When Rose and Gabe learned of Andrew’s fate, they were finally able to make sense of his behavior, and despite the wrongs he’d committed against them, they prayed for his soul’s salvation. Beyond that prayer, however, they gave Andrew no more thought, for they had much else to consider. Once their names were cleared, Gabe’s loan was approved, and Rose was hired at the medical center—and, together, they began a proactive campaign in Belleville, to spur the white settlers to become more accepting of Indian culture.
The End
18. THE CHERRY ORCHARD Bride
Copyright © Hope Sinclair 2018
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a contemporary work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
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Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
EPILOGUE
ONE
Stowe, Massachusetts | September 29, 1882
A crisp autumn breeze swept away the damp speckle of perspiration that clung to the back of Susanna Wilt’s neck as she made her way down the trampled dirt pathway through the orchard. The narrow dirt aisle was flanked on either side by dense rows of trees, all heavily laden with plump, juicy red apples: the fruits of a particularly long and laborious summer in the rural farmlands of Stowe, Massachusetts.
Sue stopped in her tracks to bask in the brisk breeze, adjusting the wicker basket full of apples that she held against her hip. She pressed her eyes shut and tilted her face toward the thin sliver of golden sunlight that hung over the orchard, drinking in the waning summer warmth as the encroaching autumn air rustled through the trees.
The basket was only half full of apples, but the load was already causing strain to Sue’s weary arms and sore back. She had spent the better part of her day toiling in the orchard. That meant hours of trekking down the winding narrow rows of trees and squinting up at the foliage to assess the condition of the crop, then standing on the tip of her toes and reaching an outstretched arm through the spindly tree branches to pluck each apple by hand.
The work was tiresome and challenging, but Sue had long become accustomed to the toils of an autumn harvest. She had grown up on her father’s apple orchard and had been expected to work alongside the rest of her family as soon as she was old enough to hoist a basket on her hip and reach the low-hanging tree branches.
Mr. and Mrs. Wilt had been eager for the extra pair of hands to help with the harvest, and young Sue had been just as eager to join her parents in the fields. Working alongside her family filled the young girl with a sense of aptitude and purpose. Even though her basket was far smaller than the one her mother carried and the majority of the apples that she picked often had to be thrown away due to bruising or wormholes that she hadn’t noticed, Sue still derived a great deal of pride from her work. As she grew older, she became even more attuned to the art of apple growing, and the sense of pride that she took in her work flourished.
More than pride, though, those early years were painted in the vibrant hues of admiration and adoration that Sue felt for her mother, Pearl. Sue loved her mother dearly, and she loved spending time in the orchard with her. Though the work was rigorous and the harvest days were long, hours could pass like minutes when Sue was in the company of Mrs. Wilt. Her mother would sing hymns into the breeze or tell long and winding tales that would both entertain and entrance young Sue.
That all changed the summer that Sue turned ten. She had always been a sharp and insightful child, and she noticed right away that there was a subtle change to life on the orchard. She noticed that her mother no longer worked in the fields and her mother’s plain dresses began to billow softly in the stomach.
It wasn’t long before Mrs. Wilt confirmed her daughter’s suspicions: she was with child, and there would soon be a little brother or sister to join Sue on the orchard. Sue was excited to finally have a sibling. Though she always had the company of her parents and the hired help, she had always secretly longed for the company of another child. She was thrilled that her wish would finally be granted!
Then, one stormy summer day, tragedy struck. One moment Mrs. Wilt was preparing a Sunday supper in the kitchen, the next her face turned as white as the milk from the orchard’s dairy cow and she fainted on the floorboards. Mr. Wilt and a farmhand rushed Mrs. Wilt into Stowe to see the town doctor, but it was too late. Pearl had gone to be with the Lord, and so had the fragile unborn babe in her womb.
Sue was devastated by her mother’s death, and she found that the only escape from grief came from working beneath the hot summer sun in the orchard. The harder she worked, the less heavy the pain felt on her heart. And besides, the familiarity of the orchard was comforting. Sometimes, she swore she could even hear her mother’s soft voice singing whenever a breeze rustled through the apple trees…
“Susanna!” a voice called suddenly, cutting through the rolling breeze and startling the young woman from her thoughts.
Sue opened her eyes and immediately saw her father’s tall, lean frame breaking through the row of trees. The scuttling gust of wind subsided, and the air settled back down around the dusty earth.
“Susanna!” her father repeated, his voice ripe with urgency. “Why are you still working? It’s nearly suppertime! You should be back at the house, preparing for Mr. Arlington’s visit!”
Sue was immediately aware that her cheeks had darkened to a shade of red that matched the apples in her basket. The truth was, she had spent the long afternoon working in the orchard in an attempt to forget all about the man who would be visiting for supper that evening.
“I must have lost track of the time,” Sue said, feeling the weight of the apples in the wicker basket on her hip.
“Sue,” her father’s stern voice softened, and she could hear the gentle hint of fondness in his tone. “You should give Mr. Arlington a chance. He is a decent man.”
