Page 35 of Behind These Four Walls
After Elise’s funeral, Isla hadn’t seen or spoken to Eden for a long while. She’d wanted to give her space, but she was terrified she’d lost the only real friend she had. After nearly two months of barely any communication, Eden showed up at Isla’s job like nothing had changed, ordered her usual, and told Isla she’d be leaving. “I can’t be here anymore, Isla. Not with my mom gone. I need to get far away.”
Isla tried to keep her composure, because she was at work and her manager was watching her with hawk eyes from behind the counter. Eden had said she was leaving. But she’d said nothing about where Isla fit in. Isla asked her where she planned to go.
“To LA to become a theater actress.” She grinned dreamily, dunking her fry in her milkshake. “Just like a cliché. But I don’t care. I’ll try to make it big and also start a new garden like my mom used to keep.”
The idea of Eden leaving left Isla in a panic. She couldn’t imagine staying back in Daytona alone again. Knowing her had made life interesting, given Isla hope of a decent future once she left the home. Knowing there would be one person who really cared about her. Who knew she existed.
She swallowed her disappointment like she’d trained herself to do years ago. After her dad had been killed, her life had been one disappointment and rejection after another. She guessed this would be another, but this one hurt the most. This one she had truly wanted.
“Well,” she started, praying her voice would hold steady. “Good luck with all that.” She got up to get back to work even though she had fifteen minutes left.
“What do you mean?” Eden asked. “You don’t want to come with me?”
Isla’s heart and breath froze. She didn’t dare hope Eden was being for real.
She asked, “Seriously?”
Eden nodded, looking quite pleased with herself.
Isla dropped back onto the bench because her knees had gone wobbly. “Okay.”
Eden raised an eyebrow, fry in midair. “Really? Because I’m deadass serious. What about Westin House?”
Isla thought about it. There were so many kids coming in and out and too few staff—who were overworked, underpaid, and with limited resources—to pay close attention to all their caseloads.
“I can figure out a way. No big deal, as long as you’re really serious. If you say you’re leaving, we really gotta leave. You’re eighteen and I’m not. It would be illegal and shit. Question is, are you cool with that?”
Eden snorted. “That’s the least of my worries.”
“Then what’s the biggest?” Isla expected her to talk about the loss of her mother, but Eden was taking the death in stride. Better than Isla had or could.
“Unfinished business I have to take care of in Virginia with those people. Things I wish I had done differently and now have to set right. Then I’m free and clear.”
Isla got it. There were plenty of things she wished she had done differently. Like telling her dad not to go when she felt in her gut that something bad was going to happen. Like waiting too long, until the cops came for her. Maybe if she had called the cops when he’d left in that car, they’d have found him in time.
“Then it’s a plan. We go to Virginia so you can do whatever, and then we get far away to LA. You’ll become a big-time star, and I mooch off you like a proper little sister.” That got a laugh out of her, first Isla had heard in a very long time. Isla wished she’d known that it would be the last time she would hear her laugh like that. She wished she’d known a lot of things, like that when they arrived in Charlottesville, and then Eden left Isla at the motel to handle her unfinished business, that would be the last Isla would see of her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Isla remembered to wait until Pete opened her door for her. Brooke sauntered by casually, with Jackson not far behind. He was always observing, and from Isla’s short experience, he was one of the few who could keep Brooke at bay. They were walking out the front doors, watching them, and Isla glanced away, not wanting to give the woman any excuse to resent her more than she seemed to already, or to punish Pete, who Isla promised would not see the wrath of anyone. She rather hoped he’d be her assigned driver if she were to have one.
Isla saw Holland waiting, waving and practically bouncing on the balls of her feet like a giddy little kid, still in her practice gear, with her fencing jacket open, revealing her white T-shirt underneath. Isla was touched that someone was happy to see her. The warm feeling turned cold when Brooke stepped up to join her daughter, her expression anything but welcoming.
Brooke stood erect, folding her arms across her chest. Her sharp eyes looked down on Isla from her perch above, every bit the madam of the house ... in control and very displeased. Her bloodred lips were set in a firm line as her perfectly manicured nails tap-tap-tapped impatiently against her elbow, like a ticking bomb counting down to boom. She raked her eyes over Isla, not bothering to hide her disdain and suspicion.
When Holland realized it was her mother beside her, probably when she felt the frigid gust of wind suck the joy from her soul, Holland’s armcame down, and she wiped her face smooth. She couldn’t play it cool entirely, because her body was still fidgeting nervously beside her mother, her eyes widening and darting between Isla and her mother when Isla joined them on the top step, her smile bright and polite, though her pulse quickened as she readied herself for whatever came next.
Brooke appraised her and found her subject sorely lacking. “Ah, the illustrious and lucky brand-spanking-new documentarian.” Her voice dripped with such condescension and contempt that Isla wondered exactly what she had done to warrant this type of behavior. “Welcome back to our humble home.”
Isla couldn’t restrain herself, scoffing at the understatement of the year. If this place was humble ...
“You find me funny?” Brooke asked sharply.
Isla shook her head, clearing her throat and tapping the base of her neck as if something was caught in her throat. “Never, Mrs. Corrigan.” She offered Holland a reassuring smile before the girl had a stroke. “Thank you for the greeting. It’s a pleasure to be here.” Isla refused to let the iciness get to her, at least on the surface, painting on such a wide smile, her cheeks strained from the effort.
“Let’s get you back to your room,” Holland cut in, reaching to grab Isla’s wrist and tugging at her to follow. Isla hesitated, sensing more was coming.
Brooke’s mouth twitched, and her light-hazel eyes held no warmth at all. “Not so fast, honey.” She never broke eye contact with Isla, gearing herself up. “Since my daughter seems to have a penchant for charity cases and my unpredictable and sometimes irrational husband has given you permission to create this absurd profile or whatever the hell you claim you’re going to do for this extremely important award that you better not screw up”—she took a quick breath, preparing herself for the rest of her delivery while Isla braced herself—“you’ll be well compensated for this work you actually volunteered to do. And so those who are in our employ and will be on the premises reside in staff quarters.”