Bouquet for Iris

  Print ISBN 978-1-60260-675-3

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-916-6

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-917-3

  A BOUQUET FOR IRIS

  Copyright © 2009 by Diane Ashley and Aaron McCarver. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Dedication

  Contact the Author

  Author Bio

  one

  Nashville, Tennessee

  December 24, 1835

  Iris Landon bunched the soft velvet of her new gown into gloved hands as she descended from the family carriage and followed her parents up the steps to Aunt Dolly and Uncle Mac’s home. Most ladies her age would be excited about the evening’s festivities, but she rather dreaded them.

  This was not the first of Aunt Dolly’s Christmas Eve galas she had attended, and she knew what lay ahead. She would have to sit through a long dinner, listening to the latest gossip about the elite families of Nashville. There would also be the obligatory inquiries about her plans to marry. Iris had learned over the past year to smile and nod as various relatives offered advice on how to attract the interest of the young gentlemen of the area.

  Eventually everyone would move to the ballroom, and she would be forced to spend hours listening to endless chatter from other young ladies when she’d much rather be discussing westward expansion or the plight of the Indian nations. She would endure the usual games, and at least one of the more enterprising young men would seek to steal a kiss from his dancing partner by maneuvering her underneath a sprig of mistletoe while it still held kissing berries. She had half a mind to pull off the berries herself just to make sure no one tried anything that silly with her.

  Iris lifted her gaze to the clear night sky, and her breath caught. Against the horizon, a single star rose, and for a moment she was transported to the days of Matthew’s Gospel. What a miraculous sight the star must have been on the night Christ was born. Had the wise men been weary when they arrived in Bethlehem? Or had their anticipation wiped out all the long, fearsome months of travel? She closed her eyes for a moment as the creak of a harness was transformed into noises from burdened camels. Golden light pressed against her eyelids like the torchlight from inside Mary and Joseph’s humble home. Her flight of fancy ended when the opening of the front door and her great-aunt’s greeting brought her back to the present.

  Aunt Dolly practically glowed in the light pouring out of her foyer. She wore a rose-colored dress with crimson piping and a scattering of decorative gold bows. She might be diminutive, but from the peacock feathers perched atop her graying hair to the tips of her shiny black slippers, Aunt Dolly looked as regal as European royalty.

  “Rebekah, you become more beautiful every year, dearest.” What Aunt Dolly lacked in height, she made up for with enthusiasm, catching Iris’s mother in a warm hug before turning to her father. “And Asher, don’t you look as distinguished as ever. I’ll never understand why you didn’t stay with President Jackson. He certainly needs better advisers—someone to convince him that the poor Indians shouldn’t be forced out of their homes.”

  The others might not have noticed, but Iris saw her father grimace slightly at Aunt Dolly’s remark before he bowed over her hand. “I doubt anyone could change the president’s mind once he has made a decision. The only person who might have done that is no longer with us.”

  Aunt Dolly sighed. “I really miss Rachel, too. Not only was she a gentling influence on her husband, she was one of my dearest friends.” She shook her head as if to clear it of gloomy thoughts before turning to the tall man who hovered in the hallway behind her. “Look who has arrived, Mac. It’s the Landons.”

  “So I see.” Robert “Mac” McGhee raised Ma’s gloved hand to his lips. He always made Iris think of a wrestler, with his widespread stance and thick chest. He didn’t look very comfortable in starched trousers and a long-tailed coat. He straightened, and she noticed that the collar of his shirt was already beginning to droop a little, as though he’d been tugging at it before their arrival.

  As he turned toward her father, Iris saw the glint of his pistol handle peeking underneath his coat. She wondered if Aunt Dolly realized that her husband, the retired sheriff of Davidson County, was armed.

  “Iris, child, come here so I can see you.” Aunt Dolly pulled her forward into the pool of light thrown by dozens of candles in the foyer. “I declare, you’ve grown a foot since I saw you last.”

  Uncle Mac tossed a wink at her. Trust the dear man to bolster her confidence. He was one of the few men who stood head and shoulders taller than she and therefore knew how awkward it felt to tower over others. He bent to kiss her cheek and helped her remove her brown wool cloak. Glad to be relieved of its weight in the warm house, Iris shook out the folds of her skirt.

  “Whatever were you thinking, dressing your daughter in lavender, Rebekah?” Aunt Dolly’s voice practically quivered with dismay as she caught sight of Iris’s new gown. “All the young men I’ve invited will think she’s in mourning.”

  Iris wanted to roll her eyes but kept her gaze firmly fixed on the floor. She did not want to embarrass her parents by showing disrespect toward her aunt. She refused to believe, however, that her choice of dress color was important to anyone but her.

  “You know how our Iris loves shades of purple.” Ma unbuttoned her black cloak and slipped it off her shoulders, bringing into view the golden brocade dress that reflected the rich color of her hair. The generous skirt swirled around her ankles as she handed the wrap to Uncle Mac before turning back to Aunt Dolly. “I blame it on her father, who insisted we name her after his favorite flower.”

