by Carol Ross
Determination fueling her, she opened her eyes and let out a gasp. “Flynn! Yeesh.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Umm, wow!” she said before she could stop herself. Flynn in a tux. At least she had this stunning spectacle to distract her from her troubles. Clean-shaven, hair freshly trimmed, he looked like one of those too-handsome-to-be-real perfume models. It didn’t matter what he was wearing—jeans or tux, suit or scrubs—he was always that guy.
“I—I,” she stammered. “You look...amazing.”
One side of his mouth curled up, making the dimple appear even deeper on that side. “Thank you.” He tugged on a lapel. “I’m feeling pretty dapper. But you...” he drawled. “You are—”
“Please don’t say ‘gorgeous,’” she interrupted, hating the peevish edge to her tone.
Eyes twinkling, he quirked an eyebrow and teased, “I wasn’t going to. What I was going to do is suggest you go get dressed and do something with your hair because we’re going to be in a wedding in a very short time and you look like chaos personified. I’m embarrassed to stand up there with you.”
One hand went up to touch the elaborate updo her cousin Adele had given her. She couldn’t help but laugh. Why did he have to be so...irresistible? Trying to lighten the mood, she gestured at herself. “Sorry. What were you thinking, what were you going to say?”
Voice lowering to a raspy timbre that caused a shiver to skitter across her skin, he said, “Which do you want?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, even as she knew instinctively that she was wading in over her head.
He took a tiny step toward her and he was already close. “Do you want to know what I was going to say or what I was thinking?”
“Hmm.” Infused with an unexpected surge of bravery, she reached up and adjusted his tie. “Which one is better?”
Iris watched his breath catch, as his eyes followed her hands.
“That depends...” His gaze ensnared hers and the intensity she saw there made her breath stall, too. “I’m pretty sure the second one will make you blush.”
“Oh.” A blowtorch blast of heat filled her cheeks and neck. Served her right for attempting to flirt with the champ. And yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Try me,” she said.
Surprise flickered across his features before his mouth slowly curved up into a smile. He shifted even closer and Iris held her ground. Was it possible Hazel was right? It didn’t matter, she immediately reminded herself. Nothing could happen between them. She hated Alaska. Flynn loved Alaska. She was leaving. Flynn was staying. Those were the facts. And the real truth was that her heart couldn’t withstand the damage he could do.
Gaze searching her face, he whispered, “I’d absolutely love to. I—”
“Hey!” a voice called from down the hallway. “Here you guys are.”
Flynn winked at her before turning his charm on Iris’s cousin-in-law, Bering’s wife, Emily. Emily was head of the Rankins Tourism Bureau and an organizational marvel. She and Shay were coordinating the bulk of the reception. “Hi, Emily. You look lovely.”
“Thanks, Flynn. You clean up pretty well yourself. Not that you don’t rock the whole white-coat-and-stethoscope thing.”
If Emily noticed they were standing too close, or that Iris was flustered, she didn’t mention it.
“Iris, you look stunning. That dress is...spectacular.”
“Isn’t it?” She held up her arms. “Flynn picked it out.”
Emily quirked an eyebrow in Flynn’s direction. “I hear you picked out the bride’s exquisite gown, too?”
“That is the truth. I am a fashion maven,” he joked.
“Can I just say how impressive that is? Bering would be hard-pressed to tell the difference between a dress and a tablecloth.”
“Hey,” Flynn answered with an easy shrug. “It’s not every day a guy gets asked to take on a traditionally female lead in the wedding performance of the year. I studied up. The eyes of Rankins, Alaska, are on me.”
Emily laughed. “Well done, Dr. Ramsey. On behalf of maids and men of honor everywhere, I applaud you.”
Flynn executed a little bow.
“Flowers,” she said, handing Iris her bouquet. She held up a boutonniere and nodded toward Flynn. “Can you pin this on him?”
“Sure.”
“Great. We need you guys in place in ten, okay? I need to find Abe.”
“Got it,” Flynn said.
“Abe is with Ally,” Iris informed her.
“Perfect. Thank you.” Emily hurried off down the hall.
Flynn smiled at Iris and she tried to return it. But the ten-minute warning had deflated the moment. Ten minutes until she ran the metaphorical gauntlet of her past. Iris set her flowers on the windowsill and went to work pinning Flynn’s corsage into place.
“Hey,” he said.
“Mmm-hmm?” she murmured, avoiding his curious gaze.
“What just happened here? What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“More motion sickness?”
She almost smiled. “Flynn, I’m fine.”
“Now I know you’re lying. In my experience, when a woman says she’s fine it means that she either isn’t, or that she doesn’t want to talk about it. Which is it, in this case?”
“Both.”
“How can I help if you don’t tell me what it is?”
“You can’t help. There,” she said, adjusting the flower and patting his lapel.
“How do you know?” Before she could step back, he took her hand and lightly entwined his fingers with hers. When she didn’t pull away, he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. He pressed gently against her wrist and she knew his doctor fingers were tuning into the wild thumping of her pulse.
“’Cuz I know.” Forcing a smile, she heaved up her eyes to meet his. “Thank you for the offer, though. We better go.”
