Iris

by Chris Keniston

  If only his sister hadn’t objected to having one of those stuffy British nannies the way her husband had been raised. At least then there would be somebody more capable than him right now making decisions. Of course, his gaze shifted to Iris and the General playing Go Fish with his niece and nephew. At least for now, maybe he did have that.

  “You, young man, will either be a brilliant mathematician or an outstanding card shark.” The General’s words carried more pride then censure. Unlike his first nights at Hart House, tonight was a quiet evening with only the General, Mrs. Hart, Iris and the occasional appearance by Lucy bringing more food or drink.

  Walking past the card table, Lucy retrieved Gavin’s empty dish of cookies. “My goodness, you are a bottomless pit for those cookies, aren’t you?”

  Funny, he hadn’t, until now, noticed Gavin’s voracious interest in the evening snacks. His sister’s plate still had three cookies. It looked like they might have to work on curtailing the boys’ sweet tooth. Perhaps Iris could help. But now would not be the time. Definitely not yet. Eric just needed to pay more attention to the young boy’s diet before turning to comfort foods transformed the kid into a roly-poly.

  “It will work out.” Fiona Hart flashed him a quick reassuring smile before returning her attention to the sketchpad in her lap. She must have given up on the painting she’d been working on before supper. Or perhaps she just wanted a change of pace. Though he suspected she needed practice anyway. While this afternoon’s painting had a lovely array of colors, he didn’t have a clue what the picture was supposed to be. Apparently she was much better at offering reassurance and sound advice than at watercolors.

  Casually, the older woman glanced at her wristwatch. The subtle movement reminded Eric that he needed to be on alert for bed time. According to his own timepiece, the kids should have been getting ready for bed almost thirty minutes ago. Blast. When was he going to get the hang of this?

  “This will have to be the last round. It’s time for bed,” he announced with as much self-confidence as he could muster. Too bad he didn’t feel as sure as he hoped he sounded.

  “Is Miss Iris going to read to us again tonight?” Gavin asked.

  Unlike previous nights, this time Iris didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.” He hoped that meant she was getting as comfortable with the children as they were with her.

  Within minutes, the last game was over and Iris was the first to push away from the table. Clutching his favorite little stuffed leopard backpack to his side, Gavin fell in step beside her. His sister at Iris’s other side.

  “Guess we’re all set.” Iris smiled down at her two shadows.

  The sound of the screen door squeaking open had everyone looking up. Her hair in a long braid down her back, and sporting a flowing colorful skirt that made her look as much an artist as her grandmother, Poppy strode inside shaking her head and smiling. “I was all set to settle in with my new book and a hot cup of tea only to discover somehow we managed to run out of milk.”

  “Help yourself, sweetie.” Fiona Hart smiled at her granddaughter. Tilting her head, observing her handiwork from a new angle, for a second Eric got the impression she couldn’t make out what she was drawing either.

  Poppy had made it only a few steps when she caught up with Gavin and Emily. Squatting down, she patted the top of the stuffed animal’s head. “This fellow seems to be a good friend. What’s your leopard’s name?”

  Tightening his grip on the plush feline, Gavin mumbled, “Cheetah.”

  “That’s a nice name.” Poppy pushed to her feet, tussled Gavin’s curly hair, and pausing to kiss her grandmother on the cheek, continued on her way to the kitchen.

  It struck him suddenly that in all these days, it had never occurred to him to ask his nephew if the stuffed animal he kept close at hand had a name. Though he wasn’t completely sure if Gavin was sharing the name, or correcting Poppy’s assumption that the plush favored backpack was a leopard —much like the assumption he had made all this time. Either way, what kind of uncle did that make him?

  “You ready?” Iris asked softly, moving to stand beside him.

  He nodded, ushering her and the kids through the door and waving at his hosts. “Thanks again. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “If we get into our pajamas extra fast, can we get two stories?” Emily asked. Other than that first day, there’d been no more complaints about different cabins or colored doors.

