War Bride

For the next twenty-four hours, I plan my escape. When my mom gets home after spending a night away, she and Dad only yell at each other nonstop, ignoring everything else around them. Sneaking around the house to gather my passport from the study and search though the clean laundry hamper for some suitable clothes is as easy as pie, though I’m still a little iffy about leaving my siblings behind. If Juliet hadn’t been the oldest, I’d probably chicken out.

Despite everything going according to plan, I’m sick to my stomach. For the thousandth time, I check the luggage I’ve been hiding under my bed to ensure I have everything. Doubts well up when my gaze comes to rest on my old teddy bear; just leaving without a peep will be the epitome of disappointment for my parents, but given the current state of our family, I have no other option. They’ll freak out if I tell them I’m visiting a guy I met over the internet. Hopefully by the time I come back, they won’t be as mad.

Are you all set? Felipe’s Skype message tears me from my sullen mood.

The sudden excitement is nerve-racking. How will I get to the airport?

I should’ve asked him this earlier. The whole sneaking around thing has not only turned my stomach into tight knots but has distracted me enough to not worry about the actual trip.

Don’t you have a car?

Nope. My parents never allowed me to get a driver’s license. Juliet got hers at the end of her second year in college, and only after she landed a summer internship at a prestigious preschool in Indianapolis that required her to have her own transportation.

Then take a taxi. Do you have enough money for that?

The cash I saved up from graduation is just under $250, which should be enough. Yes.

I’m so nervous, I forget to type a smiley emoji.

I can’t wait to see you. He adds enough dancing party-parrot emojis for the both of us.

Me too.

Then until tomorrow afternoon in Quito.

His beaming heart emoji seals the deal. This will be the ultimate trip.

After tossing and turning the whole night without closing my eyes for even a second, I rise at the crack of dawn and get dressed. I decide at the last minute to leave my mom a note on my pillow to avoid her calling the cops when she finds my bed empty. Tiptoeing downstairs with my duffel bag over my shoulder, I hold my breath as I turn the key in the lock. The door swings back without a sound. I glance over my shoulder. The house is eerily quiet and the drum of my racing heart is the only sound in my ears.

Am I really going to do this?

This is insane.

Before I can change my mind, I pull the door closed behind me and rush down the driveway. The cab pulls up to the curb and I wave to avoid the driver honking the horn.

“To the airport, please.”

With a shaky breath, I sink into the seat. The cab starts rolling forward; my gaze stays on my childhood home until we turn the corner. No more change of heart. I’m really going to do this.

Navigating around the airport is just as nerve-racking as sneaking around the house. By the time I reach the gate after asking every security officer how to get there, my shirt is soaked with sweat and sticks to my back. The seats in the plane are clearly numbered and I manage without getting lost. When the plane takes off, I hyperventilate a little, but the low snore of the woman next to me proves to be surprisingly soothing. We land in Atlanta; as I exit the plane, I almost consider myself a globetrotter.

My phone shows seventeen missed calls from my mom, but I’m too afraid to listen to her messages. Not that she could change my mind. The wait for my connecting flight to Quito almost has me in tears when my phone keeps buzzing—I expect some airport cop to lunge at me and drag me back home. Finally, I board the huge airplane that will take me to Ecuador. A sigh of relief leaves my lips; I want to dance and summersault. This trip will be good for me and will give me a chance to prove to my parents that I can stand on my own two feet.

When the plane sets down at the Mariscal Sucre International Airport in Quito, my racing heart is ready to break through my chest. Walking down the jetway, I fear I’m going to throw up. My mouth is so dry that my tongue sticks to the palate. What if Felipe is disappointed or doesn’t like me? Or what if he thinks I’m ugly? Or dumb? It’s always different meeting people in person than talking to them online. Even the video feeds tend to be distorted.

To my surprise, he’s already waiting for me at the end of the jetway, and for a second, the sight of him makes me weak in the knees. He is so much hotter in real life. Tall, with broad shoulders, his bronze skin glows under the fluorescent lights. His face lights up with the most amazing smile; it reaches my very core. My lungs trip over themselves in an effort to keep the oxygen pumping.

“Stacy!” He rushes toward me but halts just a few feet away, a sudden awkwardness between us.

I’m not sure how to greet him; is he expecting me to hug him, or what? My chest tightens. For a brief moment, flight is on my mind. When he finally extends his hand, I breathe a silent sigh of relief and clutch it with enthusiasm.

