His Brother's Wife

by Michelle Love

  ‘God, Sam…. never let me go….’ She cried out as she came, her body shuddering and shivering. Even in her delirium, she tightened her legs around his waist, urging him on to his own explosive climax. As he collapsed onto her, he kissed her.

  ‘Never. I promise. I’ll never let you go.’

  Isa could still feel the slight tremble of her legs a few hours later, exploring the new gallery site with her brother and Cal. Now, though, she wasn’t sure if it was the after effects of her mind-blowing orgasm or the fact that the stomach cramps had returned with a vengeance. Already, they’d had to stop along the way at a 7-Eleven to get some Pepto Bismol. The cramps had brought with them serious nausea and a blinding headache.

  She tried to keep up a façade, knowing the boys were eager to start planning the new development but after an hour, she felt so dog-tired and sick she couldn’t hide it anymore.

  ‘I’m so sorry; I’m a real party-pooper.’ Cal and Seb had insisted on taking her home, and now as their car boarded the ferry, Seb turned around, looking at his sister, his eyes worried.

  ‘I can cancel tonight with Louisa if you want.’ Louisa was the girl he’d been mooning over for weeks and finally asked out. Isa smiled, shaking her head.

  ‘No way. I’ll be fine; it’s just a virus or something. Cal will be with me.’

  ‘Raiding her fridge and drinking her beer,’ Cal agreed with a grin.

  As soon as they got home, though, she barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up.

  ‘Maybe I should call a doctor.’ Cal, his usual merriment gone, his expression concerned. Isa took another swig of Pepto, wincing at the taste and shook her head. ‘No, it’s okay, it’ll pass.’

  She curled up on the sofa and patted the chair next to her. Cal sat down, but he looked unconvinced. ‘Really, Isa, your color isn’t good. Unless you were aiming for the Grinch.’

  She grinned and kicked him. Not a good idea. Her belly lurched and cramped, and she sat forward, rocking to ease it. He rubbed her back. ‘Maybe you should get into bed, sleep it off.’

  Reluctantly she nodded but smiled weakly at him. ‘I feel bad for ruining our chill out session.’

  Cal grinned. ‘You owe me. Don’t worry about it; you have the rest of your life to make it up to me.’

  Isa swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed in a heap. The pain in her belly was worse than she’d ever experienced in her life, a burning, breath-taking agony.

  ‘Jesus.’ She whispered. She crawled back up onto the bed. Pain screeched around her head, feeling like the worst hangover she’d ever had, her limbs felt like jelly, the burning pain in her abdomen getting worse with every breath. What the hell was wrong with her?

  She pulled herself out of bed and went into the bathroom. The room swayed, and she grabbed the toilet and threw up. She heard Cal bang on the door and groaned.

  ‘Isa? Isa, are you okay?’

  He knocked at the door. She let him in.

  ‘Sweetheart?’ He smoothed her hair away from her face. She sat on the edge of the bath, her head whirling. She felt her stomach contract and bent over the toilet again. He held her hair away from her face and rubbed her back. Too sick to feel embarrassed, she slid down onto the floor.

  ‘Perhaps I should get you a doctor.’ Cal put his arm around her. She nodded her head.

  ‘I think you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, Cal.’

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘Me too, little one.’

  For a moment, she pretended he was Sam, that she could just lean into him, that he would protect her from everything that hurt, the way Sam always did. His arms tightened around her when he felt her relax against him.

  ‘Perhaps you ought to go back to bed?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want to go back to bed. I need to shower if the doctor’s coming.’

  ‘Will you be okay?’

  She nodded. He didn’t look convinced.

  ‘I’m worried you’ll fall. Look, shut the bathroom door, but I’ll sit out here. If you need me, just holler. Don’t be shy; we’re family now.’

  He put her down on her feet, and she steadied herself against the sink.

  ‘Okay.’ She had no intention of calling him, but a small part of her was grateful to know he was there. He smiled and went out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  The room whirled, and she sat down again, sucking in great lungfuls of air. The dark spots at the corner of her eyes receded. Maybe she was sick. But this felt like nothing she’d felt before. The pain, the fatigue, the nausea. It was overwhelming.

