Page 76 of Authentically, Izzy
***
From: Brodie Sutherland
To: Ellen Sutherland
Date: May2
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’sThe 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.
Chapter14
