Bouquet for Iris (6 page)

She forgot all about Mr. Pierce as she suddenly found herself wrapped in Camie’s tight hug. Her irritation and exhaustion disappeared as her tears mixed with those of her friend.

Camie was all grown up. Gone was the shy girl she remembered—in her place was a beautiful young matron. She was dressed in a flannel gown of pale blue that flattered her delicate complexion. Her honey gold hair was plaited and hung down her back like a silk rope. She had thrown a cotton wrap over her shoulders before coming downstairs, and she hugged it to her as protection against the cold night air.

Camie picked up a candle that was sitting on the table next to the front door and lit it from her husband’s before handing it to Iris. With the additional light, Iris could make out the wide foyer with doors off to the right and left. She guessed that one led to the parlor and the other perhaps to a dining room or the kitchen.

Mr. Sherer looked at Camie. “I wonder if I should saddle a horse and go help him with Miss Landon’s bags.”

“Please don’t stand on ceremony, Mr. Sherer. I hope you will call me Iris.”

His nod seemed to hold approval. “I would be delighted, if you’ll return the favor and call me Lance.”

“I doubt you should make the effort to go back into town, dear.” Camie raised an eyebrow in an expression of mischief that took Iris back to their shared childhood. “It would take you too long to saddle the horse. Besides, you need to give Mr. Pierce the chance to impress our Iris with his chivalry.”

Iris looked down at her gloved hands, surprised that the candlelight showed how much dirt had accumulated on the white material. She wanted nothing more than to wash up, fall in bed, and sleep for two or three days.

“Tell me all about your trip.” Camie pulled her plaited hair over her shoulder. “Was it scary? Did you have any trouble on the way? Why did you get here in the middle of the night?”

“Now Camie.” Her husband shook his head. “There will be plenty of time for you to catch up on the news tomorrow. Why don’t you get Iris upstairs to a bedchamber? I’m sure she’s about to drop where she stands.”

Camie sighed but nodded. “You’re right, of course.” She lit another candle and led the way upstairs. “I can’t wait to hear all about your journey.”

“And I can’t wait to see your daughters.” The hallway at the top of the stairs disappeared into shadowy darkness their candles barely penetrated. Iris followed Camie past two doorways to a third that was closed.

“They are adorable. Like the dolls we played with when we were little girls.”

“Only better.” Iris noticed a framed sampler hanging on the wall, but it was too dark for her to see its details.

“They have taught me so much.” Camie’s serious voice drew Iris’s attention away from the wall. “I understand the love of God like I never did before.” She opened the third door. “Here we are.”

Iris wanted to ask about her comment, but it was late. She watched as Camie bustled over to the bed and patted the mattress. “I can ask Lance to bring up some coals so you can have a fire while you undress.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Iris could almost feel the softness of the sheets enveloping her. “But I do need a nightgown since my bags are still in town.”

“Of course.” Camie clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “What kind of hostess must you think I am?”

Iris put her candle on a tall dressing table that was angled in a corner to one side of the fireplace. “How could you know that I would arrive with only the clothes I am standing in?”

As Camie disappeared into the dark hallway, Iris could hear her still bemoaning the failure to anticipate her guest’s needs.

While she waited, Iris pulled off her hat and let her hair cascade down with a sense of relief. She could hear pins plinking on the wooden floor where it was not protected by Camie’s rug. She pulled off her gloves and placed them next to her candle. The air in the bedroom was quite nippy, but she had no doubt that she would warm up quickly once she buried herself under those inviting quilts.

While she waited for her friend to return, Iris rinsed her face and hands with water from a washbowl. It was a relief to rid herself of some of the grit from her travels even though the cold water stole her breath away for a moment.

“Here we go.” Camie reentered with a thick cotton nightdress over her arm. “Oh my! I had forgotten how curly your hair is. Would you like me to plait it for you?”

Iris shook her head, sending the brown tendrils flying in several directions. “I have lots of practice. Go on back to bed. You need your sleep. I’ll be fine.” To prove her point, she scraped her hair back with nimble fingers and twisted it into submission.

“Well, if you need anything else, just call out. We’re right down the hall.” Camie laid the nightdress across her bed and left her.

It wasn’t long before Iris was in bed, the weight of the heavy quilts pushing her into the softness of the mattress. After thanking God for bringing her safely to her destination and asking for His protection over her loved ones, Iris let her thoughts drift to Camie’s statement about her little girls. Did God take the same pleasure in the birth of each of His children? What a wonderful thought.

She burrowed down into the bed, her mind filled with praise for the loving God who provided a way for showing her how wide and deep His love ran.

An insistent tapping sound roused Iris. For a moment she didn’t recognize her surroundings, but then she remembered. Her life was really beginning. She had made it to Daisy and to the Sherers’ home. The sound was someone knocking at her door. “Come in.”

“Well, Sleeping Beauty.” Camie entered the room with a large wooden tray balanced in her hands. She had pulled her hair back and twisted it into a bun. Several strands had worked free already and framed her face. Her gray dress was accented with a darker gray collar and cuffs, and a starched white apron protected her skirt. She was the very picture of a matron. “I finally decided I’d have to come up here and rouse you if I was ever going to find out about all the people back in Nashville. I hope you still have a prodigious memory.”

Iris sniffed the air appreciatively. “Is that breakfast?”

With a nod, Camie placed the tray on the edge of the bed.

Iris could see a stack of fluffy batter cakes, fried eggs, a small mountain of bacon strips, potatoes, and biscuits. “I’m hungry, but I couldn’t eat half of all the food you brought up here.”

“I’m going to help, silly.” Camie divided the food between two plates and handed one to Iris. “Lance is watching the girls while you and I eat breakfast. They woke up around daybreak, but since you were sleeping so peacefully, I took them downstairs.”