  Iris hesitated and slipping the key into the door, Eric realized it was his place to say something, but what? He certainly didn’t want to impose on Iris, and he had no idea if a second story was a good or bad idea. Shoving the door, he held it open, glanced at Iris, and letting the children walk under his arm into the house, raised a questioning brow at her, coupled with a now-what shrug.

  “If it’s all right with your uncle,” she followed them in, “it’s fine with me.”

  That was all the encouragement the children needed. Fortunately for them, he had no intention of objecting. In a flash they took off across the room and had brushed their teeth, changed their clothes and climbed into bed, awaiting their stories. Oddly enough, he found himself equally eager to hear Iris sharing the latest escapades of Nancy Drew. And what did that say about him?

  ***

  “Fearful that Nancy and Ned were trapped, Bess cried their names in terror.” Iris glanced at her audience. Finding them both soundly asleep, she closed the book.

  “You can’t stop now,” Eric said too sincerely. “You have to be near the end.”

  “I am,” she confirmed. “And I’m only reading it once so the rest will have to wait until they are very wide awake again.”

  Eric’s face crumpled much like a pouting child before the deep lines soothed and he blew out a resigned huff. “Could I interest you in a cup of tea or hot chocolate?”

  “Mm, that would be nice. It’s been a busy day.”

  “It has.” He crossed the short distance to the kitchen cupboards. “And I have this terrible feeling that it’s only going to get worse.”

  “You’re probably right.” She slid onto a stool and faced him. “That’s the way parenting works. As soon as you figure out the rules, someone changes them all.”

  “Could be, but I’m not their parent.” He slid the teapot under the running water and sucking in a hiss, he turned to face her. “Though I guess now I am, aren’t I?”

  All she could bring herself to do was force a sympathetic smile and nod at him. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that even though circumstances made this time in the children’s lives unbearably difficult, these were probably the easiest years he’d have ahead of him. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

  “None.” The kettle whistled and he turned off the stovetop flame. “Although…”

  “Yes?”

  “Tomorrow is supposed to be another warm day. I wonder if the kids have ever been fishing.”

  She hadn’t seen that coming, but the way he had eyed that rod at the One Stop, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise to her. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “My grandfather took me fishing when I was a little boy. Probably not much older than Gavin.” He set a cup of hot water and teabag in front of her, then nudging the sugar bowl closer, slid into the seat beside her. “You would think that sitting in a canoe at the crack of dawn in total silence would not be something a little boy would enjoy, but the anticipation of getting that nibble on the end of the line was better than awesome.”

  “I can see in your eyes how sweet the memories are.”

  “Honestly, I have to admit, getting to put a fresh worm on a hook was a big part of the fun too.”

  “Oh, I bet.” She didn’t bother to smother a laugh. She knew little boys too well.

  “And of course, after we’d caught our limit—or at least what I thought was our limit—we’d get to dive in and do a little swimming.”

  “Sounds like a lot of good fun. The General always talked of going fishing, but
I don’t know that he ever did. Maybe if he’d had grandsons.”

  “Wouldn’t have made a difference. My sister was champion worm digger.”

  “That would have been Cindy. Lack of aversion to worms probably comes with the territory of being a veterinarian. Especially one with hopes of building a wild life refuge. That requires a tolerance for all of God’s creatures, large or small or squirmy.”

  “Wild life refuge?”

  Iris nodded. “She does all she can for critters regardless of whether or not they’re domesticated, but she’s right that the mountain needs something bigger than just her and her little clinic. Rehabbing wild life, especially to return to the wild, requires a lot more time and facility space than she has available.”

  “Sounds like a worthy cause.”

