When Iris flees to a small town after her divorce, she hopes for a quiet life in her newly purchased historic home in Cottonwood, New Mexico. But the house, and the land it stands on, have a past that won't stay buried.
The original owner, Ella, created a vast forest preserve along the river, and now, ruthless developers want to destroy it. As Iris is reluctantly drawn into the fight to save the land, she finds unlikely allies: two fiercely determined middle school cousins, a stray cat with special powers, and Ezra, a locksmith, environmentalist, magick practitioner who challenges everything she thinks she knows about fate and connection.
Strange synchronicities and unseen forces push her forward, unraveling secrets that link her to the past and to a destiny she never expected. But the closer she gets to the truth, the more dangerous the battle becomes.
With the spirit of the land whispering through the trees and time itself bending around her, Iris must decide: will she embrace the path she was meant to walk, or turn away from her power again?
Saving Cottonwood is a positive, captivating tale of courage, fate, and the unseen forces that shape our lives.
When Iris flees to a small town after her divorce, she hopes for a quiet life in her newly purchased historic home in Cottonwood, New Mexico. But the house, and the land it stands on, have a past that won't stay buried.
The original owner, Ella, created a vast forest preserve along the river, and now, ruthless developers want to destroy it. As Iris is reluctantly drawn into the fight to save the land, she finds unlikely allies: two fiercely determined middle school cousins, a stray cat with special powers, and Ezra, a locksmith, environmentalist, magick practitioner who challenges everything she thinks she knows about fate and connection.
Strange synchronicities and unseen forces push her forward, unraveling secrets that link her to the past and to a destiny she never expected. But the closer she gets to the truth, the more dangerous the battle becomes.
With the spirit of the land whispering through the trees and time itself bending around her, Iris must decide: will she embrace the path she was meant to walk, or turn away from her power again?
Saving Cottonwood is a positive, captivating tale of courage, fate, and the unseen forces that shape our lives.
Who locks themself out of their own house, dummy? Iris shook off the thought as she scrolled through her phone and called the first locksmith she could find: Cottonwood Pop-a-Lock.
"Pop-a-Lock," a sing-songy female voice said. Iris pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the front window. âUh, hi, I seem to have locked myself out of my house. I had a really hectic morning, and I forgot my house key, which I know I should have on the same ring as my car key, but, well, I took it off one day when I didnât want to carry all those keys walking through the neighborhood. But you donât want to know all that. Anyway, now Iâm locked out and need a locksmith.â
You sound pathetic, whispered the mean voice in her head. She caught her reflection in the glassâ silver wisps of hair that had apparently sprouted at the moment of her divorce were coming loose from her bun. But hadnât she earned a few gray hairs?
"Your name?" the efficient operator asked.
"Iris Barnes."
"What's your address, hon?â Iris cringed at the endearment. She must sound as pathetic as she felt.
"I'm at 208 Silver Avenue." Looking down the tree-lined street of historic Craftsman and Victorian homes and across the street into the green park, she noted that the elm trees were starting to leaf, and a pair of Cooperâs hawks were building a nest. The constant whoosh of highway traffic had scared away other buyers and made this beautiful, hundred-year-old, probably falling-apart house almost affordable on her librarianâs salary.
A lower leg caress and a chirp let her know the familiar stray cat had arrived. Because of the catâs long black hair and Irisâs soft spot for strong females making it on their own, she began calling her Xena the Warrior Princess. But she did not want a cat. She most definitely did not want a cat. She had inquired with the neighbors, but so far, no one had ever seen her before.
"I'll radio the van, and they'll call to let you know when they can arrive. It shouldn't be too long." Iris hung up and sank onto the front steps, absentmindedly running her fingers through the catâs silky fur. The thought of calling a friend crossed her mind, but who? Six months in a new city hadnât yielded the sort of friends she could reach out to because she was having a rough day.
Honestly, most days over the past year had been rough since her seven-year marriage had ended when she heard the words, âI never really loved you.â With all the time alone she was suddenly experiencing, she had stumbled upon the voice in her own head. And it was not very nice. Maybe she had coexisted with that same voice when she was married. She wasnât sure. If so, the volume had definitely increased since her divorce. Youâll never make real friends here. Youâll never belong anywhere.
She hated that her divorce had knocked down her confidence and stolen her future life. The kids, grandkids, and secure golden years fell straight into a file marked Not So Fast.
Straightening up, she gave herself a pep talk. After all, she was holding her own. In the past six months, she had uprooted her life, moved to a new city, started a new job, and even bought a house entirely on her own. Well, along with the bank.
âYes, I am a competent grown-up, thank you very much,â Iris said defensively to the fluffy cat. âThatâs right. You understand,â she said, scratching Xenaâs ears as the cat purred. Looking around at the blooming purple lilacs and yellow forsythia in the front yard, she felt a muted version of the uplift and optimism she usually experienced in spring.
Her inner optimist had called in sick since the divorce, but she needed to turn a corner soon. She wanted her life back. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the scent of the lilac flowers. They were lovely, she admitted. Iris was a gardener and a homebody, and this hundred-year-old craftsman-style house was her post-divorce refuge. If I could just get inside already. She looked at her watch and gazed down the street.