“It’s so good to be here.” Iris dug into her breakfast with gusto.

“What was your trip like?”

“Crowded and dusty. I don’t know why they have to put so many people in one coach. There was always an elbow in my side and some stranger’s knee pressed against my leg.” She rolled her eyes. “And the driver was the surliest man you can imagine. Not only did he toss my trunk in the middle of the street, he had so little concern for me that he left me standing all alone, even though it was obvious no one was awaiting my arrival.”

“How awful for you.” Camie popped a strip of bacon into a biscuit and took a small bite out of it. “But it turned out well. I can’t believe Nathan Pierce rescued you and brought you all the way out here in the middle of the night. How romantic.”

Iris’s mind went back to the evening before. What more could a girl want from a man? Mr. Pierce was tall, handsome, and a perfect gentleman who had been most accommodating and helpful. He had been a model of propriety from the moment they met until he left her at the Sherers’ door. And yet, when she considered her arrival, it was not his blond hair and handsome face that appeared in her mind’s eye. Instead she saw a head of darker hair, a lock of which fell forward on a wide forehead. She saw a dimple and the spark of intelligence in dark eyes. She shook her head to displace the image. Maybe the reason she remembered him was because he had been the first person she’d met after her arrival.

She decided the best way to banish the troublesome image was to concentrate on finishing her breakfast and getting dressed. “Do you have a dress I can borrow until my bags get here?”

“Of course, Iris. You know that anything I have is yours, but there’s no need. Mr. Pierce delivered your trunks earlier as he promised. They’re sitting right outside the bedroom door.” Her eyebrow arched. “I think he was disappointed that you weren’t awake so you could express your appreciation in person.”

Iris slid from the warmth of the bed. “I had no idea he could really get them here so quickly.”

“I think that man is smitten.” Camie followed her to the hall. “Nathan’s parents died when he was a young boy. His uncle, Richard Pierce, raised him. They own the dry goods store in Daisy, and his uncle is also the leader of the town council. Everybody calls Mr. Pierce the mayor. He and Nathan are the richest folks for miles around. Mayor Pierce moved here a long time ago and bought up lots of land. I guess Nathan is the most eligible bachelor we have in these parts.”

“You know I don’t care anything about money or landholdings.” Iris opened her trunk and drew out a brown wool dress and apron. “It’s a man’s heart that counts.”

Camie plopped back down on the bed to watch her get ready. “He seems to have a heart of gold. He came to your rescue, didn’t he?”

“I guess so. I met another man last night, too.” Iris pulled her dress over her head. “His name is Adam Stuart.”

“Adam Stuart?” Camie made a tsking sound with her tongue. “He’s a bitter, cantankerous sort. The exact opposite of Nathan.”

“I see.” Iris walked over to a small mirror hanging above the dressing table to consider what might be done with her hair. She frowned at her reflection. She had to agree with her friend’s assessment of Mr. Stuart’s personality. So why did his dimpled smile remain so clear in her memory? Was it the pain she’d seen in his eyes? The man had been drunk. His pain was probably caused from a liverish complaint.

Iris checked herself. She was determined to banish all thoughts of Adam Stuart from her mind. Focusing her attention on the wild mane that floated around her head, Iris attacked it with impatient, rapid strokes. The more she brushed, the more her hair seemed to expand.

“Here, let me.” Camie stepped up behind her and took the brush from Iris’s hand. With long, gentle motions, she patiently tamed the wild curls. “You have such beautiful, thick hair. I always wanted curls like these.”

“And I always wanted straight blond hair like you and my ma have.”

Camie pinned Iris’s hair up, allowing a few ringlets to escape at the temples and the nape of her neck. “There we go. You look perfect.”

Iris looked at both of their reflections in the mirror to savor the moment before turning to give Camie a hug. “You’re the best friend ever. Now, can we go see Emily and Erin?”

Camie’s nod was emphatic.

They tarried only long enough to make the bed and pick up the pins Iris had scattered the night before. She was relieved at how easy it was to control her thoughts. All she had to do was concentrate on the task at hand. Gathering the breakfast tray, she began quizzing Camie about the family she was going to work for.

“You will hardly see Mr. Spencer. Since his family died, Wayha busies himself with the business of his plantation. The little girls, June Adsila and Anna Hiawassee, are adorable.”

“What interesting names.” Iris tried to picture the little girls with long black hair and dark eyes.

“Yes. Mr. Spencer wanted his granddaughters to have English names as a sign of their right to be American citizens, but their parents also wanted them to remember their heritage so they insisted on adding traditional Cherokee names.”

“I see. Were they difficult to care for?”

Camie shook her head. “They were little angels. Almost too quiet. Of course they were still recovering from the loss of their parents, but I can remember wishing they would laugh and run around outside like we used to do.” She stopped talking as they entered the dining room.

Iris was impressed by the size of the Sherer home. The dining room was well appointed with a large table and six chairs. Her gaze was drawn to the large window that took up most of one wall, and her mouth dropped open. The view was stunning. Although the land close to the house was flat, in the distance she could see mountains rising up toward the sky. It reminded her that she was far, far away from Nashville.

Camie allowed her a minute to absorb the view before walking through a door at the far end of the dining room. “Come in here and see our little angels.”

Iris forgot all about the scenery outside. As she entered the kitchen, she caught sight of Emily and Erin, the Sherers’ twins. They were playing with a wooden bowl their father must have given them, beating the bottom side of it with spoons and laughing at the noise they created. Camie plucked one of them from the floor and kissed her soundly, her blond hair a shade or two darker than the white strands on her daughter’s head.

“This is Emily.” She smiled widely at Iris. “And that is Erin.”