Authentically izzy, p.17
Authentically, Izzy, page 17
Okay, okay, I’m getting ahead of myself. I told you I’d give you an accounting, so here we go:
I waited in the arrivals area and tried really hard not to second-guess EVERYTHING. My hairstyle, my clothes, my perfume . . . the choice to bring an “almost” complete stranger into my life for two weeks of “life with Izzy.” I mean, online relationships are totally different than in-person ones. Virtual friendships mean bringing out my best for limited and controlled moments in a day. Carefully planning my words in charming and witty emails. But . . . now Brodie was going to see the real Isabelle Edgewood, tennis shoes and all?
You know what it’s been like for me. Most of my previous boyfriends left because they wanted something else besides me, because I wasn’t enough. What if I wasn’t enough for Brodie too? (So much for all that “brave” talk, right?)
And then I started reminding myself of what Grandma Edgewood used to say:
“The anxious heart is filled with thousands of what-ifs that never happen, but the peaceful soul whispers hope-filled truth.”
So I started listing truths I knew in no particular order:
1. Brodie was traveling from across the ocean to meet me, an idea he’d initiated.
2. He knows how to engage in excellent conversation (or at least my kind of excellent conversations).
3. He adores books and his family, from all I can ascertain so far.
4. He has an excellent command of the English language. (I mean, truly, my heart flutters a little with the wonderful way he can weave words together.)
He is funny, kind, and part-owner of a franchise of bookstores. A trifecta of perfection for my introspective, book-loving heart.
And he really seems to care about ME. Knowing me. Encouraging me.
I was getting ready to add a few more “truths” to my list when I saw a light-brown swell of erratic curls emerge among the crowd. My throat squeezed my breath to a stop as his familiar face came into view. Oh, Penelope, he was more handsome in person, especially with the way his hair bounced in total confusion in time with his walk. It really was adorable in a nerdish sort of way, which . . . as you know . . . is my favorite sort of way.
He searched the crowd and I almost ducked behind the man to my right just to give myself a few more seconds to prepare, but then I shook off the idea. After all, if he’d been brave enough to come all this way, I would certainly try to be as brave as him. So I lifted my chin and hoped my smile looked more welcoming than slightly terrified. (You know the one I mean. Josephine calls it my Joker smile. If I show less teeth, I think it’s less scary.)
And then his eyes finally met mine. His eyes look even more aqua in person! You know that quote from The Princess Bride when Buttercup says, “like the sea after a storm”? Well, all thoughts of not giving the Joker smile went right out of my mind when he looked at me. As recognition dawned his smile spread across his face, complete with the teeniest dimple in one cheek, and my knees nearly buckled from the instant connection a screen and words had only hinted at. His grin grew, disappearing into his close-trimmed beard. Oh heavens! He never broke eye contact as he drew closer to me and all of a sudden my vision started getting blurry . . . because I hadn’t taken a breath yet. So I gulped in a breath as he stopped in front of me and dropped his bag to his side.
Penelope! I know we’d always talked about the perfect man-height being about six foot two, but Brodie is maybe an inch or two taller than me, and I didn’t mind it at all. I barely have to tilt my head to stare into his eyes, so just imagine how easy a kiss might be! And then (you’re going to love this part. I’m getting wonderful tingles down my neck at the memory) he settled his palm against my waist and slowly leaned forward to place a kiss against my cheek. I sucked in plenty of air at that moment. Enough to get a wonderful dose of his spruce and mint cologne, and then my mind went foggy for a whole new reason. Whew. I wanted to cry and laugh and hug him all at once. But I didn’t. (Well, not at that moment. Though I did later when he gave me The Blue Castle AND he’s an excellent hugger.) However, at the moment I maintained some semblance of composure . . . after I drew in a few more breaths of his cologne. Then he looked down into my face, and with that wonderfully warm and enchanting accent of his, he said, “Isabelle Louisa Edgewood. It’s a sincere pleasure to finally meet you.”
