She clutched a pair of carpetbags, one in each hand, and despite the brave expression on her face, he could tell that it took a great deal of effort to carry them.
“Please, let me carry your luggage,” Peter said.
“I can carry them,” Sue insisted with a gentle smile.
Peter recalled, from their letters, that she took a certain amount of pride in being competent and self-sufficient. It was a trait she had acquired from years of working on the apple orchard. During a harvest, women were expected to carry the same baskets that the men carried. There were no rules or etiquette that governed work ethic. Everyone was expected to labor equally. If Sue didn’t carry her own weight, the others had to pick up her slack—and she refused to let that happen.
For Sue, equality was a matter of work ethic. And it was impossible to separate this mentality from the rest of her life. She didn’t need a gentleman to help her; she wanted to carry her own weight in all matters.
Peter had a tremendous amount of respect for Sue’s work ethic, but he simply couldn’t reconcile watching her struggle with the heavy luggage while he walked at ease by her side. So, he thought of a compromise.
“What if I propose a trade?” he asked.
“A trade?” She looked curious.
“Yes,” Peter adjusted his grip on the flowers, “you see… this bouquet is terribly heavy, and I’ve been carrying it around for quite a while now.”
“Those flowers? I can’t imagine them being very heavy.” Her eyebrows indented curiously, but the smile remained on her face.
“I wouldn’t have expected it, either, but they really have become quite the burden.” Peter nodded wearily. “I was hoping you’d be able to help me carry them, but your hands are already occupied with those bags.”
Sue blinked down at the luggage she carried, then she cast a swift eye back at Peter. Of course she understood what he was doing, but something about that just made her smile more.
“So I’d like to propose a trade,” Peter said. “If you can manage to carry the weight of these flowers, I’d gladly carry those bags you have there.”
“I’m sure these two bags must be heavier than the flowers,” Sue cocked her head, playing along with Peter’s little game.
“I doubt that very much,” Peter shook his head, then added, “Please, you’d be doing me a great favor. I’m not sure how much longer I can carry on like this—” And then, for dramatic effect, he slumped forward and groaned, as if the bouquet he held in his arms weighed as much as a ton of bricks.
“Well, I would hate to see you rendered immobile before we’ve even had the chance to be properly acquainted,” Sue said finally, flashing an amused smile. “So if you really think it would help, then I accept your trade.”
She placed both carpetbags on the ground, and Peter handed her the bouquet of flowers. They were even lighter than she expected, and her arms tingled with relief. Peter easily lifted both of the bags with the same effort it would require someone to lift a feather.
“They’re not too heavy, are they?” Peter asked, eyeing Sue’s grip on the bouquet.
“I’m sure I can manage.” Sue smiled back. She was barely aware that she was holding anything, the flowers were so light. “What about you?”
“Oh, this is much better.” Peter swung the bags lightly in his hands, flaunting the ease with which he carried them. “Thank you for your help. I don’t think I would have made it much further with those heavy flowers. You must think I’m quite weak…”
“Not at all,” Sue said. A blush found its way to her cheeks as she added, “Actually, I think you’re perfectly charming.”
Nobody had ever called Peter charming before, nor had Sue ever felt so wonderfully charmed. They exchanged a special sort of smile, and then they proceeded toward town.
Peter’s cherry orchard was a small distance outside of town, along a dirt road that followed the curve of the Columbia River.
He had made arrangements for Sue to stay at a boardinghouse in town, and that’s where they headed.
There wasn’t a moment of silence between them. The same easy conversation and friendly banter that had existed on the pages of their letters came to life as they walked side by side toward town.
SIX
Sue cupped her hands together and filled her palms with a pool of cool water from the washbasin. She splashed the water over her face. Her pores tingled and the splash of fresh water rinsed away the tired, heavy feeling that several long days of travel had left behind. She splashed her face a second time, for good measure, then she pressed her face into a rag and gently blotted away the moisture.
After bathing and changing into a fresh dress, Sue felt blissfully renewed. The pains and discomforts of travel had washed away with the water and sponge, leaving her skin tingling and fresh.
Peter would be returning to the boardinghouse soon to fetch her for supper, and she was anxious to see him again. Still, she reminded herself that rushing through the routine of fixing her hair wouldn’t force the hands on the clock to move any faster. She sat in front of the mirror in her boarding room and forced herself to pass an ivory-handled brush slowly through her long hair, working out the knotted curls.
The practice was soothing, and her heart rate began to settle. Then she caught a glimpse of the bouquet of flowers that she had arranged on the washbasin, and she felt her heart flutter through her chest all over again.
She had never felt anything quite like this before. She was so smitten with Peter, but at the same time, she was so comfortable with him, too. He was exciting yet familiar, handsome yet relatable. Her new life in Oregon had barely just begun, and already it was so much better than she had even dared hope.
Gazing into the mirror as she braided her hair, Sue noted that this was the first occasion when she had taken such care in her appearance as she prepared to meet a man. In the past, she had given much thought to whether or not her appearance impressed the men who came to visit her father’s orchard. But now, with Peter, things felt different. She hoped that he found her as beautiful as she found him handsome.