She recalled the first time she walked into the house as a homeowner only a few months ago. On top of the built-in bookshelf, the previous owner had left a vase of yellow daffodils. Which, come to think of it, still looked fresh. Weird. Next to the vase was an unusual note. Although Iris had never purchased a house before, she didnât think this kind of thing was customary.
Welcome Home! For the past 21 years, I have found this house to be a peaceful and nurturing resting place. This home is the container for a strong, positive, energetic force, but of course, that's why you are here. We are all just caretakers of our dwellings for a short time. May this home give you what you need.
Here are a few things you should know: From April through October, the hummingbirds expect to be fed. Itâs four to one, water to sugar. You won't regret it, I assure you.
The three Afghan pines in the front yard are friendly and make good conversation partners if you enjoy talking to trees. You can ask them anything. Any changes to the house should go through them first.
Almost all the plants here are medicinal or edible. Expect a mushroom bloom in the northeast corner of the backyard in early spring. Be careful of these. They are strong.
Well, that's about it. Oh, and remember,
A white van slowly approached her. The driver noticed Iris sitting on the porch and pulled the van to the curb. Iris spotted the âPop-a-lockâ logo on the side, which featured two antique skeleton keys crossed like bones on a pirate flag.
A young man stepped out; he was lanky, possibly in his early thirties, about 5â10â with long, curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail. In fact, he kind of looked like a pirate. His most noticeable facial feature was his dark, thick eyebrows. He wore a faded blue T-shirt depicting double-bunned Princess Leia, finger to her lips, saying, âRead. Itâs our only hope.â
"Iris?" He held out his hand. "Ezra. I would have called, but I was nearby."
Shaking his hand, Iris said, "I love your shirt! I'm a librarian. I can't believe I've never seen it before."
He smiled. âHuh? What are the odds Iâd meet a librarian on the day I chose to wear this shirt? The Force must be alive and well.â Iris giggled.
Ezra opened his bag and retrieved a tool that looked nothing like a key. He inserted the tool into the lock of the old black metal doorknob and immediately opened the door.
âThere you go,â he said.
âWow, that was... suspiciously easy.â
âYeah, these antique locks are basically just for show.â Concern flickered across his face. âYou might want to install something more secure.â
As she reached for her credit card, a thought stopped her. âWait, how do you know this is my house? I mean, you didnât ask me for ID or anything. What if Iâm a burglar using you to make my breaking and entering easier?â Even as she said it, she realized how unlikely a burglar she appeared, wearing what passed for professional attire in Cottonwood, New Mexicoâan untucked button-down blouse with stretchy straight-leg pants that had seen better days.
âIf you were a burglar with any skills, you could pick this lock.â
âOkay, fair.â
âBut also,â his smile turned enigmatic, âyou were sitting on the front porch with your cat."
âOh noooo, that cat's not mine. Sheâs a stray," Iris said quickly.
The locksmithâs face softened, and he smiled patiently as if explaining something to a child. âActually, that cat is yours.â He nodded toward the black feline, which was then performing an elaborate figure-eight around Irisâs ankles.
His smile suggested he knew something she didnât. He left through the front door with a slight twinkle in his eye. A pleasant waft of desert sage followed in his wake.
âHmmph.â Iris was accustomed to feeling like an outsider when it came to jokes. Today it was more annoying than usual. Relief washed over her as she stepped back into the house. The floor creaked beneath her feet as she crossed the threshold, and she could still smell the lingering scent of fresh paint. The room glowed with warm light, which she had noticed the first time she walked in.
She looked around, appreciating the original hardwood floors, scratched and nicked, but that gave the place character. A large Navajo rug filled the center of the room, a splurge after her divorce. Its vibrant rows of colors and geometric patterns in red, black, brown, and cream made the room feel cozy. A sizable stone fireplace with a dark wood mantel and built-in bookshelves separated the living room from the dining room. The ceiling beams were polished and dark brown. Sinking into the armchair, Iris felt the comfort of being back in her home.
She brushed a few stray cat hairs from her slacks, and her mind opened to something new. Strangely, she realized the locksmith had given her a message she needed to hear. She let out a breath she hadnât known she was holding and felt her heart shift as it opened up to the fluffy cat. That cat deserved a home. My cat, huh? She shook her head, returned to the solid front door, and opened it.
Immediately, Xena the Warrior Princess strolled inside, lay down like royalty on the living room rug, and began grooming herself. Xenaâs green eyes caught Irisâs brown eyes and blinked one slow time.
Iris sighed. The cat was obviously in on the joke, too. It did feel right to stop resisting. She heard the words in her head, âYour first step.â The words didnât feel like her own. It was as if they had been dropped in from somewhere else. She shook off the momentary strangeness and supposed that, yes, it was a first stepâanother first among many in her new life. Maybe opening the door to a stray was a step toward healing her heart.
Iris glanced back at the strangely written note from the previous owner, which sat beside the still-fresh-looking daffodils. She had left the note out because it seemed like it might illuminate something important if she could only grasp it. She reread the end of the letter, perhaps for the twentieth time.
