“At first I thought it was an outlandish notion,” Eloise admitted. “But when I began to read through the listings, I felt a tug on my heart that I had never felt before. I realized that it was the Lord. The next day, when I was reading my Bible, I fell upon that scripture, the story of the disciples fishing on the Sea of Galilee. And that’s when the Lord granted me with wisdom. All at once, I understood His will. I understood that He was telling me to have faith and cast my net into an unknown sea.”
“Eloise!” Sue stammered, feeling the hot prickle of shock spread through her skin. “You can’t mean…”
“I found someone,” Eloise said. “His name is Hoyt, and he lives in Montana. We’ve exchanged several letters now, and I believe that when his next letter arrives, he will formally ask for my hand in marriage.”
“Oh, Eloise…” Sue’s voice fell low, and she suddenly felt like she might cry. “How could you ever agree to marry someone you haven’t even met?”
“My trust is in the Lord.” Eloise smiled serenely. “Prayer isn’t enough, Sue. You can’t merely ask the Lord for His wisdom, you must also have the faith to follow where that wisdom guides you. And for me, that means going to Montana to marry Hoyt.”
“But…” Sue shook her head and swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of her throat. There were too many emotions coursing through her body in heavy pangs, and she couldn’t decipher them all at once.
“I think you should open your heart to this,” Eloise said gently, nudging the crisp copy of the Matrimonial Times to remind Sue of its presence on her lap. “Perhaps if your net is still empty, it’s because the Lord wants you to cast it elsewhere.”
“You mean… somewhere that isn’t Stowe.” Sue swallowed heavily, eyeing the newspaper.
“Yes,” Eloise nodded. Then she added, “Just pray about it.”
“I will,” Sue promised. And when she glanced up and saw the earnest hopefulness in her Eloise’s eyes, she knew that she would be praying about it.
Sue continued to rest on the picnic blanket long after Eloise had left. She enjoyed the soft breeze that blew over the orchard, and she breathed in the heavenly aroma of the ripe apple crop.
As the afternoon sun began to fade, the wind picked up strength. A sudden gust rushed over the soft rolling hills, and the wind caught the Matrimonial Times and lifted it into the air. Sue’s eyes shot up, and she watched the newspaper glide through the air like a bird with outstretched wings. Then, in the next instant, the papers were jostled apart and scattered.
Strands of paper fell toward the earth, scattering over the field. Other pages blew toward the orchard.
“No!” Sue gasped. She jumped to her feet and chased after the papers, snatching at the scattered sheets desperately. She clutched one piece after another as she ran across the field. For a moment, she thought she had collected them all. Then she spotted one final page of newspaper that had managed to elude her.
The final page had blown into the wall of dense apple trees, and a branch had pierced straight through the paper, holding it captive several feet from the ground.
Sue charged toward the paper and reached up for it desperately. She stretched her arm and stood on the tips of her toes, but the paper was just beyond her grasp.
“No,” she moaned under her breath. Her cheeks were already tinted with the sheen of embarrassment, as her mind raced to consider what her father or the farmhands would think if they discovered a page from the Matrimonial Times stuck on the front of an apple tree.
She couldn’t let that happen! Resolution set in, and a renewed sense of determination took over. She leapt up, stretching her arm as high as it could reach, and she lunged toward the tree. She felt her fingers wrap around the edge of the paper, and she held onto it tightly as she fell back to the earth.
Her feet struck the earth and she stumbled forward as she regained her footing. Then she breathed a sigh of relief as she glanced down and saw the paper clutched between her fingers. She was about to crumble the paper in her hand, but then her eyes were caught on the text that was printed on the page.
Young, able-bodied Oregonian farmer who remedied drought-stricken land and cultivated successful cherry orchard now seeks like-minded bride to remedy a drought of the heart and cultivate a successful marriage and family.
And just like that, Sue Wilt felt a tug on her heart.
