Bouquet for Iris (4 page)

“Yes,” Grandma agreed, a smile of sympathy deepening the soft wrinkles on her face. “I know you miss her greatly.”

Iris looked at the people around the table as they talked of the Indians who still had not heard of Christ’s message. She almost envied Kamama for her sense of purpose. She would much rather it had not taken such a tragedy, but at least some good would come from the untimely death of Kamama’s cousin.

She thought of Paul’s promise in Romans that
“all things work together for good to them that love God.”
When she was younger, she’d thought the verse meant that only good things would happen to the people who loved God, but now she thought that Paul was trying to encourage early Christians by explaining that all things—the good events as well as the bad ones—were tools God used to bring blessings to His people.

She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the familiar newsprint advertisement. How many times had she unfolded it and read it? How many nights had she clutched it in her hands as she prayed for guidance. Iris dreamed of making her life count for something more than attending parties and bobbing for apples. Would she be able to find God’s path for her life like Kamama had done? Or would she waste away here, an object of pity to her neighbors? When would her time come? Or would it? Would her family shield her from danger so assiduously that she never had the chance to fulfill her dreams?

Iris bent over the buckskin breeches her young brother had torn, punching her needle through the thick hide. “I wish Eli would be more careful with his clothing.”

Ma stirred a large pot of stew that smelled wonderful. “He’s too busy to be careful, dear. A lot of work didn’t get done while he was laid up in bed with that terrible fever last week.”

“I was worried he would never stop coughing, but that nasty-smelling salve really eased his congestion.”

“Thank the Lord.” Ma bowed her head, and Iris knew she was repeating her thanks to God. After a moment she looked up and smiled widely. “I’m so thankful the rest of us avoided catching it. I can remember past winters when it seemed that you and your sister and brother passed sickness back and forth for weeks on end.”

“That must have been hard for you, Ma. How did you cope with all three of us being sick at the same time?”

Ma moved to the table and diced a few more potatoes. “Although I spent a great deal of time worrying about you and praying for your recovery, the actual work wasn’t difficult. When you have your own children, you’ll understand.” She added the potatoes to the stewpot and began stirring once more. “Now that Eli’s fully recovered, his appetite is back. Whether he’s careful with those breeches or not, he’ll soon outgrow them.”

“That’s true,” Iris agreed. She set a final stitch, tied a knot in the thread, and cut it with a satisfied smile. She held the breeches up to inspect her work. “Should I also let out the waist?”

Ma shook her head. “Those ought to have enough room for now. But I’m sure your brother will need them loosened in a month or so.”

Iris leaned back in her chair and breathed in the pleasant aroma of the bubbling stew. “Is Pa going to bring us some sassafras root to boil? I’ve been wanting some for weeks now. Ever since Aunt Dolly’s Christmas dinner, as a matter of fact. She always has the best tasting sassafras tea.”

The sound of hoofbeats stopped their conversation. Ma put the lid on her pot and turned to the door. “Speaking of your pa, I imagine that’s him now. He went into town early this morning.”

Iris would have asked why, but the door swung open as her pa walked into the house.

“How are the most beautiful women in Davidson County doing this fine morning?” He caught his wife in a hug and placed a loud kiss on her cheek. Then he turned to Iris and grabbed her from her chair, swinging her around like she weighed only a few pounds. “I have news that both of you are going to want to hear.”

When Pa placed her back on her feet, Iris put her hands on her hips and looked at him. “What is it, Pa?”

“Yes, tell us your news, Asher.”

Iris wished she could stop time and savor this moment. Her ma practically glowed with love now that Pa was home. And Pa, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black cravat, was the very picture of the gentleman farmer. Iris wondered if he ever regretted giving up his financial career to work the soil. Of course his political aspirations had ended before he and Ma even married. Still, by the accounts of her aunt and grandparents, her pa had been poised to become one of Andrew Jackson’s most trusted advisers. But he’d turned down the opportunity to travel the world with the famous and popular president.