“Hi, Felipe.” I grin, peering up at him through my lashes.

My heart thumps erratically the second our palms connect. I can’t hold his intense gaze, the heat in my cheeks intensifying when he doesn’t let go of my hand. He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand; the soft touch sends hot tingles to the pit of my stomach. Thousands of butterflies twirl around like snow flurries on a stormy winter’s day.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” His husky voice makes my knees wobble. A smile plays on his lips, bringing out the small dimples in his cheeks. He truly is an icon of perfection.

I giggle, not sure what to say. My experience with the opposite sex is meager at best. A couple of dates with guys from our church who were handpicked by my parents. We didn’t even hold hands. To senior prom, I went with my cousin, and Mom was one of the chaperones. She frowned the entire time at the open display of inappropriate behavior and almost had a heart attack when one of the couples kissed on the dance floor.

Felipe releases my hand, his smile displaying a perfect row of white teeth. “Well, let’s get you to Malaguay.” He nods to a man who has been standing nearby. A security badge dangles from his neck; he can only be an airport official. What is this all about?

With a quizzical look at me, the man swipes the card and pushes a side door open. “This way, sir.”

An armed guard, who has been standing off further to the side, signals me to follow the security officer down a staircase.

Odd!

Only Felipe’s hand on the small of my back eases my sudden reservation. “Where are we going?”

“To the plane.”

My brows knit together. “I don’t understand. Aren’t we taking a car?”

He laughs. “No, silly. That would take forever. Miguel let me borrow the Cessna, so we’ll be there in an hour.”

I stare at him. “Your cousin has a private plane?”

He nods, amusement sparkling in his dark brown eyes. “Several. For his business. My uncle even owns a Gulfstream, but no one is allowed to use it unless they’re on official state business.”

This is just so amazing, better than any fairy tale.

When I step outside, a cool breeze brushes over me, the sun above me obscured behind a milky curtain of light fog. I shudder, goosebumps jumping up on my bare arms. It’s much colder than in Indiana. Now I’m glad I’m wearing jeans and not the linen shorts, as originally planned.

The stairs we take lead to the taxiway. I’m almost at the bottom when the world begins to sway. I grab the rail.

Felipe wraps his arm around my waist for support. “Watch it there, Stacy.”

I blink to get the stairs into focus. The air glimmers in front of my eyes. “I feel a little dizzy.”

“It’s the altitude. It’s common when you arrive in Quito and are not used to the heights. Malaguay’s mountains are lower, so it won’t be a problem.”

His warm breath grazes against my cheek and I grin like an idiot. The world around me shimmers in a surreal glow, and a slight headache crawls up my temples. With each deep breath, my lungs rasp like a crumpling paper bag.

Not that I even mind my discomfort that much. Felipe keeps his arm wrapped around me while guiding me to a small Jeep. Still a bit woozy, I slide inside, but I’m not sure anymore if I’m still affected by the altitude or whether his boyish smile is the culprit. Keeping my eyes off him is an impossible feat and I barely register that the car takes off. After a short ride, we pull up next to a hangar in a remote part of the airport. A guy in jeans and a checked shirt loiters by the open doors of a small plane, smoking a cigarette.

As soon as Felipe gets out of the Jeep, he flicks it away. “We’re ready for takeoff.”

“What about her luggage?”

“Already stored.”

With a wide smile that looks a little fake, Felipe turns to the man with the security badge. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Señor Sanchez. I’ll let my uncle know how efficiently your government handled this matter.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Señor Gallega. Give my regards to President Rizo and let me know if there’s ever anything else I can help you with.” He gives me a pleasant smile. “Enjoy your stay in Malaguay, señorita.”

I’m little puzzled that no one has even asked me to show my passport, but when Felipe motions toward a small hatch, I climb willingly into the back of the plane. The interior is a little disappointing; just a couple of seats that don’t look very comfortable. The rest is storage. There isn’t even a stewardess. The only cargo is my suitcase, which is strapped in a holding net in the back.

Felipe secures my seatbelt, the boyish smile still clinging to his lips. He seems thrilled about my presence and my earlier worries evaporate. I’m so glad I decided to take this trip.