Let me just say that video calls are NO comparison to the real thing. At all. Oh. MY. WORD! His scent, his smile, his eyes, and the way his accent curls around those vowels and consonants. I’m a goner! If this flops, I may never recover.
It took me a good five minutes to remember how to talk and especially how to talk to this wonderful man I’d been communicating with for three months, but once I found my rhythm, the conversation moved as if we’d just had a video call the day before! Easy. Sweet.
Until . . . (Insert the Jaws theme here.)
Josie!
She had driven all the way to Charlotte Douglas International Airport and perched herself behind a pillar in the arrivals area in order to spy on me! She’s a horrible spy. I recognized her protruding stomach long before I ever saw her face. I attempted to give her a little tongue lashing before pulling her from behind the pillar to meet Brodie. Oh my word! I almost expected him to turn around and go back to Skymar as quick as the plane would take him, but as Josie waddled off in a huff (it’s an odd sort of waddle when she’s mad), his grin twitched and then . . . he laughed! A wonderfully real, deep, sigh-inducing laugh, which gave me all sorts of hope that if he could handle Josie’s insanity, then maybe he could handle mine too.
I’m so happy he’s here! I hope you can come in on the weekend to meet him, but if not, we’ll try to have a video call with you. Though he wears sweater-vests really well, he wears his smile even better.
Hope to talk to you soon, and wish me luck.
Izzy
PS: And pray. Pray with the same ferocity as Mother Superior sings “Climb Every Mountain”! (I knew you’d appreciate that reference.)
* * *
From: Brodie Sutherland
To: Ellen Sutherland
Date: May 2
Subject: Meeting Isabelle
Mum (and Fiona),
I have much to tell you about my first day with Isabelle, and I shall attempt to make it as descriptive and sentimental as possible.
It was late when I flew into the closest large airport to the tiny town of Mt. Airy. Surprisingly, at six in the evening there were quite a few travelers, but only a handful awaiting arrivals, so Isabelle was easy to locate. Of course I think I should have noticed her no matter the size of the crowd. She’s made a remarkable impression upon my thoughts.
She wore a dark-red coat, the color red of Fiona’s favorite crayon, and although I’m sure she’s worn her hair down in some of our video calls, it was nothing like seeing it in person. It’s a chestnut brown with shimmers of auburn when the light hits it, and it falls around her shoulders to the elbows.
We noticed one another at the same time, I think, because she squeezed her hands together in front of her and offered a beautiful smile. My feet faltered, so did her smile, a little. I hope she wasn’t disappointed. I’m going to suppose not, because she kept smiling and staring, without one grimace in sight.
So I rallied my wits again and continued forward, confidence a bit bolstered, and for a chap who could count on one hand the number of women he’d dated, to have one I’d grown so fond of look at me with that smile . . . well, to be honest, Mum, I nearly melted to the floor.
Perhaps that’s what inspired the uncertainty of the next few moments. I suppose we saved up all the awkwardness we had avoided by beginning our relationship online for this in-person meeting, because I feel certain each of us stumbled over every sentence for the first minute. And then I nearly thrust the book I’d brought as a welcome gift upon her (a hardbound first-edition copy of L. M. Montgomery’s The Blue Castle). In all honesty I was hoping to celebrate the plight of a quieter hero with my offering.
Her face lit with such a glow, I can’t really describe it, and then she burst forward and hugged me. Ach, Mum, she smelled like spring. And she hugged me with such enthusiasm I can’t contain my grin even now as I type this note hours later.
Somehow the book seemed to establish what we’d developed over the past few months of conversations, because everything became more fluid then. I don’t think she meant to hug me, because she stepped back rather quickly, her cheeks almost matching her coat, but she’s adorable. Simply put.
