Page 95 of Authentically, Izzy
Can’t wait to hear from you soon. With Josephine’s plans in place, I imagine you’d probably have phone service if you were drifting in the middle of the ocean, so you could still send photos.:-)
Penelope
From: Izzy Edgewood
To: Luke Edgewood, Penelope Edgewood, Josephine Martin
Date: June23
Subject: Re: Survived with everything but my pride
Cousins,
Clearly my imagination proved overactive, as usual. Instead of being hoisted onto a pirate ship, Brodie has swept me into a place that feels very much like another world. I pinched myself so many times I have bruises on my arm. I’ve attached photos, but they really don’t do this place justice. I would have emailed youall last night, but by the time I made it to my room after the flight and meeting the family and talking with Brodie, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. All I remember is sitting on the edge of the bed and slipping my shoes off, and then . . . I woke up nine hours later to the sound of something scratching at my bedroom door. I’ll describe that later. But first I must tell you about Brodie’s family.
Brodie’s mom and little sister live in a cottage outside of the town of Skern. We’re visiting Skern today AND the very first Sutherland’s bookshop. I feel as though his mom might measure me in terms of my response to her dearly beloved shop. She’s lovely, BTW—the very idea of a quintessential English lady. She reminds me of Julie Andrews (how about that, Penelope), even to the way she styles her soft-brown hair. What I didn’t expect was for her to draw me into a hug at first meeting. I’d always expected English people to be sort of standoffish. I suppose that came from watching too much British television, but she was absolutely wonderful, though she had a bit of steel in her voice when she spoke of Sutherland’s. Kind of like Granny Lucy when she referred to her favorite husband that nobody liked except her. I got the sense that any criticism—as if I’d have any—about the family bookshop should be voiced with extreme care or not at all. So even when she spoke of her excitement about starting a Sutherland’s bookshop across the Channel in England—even though their sales are in decline across the board—I didn’t say anything. Nope. But to keep from saying anything, I ate four scones and drank three cups of tea. It’s a miracle I fell asleep at all. All the private bookshop groups I follow are quick to discourage starting a new shop to save an old one. I remember one lady using the quip “love the one you’re with” and find out what’s not working there before taking on a new and costly venture.
Ellen was wonderful otherwise. And kept calling me things like “dear” and “love” and talking about my hair. I almost thought she only hugged me so she could touch it. Evidently dark hair isn’t super common in these parts.
I think if I steer clear of giving any advice on bookish things, I may not suffer the wrath of having a hairbrush thrown at me. Granny Lucy’s aim was impeccable. Brodie’s mom doesn’t seem the hairbrush-throwing sort, but her near-obsessive love for teaspoons did make me a little nervous. I wonder what her aim would be like with those?
And his little sister, Fiona? Penelope, the two of you would have gotten along like long-lost sisters. She has a love for all things of the musical variety and adores dressing in vintage styles. I still haven’t figured out how she knows what things look like, since she is legally blind, but Brodie said that the degenerative disease hasn’t stolen her ability to see shapes or light yet. And if the color is vibrant, she is more likely to see it too. She wears lots of yellow and wears it well, as you would say, Penelope. The family is saving money to pay for a surgery that has the chance of restoring part of Fiona’s eyesight, but since Sutherland’s hasn’t been doing well the past few years, they can’t afford the surgery right away. And since the surgery isn’t guaranteed to work, their insurance won’t pay for it. It’s a horrible catch-22. Despite the world moving forward into the cyber age, Skymar has not. Or so it seems in the parts I’ve seen so far. For the atmosphere and history and all-around beauty of it all, I’m glad they’ve not turned the island into a modern-era resort, but a few updates might help everyone overall—especially businesses like Sutherland’s, you know?
Fiona has this wonderful strawberry-blonde hair and the cutest spray of freckles across her nose ever known to man!She happens to be a Copper Westbrook fan, to which I quickly agreed to read one of his fantastical books along with her while I’m visiting.