  “Besides, Aunt Dolly, no matter what color I chose, it would not make me appear even one inch shorter.” Iris swept one long arm in a downward arc. “Most men in attendance will want to avoid dancing with a beanpole.”

  Uncle Mac handed their cloaks and coats to the housekeeper. “Now Iris, don’t be foolish. I’m sure all the young lads will think you are the most delightful girl in the room.”

  Aunt Dolly sputtered for a moment. “Men! You never understand fashion.”

  Iris’s father cocked an eyebrow at Aunt Dolly. “I believe you have won Mac’s argument for him. If men have no clue about fashion, then you need not worry yourself about the color or style of Iris’s dress.”

  Iris held her breath, fully expecting her volatile aunt to launch into a diatribe about the fundamental importance of fashion and color. She wished for a moment
that she had let Ma talk her into purchasing the bolt of green material the storekeeper had said would bring out the highlights in Iris’s brown eyes. But she had never really liked the color green, except perhaps in springtime. And then only because it meant her flower namesake would soon be in bloom.

  Every year since she was about five, she had waited impatiently for the irises in Ma’s flower garden to begin showing their colors. Some would be dark and velvety like the night sky, while others bloomed a pale color reminiscent of early morning or late evening. The latter were her favorite blossoms and the reason she’d chosen the material for her new dress.

  And why shouldn’t she choose to please her own taste? None of tonight’s guests were likely to go into a decline when they saw she was not wearing white or some other insipid color. It wasn’t as if she would be inundated with dance partners no matter what color she chose.

  As she had pointed out to Aunt Dolly, she was much too tall. And it seemed that she would never stop growing. The last time Pa measured, her height was a full eight inches above five feet. When one added her inability to make light, flirtatious conversation, the result was abysmal.

  Not the type to simper mindlessly, Iris wanted to debate political issues like the discovery of gold on Indian lands, the abolition of slavery, or even popular literature or classic poetry. It seemed that most men preferred giggling, empty-headed girls. And if that’s what they wanted, then she didn’t want them.

  Aunt Dolly stomped her foot. “I should have known all of you would join forces against me.” She held her frown for an instant longer before dissolving into laughter. “And why must you always be right?”

  Uncle Mac’s deep laugh harmonized with Aunt Dolly’s delicate notes. “I know better than to answer a question like that.” He shook a finger at her. “Almost two decades with you has taught me when to agree with my adorable wife.”

  Aunt Dolly’s ire seemingly melted completely away. She unfolded a lace-edged rose fan and tapped her husband’s arm with it. “You are indeed a very smart man.”

  Ma nodded her agreement before turning to Pa. “Asher, while I appreciate your defense of masculine logic, you really should not encourage our daughter to rebel against fashionable dictates.”

  He bowed before holding out both elbows, one for his wife and one for his daughter. “I’m certain all the young men will pay enough attention to Iris to satisfy your dreams and raise my misgivings.”

  Iris forced her lips into a smile although she wanted to groan as they made their way to the dining room. This was a familiar point of contention for her parents. Pa was willing to let her wait until God led the right man into her life, but Ma was anxious for her to marry and settle down nearby. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to marry and start a family. What girl wouldn’t? But she knew that a marriage without God’s blessing was a recipe for disaster.

  And she had a good idea of the kind of man whom God would send. He would appreciate her unique strengths instead of expecting her to be an imitation of every other girl in the area. He would love her like Pa loved Ma. Until God led someone like Pa into her life, she was more than willing to wait.

  Iris was not sure she wanted to live in Nashville for the rest of her life either. Didn’t Ma realize what a big world was out there to be explored? There were so many towns and settlements nowadays and people passing through the area in search of land to the west of the Mississippi River. It was not fair that single women could not join a wagon train. Iris was fully capable of taking care of herself. She had no need of a man to help her drive a wagon or fix dinner. If only she could explore the country and see for herself all the land beyond the Mississippi River. The newspapers promised land enough for all, white and Indians alike.

  Some nights after all of her family had gone to bed, Iris would sit at the window in her bedroom and search the horizon for answers. She wasn’t even sure what the questions were, only that God had placed in her heart the desire to leave Nashville and search for a different kind of life.

  Iris stood to one side as Pa helped her ma to her seat. Her gaze drank in the long table covered with pine greenery, holly berries, and silver serving dishes. Flickering candlelight from the large chandelier hanging over the center of the table gilded the edges of the delicate china place settings. Not only was Aunt Dolly a fashion plate, she knew how to create a wonderful atmosphere in her lovely home. Even with her limited interest in such things, Iris could appreciate the artistry of the formal dining room.

  When they were all seated, Uncle Mac leaned forward and closed his eyes. Iris followed his lead and listened as he blessed the food, the arrival of loved ones, and the celebration of Christ’s birth.