Oh, and remember, there is always help available if you need it. You have allies, seen and unseen, who are just waiting to assist. Donât hesitate. Your burdens are not yours alone; they are meant to be shared.
Joan Flores
Iris always felt a bit defensive while reading this part. Who says that to someone moving into a house? She listed her burdens: a broken heart, tight finances, anxiety about pretty much everything, and, since the divorce, a loss of confidence in her judgment. These were her burdens alone.
What did that even mean, seen and unseen allies? How could anyone help her with these things? She was on her own and needed to pull herself together and figure it out. Iris set the letter aside and moved to her meditation chair.
Since the divorce, meditation was a new habit and an effort at self-care. Xena leapt onto her lap. âOh, so weâre doing this together, huh?â The cat had no response but to curl up, her tail covering her face.
Iris focused on her breath and the warm weight of the big cat resting on her lap. Before long, the mean voice in her head started its relentless monologue. Youâre always going to be alone. Youâre not lovable. Youâre going to grow old in this house and die alone. Oh my God. Really? Enough was enough. That voice was full of crap.
Iris had read more than a few self-help books in her day. She made a conscious decision right then and there not to contribute to her suffering with a narrative that was so ridiculous.
Joanâs note echoed in her mind: You have allies, seen and unseen. She wasnât sure about this, but she had nothing to lose. She spoke aloud, âAllies, seen and unseen, please help me with my burdens.â The light through the window hit a small quartz vein in one of the fireplace stones, making rainbows glint on the wall.
Saying the words brought her an unfamiliar wave of comfort. Xena looked up at her, meeting her eyes with confirmation and affection. âHmm. That actually works.â
Iris returned to following her breath in and out of her nose. As thoughts arose, she brought her focus back to her breath, until the purring, the traffic noise, and the birdsong all became one big ebb and flow. She settled into a sense of rightness, as if she were in the right place to learn and grow. Maybe this move, this new job, and this new city werenât a colossal mistake after all. Perhaps it was the beginning of something new and good.
And then the daffodils lit up in flames.
Xena
I am here as a helper; well, more than a helper. I just got a promotion. Now, Iâm a bodhisattva. You know, filled with love and light and ready to apply skillful means to end suffering and bring awakening. Kind of like a warrior princess, but no.
This is my first assignment. I think I may have overdone it with the daffodils. Iâm still getting my bearings in this dimension. Iris doesnât know it yet, but she has a big job coming up. A saving-the-planet sort of job. It all snowballs, as things do. The butterfly flapping its wings causes a tsunami somewhere else, and all. You know the drill. The world is like that. Interconnected.
Anyway, I am here to help Iris wake up and ensure this crazy situation with a million moving pieces goes smoothly. Iâm pretty sure I can handle it, well 72% sure.
So, something you should know about me: I am beyond time. Time is not linear; well, to you, it is. But Iâm no longer subject to that rule. I graduated. Many restrictions that apply to you no longer apply to me. Itâs cool. Well, it would blow your mind, so weâll take this slow.
Anywho, I perceive all of time, all at once. Itâs a tapestry, and I see the threads connecting Iris to those who came before and those who will come after. This house has been around for a long time. Now, itâs Irisâs turn to weave her story into the fabric of this place.
Like all humans, she has an insecure, fearful monkey brain that constantly tries to avoid the pain of life and pursue the things that feel good, or at least safe. Honestly, itâs exhausting to watch, but itâs also endearing. Like most of her human tribe, she believes this monkey brain is all she is.
My job is to help her realize her true nature and save some trees in the process. I know she doesnât see it yet, but I am her allyâalong with good old Ella from over a century ago- donât forget time isnât real. But youâll see.
When I first saw Saving Cottonwood was listed on Reedsy, I was instantly intrigued! The premise not only hooked me, but the way that the author pulled me in with the blurb was already enough to make me apply to review this novel! The story follows Iris, who's searching for a new life post divorce, where she enters a new town that holds more secrets than she anticipates. In particular, the spirit of the land who encourages her to protect the river that the former owner of her home created, speaks to Iris in ways that she never thought imaginable.
I absolutely adored this story! What struck me the most was Page's prose! Iris's development is written so skillfully that I didn't realize how much she was changing! Her interactions with the characters, specifically Ezra, were charming and well-written, and Page does an incredible job of feeding the reader just enough so that they're satisfied while also keeping them hungry for more. The way she describes the land and the river, and the spirit that speaks to Iris is so hauntingly beautiful that it seems almost fantastical!
What I also want to point out is how Page depicts Iris's relationships! Especially the bond she shares with Ezra, the locksmith and a magick user. I loved their dynamic, and seeing Iris come out of her shell after her divorce was something that I enjoyed reading about! Ezra challenged her in ways she didn't expect, but it was exactly what she needed. I can't give too much away without spoiling the plot of the book, but Ezra really stole the show. Him, and the children whom Iris befriends! The four of them create a group - a found family if you will - that really helps uplift the story. This is a must read for anyone looking for a cozy story that challenges fate, expectations, and embraces all kinds of relationships!