“I have to sit up front with the pilot because the cockpit should be manned by two people.” When he smiles, the dimples pop. “Will you be okay back here on your own?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Soon, the rattling of the propellers drowns out any other sounds. We take off, the plane soaring quickly. The skyline of Quito disappears under a blanket of white clouds.

I stare out the small window, imagining I could bounce up and down in the clouds the way I did on our old trampoline. Air travel is pretty cool; the view from a bird’s perspective is majestic and the clouds give me a sense of security. It’s as if they will catch me on a bed of soft cotton in case I fall.

Midflight, Felipe turns around. “Is everything all right back there?”

I nod, though slight queasiness is tightening my stomach. The small plane sways from left to right.

Please, don’t let me barf.

That would be so embarrassing.

Just as my stomach begins to revolt, the plane dives through the clouds again, opening up a spectacular view of the mountains. I crane my neck to get a better look. A couple of roads sneak their way through fields and forests with the occasional house nestled in a valley. Right below us lies a small runway with an even smaller building. Not long after, we are back on solid ground.

Felipe opens the door and helps me out of the airplane. “Welcome to Malaguay.”

I glance around; the whole place is deserted. Only an open Jeep with a running engine is parked a few yards away. “Where is everybody? Don’t I have to go through immigration?”

Felipe’s chuckle drives heat to my cheeks. “You’re a guest of the presidential family and this is a private airport.”

My jaw drops. “You know the president of Malaguay?”

“He’s my uncle. Didn’t I tell you?” With a sheepish smile, he opens the passenger door to the Jeep.

I stare at him; he can’t be for real. My mother would’ve probably pushed me out the door if she had known I was being escorted by the president’s nephew. “That’s really exciting. Do you think I’ll get to meet him?”

There’s a soft glow in his eyes that captures every part of me. My skin tingles all over.

“He is a busy man. Let’s just play it by ear.”

Still in a daze from all the new sensations, I slide into the front seat. Felipe gets behind the wheel, yelling something in Spanish to the pilot. The man hauls my suitcase to the back. Before I know it, we take off, driving along a narrow road that winds through the breathtaking mountains. It’s pure nature with a hint of forgotten times.

“Where are we going?” Exhilaration stifles my breath as the wind rips through my hair.

“I want to show you the mansion first.” He points at a mountain range to his right. “That’s the Parque Nacional Yacuri. Behind it lies Ecuador.” His gaze turns back to the road. “And if you drive on, you get to Peru. The border is about forty miles from the capital.”

Leaning back in my seat, I soak in my surroundings in awe. It’s so peaceful. Large birds circle above us; one of them dives down at a high speed before shooting back up. He probably caught himself some dinner. I expect my stomach to growl since I haven’t eaten anything except for a muffin on the plane, but my gut is still tight, nausea lingering in the back of my throat. It must be all the excitement, or the long trip, or maybe both.

We pass a military checkpoint. When their gazes fall on Felipe, the soldiers stand at attention. A brief exchange in Spanish pursues and the Jeep rolls forward. As we pass the group, my gaze lingers on the machine guns hanging casually off their shoulders. Such young faces, more like boys really. They couldn’t be full-blown soldiers. The leader isn’t much older than his mid-teens.

“Are those Boy Scouts?” My mind refuses to accept that kids could fight with real weapons.

Felipe glances at me, the corners of his lips twitching. “No. They are guard troops.”

I stare at the disappearing figures with wide eyes. “They look so young. Don’t they have to go to school?”

“We don’t have compulsory education in Malaguay and boys here take pride in fighting for their country. It’s a big honor to be chosen as a soldier.”

Still struggling to comprehend this unexpected bit of information, I catch a glimpse of a few buildings, partly hidden in a valley. “What’s that?”

As he glares at the settlement, Felipe’s jaw clenches. “That’s the orphanage.”

More questions rest at the tip of my tongue, but by the way he grinds his teeth, it’s not a topic he wishes to discuss. Still curious, I strain my neck to get a better look. Unfortunately, we’ve already passed the turnoff, and the buildings disappear behind the next mountain.

Frowning, I focus back on the road. We drive through a canyon with a wild river that is surrounded by mossy rocks. Fields with plants I’ve never seen before are next, and I’m just about to ask Felipe what they are when my gaze falls onto a huge, ultramodern house, nestled in the mountains. It’s made almost entirely of glass with white metal frames and trees surrounding it on three sides. My jaw unhinges and I gasp. The house is amazing.