  Warmth seeped through her at the thought of Baby Jesus being born. What a miraculous event that reached out to envelop all of them this evening. She added her thanks to having been raised in a Christian home. The good Lord had showered so many blessings on her and her family.

  Uncle Mac ended the prayer, and Iris let her gaze drift around the table as her relatives talked about their plans for the Christmas season and the upcoming year. She could not repress a shiver of anticipation. Surely the Lord wouldn’t wait much longer before showing her His plan for her life.

  Eugene Brown escorted Iris to a group of ladies who included her ma, Aunt Dolly, and Grandma Landon, her paternal grandmother. Iris thanked him for their dance and wondered if he realized how much relief showed on his face as he left her standing with her relatives.

  Grandma Landon raised her brows at Eugene’s abrupt departure. “Someone ought to teach that young man his manners. He didn’t even speak, much less thank my granddaughter for dancing with him.”

  Aunt Dolly nodded. “Young people these days have such lackadaisical habits.”

  “Perhaps we should not be so hasty to judge.” Ma’s voice gently chided the others as she turned and watched Eugene dash out of the ballroom. “You see, the poor boy may have a valid reason to hurry.”

  “He probably needs to go rub his feet.” Iris could not keep the mischief out of her voice. “I know I must have stepped on them a dozen times during our dance.”

  All three of her relatives were taken aback by her pronouncement, but then Ma smiled. “I did notice that Mr. Brown was a bit shorter than you.”

  Iris raised her eyebrows. “His head was at the level of my shoulder. And his steps were so short I felt I was mincing my way through our dance.”

  Her grandmother studied her from head to toe. “You may be a bit tall, child, but that color you’re wearing is very becoming.”

  A sound of irritation came from Aunt Dolly. “Doesn’t anyone in this family have a bit of fashion consciousness?”

  Grandma looked somewhat affronted at the comment, but she must have decided to exercise her manners by ignoring Aunt Dolly’s question. She turned her attention to her daughter-in-law. “Where are your parents, Rebekah?”

  “They volunteered to entertain Hannah and Eli this evening so they would not have to stay at the house alone.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t volunteer for that duty, given your oft-repeated disdain for parties.”

  “I wouldn’t let her stay home this year,” Aunt Dolly answered for Ma. “Of course, I was hoping she would bring the children with her.”

  Ma shuddered. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Iris could feel the corners of her mouth turning up. “Our Eli has far too much energy to behave himself all evening. If he had come, you would all bemoan his inability to mind his manners.”

  A flurry of activity at the door gained their attention. Several footmen were bringing a shiny washtub into the ballroom. Aunt Dolly excused herself and moved toward them to supervise the placement of the tub. Iris knew from previous parties that it was filled nearly to the rim with water. The housekeeper entered with a sack of apples that she dumped into the tub as soon as Aunt Dolly was happy with its placement.

  Iris clapped her hands together. “Can I try catching an apple t
his year, Ma?”

  Grandma looked up at the ceiling as if for guidance before addressing Iris’s mother. “I hope you will not allow any such thing, Rebekah. It’s not seemly for a young lady to dampen her gown or hair by taking part in such high jinks.”

  “I have to agree, Iris.” Ma reached out and tweaked one of her daughter’s curls. “Your coiffure already seems to be in some danger of coming undone. You would not want to be seen with your hair around your shoulders.”

  Iris reached up and patted some errant strands back into place. It was a shame her naturally curly hair was so thick and heavy. Ma had spent nearly an hour taming her unruly mane this evening before they came to the party, but she could tell it was trying to escape the dozens of pins that had been twisted into it. “Perhaps I could take it down and plait it like I used to do?”

  Ma looked as if she was considering the request, but then she shook her head. “You are a grown woman now, Iris. The time for you to sport braids in public is long gone.”

  Iris let her shoulders droop, but then an idea popped intoher head. “If I’m so grown, then won’t you reconsider that advertisement in the Sentinel?”

  “What advertisement?” Grandma asked. “And what are you doing reading newspapers? Does your ma not give you enough chores to fill your day?”

  Ma tossed a warning look at Iris. “We have gone through this several times, dear. You know that your father and I prayed about your request. We simply don’t think it is advisable for you to travel to some little town in the wilderness to teach youngsters.”

  “What?” Grandma’s voice was so loud that several people looked in their direction. “This is exactly my point, Rebekah. Young girls should not be allowed to fill their minds with all types of information. It’s not good for them. You see what can come of it. Now your daughter wants to travel all alone to some unknown destination.”

  “It’s not unknown.” Iris defended her position. “It’s a town in Texas called Shady Gulch. Doesn’t that sound like a wonderful destination? I can practically see the little schoolhouse standing in front of a field of wildflowers, all whitewashed and sparkling. And it would be so fulfilling to help mold young people’s minds.”