Blue

IZABEL

IZABEL

“Puuuussshhhh, Shannon. Come on, honey. You can do this. One more good one and you’ll

be holding that beautiful baby girl in your arms.”

“Tired, Izzy. Can’t.”

“Come on, sweet woman. You know we talked about this. It’s always hardest before

the beauty arrives.” Izabel squeezed Shannon’s hand and leaned in with her best “doula”

tone.

“Oh, cut the crap! Put yourself in my place and then tell me ‘It’s beauty.’ It feels

like Farmer Ryan’s calf is trying to push its way out!”

“Now, Shannon honey, you know Farmer Ryan has the sweetest calves on the island,”

Izabel purred. “Give us one more strong push, okay?” She stroked the laboring mother’s

forehead, then bent over, wincing, as a rogue contraction gripped her own belly.

“No way! Grrrrrr . . . oowwwwww . . . eeeeeeeeee . . . ”

“I see the head, Shannon,” announced the midwife, Jaylene.

“Push, sweetie,” Izabel offered through her own shortened breath.

“Yoooowwwwwww . . . eeeeeeeee . . . oooooohhhhh!”

“Here’s the shoulders. You’re doing great. Keep it up.”

“Hooooooooly cooowwwww!”

“And here’s our girl!” Jaylene announced.

“Way to go, Shannon. Oh, honey, this little angel looks just like her beautiful mama.

Come on, Jaylene, hand the baby over to Shannon.”

“Hold your horses, Izzy. Give me a minute to clean the mucus out of her nose and

cut the cord. Hey, Papa Roy, you want to do the honors?”

Roy, the only man in the room, blinked as if he were the one who’d just emerged from

the birth canal.

“Are you okay, Roy? Do you need to sit down?” Izabel looked at him with concern.

“Um. I think maybe I just need a bowl of cereal.” Roy turned his glazed eyes away

from the women and staggered toward the kitchen.

“Cereal?” Jaylene and Izabel lifted their eyebrows and spoke in unison, but Roy was

long gone.

“He always eats cereal when he’s stressed out,” Shannon murmured, as she reached

toward the infant Jaylene had swaddled in a cotton blanket. “It’s a miracle we have

any left in the house after the labor I’ve had.”

“Hey, I heard that,” Roy said as he reentered the room, holding a soupspoon and a

large mixing bowl filled with Cheerios.

Izabel patted him on the shoulder. “No offense, but your wife did a bang-up job with

the delivery. My hunch is she could use a few Cheerios herself.”

Roy hung his head sheepishly, perched on the edge of the bed next to his wife, and

offered her his cereal-filled spoon.

“My hero,” the contented mom said, beaming.

Izabel and Jaylene moved about the room, tidying up extra blankets and pillows, storing

Jaylene’s medical instruments in her tapestry satchel, and changing the sheets of

the bed while the new family cuddled on the living room sofa.

“So, are you all set now, Shannon?” Izabel asked.

The new mother nodded, focusing her dreamy gaze on the tiny infant nuzzled against

her chest.

“Think you’ve got a handle on breastfeeding and your man Roy can stay upright for

a while?”

“Oh, she’s an angel, Izzy, and Roy’s more helpful than he looks. I’m pretty sure

we’ll all be okay, especially since you’re close by.”

“I’m just a phone call away if you need me. Now you three snuggle up and get some

rest. It’s hard work getting born.”

“Thanks for everything, Iz. You’re the best doula on Orcas Island.”

“Thanks, honey. I’ll take that as a compliment, even though you know I’m the only

doula on this island, unless you count Farmer Ryan’s wife,” Izabel replied, with

a twinkle in her eye. “I’m going to take off now. You call me if that little angel

gives you any trouble. I’ll check back with you in a day or two unless I hear otherwise.

Love you guys!”

“We love you, too, Izzy. And thanks again!”

It had been a long night helping the Andersons birth their baby girl. Any other person

would have been exhausted and ready to sleep for hours, but not Izabel. She was always

exhilarated after assisting with a birth, although today she felt a twinge of melancholy

that she didn’t understand. Shaking it off, she exited the shake-shingled cottage

and went to the side of the house, where she’d left Rosie, her bicycle, leaning against

the clapboard shingles.

Her strawberry blonde hair fell in soft ringlets to her narrow waist. Her white embroidered

peasant top flowed over the camisole she wore beneath it. Last night, she’d foregone

her usual African print skirt for narrow capris that skimmed her slim yet curved

hips. Her features tended more toward quirky than classic, but overall she was a

striking presence. Men adored her, and in the normal scheme of things, women would

have despised her, but her ethereal spirit and genuine love of others could not be

ignored. Everyone on the island seemed to like Izabel Nivel: doula, artist, yogini,

and cyclist.

“Hello Rosie.” She smiled and her eyes brightened as she greeted her two-wheeled

companion.

Rosie, the current love of Izabel’s life, was an extravagant gift from a grateful

client: two wheels of streamlined grace and beauty. The color of a clear and unclouded

sky, her official hue was called azure, a word that made Izabel’s heart purr whenever

she said it out loud. The three-speed wonder shifted gears automatically on the rolling

hills of Orcas Island and left its rider feeling like she was sailing atop cotton

puffs in the sky.

“What’s it going to be, Rose? A ride through the countryside or coffee at Brooke’s

before we head home?” Izabel’s stomach rumbled and she put her hand on it, a brief

flash of concern crossing her face. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she returned

her attention to Rosie. “Coffee, you think? Me too. Brooke’s it is.”

With that decision, Izabel and Rosie exited the Andersons’s front yard and headed

west toward Deer Harbor.