Instead, he stood his ground, keeping her in place with just the touch of his hand, watching her carefully like they had all the time in the world and he had all the answers.
Finally, he nodded slowly. “Okay...” His voice was so fraught with tension it had Iris holding her breath. “But we’re going to talk about something else later.”
“What?”
“About...” Pausing, he tilted his head to slay her with one of his roguish grins. “About why you don’t want me to call you gorgeous.”
They absolutely were not going to talk about that. Instead she blurted, “I’m nervous. There, are you happy?”
“You’re nervous?” he asked doubtfully. “About what?”
“About what?” she repeated with a chuckle. “How about standing up there in front of three hundred and fifty-two people, some of whom I was hoping never to see again in my life, and then having to make small talk with these same people for I don’t know how many hours.”
“Seriously?”
“This surprises you?”
He paused and studied her carefully. “It does. You’re great at this kind of stuff. You’ve never had a problem being in front of people. We won the science fair due in large part to your eloquence. You taught classes in graduate school with practically that many students in them, right?”
“Yes, but, science, math, economics...academics in general—that is my safe zone. People inside my zone are fine.” She waved a hand toward the window, where guests were already taking their seats in the long rows of white chairs that had been set up on the grassy lawn. “Those people are not. Rankins is not my zone.”
“Those people? Iris, a lot of those people are your family. Rankins is your hometown. People here love you.”
“No, Flynn, they don’t. I mean, yes, to the family part, that’s true.” She was realizing that was truer than she’d believed. The one good thing she could take
away from this visit was connecting with her family in a way she never had before. Two good things if she counted Flynn. But she wasn’t sure she could. Not exactly. “But the Rankins part, no. Come on, Flynn, you remember what I was like in high school.”
“Yes, brilliant, funny, kind, beautiful—”
“Stop,” Iris interrupted him. “Dorky, nerdy, clumsy, not athletic, not popular, too skinny, not beautiful—not on the outside, anyway.”
“Just because people couldn’t see how beautiful you are doesn’t mean you weren’t.”
“Flynn! You didn’t think I was beautiful in that way, either. I was teased and ridiculed and bullied—” She cut the sentence short, immediately wishing she could take it back. She didn’t want to talk about this and make the day about her. Even though she was terrified.
“Bullied?” he repeated a bit too skeptically for her taste. “Really?”
“Yes, Flynn. Looking back on it now, yes.” She sighed. “Look, this isn’t one of those conversations you’re probably used to having where beautiful, insecure women complain about how fat their ankles are so you’ll tell them they’re not. I’m not fishing for compliments. I’m not interested in being beautiful.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she wanted it to be. It mostly was. “My point here is that I’m not looking forward to being on display in front of Ashley and Faith and all the other people who made me feel less than, when I knew I wasn’t. I’m not.”
“Of course you’re not.” Frustration tinged his tone before his face scrunched with a question. “Ashley Eller?”
“Yes, Ashley Eller. She’s divorced and back in town and she’ll be here.” Iris watched him for a reaction, but she didn’t pick up on anything other than surprise.
“Yeah, well, she wasn’t a very nice person in general. Which is why we broke up, and also why she and Faith were besties, birds of a feather. But, Iris, we all have bad memories from our childhoods. They don’t define us. We overcome them, and we move on.”
“Bad memories?” she repeated with a bitter chuckle. “Flynn, you don’t...” Understand. She wanted to explain. But what good would it do now? It would sound like whining. She’d worked hard to get past these feelings. She could do this.
Flynn gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll tell you what—I am going to help.”
“How are you going to do that?” she asked skeptically.
“I’ll stay close. The second anyone makes you feel uncomfortable, I’ll swoop in and rescue you.”
Despite herself, she smiled. He was so...sweet. If only it was that simple. But she couldn’t ignore how the touch of his hand calmed her nerves. “And how will you know that I’m uncomfortable?”
“Trust me,” he said. “I’ll know.”
* * *
WITH THE CEREMONY a complete success, guests mingled in the courtyard. Dinner had been enthusiastically devoured, but the subtle scents of lemon, pepper and grilled salmon still wafted through the air. The cake was cut, and spirits were high as guests enjoyed dessert and drinks. Lamps were lit around the perimeter. Music was in full swing and couples migrated to the dance floor.
Flynn didn’t have to locate Iris in the crowd—he knew where she was and planned to keep it that way. Not that it was a hardship to look at her in that dress, a phenomenon he’d noticed that other men shared, and one that filled him with both pride and annoyance at the same time.
A voice sounded off to his left. “Flynn, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He turned to find Iris’s mom standing before him. “Hello, Mrs. James. Of course. You look incredibly lovely.”
Tall and uniquely beautiful, Flynn had always thought that of all the James children, Iris looked the most like their mother. Radiant in her navy-and-gold mother-of-the-groom dress, she could easily pass for a decade younger than her sixty-odd years.
“Thank you. But I wish you’d stop calling me ‘Mrs. James.’”
Flynn chuckled and scratched his chin. “That’s a tough one for me. You know how old-school Doc is. But I’ll start right now.” Flynn winked at her. “So, Margaret, how does it feel to have another of your brood happily married off?”