  She reached behind her and turned the shower on. She stripped off and stood under the water. It helped. She washed her hair, scrubbed at her body and tried not to think about the roiling, searing pain in her stomach. She turned the hot water off and let the cold sting her body, desperately to distract herself. She could feel herself sinking again, the black haze in her eyes had returned. She tried to get some air into her lungs, but her chest felt so tight, too tight.

  ‘Help me.’ She whispered but then she could feel herself slipping, falling, losing control. Her head made contact with the porcelain sink and a bright burst of white pain hit and then there was just darkness.

  Sam threw the room key down on the desk, checked his watch. It was after midnight but he knew Isa would be up, waiting for his call. He pictured her now, television blaring, laughing with Cal about something, both of them scarfing down pizza, chips and sodas. She was probably sketching away, her fingers covered with pastel dust, smudges of it on her cheeks as she worked.

  Sam smiled to himself and switched on his phone. His heart stopped as he saw the amount of missed calls from Cal, the messages. He clicked on one.

  Call me now. Urgent.

  The phone in his hotel room jangled loudly, and he picked it up.

  ‘Sorry about the late hour sir, but we have your brother on the line. He says it’s an emergency.’

  Oh God…

  ‘Put him through. Cal? What the hell…’

  ‘Isa’s had an accident,’ Cal choked out. ‘She was feeling sick, had some stomach pains. She was in the shower, and I went to call the doctor. She fell, hit her head…’

  Sam felt a sledgehammer had hit his gut.

  ‘Cal… what the… where is she? Is she…?’

  His brother was sobbing now. ‘We’re at the UW Medical Center. ‘Isa’s in intensive care. She has serious head injuries. God, Sam, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you left her in my care and I…’ He couldn’t go on.

  Sam couldn’t breathe for a second. ‘Cal… it’s okay, calm down. Tell me what the doctors said.’ He was throwing his things into his overnight bag as he listened, with growing horror to what his brother told him. Please, Isa, no…

  ‘They say…Sam… I don’t know. I don’t know. She hasn’t woken up yet; they can’t wake her up.’

  So many, many staircases.

  It seemed to Sam, at that moment, that they had been put there to torment him, as if he needed further torment. Y’all can’t use the elevator, they’re out, someone had screeched from behind the hospital reception and Sam took off, taking the stairs three at a time.

  Isa. Oh God, Isa.

  Finally, he reached the intensive care unit. He saw Cal talking to a nurse and shouted his name. Cal turned and walked quickly to them. His face was hard, strained.

  ‘Sam.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘They’ve taken her down for a scan.’

  ‘Is she awake, is she talking?’

  Cal shook his head.

  ‘Jesus, oh, Jesus.’ This time, Sam’s legs did betray him, and Cal grabbed him and pushed him into a seat. Sam put in his head in his hands, briefly and then looked up.

  ‘Tell me everything.’

  Cal sat down beside him, his shoulders slumping and Sam could see the great strain on his face.

  ‘She was sick, really sick. We were at the Sacred H
eart, and she tried to hide it, but Seb and I could see she was in pain. Her stomach kept cramping, really bad like she was bent double when they hit.’ He sighed. ‘I took her back to her apartment, and she went to bed. I stayed on the couch. About three a.m., she got sick again. I persuaded her to call a doctor, which is what I did while she took a shower. She must have fainted because I heard a crash.’ Sam watched as his brother’s face paled recalling the accident. ‘I went in when she wouldn’t answer and found her. She’d hit her head on the sink, was bleeding pretty bad. I couldn’t wake her. That’s when I got Zoe, and we called 911.’

  Sam looked around. ‘Where is Zoe?’

  ‘Talking to the doctor.’

  They both looked up as Zoe turned the corner and came towards them. Sam’s heart began to thud, and his blood froze when he saw the stricken expression on her face.

  ‘Zoe…’

  Zoe hugged him fiercely. ‘It’s okay, Sam, she’s going to be okay.’ She sat down with him. ‘I need to talk to you.’ She cast a meaningful look at Cal, who nodded and melted away. Zoe took Sam’s hand.

