadly accuracy. I’m grateful for its radiance quelling Maria’s unspoken questions. “Is that coffee for me?” His upbeat question brings a smile to Maria’s gently lined face.

“It sure is,” she confirms.

It’s the perfect time to make an escape. The horse and foal need me, which is a lie. I need them.

The hint of danger Grayson brings with him sets my heart racing and I run–like I always do. With a mumbled excuse, I make an escape before Maria can dig deeper. Past Miguel who sits at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee, out the door, to the barn just outside.

The sweet smell of grain and hay blend perfectly with aged leather and the smell of horses. It is comforting, easing my panic with each deep inhale. Currying the mare brings a deeper sense of peace which is only amplified when the foal nudges her udders then begins nursing vigorously. He’s hungry and his mother provides for him without question.

My thoughts turn to earlier when I bolted from the house. What was it Maria’s curiosity or Grayson’s admission that spurred my flight? A few minutes pass as I sink into pensive thought in search of answers which are quick to show themselves.

My parents protected me as a child, then an adolescent, always providing and keeping me safe from harm. Any rough patches in their lives were dealt with silently. Then Dewayne assumed the protector role. Loving and keeping me safe while giving me the best memories a woman could have of love and living.

Until the day it all fell apart.

Vivid memories of the accident push to the forefront. Danger anyone who lived on a ranch or farm knew existed, but I had never seen firsthand, ripped something precious from my world. That was the day I knew peril lurked in the darkness waiting to steal the light, knowledge that was further cemented by the miscarriage, yet again by my father’s death followed so swiftly by mom’s passing.

Grayson’s danger threatens to shred the gossamer thin layer of protection I’ve worked so hard to surround myself with. But not just me, but Miguel, Maria, the house, barn and land. All of it vital to not just the family heritage but my existence.

For if the mirage is threatened, and worse yet–destroyed–I’ll be lost forever.