THREE
Hood River, Oregon | April 17, 1883
Peter Swift glanced down at the amber glass face of his pocket watch. The hour hand was just a sliver shy of twelve, and Peter felt a warm swell of anticipation inflate his chest as he returned the watch safely to his pocket, then proceeded on his trek toward the docks.
The steamship wasn’t due to reach Hood River Port until a quarter past noon, but Peter had made a point of arriving at the docks early. He was the sort of man who prided himself on punctuality, among other things, and he had been horrified by the prospect of making someone wait on his behalf, should the steamship reach the port before he did.
Peter squinted through the white glare of the sun and pointed his eyes toward the eastern edge of the river. It was still too far in the distance to tell for certain, but he was sure that he could see the faintest plume of white steam billowing up toward the otherwise clear blue sky.
The pressure swelling in Peter’s chest intensified, and his heartbeat drummed against his ribs. After months of correspondence, the day had finally arrived: the day that Peter would finally meet his future bride.
The endeavor of finding a bride had begun nearly one year prior when, at the urging of his close friend, Mr. Dylan Forsyth, Peter had reluctantly taken out an advertisement in the Matrimonial Times.
Soliciting a wife by means of a newspaper advertisement was decidedly out of character for Mr. Swift. All those who knew the man considered him to be shy, humble, and soft-spoken. While he certainly wasn’t lacking in confidence, it was necessary to make the distinction that Mr. Swift did not have the sort of confidence that could be confused with bravado or charisma. Rather, Peter’s confidence was best evidenced in his wealth of agriculture prowess and tireless work ethic.
In keeping with his modest nature, it was Peter’s opinion that placing an advertisement in the Matrimonial Times was unabashedly brazen. Unfortunately for Peter, it was also a matter of last resort.
There were circumstances beyond his control that had prevented Peter from finding a bride, and those circumstances had a name: Ellowyne Fisher.
Ellowyne Fisher was the woman Peter had nearly married three years prior. The engagement had ended in scandal and, though he had done his best to make peace with what had happened, Ellowyne's name still filled Peter with a sinking sense of dread.
Though Peter’s work as a cherry farmer had earned a reputation in Hood River as an honest and respectable young man, the damage of his failed engagement to Ellowyne was too great. Unable to find a bride, Peter was faced with two choices: he could resign himself to spending the rest of his life enjoying the fruits of his labor alone, or he could cast his nets beyond the limits of the Columbia River.
After much prayer and consideration (and plenty of prodding on Dylan Forsyth’s part), Mr. Swift opted for the latter. The Lord bestows His blessings unto those who have faith, and Peter was no exception. Shortly after posting his advertisement in the Matrimonial Times, Peter received the first letter from the woman he now intended to marry.
Her name was Susanna Anne-Marie Wilt and, within a month or two of correspondence, Peter was certain that she was the woman he had been waiting his entire life to meet.
Though they were separated by thousands of miles, Peter and Sue had lived remarkably similar lives. Sue had grown up on her family’s apple orchard, and similarly, Peter had spent much of his life fostering produce in the fertile soils of Oregon’s Hood River Valley.
Shortly after his disastrous first engagement, a drought had struck the region. Peter had used all of the money he had to buy a failing cherry farm, and he had dedi
cated himself to nursing the land back to health. His efforts were rewarded the following season when he had a bountiful harvest. The drought soon ended, and Peter’s cherry orchard had continued to grow, acre by acre, every year after that.
Besides a similar upbringing, Peter and Sue also bonded over shared values and interests. They both prioritized the Lord above all else, and they both longed to find fellowship in marriage.
With every letter they exchanged, Peter felt more and more like he was talking with a friend he had known all his life. Conversation came easy, as did the feelings of affection and contentment that poured freely from his heart.
By the start of spring, Peter was ready to propose. First he had to send a letter to Mr. Wilt, formally requesting permission to ask Sue for her hand in marriage. Peter was a patient man—as a cherry farmer, he had to be—but waiting for Mr. Wilt’s response had put that patience to the test. Finally, a letter arrived from Stowe, Massachusetts. And with that letter came Mr. Wilt’s blessing.