  ‘Sam… Isa’s started to come around. She’s had a CT scan, and there’s no brain bleed or anything to worry about. The doctor thinks she’s just got a bad concussion.’

  Sam felt relief sweep through him, but he could tell Zoe wasn’t finished and was struggling with how to tell him what she knew.

  ‘Whatever it is, Zo, just tell me. I can’t bear not knowing.’

  Zoe drew in a deep breath, looked at him with worry in her eyes. ‘Sam… they found out what was making Isa so ill. It’s an ectopic pregnancy, Sam. Isa’s pregnant.’

  Sam rocked back, ran his hand through his hair, tried desperately to keep control of his emotions. ‘Did she know?’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘No. They’ve taken her to surgery now, and I’m sorry but…’

  ‘I know. I know, Zoe, you don’t have to say it. The fetus isn’t going to make it.’

  Zoe winced at his terminology, but to Sam, it was necessary to try and detach his emotions so he wouldn’t scream. His baby. Their baby. He dropped his head into his hands for a brief second.

  ‘How did she take it? Isa, I mean, what was her reaction when they told her?’

  Zoe tried to smile. ‘Pretty much the same as yours. Shock. Sorrow.’ She put her arms around his shoulders. ‘They’ll come and tell us when she’s out of surgery.’

  Slowly, too slowly, the light began to creep in under her eyelids. She’d been able to hear them since yesterday, talking about her. Talking about conditions and injuries and ‘letting her brain heal itself.’ Voices she didn’t know. And those she did.

  Sam. He sounded upset, and she wanted to hold him and tell him everything was okay.

  But she couldn’t open her eyes. Where was she? She felt like she was having to work twice as hard to make sense of anything.

  The only thing she was sure of was that she hurt. This morning she’d been able to feel her hands, at last, move the fingers. Her skin felt odd, too dry, and too smooth. She rubbed her fingers against each other. The Voices had liked that, lot of back slapping, reassurance, and tears. She felt someone else’s fingers wind through hers and she knew that skin. Knew it.

  Sam. She felt his tears against her cheek, his kiss.

  The light was getting brighter – with much effort, she pulled her eyes open. Sticky, gluey. She blinked. For a second she watched the dust particles float around the wash of tears that swept across the surface. She concentrated on focusing past them, to the ceiling.

  She sighed.

  A chair scraping back. ‘Sweetheart?’

  His voice made warmth flood through her frozen body, made her limbs soften and spread. ‘Sam?’

  He leaned over and finally, she could see his handsome face, deep lines etched in his forehead, dark shadows under his eyes. She cupped his cheek in her palm.

  ‘Hey, you.’

  His lips against hers were gentle at first then, as tears began to pour down her face, they grew rougher, almost desperate, trying to erase the sadness. But the pounding grief within her couldn’t be tamped down, and as she began to sob in earnest, Sam gathered her into his arms and held her as she cried for their lost child.

  ‘How long have I been out?’

  One of the nurses had bought them both coffee and sandwiches. Isa picked unenthusiastically at the food, her whole body dropping with fatigue and sadness. Sam had no appetite either, and eventually, he pushed the table away from the bed, moving so he could hold her. She rested her head against his chest, her arm slipping around his waist.

  ‘Only a day or so.’

  From the earlier tears, now Isa had mostly fallen silent, lost in introspection. Sam stroked her hair. His own feelings were in turmoil, so much so he just wanted to block everything out and hold her.

  He felt her body relax, her breathing became even and knew she’d fallen asleep. There was a soft knock at the door, and Cal stuck his head in the door. Sam slipped carefully from the bed; Isa didn’t even stir.

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  Sam shrugged. ‘Hard to say. She’s too tired to take it all in, I think.’

  Cal studied his older half-brother. ‘And what about you?’

  Sam tried to smile. ‘Cal, I have no idea, it’s all been too… hell, a couple of months ago, I was single, working my ass off and now I’ve met the love of my life, who some asshole wants to murder, and we’re mourning the loss of the child that neither of us knew we wanted or in fact, had even discussed having.’

  Cal considered. ‘Well…I’d say that was a full schedule.’ He risked a smile at Sam, who returned it ruefully.

