Princess Izzy and the E Street Shuffle by Beverly Bartlett Page A

obviously, her first kiss, but it was so tender, sweet, and passionate that it evoked memories of teenage
     love and shared ice cream and broken curfews. At least that’s what Isabella said it did for her. And I guess hearing her talk
     this way made me think of those things, too.
    Then Isabella said to Geoffrey, “I’d better be going.”
    Then she said, “Good night.”
    She never knew why she did it. She never knew why she pulled away. Why she didn’t go right on kissing him for hours, following
     those kisses wherever they led, which would have most certainly not been marriage, but might have been a painfully passionate
     few months. You know, the sort of relationship with such incredible highs and lows that the whole world seems to spin on the
     mood of your beloved, where it feels at times like you’ve caught hold of an angel’s wing and it’s burning you up but keeping
     you so splendidly warm, the kind of relationship that when, years later, happily married and content with your life, you see
     someone who resembles your old beau on a street in a big foreign city, your stomach churns, though you wouldn’t take him back
     for a second. I think Isabella considered her failure to climb on for that ride a sign of her emotional immaturity, of excessive,
     even royal, rigidness.
    But I also think she was too hard on herself. I suspect she realized that it was simply too late. Had Geoffrey knocked on
     her door and stood in that parking lot even a month sooner, she might have given it a go. If either of them had believed in
     each other enough to pucker up before they were about to be separated by an ocean, it would have indicated something—some
     real chance, some real daring.
    But by the time he showed up, her clothes were already in boxes and her roommate was already gone. Isabella and Geoffrey had
     shared drinks and talks and life philosophies and had stared into each other’s eyes and held that stare for just a bit longer
     than was comfortable and had flirted and complimented and bantered. But they had lacked the courage to do more.
    As she kissed him there in the parking lot, she knew that their lack of courage was a fatal error, a deal breaker, a sure
     sign that they had no long-term chance. And given that, she knew that nothing they could do or say or share over a few passionate
     months could possibly make him mean more to her than he already did.
    They could carry on long-distance and she could suddenly take an interest in getting a doctorate and Geoffrey could thrill
     her by calling and break her heart by not calling enough and they could soar together and crash together and when it was all
     said and done, he would still be what he already was, a fond and tender half-regret, a road not fully taken. So she might
     as well walk away now, without all the dramatics.
    Some practical part of her heart knew that.
    They would not end up together, not because of any differences in class or culture, not because of the distance or her degree.
     It was far simpler than that. He was a rebel who showed up at doors of women who were leaving. And she was, then, a very good
     girl who left on the day she was scheduled and did not fiddle with long-distance love. Neither of them could have imagined
     then that she would someday lead him into the worst trouble of his life.
    So why did they kiss at all? It was so that years later, when Geoffrey said things like “Maybe I was kidding myself” and when
     she wrote letters that began “Remember me?” they would be only words, uttered in the form of humility. They did not mean anything.
     He knew he had not been fooling himself. She knew he remembered her. For there had been that kiss.

Chapter 7
    Y ou can imagine, of course, what a stir Ethelbald’s “Dizzy for Izzy” column caused at the castle. The queen spun into a tremendous,
     envious funk, which she did not fully shake for many years. The king was rather relieved that the words were kind, at least,
     but he