The Purpose of Irises: Chapter 2- White Oaks

CHAPTER 2: White Oaks

“Miss, do you need a ride?” he hesitated, assuming she would decline firmly as most women did to strangers.

“Yes, thank you very much,” she said, putting her small trunk in the back. He stopped in his tracks, stunned. He handed her into the wagon, where she sat with her bouquet in her lap and they set off for her accommodations.

“The name’s Elizabeth Miller,” she mustered up to say to the stranger, sticking her hand out for a handshake. “A pleasure, sir. And yours?”

“James Taylor, miss,” he said, taking the handshake. “But please, call me Robin. That's what everyone calls me."

“Well then, Lizzie. Most call me that."

She smiled as she turned to the road ahead and saw the two beautiful horses working hard to pull the load. Her eyes got brighter and bolder.

“Are these your horses?” she beamed excitedly.

“They are. That is Chestnut and the other is Chesapeake.”

“Oh, such wonderful names. I wish I had brought my own horses with me.”

“You can come visit them if you’d like. I’m not far from White Oaks. I live on a farm on the hill over Amber Bridge and past the maple grove. Most of the folks around here call it Riverside.”

“That walk sounds magical. Over the hills and bridges and past the maple groves to Riverside.”

There was a moment of silence as the pair went through a path of blooming cherry blossoms. Robin never expected to meet such a charming young woman. He wondered what this wonderful, cheerful creature was doing in their town.

“What a beautiful place! I know I'll love it here in Hartford. It’s so peaceful and inspiring.”

“I heartily agree,” he said, looking at the falling blossoms and Lizzie whose dreamily contented and inspired smile touched the depths of his heart as she reached out for a branch full of cherry blossoms hanging over the road. She took a twig of it in her smooth but calloused and ungloved hands and stared at it for a long time.

“I really love flowers. Each one is different in their own way, brightening up our little world.”

He nodded slowly. She noticed that Robin gave her a curious look but ignored it. She knew she was a bit different but she didn’t mind. Elizabeth took the time to take up some form of productivity by weaving the flowers to make a duplicate of the crown she had thrown out the window on the train. Her slender fingers worked fast, delicately twisting, looping, braiding and bending the fragile cherry blooms to her will until the crown was finished. She placed the crown gently to fit nicely on her straw hat.

“So what brings you here to Hartford?” Robin said, breaking the silence.

“I’m the new teacher for the school here. Do you know any of the students? What are they like?” Elizabeth said, eager to understand what her students were like.

“I was the former teacher, actually. I had to resign sadly to care for my parents. I’d say the class is pretty studious but interesting to handle. But I’m sure you’ll do better than I did. Of course, there are the normal mischief-makers— Tommy Wright, Patrick Smith and Michael Peterson. But maybe they’ll be changed this year, you know.”

Liz and Robin talked about many things all the way to White Oaks, the boarding house in which she would be staying at. They found that they had much in common.

“The name White Oaks sounds quite amazing. When I heard it, it sounded like an absolutely beautiful place.”

“It really is. It has great, big climbing trees. The students like to play there often. It’s not too far from the school. I used to go there myself in my school days.”

“That place could be the perfect reading and writing spot. I’m sure the inspiration will be flowing like the rapids in a river.”

They stopped at the boarding house and Liz stepped down the wagon with an energetic air.

“Thank you again,” she said, taking her trunk out of the back and placing it on the sidewalk. She went to the horses.

She stroked both horses, the latter looking as if they were enamored with her, nudging her. Laughing, she gave each an apple and a carrot from her purse, stroking their muzzles and giving them all the love and praise in the world.

“You two are the best. Aren’t you both so delightful? I can’t wait to ride you both if Robin doesn’t mind.”

She turned toward the dashing young man that had escorted her to her new home with kindness. He nodded in agreement as he smiled.

“Goodbye, Robin, and thank you,” she exclaimed, waving goodbye as he drove away. She took her trunk and headed towards the entrance with renewed zeal and confidence.

Robin drove off and thought about the new soul that Hartford had gained— a beautiful, bewitching one at that. After that first meeting, he often found himself blushing like a schoolboy whenever she came to his mind.

~~~~

Elizabeth knocked on the door. A maid responded in a gruff, indifferent tone but immediately softened at the sight of Elizabeth with her trunk.

"Hello, love. You must be the new teacher. We've been expecting you. At least my wee ones have. I have eight of them, I do. The name's Minnie Phillips. I take care of things around here. Come in, come in."

Elizabeth gladly followed her inside and Minnie obeyed Lizzie’s sweet words in request of Mrs. Brown and told her to stay in the waiting room. Mrs. Brown came in swiftly as if the wind had dragged her there and welcomed Lizzie with kindness. Mrs. Brown proceeded to explain the house rules and showed the different rooms and their purposes, eventually leading to Elizabeth’s own little place on the top floor. She looked out the window, simply curtained with lace, and saw a marvelous view. Not too far away was a gigantic white oak tree. Elizabeth instantly planned her visits to that tree and the things she would do there.

“That tree is absolutely gorgeous!” she exclaimed.

“It is. One of the children’s favorites too,” Mrs. Brown said, for she allowed the students to play among the trees there with, of course, some ground rules. She would often watch them from there and reminisce over her younger days.

Elizabeth unpacked and organized her room the way she liked it as soon as Mrs. Brown left her to settling in. She was an orderly thing and believed that everything had a place. She found a place for everything– whether hidden or shown.

She loved to whittle. Her father had taught when she was old enough to hold a carving knife. Her hands had scars to prove it. Her favorite works and one of her father’s creations brought a nostalgic essence to her residence. One of her favorite carvings was that one that her father made of her linking arms with her dearest friends, Meg and Rosie.

She already missed her family and friends back home dearly despite being ready to start her new life. As soon as she set up her writing desk the way she liked it, she wrote home.

My dear family and friends,

How are you all getting along? I miss you so much. Has Rosie had her baby yet? I cannot wait to visit hopefully very soon and see her and the treasure of new life. I am just settling in. I find this new town very picturesque, full of delightful scenery.

I met a nice young man on the way to my new home, Mr. James Taylor, with two beautiful horses. He used to be the teacher of Hartford’s school. It seems as if we might turn out to be good friends. Mr. Taylor told me that there were plenty of trees to sit under here at White Oaks and how true he was. The place is thriving with them and wonderful wildflowers. But, they will never be as majestic as my sitting tree at home.

Momma, I already miss your famous raspberry pudding and chocolate-covered eclairs. Please tell Meg that I miss her more than dearly and that I hope we can see each other soon. Papa, how is the carving project coming along? Jennie, I send you all the sisterly love I have in my heart and I wish I was still in school with you in your last years of it but you will get on wonderfully. Don’t get into too many scrapes like we did when we were little. Send my love to my sweet brother John, Sally and the little ones. Give them plenty of hugs and kisses from their Aunt Lizzie. Send my love to all my friends and ask them of their welfare for my sake. Love you all!

Yours, Lizzie