Now you know the feeling when someone is watching you? That “gooseflesh rising on the back of one's neck” feeling? I felt it as I was walking through the airport. Of course Isabelle looked at me as we conversed, but the sensation kept gnawing at me the longer we walked. It just so happened that right before we reached the baggage-claim area, Isabelle increased her pace and disappeared behind a nearby pillar, without one word of excuse. Suddenly I hear this conversation from behind the pillar:
“I can’t even believe you’d stoop to this level. Really, Josie!”
“Do you think I’d let you meet some stranger by yourself without keeping an eye on you? What sort of cousin do you think I am?”
“I thought you were an adult, but now I’m wondering.”
“I’m glad I came. Did you see how he walked right up to you and kissed you on the cheek? You’ve never even met the man before and he does that? Izzy, I don’t like this at—”
“Do you hear yourself? Stop being ridiculous. And while you’re here you might as well meet him so you can allay these crazy fears of yours.”
And then from behind the pillar came Isabelle and a very pregnant woman—her cousin Josephine Martin. The resemblance shone in their shared hair color, though Josephine’s was cut to her shoulders and very straight. After the woman gave me such a severe look that would make Ebenezer Scrooge shudder, we were properly introduced, made a few turns of small talk, and then parted ways at the exit of the airport, but not before she sent some additional glares in my direction for good measure.
Isabelle apologized profusely, at which time the laughter I’d been attempting to quell burst out. And after a look of surprise, her laughter joined mine . . . Then everything clicked into place, or seemed to.
We talked in the car, through dinner, and for a half hour on Luke’s front porch before she left me for the night.
My travels had finally begun to catch up with me, and Luke seemed to notice, so we kept our conversation short, and he escorted me to a loft room with a view of the mountains, dark in the distance, framed by starlight and moonglow. Not so bad a beginning, I think.
And I have finally found a reason to enjoy being the shortest man in our family. My height is only about an inch or two above Isabelle’s, which places me at the perfect tallness to notice the way the light changed the shade of her eyes from a dark brown to a tea color. Ah, is that sentimental enough for you?
But more news will have to wait for later. I can barely keep my eyes open. I hope this note finds you all well. I look forward to tomorrow.
With love,
Brodie
PS: Fiona, my room has log beams above like Grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, except Luke hangs strange objects from those beams, like hand-crafted woodland creatures, antlers, and a few accents of greenery. My room smells like pine and soap, with the faintest hint of leather. You would think of Christmas.
Chapter 14
From: Ellen Sutherland
To: Brodie Sutherland
Date: May 3
Subject: Re: Meeting Isabelle
My dear Brodie,
Fiona is fairly floating from your last email. Thank you for all the wonderful details. I know she appreciates them, but so do I. It sounds as though Josie will keep hawk-eyes on you, but I don’t see that as a bad thing at all. It hints at Isabelle being loved well by her cousin. I should think having lost her parents at such an impressionable age, she likely harbors fear or insecurities about relationships, wouldn’t you? And I sense her cousins work as gatekeepers of protection, which is an endearing thought—though it may lend itself to more perseverance on your part, perhaps.
But I imagine it will not take the visitation of three Christmas ghosts to have Josie warm up to you. Once she gets to know you, she’ll realize her suspicions were for naught. I cannot wait to learn more about your visit, especially your first full day in North Carolina. Please send photos, but don’t hesitate to describe as much as possible for Fiona (and for my benefit. I love to read your words).
I have been pondering this idea of a book parade and am rather enamored with it. As the two of you feel more comfortable with one another, do you think Isabelle would be open to emailing me more information about how she began the event?
I hope you have a wonderful day.
With love,
Mum
PS: Fiona wants to know what Luke looks like and whether he has any pets. Also, did he handcraft the animals in your room?
From: Brynna Sutherland
To: Brodie Sutherland
Date: May 3
Subject: Your Isabelle adventure
Brodie,
Losh! I can hardly keep my excitement from spilling over! Have you met her yet? Is she as lovely in person as she’s been through email? You won’t forget to send photos like you promised, will you? I’m fairly dying to see what she looks like.