Once Peter had Mr. Wilt’s approval, he wasted no time in posting a second letter containing the terms of his marriage proposition to the apple orchard in Stowe. This time, the letter was addressed to Susanna Wilt.
To find a better vantage point, Peter climbed up a set of steps that led onto the rickety network of narrow wooden docks built over the riverbank. The wood was mildewed and soft under Peter’s feet, and when he glanced down, he could see the emerald waters of the Columbia River dancing and splashing through the cracks.
He cast his eyes back toward the horizon, and this time he could see the clear outline of a steamship cutting through the smooth river.
For so long, Peter and Sue had been separated by great distance, both the distance of time and miles. Now, that distance was closing. The void between them was no longer measured in miles and months, rather it could be measured in feet and minutes.
As Peter watched the steamship approach the port, he felt overcome by a sudden sense of darkness, as if a lone storm cloud had suddenly appeared in the blue sky and hung itself directly over his head, so as to obscure the brightness of the day for only him.
There was a reason Peter was suddenly gripped by dread, on what was otherwise the most happy and momentous day of his life.
Peter had long believed that a man’s worth was a sum of his strengths and weaknesses. Among his strengths, Peter considered honesty to be one of his greatest attributes. Peter tried to be honest in all that he did, and he had always been honest in his correspondence to Sue.
With one exception.
He hadn’t told an outright lie. Rather, he had failed to tell a truth, he had omitted one detail in the account of his life that he shared with Sue.
He hadn’t yet told her the truth about his first engagement to Ellowyne Fisher.
FOUR
Sue watched eagerly from the deck of the steamship as the wooden docks of Hood River Port came into view. She had spent months imagining the moment when she would finally arrive in Oregon and meet Peter Swift, and as she saw the world that her betrothed had described in his letters take shape around her, she had to pinch herself repeatedly to make sure she hadn’t merely drifted into yet another dream.
The majority of Sue’s journey had seen her confined to the cramped quarters of a train carriage. The train was stuffy and hot, and Sue spent hours of the journey squinting through the tiny plate glass window, which provided her a pinhole sized view of the outside world.
The Northern Pacific Railroad’s expansion hadn’t stretched all the way to Hood River yet, but it did get Sue as far as Oregon. From there, Peter had arranged for a stagecoach to transport Sue to a port on the Columbia River. At the port, Sue boarded a westbound steamship that docked at Hood River.
After spending several days trapped in a train carriage, the steamship was a welcome change of venue. And when Sue discovered the ship’s upper passenger deck and got the first uncompromised view of her surroundings, she immediately fell in love with the scenic valley, just like Peter had promised her she would.
The narrow belt of the Columbia River snaked between rolling hills and valleys that were carpeted in a dense forest of evergreen trees. The sky stretched in all directions around her, pure blue, and the water was the prettiest shade of green.
Sue found that it was impossible to survey her surroundings without feeling incredibly hopeful and excited. When she thought about the man who would be waiting for her at the dock, she felt even more hopeful and excited.
When she had answered the tug on her heart and posted her first letter to Peter Swift of Hood River, Oregon, she hadn’t known what to expect. She had been intrigued by his advertisement, but aside from his name and his profession as a cherry farmer, she knew nothing about him. That quickly changed when she received his first letter.
Peter was forthcoming and honest—both traits that Sue considered crucial. He was also funny, insightful, clever, wise… and in no time at all, Sue found herself enamored. Everything about their courtship excited her: the prospect of marrying such a good man and the prospect of starting a new life out west.
When Peter had asked for her hand in marriage, she had joyfully accepted. The Lord had been so good to her. She prayed that His blessings would continue once she and Peter were married.