  “Yeah.” Somehow she felt like she was the only cousin to have grown up without one. Heather was working on the new wing for the nearest hospital, Violet was on a one woman mission to bring inner peace to the universe, Lily singlehandedly contributed to the gastronomic delight of most residents and guests within a fifty mile radius, of course Cindy had her refuge, Callie was encouraging fair play among the country’s youth—not an easy task with high schoolers. In an off-handed way, Poppy contributed to the spiritual well-being of the community. After all, keeping the books could be considered fundamental in keeping the church—and hence, the community—afloat. That left Zinnia, who would probably some day take over the winery and keep the state of New York, as well as most of the East Coast, in heart healthy red wine.

  “Did I say something wrong?” A deep V formed at the bridge of his nose.

  She’d been seriously lost in her own thoughts. “What?”

  “You’re frowning,” he supplied.

  “Oh. Sorry. Every time I consider what am I going to do with my life now, I probably look like I sucked on a rotten egg.”

  “Ick.” His whole face crumpled. “That is a nasty visual.”

  “Sorry,” she repeated.

  “And staying in the nanny business is out of the question?”

  “Completely. I’m done with other people’s children.” She thought she heard a slight wince and realized how that must have sounded. “Sorry.”

  “You say that a lot.”

  “Lately, yes.”

  “And that has something to do with why you need to put your degree to a new use?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe a little, but mostly, I simply grew tired of the teenage battleground. I should probably get up close and personal with the classifieds. A new job isn’t going to waltz up to Hart House and jump into my lap.”

  “You never know.” His forehead creased in deep thought again.

  “What has you doing such a wonderful Shar Pei impression?”

  Pushing to his feet, he carried his empty cup to the sink. “Would you like some more?”

  “No thank you.” She shifted on the stool. “Why so serious again?”

  “Thinking too much.”

  “What about now?”

  The dishes clanked in the deep stainless sink. “Talking about your job got me thinking about mine. Usually, I have a pretty strict workout regimen. My job requires I be in top condition at the drop of a hat. I’ve been neglectful since taking charge of the kids.”

  “Yes, I can imagine. If I can help in any way.” Had she really said that. Where had her mouth missed the memo about not wanting to work with kids anymore? Though this wasn’t work exactly. Emily and Gavin reminded her of why she’d become a nanny. Maybe looking for a new line of work could wait a little longer. At least until Emily and Gavin were home once again. After all, what harm could an extended leave of absence do? Especially if she got to spend that time quietly sipping tea with good company.

  Oh, who was she trying to kid? Spending all this time with one good looking struggling uncle was as appealing as any new job she might find. Yes, she felt sorry for the guy, but it turned out he seemed to have some pretty decent instincts, he cared, and he was trying. In her book that made him one of the keepers. Keeper? Oh man, what in heaven’s name was she thinking?

  Chapter Ten

  “Lovely day for a walk around the lake.” Retired General Harold Hart slathered cream cheese on his bagel. “I must admit, my bones would not complain if Mother Nature gave us the gift of early summer this year.”

  Briefly this morning, Eric had considered making breakfast for the kids instead of joining the family, but he’d quickly reconsidered how much they—Emily especially—enjoyed eating breakfast beside Fiona Hart. Truth be told, he enjoyed chatting with the General as well. Listening to the man talk reminded Eric a great deal of his own grandfather, also a military man, and one he didn’t visit often enough. He would have to change that. An even better idea now that his grandfather’s only two great grandchildren were in Eric’s custody.

  “I must agree.” Fiona nodded at her husband. “Winter was rather harsh to New England this year. An early summer would be a lovely apology from Mother Nature. I may take that walk with you.”

  “Can’t think of anything I’d like better.” The General smiled up at his wife and Eric could almost feel the love radiating across the room. Not what he’d expected from a gruff Marine.

  “Sorry I’m so late.” Iris hurried into the room. “I made the mistake of answering the phone without looking. The Throckmortons have decided this summer will be a good time for a trip to Antarctica and for some inexplicable reason they actually thought I’d jump at the chance to join them.”

  “Antarctica is a beautiful place.” Her grandmother smiled.