Finally evening came, and it was time for Peter to call on her at the boardinghouse.
The afternoon had been long and dull without Peter, but once they were reunited, it felt as though no time had passed at all.
There wasn’t much to the town’s main street, besides the boardinghouse, there were a handful of shops and storefronts. The aroma of baking bread spread through the air, mingling with the ripe scent of the Columbia River.
There was only one restaurant in town, and that’s where Peter brought her for supper.
The sun was setting over the river, and the restaurant was bustling with the suppertime crowd, full of all types of people. Sue recognized a few familiar faces from the steamship. There were also men who looked like they had wandered in straight from the range—clad in leather chaps and caked in dirt—or from fishing boats—wearing stained rubber boots and reeking of the open sea.
While they waited for their supper, Sue told Peter about the elaborate home-cooked meals that her stepmother prided herself in making back home, and Peter reminisced about the meals his mother used to make, when she was still alive.
“Do you miss them?” Sue asked, when the subject of his parents came up. She knew they had both passed away—his mother, when he was just a boy, and his father, just two years ago. It was hard to determine in his letters, how Peter felt about the passing of his parents. He didn’t mention them often, and Sue hadn’t felt right prying. Now that she could take a cue from the expression on his face and the tone of his voice, she felt it was appropriate to ask about them.
“Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my mother,” Peter said. His bright green eyes turned downward, focusing on a crack in the wooden tabletop.
Sue could tell right away that the subject was a sore spot for Peter, and she was glad she had used discernment in avoiding the subject in their letters. “What was she like?” Sue asked now.
“She was st
rong,” Peter recalled fondly, his eyes glassing over. “And she was so incredibly brave. She’s the only person I’ve ever known—man or woman—to face a black bear and live to tell the tale!”
“She didn’t!” Sue gasped, her eyes going wide.
“She did.” Peter grinned proudly. “It was wintertime. My father had gone to the mountains to hunt, and he was gone for several days. Ma didn’t mind taking over with the farm duties—tending the animals and whatnot—but one night, while she was walking to the dairy barn, she heard this terrible noise.”
“What was it?”
“She said it sounded like the entire world was coming to an end. A black bear had wandered onto our land. I couldn’t tell you what got into that bear’s mind that compelled it to do what it did next.”
“What did it do?” Sue was completely drawn into the story and leaned forward to catch every word.
“Well, the bear had climbed up onto the roof of the chicken coop.” Peter shook his head, still amused after all these years. “The roof couldn’t take the bear’s weight, so it collapsed, and the bear fell straight into the henhouse.”
“But the hens!” Sue’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“We lost a few of them.” Peter nodded. “But most were unscathed. Upset, no doubt, not injured.”
“And the bear?”
“Well…” Peter smiled. “Ma knew she couldn’t leave the bear there, so she went into the house. The first thing she saw was my father’s shotgun.”
Sue’s eyes went wide. She had always regarded her own mother as the strongest woman she had ever known, but the memories that Sue had of her mother certainly didn’t involve confronting a wild bear at gunpoint!
“Ma considered shooting the bear, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it,” Peter said. “So instead, she got an idea. She left the shotgun and instead went into the cellar. That’s where we’d store any cherries that were leftover from the harvest. We’d bring them to the cellar and dry them.”
Sue nodded, completely captivated by the story.
“Well, Ma rushes down and finds the biggest barrel of cherries she can carry. She brings it outside just as the bear is crawling out of the coop. The bear takes one look at Ma, and its yellow eyes turn red with anger. It’s furious, and it starts charging forward.”
Sue’s jaw clenched and her hands squeezed together in her lap.
“Ma took off running. And as she ran, she opened the lid on that barrel of cherries. Then she turned the bucket over, so the cherries spilled out and made a trail behind her. The bear was mad… but it was also desperate and hungry. He noticed the cherries, and no matter how angry he was at ma, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching down to collect the fruit.”
“That’s incredible!” Sue exhaled in awe. “But… what happened when she ran out of cherries?”
“Well,” Peter said through a smile, “there was a dam about half a mile away, and the river that led to the dam flowed straight across our land. The water was shallow, but the current was strong, and my parents had always warned me not to go near it. If you lost your footing in the river, you’d be swept straight to that dam.”
Sue smiled, predicting what would happen next.
“My mother ran as fast as she could for that river,” Peter said. “The bear was hot on her heels, and as soon as the rapids came into view, she mustered all of her strength to throw the barrel into the river. The bear didn’t hesitate, he leaped straight past my mother and followed the barrel. He managed to catch the barrel, but he couldn’t fight the current. Ma watched from the land as the bear was carried off toward the dam.”
“What an incredibly brave woman,” Sue said. “Even though your time with her was cut short, you were very blessed to know her for the time that you did.”
“You’re right,” Peter sighed. “I just wish someone had told me that when I lost her.”
“It must have been terrible.” Sue nodded sympathetically, remembering how devastating it had been to lose her own mother. She had shared that experience with Peter in their letters, and the deep look in his eyes told her that he understood what she was feeling.