“Yes, Father,” Sue nodded obediently.
“That was one of the last things I promised your mother,” Mr. Wilt said, his voice softening even more, so that it was nearly a whisper. “I promised her that our daughter would marry a good and decent man.”
“I know, Father,” Sue said, studying the dirt that stained the toe of her black leather boot.
Even though ten long years had passed since the summer that Mrs. Wilt had been laid to rest, Sue still felt a hot sting in her chest at the mention of her mother.
“Go back to the house and get ready,” Mr. Wilt said softly, reaching forward to take the half-full basket of apples that Sue held in her arms.
Sue nodded silently, then she trudged toward the farmhouse. She waited until she had reached the edge of the orchard before she released the heavy breath that had gone stale in her lungs.
Golden light spilled from the windows of the farmhouse, illuminating the hazy dusk that had settled over the orchard. The windows were open, and the sweet fragrance of freshly baked apple pie wafted through the air.
Sue stared into the open windows and caught a glimpse of her stepmother, Analise Wilt, working hard in the kitchen to prepare a small feast for that evening’s guest. She felt a sudden clench of guilt. Her father and stepmother always made such a great effort to welcome the suitors who visited the orchard. Sue knew they were both anxious to see her married.
Sue was anxious, too. As she had matured into a young woman, her
outlook on life at the orchard had changed. The acres of apple trees no longer seemed to stretch on endlessly. The green leaves no longer grew ripe with the promise of childish adventures. The split-rail fence that bordered the orchard began to feel less like a hedge of protection and more like the confines of a cage, keeping her trapped. In short, Sue felt that she had outgrown her quiet, lonely life on the orchard. And even though she loved her father and his new wife dearly, she was ready to leave the safety of home and carve her own path.
Unfortunately, Stowe was a town known for the cultivation of abundant crops, not eligible bachelors. The men who came to visit the Wilt orchard each suffered from one defect or another: crude manners at the dinner table, a poor reputation in town, or a fondness for the bottle…
Sue had yet to meet a suitor whom she found fit for marriage, and that wasn’t to say that her standards were set too high. She simply wanted a man with honor and integrity, a man like her own father. And unfortunately, in Stowe, that proved challenging to find.
Sue slipped into the farmhouse and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. There was an amber-hued, age-speckled mirror hung on the wall—a treasure passed down from her mother—and Sue stopped to consider her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was dewy with perspiration, both symptoms of a hard day’s work. The heat had caused the soft brown hair that framed her face to coil into tight ringlets, and the braid at the nape of her neck had gone limp.
Sue was a beautiful woman, but she was far too modest to ever think such a thing. Rather than admiring the soft lavender hue of her eyes, her dainty features, or the delicate wisps of brown curls that flowed from her head, she instead focused on her splotchy complexion and the ruddy brown dirt that stained her plain dress.
She turned away from the mirror and stood over the washstand. Analise had filled the pitcher with fresh water, and when Sue poured it into the washstand basin, she found that it was still warm. She felt another pang of guilt rise up in her chest. Sue felt terrible, knowing that her stepmother had made such a great effort on her behalf. She secretly prayed that Mr. Arlington would be a suitable suitor, just so that Analise and Mr. Wilt could finally be relieved of the burden of entertaining guests…
Sue quickly tidied herself over the washstand, then she slipped into a clean dress. The dress was another relic that Sue had inherited from her mother. It was cut from soft periwinkle cotton that matched the unique color of her eyes. As she felt the snug hold of the bodice, she imagined the warm embrace of her mother…
The sound of horse hooves beating against the hard earth outside startled Sue from her thoughts.
He’s here!
Sue quickly fixed a fresh braid in her hair, then she stood in front of the mirror and gave her reflection one final appraising glance. The pink in her cheeks had faded, and her complexion was smooth and serene. For a fleeting instant, she saw her mother’s face in her reflection, and she took a deep, measured breath.
Give him a chance, she thought to herself, remembering her father’s advice. He’s a decent man…
Then, with another deep breath, she left the bedroom and began her descent down the stairs to greet her guest.
TWO
Stowe, Massachusetts | October 1, 1882
“Oh, Eloise, it was terrible!” Sue sighed softly, collapsing onto the gingham blanket that she had draped over the crisp grassy lawn at the edge of the orchard. “Just… terrible!”
The two women were sharing a picnic lunch on the lawn, and Sue had used the opportunity to recount the painful memory of Mr. Arlington’s visit. She wasn’t usually one to complain to others, but Eloise Perkins was the sole exception to this rule. The two young women had been best friends since childhood, and over the years they had established a sort of confidence and trust that allowed for sheer and utter honesty.
Sue thought of Eloise as a sister, and that was why she felt comfortable relaying the grim truth of her encounter with Mr. Arthur Arlington. First, she had recalled Mr. Arlington’s complete lack of manners: how he had failed to stand to greet her when she met him in the parlor and how he hadn’t stopped his eyes from inspecting her indecently.