The steamship’s engine sputtered to a halt, and the ship glided silently through the waters as it approached the port. Sue’s heart caught in her chest, and she gulped as the dock came into view. She could see clusters of people standing on the dock, awaiting the ship’s arrival, and she knew that somewhere among the crowds, Peter was waiting for her.
Her eyes scanned the dock, searching. Peter had offered a modest description of himself—tall, dark hair, green eyes. To help Sue find him at the dock, Peter had also told her that he’d be wearing a red hat and carrying a bundle of freshly picked wildflowers. Sue was convinced that the latter gesture had little to do with helping her find him.
As the steamship approached land, a few men from the ship’s crew jumped over the railing and onto the dock. They anchored the ship to the port with lengths of worn rope, and the ship exhaled one final puff of bright white steam into the air.
A wooden ramp was hoisted down, forming a bridge between the ship’s deck and the wooden dock.
Sue was so eager to find Peter that she was tempted to weave her way through the crowded deck of slow-moving passengers and make a dash for the ramp. Instead, she remembered the virtue of patience, and she waited dutifully as the crowd lumbered toward the ship’s exit.
Sue hadn’t realized the effect the steamship journey had had on her bearings until she stepped onto solid land and felt her knees immediately quiver. She must have grown accustomed to the gentle sway of the river and the stutter of the ship’s engine, because the rigidness of the earth felt strange as she took the first few steps forwards. The effect was intensified by the immense weight of the luggage she carried. She held one bag in each hand, and as a result of the weight, she waddled awkwardly forward.
Then, standing directly in front of the ramp, she saw him.
Well, to be perfectly honest, she saw the bouquet of wildflowers. Then, just to be sure, she glanced up and confirmed the red cap. And once she was certain that she had found him, Sue allowed herself to look at her husband-to-be for the very first time.
True to his description, the man waiting on the dock was indeed tall with brown hair and green eyes. But there was something that Peter had neglected to disclose when describing his appearance, and that same detail was what preoccupied Sue as she laid her eyes upon him the first time.
Peter Swift was incredibly, remarkably, impossibly handsome. He was indeed a tall man, in fact he towered at least a head above the crowd that milled around the dock’s platform.
His hair was dark—he had a head of soft brown curls—and his eyes were indeed green—the same sparkly emerald hue as the Columbia River. His face was gentle and kind. His lips curved into a natural smile, and his chin was marked with the deep
indent of a cleft that conveyed a sort of wisdom or character. His eyes were gentle and observant, and as soon as Sue recovered from the flutter of nervous surprise, she realized that his eyes were observing her!
“Susanna?” He stepped forward.
“Peter.” she smiled back.
He extended the bouquet of wildflowers and she took them, breathing in the smell. It was the same smell that had drifted through the air over the river, the faint spring perfume that smelled like hope and happiness and all good things.
It was a smell that embodied all of the emotions that Sue Wilt felt, as she took another step toward Peter, and toward her new life in Oregon.
FIVE
If Peter Swift had been prompted to define beauty prior to that spring day, his imagination would have conjured images of all the sights and wonders he had witnessed over the course of a lifetime spent in Oregon: a red night sky at sunset, the snow-covered peak of Mount Hood, the Columbia River Gorge, the majestic Multnomah Falls, the rolling hills and valleys that surrounded the river, the western sea…
Those would have been the visions that came to Peter’s mind, but Peter’s understanding of the word ‘beauty’ changed irrevocably when he laid eyes on Sue Wilt. And for the first time in his life, he felt as though he understood what beauty truly was.
The valleys and mountains and waterfalls were beautiful because they were marked by the Lord’s design. And in the same way, Sue was beautiful.
She was a vision that took the breath from his lungs and made his palms coat with sweat. For a fleeting moment, Peter lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, except to ponder how he would ever manage to hold a conversation with such a beautiful woman.
He had almost determined that it was impossible, but then Sue’s face spread into a smile, and he remembered that he was in the company of a dear friend.
New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set Page 80