How does she dress? You can tell a lot about the way a woman dresses, you know. Does she wear bright colors that blind you? Muted ones? Is she a flowery dresser or does she wear long sleeves all the time? I’ve heard of women wearing long sleeves to hide tattoos from their beaus. Of course, if she does have any tattoos, I’d imagine they’d have to do with books, wouldn’t you?
I’ll help you sort out the type of person she is by her style, make no mistake. I’m very attuned to this sort of thing you know.
If this all works out as only the best stories do, Fiona can have her surgery early, the bookshop will get a financial boost, and you’ll be the hero of the entire family! Woo her well, dear boy. So many things count on how well you woo her. Your “forever” romance could fix so many things!
Brynna
PS: Have you seen the website lately? I’m making modifications by slow degrees. Whether she has tattoos or not, she certainly knows a thing or two about marketing and design.
From: Brodie Sutherland
To: Ellen Sutherland
Date: May 3
Subject: Mt. Airy & reading aloud
Mum and Fiona,
The past twelve hours have been a delightful and somewhat dizzying foray into an introduction to Isabelle-in-real-life, her family, and the charming town of Mt. Airy.
Where to begin? I suppose, at the beginning.
I was awakened by the howling entry of a large dog who looked to be a mix between a shepherd and some sort of hound. Fiona, you would have loved him. He was a soft gray with white and tan spots, and a face that appeared to feature a permanent look of surprise. This look could have been due to the perfectly placed tufts of darker gray just above where eyebrows should sit. He welcomed me with a solid lick to my face and then left the room as if his job was done. I’m still not certain how he opened the bedroom door, but we know how very tricky dogs can be at times when they are determined, don’t we? Shona had to have been magical from the way she could enter and exit rooms.
I pulled myself from the bed, feeling much more alert than the evening before, and crossed the room to the window. Luke’s house is a distance from town and atop a hill, so the view from the window afforded me an excellent prospect of the Blue Ridge Mountains in daylight. And they were blue! A misty, soft sort of blue, and on this particular morning fog cloaked the bottom of them so that it looked as though they were floating islands in the clouds. I thought the photos I’d researched had been tinted to add color, but no. It was quite a remarkable sight.
Luke greeted me with pancakes and bacon (or rashers). Much like with Isabelle, meeting him came with this unusual sense of déjà vu. Since we’ve been corresponding now for a month or so, we joined into conversation as if it was just the extension of another email. It’s a very odd feeling, but at the same time comfortable and pleasant.
Isabelle wore her hair pulled back on the sides today. She has a small speckling of freckles across her nose that I hadn’t noticed through video chat. There’s something about her having those (and me being close enough to appreciate them) that causes me to smile quite often in her company. Of course, there are other reasons I smile as well. She’s funny, but I don’t believe she knows it. And as the morning waned (it took a little while for us to find our rhythm in conversation because, to be quite honest, I’m rather flabbergasted at just being near her in flesh and blood), we took a walk down Main Street, and her witty personality blossomed. I don’t think she is as talkative around most people as she is with me, because her aunt fairly gasped when we entered the library and Isabelle was sharing stories from her first week of work there.
Main Street in Mt. Airy is as quaint and charming as my tour guide. It’s very different from our towns, as you can imagine. Buildings line the main road, much like most villages back home, but these buildings are an eclectic mesh of stone and brick rectangles of differing heights. Most of the roofs are of black shingles or tin. And the shops were as varied as one could imagine. A Christmas store, candy shops, old diners, new restaurants, human- and pet-clothing stores, a bakery for people . . . and a bakery for dogs, old fashioned ice cream shops, a bookstore, antique shops, an old theater, a trading post, and (you both will appreciate this due to our newfound television series) Floyd’s Barbershop, The Bluebird Diner, and the Snappy Lunch (where Isabelle and I enjoyed a fine lunch surrounded by memorabilia celebrating The Andy Griffith Show). I’ve attached a few photos.