Her cheeks had turned bright red as she recounted the crude language that Mr. Arlington had used at the dinner table, and the even cruder manners that he had exhibited: the way he sloppily slurped his soup, chewed with his mouth open, then greedily carved a thick portion of roast beef for himself, before anyone else at the table had a chance to serve themselves.
Before the meal had even reached an end, Sue had known that Mr. Arlington wasn’t the sort of man that she could marry. Her father had known it, too. Before Analise had a chance to serve apple pie for dessert, Mr. Wilt had hastily escorted Mr. Arlington to the door and bid him good night.
After Arthur had left, Mr. Wilt had apologized to Sue for allowing such a man to enter the home in the first place.
“I thought he was a decent man,” Mr. Wilt had explained remorsefully.
Sue had felt even more sorry—sorry that another attempt at courtship had failed so miserably. She knew her father was really starting to worry…
“That sounds positively dreadful,” Eloise said empathetically, resting back on the gingham blanket and nibbling on a dry husk of bread.
“I am ashamed to admit that I sometimes consider giving up on the possibility of marriage entirely,” Sue admitted quietly, training her eyes on a stray thread that had snagged in the blanket. “Sometimes I think it would be better on everyone if I just accepted my fate to be alone…”
“Nonsense!” Eloise objected. “How could you say something so foolish?”
“How could I not?” Sue countered. “I have seen my father welcome so many potential suitors into our home, and every time, the result is the same: they simply aren’t right. I’ve prayed for wisdom, Eloise… I’ve prayed for clarity of the mind and heart, so that my eyes might be opened to the man the Lord has chosen for me. But alas…”
“But alas,” Eloise interrupted, speaking in a stern tone of voice, “you are a servant of the Lord, not the other way around. You must trust His will, first and foremost.”
“You are right,” Sue realized, bowing her head. “I put my full faith in the Lord. It’s myself that I don’t trust. What if I’ve met the right man already, but I lacked the wisdom to know it?”
“Don’t be silly,” Eloise smiled. “Even I have enough wisdom to assure you that you haven’t met the right man yet. And I doubt that you will, as long as you remain here in Stowe.”
“What do you mean?” Sue’s eyes darted suddenly up toward Eloise and she blinked several times, not understanding what her friend had meant.
“Do you remember the scripture about the disciples fishing in the Sea of Galilee?” Her eyes twinkled serenely, and a small smile crept up at the corners of her mouth.
“Of course,” Sue nodded as her brow wrinkled. She was still confused. “From the book of John, we memorized it in school when we were just children. I can still recite it, in fact—”
“It doesn’t matter that you can recite the passage from memory,” Eloise said quickly. “It only matters that you remember the lesson itself. Do you remember it?”
Sue blinked thoughtfully, pondering the question. “Well,” she said finally, “the disciples had gone to fish, but after spending a night on the sea, their nets were still empty.”
“Right,” Eloise nodded encouragingly. “And then…”
“A voice spoke to them from the shore,” Sue continued. “The voice told them to cast their nets on the opposite side of the ship.”
“Did they obey?” Eloise asked, smiling.
“They did.” Sue nodded. “And when they cast their nets on the right side of the ship, the nets became so heavy with fish that the disciples couldn’t pull them up from the sea. And when they saw the bounty of fish, they realized that the voice from the shore was Jesus.”
“It was.” Eloise nodded. Then she pressed, “What was the lesson that Jesus wanted to teach the di
sciples?”
Sue sat back thoughtfully, her brow wrinkled with thought.
“The disciples were fishermen, they considered themselves to be skilled and apt men who understood the sea,” Eloise said helpfully. “But when they relied on their own instinct and intuition, it failed them. When the voice from the shore instructed them to cast their nets on the opposite side of the ship, the disciples had to forego their own sense of pride and understanding and rely instead on faith. They had to cast their net into unknown waters, and when they did…”
“That’s when they found the fish,” Sue finished, nodding thoughtfully. Realization suddenly dawned on her, and she understood. At least, she thought she understood. “The Lord wasn’t really teaching them how to fish, he was teaching them to be obedient servants of His will.”
“That’s right.” Eloise smiled. “He was teaching the disciples to trust his instruction, even when it meant casting their net into unknown waters.”
Sue suddenly frowned again, but before she could say a word, Eloise began to explain herself.
“The Lord put a similar calling on my heart, several months ago,” Eloise said. “Like you, I had prayed for His wisdom in finding a husband. And, like you, I thought I might soon give up all hope. And then it happened.”
“What happened?” Sue asked breathlessly.
“Several months ago, I was given a newspaper,” Eloise said. As she spoke, she reached into the wicker picnic basket and withdrew a freshly folded newspaper. “It is called the Matrimonial Times, and it contains the listings of men seeking brides to join them out west.”
Eloise handed the newspaper to Sue, and she glanced down to see the first page of advertisements.
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