Shadows from the Past. Lindsay McKenna
plants and loves every second of it. I’m happy she’s happy. With her brain addled by the stroke, she’ll be needing someone to help her with the packing, shipping and making out bills to customers. Your job as her caregiver would be a lot more than that. I need a person who is very flexible, who loves nature, who can deal with a cranky woman who gets her back up every once in a while, but who can appreciate her passion for life.”
Kam swallowed hard over the fact that this fascinating woman could be her grandmother. What a rich gift that would be. Fighting back tears, Kam blinked several times and whispered, “I’d love doing anything to help her, Mr. Mason. I love the earth, too. Gardening is a healing meditation to me.”
“Humph. Iris says the same thing. Says that when she gets out weeding in that garden of hers, any bad feelings she carried out with her just go back into the ground. She always feels better afterward.”
Never had Kam wanted a job more than this one. Something about Rudd Mason struck a chord so deep. “Mrs. Mason sounds like a dream come true to me.”
“Plenty of people around here consider her an ongoing nightmare.”
Kam noted Rudd scowling, his gaze off in the distance. Who wouldn’t love a senior like Iris? “Maybe a person who didn’t work in a garden might not understand,” Kam said forcefully, “but my experience is that gardeners are some of the most peaceful, calm and centered people I’ve ever known.”
Rudd chuckled. “I hear you, Ms. Trayhern. There’s folks I’d like to throw into a garden and not let them out until they got it, but that ain’t gonna happen.”
Kam watched him as he looked up at the ribbed pole ceiling of the office, as if considering something. She had to be bold. “I’d really like this job, Mr. Mason. I believe I could get along very well with Mrs. Mason.”
“Call her Iris,” he said finally, glancing over at her. “She hates standing on protocol. And she loves her first name, Iris. Her parents named her an Indian name that means Iris Blooms in the Morning. It fits her. My mother is the backbone of this ranch, and she made it into what it is today alongside my father. She’s worked hard all her life. She’s got arthritic knuckles to show for it, too.”
As she heard the pride and love in his voice, Kam hoped he would speak to her in such a tone someday. It all hinged on this job. Gripping the leather purse, she waited for his decision.
“Okay, Ms. Trayhern, let’s give you a whirl. First, you gotta meet Iris. She will be the one who decides whether or not you stay or go. Fair enough?”
A shock of relief shot through Kam. “Fair enough.”
“Okey-dokey,” he said, unwinding and standing. “Let’s go find Iris. Chances are she’s out back in her greenhouse with her flowers.”
Joy mixed with dread as Kam followed him out of the office and down the hall. Her heart hammered again and she wondered if Rudd could feel her nervousness. She tried to steady her breathing and contain her excitement.
CHAPTER THREE
“IRIS, I want you to meet Kamaria Trayhern.”
Kam smiled as she approached Iris Mason, who sat on a stool in front of her baker’s table. In her hand she held dark, rich soil that she was putting into a small clay pot. The woman was about five feet six inches tall with short silver hair that seem to glow around her head like a halo. Her blue eyes were lively and sharp. Kam could easily see the Native American features in her deeply wrinkled, copper-colored face.
“Hello, dearie,” she said, holding out a long, lean hand caked with soil.
Kam didn’t hesitate but grasped her hand. “Hello, Iris. Just call me Kam. What are you planting?”
Iris chuckled and released her hand. “Not afraid of a little dirt, are you?” Kam took in the woman’s dress. She wore a T-shirt covered with a white blouse and a very old denim jacket adorned with Indian beading on the back.
Rudd stood behind his mother, hands on his hips as the two women conversed.
Kam knew he watched and assessed their interaction. However, Iris was the one in charge. “I love gardening. Mr. Mason said you had a huge plot and I got excited. I grew up with one about half the size of yours in Montana.”
“Maybe we got lucky, son?” Iris quipped, looking up at him and grinning.
“I hope so, Iris,” Rudd rumbled good-naturedly.
Iris gave Kam a keen, long look. “Ever since my head decided to get slightly addled, my son has been trying to fix me up with a babysitter. I’ve chased all of ’em off. I’m only eighty-two and I’m not in diapers—yet.”
Chuckling, Kam enjoyed the feisty elder and hoped they were related. Iris was small but mighty. She kept putting soil in each of the six pots in front of her. Several packets of flower seeds sat on the table. “I hope you won’t see me as a babysitter, Iris. I’ll be here to help you when you need it. Otherwise, I’ll stay out of the way. How does that sound?”
“Oh, you mean you aren’t going to tail me around like a proverbial shadow, waiting for me to stroke out? You aren’t going to jaw me to death for not taking a high blood pressure pill? Complain that you’re outside too long with me in the garden? Whine about pulling weeds?”
Kam grinned. “No, ma’am, I won’t. I grew up in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains. My mother always had a huge garden and I loved weeding it. We froze and canned everything we grew. My mother believes in living organically off the land.”
“You’re a healthy-looking specimen, I’ll give you that,” Iris said, raising her thinned, arched silver brows. She twisted a look up at Rudd. “Since you insist upon me having a babysitter, this one looks hopeful compared to the others you’ve dragged kicking and screaming in here.”
Kam noted the relief on Rudd’s weathered features. He touched his handlebar and smoothed it between his thumb and index finger. “So you’ll give Kam a whirl, Iris?”
Shrugging, the old woman eyed Kam slyly and winked. “Oh, I might just do that, son. Why don’t you fetch Wes and let him know I need to go into Jackson Hole later for a few things from the feed and seed store? Kamaria can ride along and get used to my routines.”
Hands slipping off his hips, Rudd nodded. “I’ll do that, Iris.”
“I can get my bags. Just tell me where I’ll be staying,” she said to him.
“Oh, you’ll be right across the hall from me, Kamaria. A nice suite with a lovely bedroom,” Iris said. “I made the quilt you’ll see on your bed. And the curtains, too. The other room is an office and living room. I think you’ll like the suite,” Iris said.
“I’m sure I will.” Kam watched Iris open up the first packet of seeds. “After I get my bags in the suite, would you like me to come out here and help you?”
Iris shook her head. She looked at the watch on her thin right arm. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” Kam said, grateful for the woman’s consideration. “I ate before I drove out here.”
“Rudd, you need to tell Hazel that we have one more for dinner tonight.”
Kam saw his face go tight, his eyes flash with shock.
“Iris? You never wanted your caregiver to eat with the family before.”
“Well, I do now,” she snapped, giving her son a look of finality. Iris poked her finger into the soft soil and then dropped in two seeds and patted more soil over them.
“I’ll tell Hazel,” he said abruptly, then turned to Kam. “Come with me. I’ll show you where your quarters are located.”
Kam felt the tension between mother and son. One moment there was warmth and then, just as suddenly, it was as if a storm had arrived. Iris seemed to be smiling over some secret known only to her as