“Is that the mansion?”

Felipe’s grin is smug. I immediately snap my mouth closed.

“You like it?”

“It’s stunning.”

When the car enters the woods, the house disappears from view. We pass another checkpoint with guards armed to their teeth. They are older this time but look much more menacing. With a gulp, I scoot closer to Felipe. Our eyes lock and he brushes his fingers over the back of my hand, making me tingle all over again. The warmth in his gaze sucks the sudden cold right out of me.

The Jeep finally stops in front of the mansion and Felipe kills the engine. The house is huge compared to our five-bedroom Colonial in Indiana. The blinding afternoon sun reflects off the large windows, though other than the singing of birds, silence hangs over the building. A Porsche and a Hummer are parked out front with two more soldiers loitering around. When I slide out of the Jeep, they eye me from top to bottom in a way I find scary.

Felipe offers me his arm and my apprehension evaporates. His firm muscles flex under my touch. “Let me show you around.”

The inside of the house is just as exquisite as the outside, the décor kept in basic black and white with flamboyant paintings covering the walls. They look abstract and modern, splashes of color mixed together. I’ve never appreciated this type of art but can tell they are really expensive.

Felipe ushers me through the living room onto the terrace, where a woman splashes in the oval pool. She’s a couple of years older than me, with brown hair pulled into a bun. Her lips are a bit pouty as she regards Felipe with calm eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Miguel.”

“He’s in the study.” Smiling at me, she disappears underwater, her body pushing off the wall to cross to the other side of the pool.

“Who was that?” I ask Felipe when we stroll back inside the house.

“My aunt.”

I frown.

How can she be his aunt?

She looks younger than him. This is all very odd, and a prickling sensation spreads across the nape of my neck. There’s so much I don’t know about his life; in many ways, he’s a total stranger to me. I smooth down my T-shirt. Hopefully, I’m dressed okay.

He pauses his hand in midair before knocking on a heavy door decorated with beautiful inlays.

"Entra.”

The voice is agitated, and for a moment, Felipe grimaces. I agree that I would rather not walk across the threshold.

He slowly opens the door and peeks inside. “Miguel, you got a sec?”

The man behind the desk is mostly hidden from view. “What is it, Felipe? I’m busy.”

Felipe tenses. “I wanted you to say hi to Stacy.”

Some mumbling is the response. Felipe ventures inside the room, pulling me behind him. I come to a shaky halt in front of a large desk. The man’s intense charcoal eyes send a shudder down my spine; I drop my gaze, but then I’m tempted to look up at him through my lashes. Though he scares the crap out of me, he also emits this hint of audacity. It’s fascinating. He’s definitely someone who knows what he wants. A short spark flares in his dark pupils, but it’s so brief that I could’ve been mistaken. When he starts to talk, his full lips keep me captured.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Felipe. You know I don’t like strangers in the house.”

“But it’s Stacy. I thought—”

“I don’t give a fuck who she is.” Miguel’s eyes narrow. “Foreign girls live down at the compound. You know that. Now get her the hell out of here.”

Disappointment and shock wash over me; he’s not at all like the guy Felipe joked about on Skype. When his glare cuts into me, I’m barely able to hold back the rising tears.

Felipe slides his hand under my elbow. “Let’s go.”

I can’t wait to get out of Miguel’s hair.

Just as we reach the door, Miguel calls us back. “I need Stacy’s passport and IDs, so I can lock them in my dad’s safe. You’ll get them back when you leave.”

I don’t want to surrender my passport. Glancing at Felipe, I expect him to come to my aid, but his gaze is glued to the floor. He clearly expects me to comply with his cousin’s wishes.

With a silent huff, I pull the passport and my old student ID from my backpack and place them on the desk.

“Your phone, too.”

The “for what” is swallowed down under his unyielding glare. My phone plan doesn’t work outside the US anyways, so it’s a moot point.

Picking up my things, he doesn’t even bother to look at me again. He stuffs everything into a drawer and returns to his laptop. We are dismissed. My shoulders slump; I feel worse than after one of Mom’s lectures. Trotting out of the room behind Felipe, I can’t shake the feeling that this trip was a mistake. This certainly isn’t the welcome I expected, and if it weren’t for Felipe, I would be on the next flight home to the US.

Next update: Tuesday, February 4th, 2025