Her pa reached into his coat and produced several folded sheets of ivory paper with a flourish. “Guess who has sent us a letter?”

Iris mentioned Pa’s younger sister. “Aunt Mary?”

Ma clasped her hands and rested them against her chin. “My sister, Eleanor?”

Pa shook his head at both of them.

“Has Uncle Donny written from Philadelphia?”

“Nope. That’s three guesses. Do you give up?”

At their nods he lowered the stationery so they could see the return address printed above the wax seal.

“Pastor Miller?” Ma’s voice was a squeal of joy.

“Yes.” Pa winked at Iris. “And there’s even a separate note inside from Camie.”

“Camie wrote to me?” Iris’s heart leaped. She grabbed for the letter but was frustrated as her pa lifted it up over his head.

Hannah, Iris’s younger sister, ran in as they were trying to grab the sheets. “Whatever are you doing?” She took the chair her sister had recently vacated and clambered atop it. With her additional height, it was easy for her to reach Pa’s hand. She grabbed the letter with a triumphant squeak.

Iris was not about to tolerate her younger sister stealing the letter. “Give it to me. You don’t even remember Camie.”

“I do, too.” Hannah stuck out her tongue at Iris. “She’s that blond girl who used to come over and help us shell peas.”

“That’s enough, you two.” Ma interrupted them before a fight could break out. “Give me the letter, Hannah. I’ll read it out loud so we can all enjoy it at the same time.”

Iris was chastened by her mother’s admonition. “I’ll do better, Ma. I promise.”

She silently berated herself while her parents talked about the family who used to live in Nashville. Besides being Aunt Dolly’s pastor, Reverend Miller, along with his wife, had built and managed a school for the local Indians. Iris and her family had worked at the school as she grew up, infusing her with the desire to do something important with her life. The Millers’ daughter, Camie, had been one of her best friends. They had even been baptized together on a cool Sunday morning in the calm blue waters of a small stream just outside the city.

Iris had cried for days when Reverend Miller announced that he had been called to work at Brainerd Mission near an Indian settlement on the Tennessee River called Ross’s Landing. She and Camie had hugged and made promises to always stay in touch. But it was hard to fulfill that promise. The years went by. Camie had married a fine Christian man, a surveyor who had come to work in the area and decided to stay after falling in love with her. Iris wished she could have gone to the wedding, but her parents had been unable to leave at that time and unwilling to send her alone. It was the story of her life. They didn’t want to let her out of their sight.

Pa cleared his throat and put a hand on her ma’s arm before she could start reading the letter she held. “I read the letter before coming home, and Reverend Miller mentioned something we need to discuss.”

Ma folded the stationery. “What is it, Asher?”

He gazed at his hands for a moment before speaking. Iris wondered what could be wrong. She held her breath and concentrated her attention on him.

“Reverend Miller mentioned in his letter that Camie has decided to give up her job as nanny to take care of her own children.”

Ma’s brow wrinkled. “Wasn’t she caring for some Cherokee orphans?”

“That’s right. Their parents died, and they are living with their grandfather. Camie was hired not only to care for the children but also to teach them how to live in a white man’s world. A house slave has been looking after them ever since Camie left several months before her babies were born. The little girls’ grandfather has not been able to find a suitable replacement yet.” Pa glanced toward Iris. “Reverend Miller is hoping we can suggest someone to take her place. It would have to be a young Christian lady of excellent reputation.”

At first his words did not penetrate fully. Then their import seemed to explode in her mind. “Me! I can go and take Camie’s place.”

Her parents exchanged a long look. Iris could feel the excitement bursting out like sunshine after a week of rain. “Please, Pa. You have to say yes. You know it’s right.”

“I don’t know, Iris.” Ma’s voice sounded troubled. “Your pa and I will talk about it.”

“But Ma! It’ll be perfect. I will be right there in the same town with Camie and her family. They live so close to Reverend and Mrs. Miller. You know they’ll watch over me as closely as you and Pa do. I have to do this.”