  “It’s cold,” Iris stated emphatically while stabbing rather harshly at a couple of pancakes.

  “At least they thought enough of you to want you along.” Fiona dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

  “Or they can’t find anyone crazy enough to accompany them and their two spoiled offspring on a trip to the opposite end of the earth.” She plopped into what had become their regular seats at the table, smiling broadly at each child before taking a long swig of hot coffee.

  “Your grandfather was just saying that today is perfect weather for a long walk. Why don’t you join us? The fresh air will do wonders for your mood.”

  “Can we come?” Emily asked. Gavin didn’t look terribly convinced that was a good thing.

  “Of course you may,” Fiona answered. “Everyone is welcome.”

  “Will Lady and Sarge come too?” Gavin asked the General.

  “They wouldn’t miss a good walk.”

  “Okay then.” Swinging his feet under his seat, apparently all it took to make something a good idea for Gavin was to add a couple of friendly Golden Retrievers to the mix.

  The General turned his attention to Eric. “You in too?”

  “Actually, I was just thinking I needed to get more exercise.”

  “Too bad our Violet isn’t around.” Fiona tsked. “She’d get you into shape.”

  “She has more interesting things keeping her in Boston these days,” Iris added with a smile.

  “Love will do that to you.” The General quickly lifted a cup to his mouth, but not before Eric noticed the grin the man tried to hide.

  He did his best to smother his own smile. He vaguely remembered that Violet was one of the cousins, but he seriously doubted unless she was a close relative of Arnold Schwarzenegger that she’d do him much good.

  “Perhaps you could take a nice run while the rest of us go for a walk,” Iris suggested.

  “Do you like to jog?” the General asked.

  “Normally I run about five miles a day. Lately, well, I haven’t been.”

  The General’s eyes opened wide with interest.

  “I like to run.” Gavin lifted his gaze from his bowl of cereal. “Can I run too? I bet Lady and Sarge like to run.” He turned to the General. “Don’t they?”

  “I don’t know about five miles.” The General smiled and faced Eric. “But if you’re serious, we have some nice hiking trails, b
ut one in particular is gravel and wide enough for my Jeep to fit.”

  “Jeep?” he asked, unsure of how that fit into the getting more exercise scenario he’d mentioned.

  “Yes. You can run the trail and Iris and the kids can follow close behind. Maybe keep time for you or just cheer you on. Like Rocky.”

  Both Emily and Gavin looked up at the General but it was Emily whose brows buckled in confusion and finally asked, “Rocky?”

  “A movie before your time.” The General straightened his shoulders and turned to Eric. “Unless you have other plans for the day?”

  “As a matter of fact, I had thought it might be nice to spend some time on the lake. That is, if there are any boats available.”

  “Absolutely. We have paddle boats that the kids all love. A couple of canoes. There’s an old bass fishing boat in the main shed, and we have a special arrangement with the marina owner if you’d like to use a speedboat for waterskiing or just riding around. Do the children swim?”

  The question grabbed Eric by the throat. He had no idea. As a matter of fact, this was probably one of a great many things he didn’t know about his own niece and nephew.

  To his relief, Emily had been paying attention and answered for him. “I can swim. Gavin still needs to wear his floaties.”

  “Mama said that after lessons this summer I wouldn’t need them anymore.” Gavin returned his focus to the nearly empty cereal bowl. His second helping; it was almost as though the kid was afraid he’d never be fed again.

  “He doesn’t like swimming underwater,” Emily offered. “It took me two summers of lessons to swim underwater, but now everyone says I swim like a fish.”

  “A beautiful fish,” Fiona added, and Emily beamed up at her.

  “Speaking of fish.” Eric cleared his throat and addressed the children. “Have either of you ever been fishing?”

  Shaking his head, Gavin’s eyes lit with interest. At the same time, Emily’s face contorted almost painfully as she muttered, “Ew.”