The air here in the countryside has a wonderful scent of pine and sea and something else I can’t quite define. Maybe one of the local flowers, but it’s a sweet sort of smell, like freshly mown grass mixed with lavender or something similar. And there is—how to describe it?—a clarity to the air, like the feeling after a rain.
And the age of the buildings! Hundreds of years old and there are manor houses and castles! It really feels like I’ve stepped into a book with a charming, native Skymarian as my guide. Ooh, doesn’t that sound magical? Lead on to the next adventure, dear Skymarian!
Luke, you would love this place. Mostly countryside with loads of vacant rock structures that used to be barns or houses. The people are trying to reuse the structures and renovate them for either single-family homes or vacation rentals. Brodie says that apart from fishing and agriculture, tourism is one of the largest industries here and the locals are trying to learn how to capitalize on that interest by recycling what they already have. I know you have a soft spot for stone masonry.
I’ve attached the address and phone number of Ellen’s house at Josephine’s request, so that if you can’t reach me on my cell, you can leave a message there. I’m staying with Ellen and Fiona in their limestone cottage. My small attic room has a window seat pointed in the direction of the sunrise, or so I’m told. The rooftops of Skern are within view from my window—their slate, thatch, and tin roofs making a mismatched pattern in the distance. Two spires twist up into the sky above the rooflinesnoting two churches. Brodie says that his family attends one of them, but I can’t remember which. I guess I’ll find out! He says it’s a five-hundred-year-old church! Five hundred years!!!! And that people are buried under the floor. (I’m going to try really hard not to think about that too much or else I’ll look like I’m stepping through a cow field as I follow them to the nearest pew.)
Okay, I’ve probably bored you guys to tears. I can’t imagine Luke actually reading to the end of this. Anyway, Ellen says breakfast is ready, so I’m going to run. Bookshop, here I come!
Love you all!
Izzy
PS: Scones here are NOTHING like the ones I make at home from a box. Nothing. They’re so much better. I feel betrayed.
PPS: I can’t even imagine why on earth Brodie likes me, but I’m happily basking in his nonsensical attraction.
Chapter19
Skern fit every imaginable definition Izzy had ever heard of the wordidyllic. An adorable combination of limestone buildings topped with gray slate, ivy-covered and whitewashed cottages with thatched roofs, and cobblestone streets leading by tearooms, pubs, bakeries, and antique shops. Spires of medieval-aged churches rose into the cerulean sky as a ruined abbey—perched on a hill overlooking the town—kept watch like an ancient sentry. Stone archways here and there connected buildings to create picturesque alleyways to back gardens, tiny houses, and more streets.
It was impossible to take it all in at one time.
A stone bridge crossed a river along one side of Skern that led to a park complete with a duck pond and playground. A striking cathedral was poised at the edge of town, its stained glass window glistening with rainbow light.
The pinnacle of her visit came when Brodie led her to the center of town. Nestled across from a thatch-roofed inn and a picturesque gazebo stood a three-story, ivy-covered stone building—Sutherland’s.
Its wooden sign hung down from a black iron rod, like something from a Dickens novel. Izzy squeezed closer to Brodie, her arm nestled within his as they neared the bookshop. It seemed to her that he smiled all the time, especially in that adorably amused slant she found so appealing. Was he usually so happy? Or maybe it was just the place.
He loved this town, these people, and Sutherland’s. His pleasure oozed from his conversations to the pleasant greetings passersby sent his way. He was living within his dream among these bookshops and this picturesque world of cathedrals and cobblestone streets and castles and cliffs by the sea. Had Izzy ever walked within a dream with suchcertainty? Did she even really know what her dream was? It was much easier to recognize when others found their “place” than finding it oneself, it seemed.
“Here we are.” Brodie paused before a blue-painted door and tipped a brow. “I feel as though I’m readying for some exam or other.”