  ‘Yep. Look, let’s go find some decent coffee. Isa will be out for hours; she’s wiped out.’

  It was eerily quiet in the hospital at night. She’d woken a little while ago, but stayed still, listening to the alien sounds. The beeping of machines, hushed whispers of the night staff, occasional moans from the other rooms on the floor. Facing her, asleep in a chair, Sam looked exhausted and, she thought, tormented. A gnawing feeling of guilt started in her stomach. She hated to see him distressed like this. Stupid, stupid women, she berated herself. How the hell hadn’t she guessed she was pregnant? It explained the mood swings, the appetite, the sickness. She had an IUD; she’d never even considered she could be pregnant. Stop it. She didn’t want to think about it anymore, didn’t want to feel that pain.

  She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stretched, enjoying the feel of her limbs working. Sam was dead to the world; his head leaned against the wall. She looked around, grabbed a blanket and covered him, kissing his forehead.

  There were no nurses around in the gynecological wing. Isa peered into each room. At the far end, there was a light on. She headed towards it, stepped into the room…

  …and everything went cold. The light was blue, freezing. The bed had a curtain around it, but she peaked inside and saw him. Him. His face was obscured, by what she couldn’t tell, suddenly her vision was hazy, blurry. But she knew, without a doubt, he had come to kill her. He raised the knife and the blue light glinted off of it.

  ‘Time to die, little girl.’

  Isa backed off, turned and ran. She could hear his footsteps behind her, pursuing, hunting. In her panic she turned the wrong way into a labyrinth of corridors, she didn’t recognize. She skidded along the polished floors, trying each door, desperate for a hiding place. She almost cried out with relief when the last door opened. She darted into a room, surgical equipment and supplies. She crouched down behind a laundry bin, her breathing shaky. If he cornered her in here, alone, unprotected and unobserved, he’d kill her. She reached up and grabbed a scalpel from the shelf. Then she heard him call her name.

  ‘Isa? It’s okay. It’s only me. Don’t be afraid, Isa. I love you.’

  And as if she couldn’t control herself, she stood. It was the love in his voice that made her do it, made her drift towards him, let him kiss her softly before his kni
fe tore into her again… again…

  She screamed then there were hands on her. Sheer terror. She panicked, fighting with whoever it was, screaming, incoherent, and desperate. She bucked and twisted, frantic to get away.

  ‘Isa, baby it’s me, it’s me, it’s okay, you were dreaming, it’s okay.’

  Something got through. She knew that voice. She stopped struggling. His arms were around her, not stabbing, not killing but calming, protecting. Love.

  ‘Sam?’ Her voice was a rough whisper.

  ‘Baby, it’s me. I’ve got you, it’s okay, you’re safe, you’re safe.’

  Isa shoved her pajamas into her hold all, casting hopeful glances at the door. Sam was sitting, relaxed, grinning at her.

  ‘I think you think you can wish yourself out of this place. He might say no.’

  She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘You’ll jinx me. Shut up.’ She was already dressed, her normal uniform, t-shirt, jeans, sneakers. Despite her cuts and bruises, she looked like his Isa again. She smiled at him.

  ‘Think of it this way,’ she went over to him and straddled him. ‘The quicker the doc says I’m healing, the quicker I get out of here…’ She leaned in and kissed him. ‘And the quicker you get some, soldier.’

  His answering laugh was filthy, and she danced away from his arms. ‘Tease.’ She grinned and went into the bathroom to grab her wash-bag. When she came back, she saw his face had changed. He stared out of the window.

  ‘Sam?’ He looked at her and smiled, but she could see something in his eyes. ‘What is it?’

  He held his arms out, and she went into them, perching on his lap. ‘What?’

  He sighed. ‘Darlin’, I can’t know what’s going on your head, since the… But there’s no rush. I’m probably saying all the wrong things, but I can wait. Until, y’know, you are ready. However, long. And that’s not to say I don’t want you, I do...’ he grinned, ‘I really, really do. But you and I, it’s always been more than just sex. And we need to talk, properly about what’s happening between us. We need to have that talk.’