“Iris, I knew what your reaction would be from the moment I read Reverend Miller’s correspondence.” Pa walked to where her ma still sat with the letter in her lap. “I’ve been praying about what to say since I left Nashville.”

Iris could feel her heart thumping in her chest. They had to let her go. It was too perfect. She pulled the dog-eared advertisement from the pocket of her skirt. “I’ve been reading this article nearly every day for the past three months and praying God would either find a way to send me to teach or take the desire from my heart.” She paused for a breath. “The desire is still there, and I truly believe He is showing me the way.”

“Although that part of Tennessee is not as settled as we are here, you wouldn’t be going to some frontier town in the wilds of Texas,” her ma cautioned. “And being a nanny to two young girls is not the same as a teaching position. It will only be a temporary situation at best.”

Iris shook her head. “I know that, but once I am out there, God may open the way to other jobs. If not, I could always come back to Nashville. When I found out that Kamama had gone to witness to the people in her village, I began to understand that there are many opportunities to serve God by serving others. I even thought maybe one of my aunts or uncles would need to have me come in the same way that you moved to town to take care of Aunt Dolly, Ma. But no one needed me, so I went back to the advertisement in the newspaper. I thought maybe everything would work out so I could go there. But I always knew it was a remote possibility.”

Ma held out a hand to Pa. “I have to admit it causes me much less worry to think of your going to be in the same area as the Millers, but there are other matters we should consider. I rely on your help here, Iris.”

Hannah had been so quiet during the discussion that Iris had nearly forgotten her sister was in the room until she spoke. “I can take over Iris’s chores, Ma.”

Iris beamed at her younger sister. She had never expected Hannah to come to her assistance. “See, Ma? We can work it out.”

“I don’t know.” Ma turned to Pa. “What do you think?”

Iris could see the answer in his eyes. He thought it was a good idea. They were going to let her go! She would get to see another part of Tennessee and live close to her best friend! Iris wanted to jump up and down. But this was not the time to make either of her parents question her maturity. She would have to maintain her dignity until she could get off by herself.

“Maybe Hannah and I should go out to the springhouse and get some fresh milk while you and Pa discuss it.”

“Don’t you want to read your note?” Ma asked.

Iris nodded. She broke the seal with one tip of her finger, careful to avoid destruction of the stationery. From now on she would be on her guard at all times and show her parents just how self-controlled their elder daughter could be.

At least while anyone was around to see her.

The stagecoach driver jerked the door open, startling the passengers from various stages of slumber. “We’re at Poe’s Crossroads, young lady.”

A blush crept into Iris’s cheeks as she tried to understand why the coachman was beckoning toward her. “But I’m supposed to be going to Daisy, Tennessee.”

The driver rolled his eyes, showing his disgust for her ignorance. “They’re one and the same. Daisy’s the name of the town, but this is the crossroads where the stage stops. Did you expect me to take you to your doorstep?”

Reassured, Iris inched forward, trying not to jostle the sleeping child on her right. Mr. Howington, the middle-aged gentleman sitting in the position opposite hers, offered her a hand. She had been miffed at Pa for treating her like a baby by asking Mr. Howington to watch over her during the overland trip from Nashville, but she had to admit that he’d made the journey much more bearable. When they’d stopped for meals, he’d been her escort. Each evening when they reached a coaching inn, he’d made sure that some other female—whether the innkeeper’s daughter or a female passenger—slept in the same room with her so that her reputation would be protected. If not for his persistence, on several occasions she would not have received fresh water to wash away the day’s dusty travel. He’d even shared his food with her on those days that the coachman had decided to press on rather than stop for a midday meal. But perhaps most importantly, Mr. Howington had always made sure she occupied the seat directly behind the driver. The other passengers had grumbled a bit since that position inside the coach endured the least number of bumps and jars, but they had backed down in the face of his firm insistence.