Eyes twinkling, an easy smile lit her face. “Wonderful. It’s no secret that I despaired of Tag ever settling down. But for him to find someone as incredible as Ally? I am beyond thrilled. Three down and three to go, another grandchild on the way—I’m a very happy woman.”
“I’m so glad.”
“I wanted to thank you for helping with the wedding. Tag and Ally and Iris have all been singing your praises. Between you and Iris taking care of wedding details, and Emily and Shay doing the reception, I’ve barely had to do anything.”
“It’s been fun. Ally is like a little sister to me.”
Flynn glanced up again to see Iris with Cricket. Cricket wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to speak into her ear. Iris laughed. Satisfied that she was out of harm’s way, so to speak, he focused on Margaret but kept Iris on the edge of his vision. A subtle inquiry about her relationship with Cricket might be in order, however.
“Iris looks exceptionally beautiful, doesn’t she?”
He’d only looked away for a second. How had she known? “She does. But then again, she always does as far as I’m concerned.”
Expression thoughtful, Margaret tilted her head. “You were always so good to Iris. If it weren’t for Jericho in middle school and then you in high school, I don’t know what she would have done. I’m not sure what her father and I would have done.”
“Jericho, her cat?” Flynn smiled, thinking she might be giving him a little too much credit.
“Yes, she adopted him from Agnes Garner in middle school. Remember Agnes and her cat-rescue program?” At his nod, she went on, “Iris didn’t have any friends, except for Hazel and Seth. But they were busy with sports and activities.”
Iris didn’t have any friends? Their earlier conversation fresh in his mind, a pinch of discomfort nipped at him. Now that he thought about it, she never mentioned anyone from her class. She never mentioned anyone from school, except her siblings.
“Did you know we almost sent her away to boarding school?”
“What? No... When?”
“I’m not surprised. She doesn’t talk about her past much, does she? About how difficult her childhood was? She acts like she’s overcome it, but I don’t know if a person can ever truly get over what she went through.”
Flynn paused as a chill went through him. Her childhood? Had she really been that miserable?
As if Margaret could hear his thoughts, she explained, “Iris came to Ben and me when she was thirteen and asked if we would enroll her in boarding school in the lower forty-eight.” Margaret grimaced a little at the memory. “She had her argument all laid out, about how she was different, didn’t fit in here, had no friends. People always think because she’s a triplet that she’d naturally be attached to Hazel and Seth. And she was—is—of course, to a degree. But Hazel and Seth were more like twins than the three of them were like triplets. It’s not their fault. It started when they were babies. That seems to be getting better now, but...
“Anyway, Iris almost didn’t make it and then it was one issue after another—lungs, eyes, heart and on it went. Did you know she had nine surgeries before the age of ten?”
“No, I didn’t know that.” He knew she had a mild asthma condition. Why had it never occurred to him that it had been caused by her premature birth? Probably because she didn’t talk about it. But still, as a doctor he should have—he was very aware of the fact that lung problems were one of the most common conditions associated with premature births. Flynn felt his heart clench as he imagined Iris as a lonely little girl, essentially quarantined inside the house.
Margaret went on to confirm his thoughts. “That meant long periods of recovery. Months when she couldn’t go outside. All the other kids were
running, climbing trees, fishing, skiing and riding bikes. I tried to be with her as often as I could, but it was difficult as we had other children. She spent a lot of time alone, while Hazel and Seth bonded because they developed quicker. They kind of kept pace with one another, spurred each other on even. Unfortunately, Iris got left behind. She missed a fair amount of school and when she did go, she endured teasing. In middle school, there was a group of girls who bullied her. They were so cruel.”
Bullied. Ashley and her cronies. Iris had tried to tell him and he’d all but blown her off. Sympathy twisted inside of him thinking about the too-skinny, slightly gawky girl he’d gotten to know in tenth grade. She’d been a year behind him, so he hadn’t known her before then. Brilliant, observant and quietly witty, he’d liked her from the first day of advanced algebra, when she’d argued with the teacher over a mistake he’d written on the board.
Seated beside her, he’d watched, intrigued, as she’d taken a sheet of paper and penciled out the problem for the teacher. If only he would have recognized his fascination for what it was. He wished he could go back and shake his sixteen-year-old self. And how could he have been so clueless about Ashley’s part in it all?
“Luckily, she was blessed with that brain. And kindness and compassion. And so many other good traits. Although, struggling with the physical stuff always seemed to stick with her.”
“It must have been difficult to say no to her about boarding school. Knowing Iris, I’m guessing she didn’t take it well.”
“Oh, we didn’t say no. We knew she was right. It broke my heart, the fact that our baby girl was so miserable. And when she came to us, she was armed with all her research, including a list of schools and the cost of tuition for each one. There were statistics and scholarship applications. We told her we’d think about it. I couldn’t bear the idea of her going away, but she was bitterly unhappy. We were just about to allow her to go when she met Agnes and adopted Jericho. She agreed to try one year of high school.”
Flynn smiled, feeling more relieved than he should have about an event that happened more than a decade ago. He couldn’t imagine his life if he’d never met Iris.