“What about your father?” Sue asked.
“It was… complicated,” Peter said slowly. “I’m sorry, I don’t talk about my parents much. In fact, this conversation is probably the most I’ve said about them in my entire life.”
How can that be? Sue wondered as she studied him thoughtfully. His green eyes appeared vulnerable, but he didn’t look away. She determined that his hesitation wasn’t because he was reluctant to share, but rather because he was struggling to find the right words.
“My father taught me everything I know about farming,” Peter said. “But we had a falling out, just a year before his passing.”
“I’m sorry,” Sue said softly.
“Sue, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now,” Peter said carefully. He swallowed heavily and there was a sudden tension between his wrinkled brows.
“About your father?” Sue asked.
“It involves my father, yes.” Peter nodded. “But there’s more to it than that. It also involves a woman named Ellow—”
Before Peter could finish, they were interrupted by a waitress who delivered their supper.
Once the waitress was gone, Sue glanced across the wooden table at Peter. “What were you saying? Before we were interrupted?”
“Never mind.” Peter shook his head. His eyes looked heavy and his lips were pressed into a firm line, and it was the first time Sue had gotten the distinct impression that he was keeping something from her.
SEVEN
Peter would have much preferred to spend every waking moment with Sue, but he still had a cherry orchard to look after. So after seeing to it that Sue was well acquainted and comfortable at the boardinghouse, he went back to work on the farm.
Though their days were spent apart, Peter would return to the boardinghouse every evening to call on Sue and take her to the restaurant for supper. Those shared meals gave both Peter and Sue something to look forward to, a reason to get through the otherwise insufferably dreary days.
Peter had never been so impatient as he was when he knew that Sue was waiting for him in town. He had once reveled in the long, boundless days of springtime, when the sun would hang over the sky for an eternity, and Peter could drown his thoughts away in his work.
But now, that sort of mindless work just drove him mad. Before a workday had even begun, he was eager for it to end. Whenever he glanced at his pocket watch to see how many hours remained until he could see Sue again, he swore that the hour hand had inched backwards rather than forwards.
The hours passed just as slowly for Sue, who suffered the added detriment of feeling terribly lonely. She would have much preferred working on the cherry orchard alongside Peter, but she didn’t mention this. She didn’t want him to think that she was complaining. Especially not after he had shown her such hospitality.
So instead of asking Peter for work on the orchard, she made work for herself. The first full day she spent on her own in Hood River, Sue had been a shadow to Mrs. Sullivan, the old housekeeper at the boardinghouse.
Mrs. Sullivan was a kind woman, but she was also a quiet woman, and it didn’t take long for her to become flustered by Sue’s tireless attempts at making conversation. Once Sue realized that Mrs. Sullivan wasn’t keen on conversation, she resigned herself to silently shadowing the old woman as she carried out her housekeeping duties around the house.
Sue longed for conversation, but she was grateful for any sort of work to keep her busy. And work she did. Mrs. Sullivan kept Sue busy, whether that meant stripping down beds and washing the linens until they were fresh and white, scrubbing the wooden floorboards until they shined and smelled like fresh pine, or even helping to prepare supper for the other guests staying at the boardinghouse.
Sue couldn’t say that she enjoyed the work, but she did find something comforting about having a routine. And wh
ile the work didn’t give her the same sense of purpose that she had derived from working in the apple orchard, she appreciated that it offered a distraction from feeling lonely or bored while she waited for Peter.
Even with chores around the boardinghouse, there were still many hours left to be filled in the day. So after a full week in Oregon, Sue finally made it her mission to explore the town of Hood River.
She walked along Main Street and explored the shops. She stopped to talk to any familiar face, and she was relieved to find that the town’s residents didn’t share Mrs. Sullivan’s aversion to conversation.
While her first week had been challenging, Sue’s second week in Hood River marked a drastic improvement. She made several new acquaintances, and she hoped that in time those acquaintances would become friends.
Peter was impressed with Sue’s ability to settle in the new environment and forge a life for herself, but when she told him about the new townspeople she had met, a worried look came over his face.
Sue interpreted the expression as concern for her well-being. She didn’t know that Peter was actually concerned that Sue’s new friendships might lead her to discovering the truth about Peter’s first engagement.
The truth was weighing heavily on his shoulders.
He had never intended to keep his first engagement a secret. It wasn’t a deliberate act of deceit, he had always wanted to tell her. He just hadn’t found the right words, nor the right opportunity to explain himself.
When they were still corresponding by letter, he had resolved to tell her the truth in person, upon her arrival in Oregon. He decided it would be easier to explain in conversation, rather than by pen.
But when she had arrived in Oregon, he had discovered that it was just as hard to look into her deep, innocent eyes and admit the information he had kept guarded all of this time. Waiting had only made it more difficult. Even if Sue was understanding about the engagement, she would surely wonder why he hadn’t told her sooner. And how could he answer that? How could he admit that he was acting like a coward without excuse?
New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set Page 81
