Suzanne's Story

The horse trotted through the gate, saddled but riderless.

Suzanne looked up from pulling weeds and shouted, “Joshua.”

A gangly youngster appeared around the corner, “Yes, ma’am?”

“Please tend Mr. Garth’s horse. I’ll be in the house,” She paused, and then shouted, “Joshua, also gather some men and begin walking toward the Kenwick’s farm. Mr. Garth may be along the road and in need of assistance.”

“Yes ma’am,” The shoeless young man grabbed the loose reins and led the horse toward the barn.

“Dear Lord, please let him be alright,” She prayed loudly while grabbing her skirts and sprinting into the house.

“Suzanne, honey, what’s the rush?” Hattie, the housekeeper and cook, stepped in Suzanne’s path.

“Something’s happened to Garth.”

The rotund woman folded her arms and laughed, “Oh, no, child. He just came in the back with your daddy, ‘Spect you’ll find them in the study.”

Suzanne ran down the hall to the study, paused to gather herself—before raising her hand to knock on the partially opened door.

“It’s settled then,” her father said, “I’m sorry for the circumstances though. Our mutual survival after the recent unpleasantness may well depend on this decision.”

“The only way to join the lands now sir,” Garth’s grim voice echoed in the room.

Suzanne pushed the door open wider and sailed into the office, “Garth Kenwick, that horse nearly scared me out of my wits.”

Both men jumped to their feet immediately, “Suzanne, come sit, Garth has brought some news.” Her father motioned her to the settee.

Garth took a seat next to Suzanne, “I don’t know how else to say this. We received word yesterday that there’s been an accident. We’ve lost Geoffrey. He died a month ago in Boston.”

“Oh, no,” She whispered. Her hand reached out for his, “I’m so sorry. I know how close you were.”

“Ahem,” her father cleared his throat, “Garth has also come to let me know that in the matter of your betrothal, he will assume Geoffrey’s place. It is a proper arrangement.”

“What?” Suzanne jumped to her feet and turned on her father, “It wasn’t enough to trade me away the day of my birth? Now, Garth inherits me? I think not.” She stormed out.

Suzanne struggled to quiet her rage, then slowly walked toward the kitchen, “Hattie, could I have some tea, please.”

“Sit down, I already have the water on. Oh, honey, you look like a squashed lemon.”

“What?”

“You’re all drawn up and sour look’n.” The older woman poured steaming tea into a cup and set it in front of Suzanne along with milk and sugar.

“Daddy has arranged for me to marry Garth.”

“That can’t be. You’ve been promised to Geoffrey your whole life, honey.”

“Oh, Hattie, poor Geoffrey was killed in Boston last month.”

“Poor, my foot. It wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t gone haring off to some heathen land.”

“Hattie, I know you didn’t care for Geoffrey, but this is a tragedy.”

The older woman leaned across the table to whisper. “You didn’t like him either.”

“Was I so transparent?” Suzanne asked, stricken. “I didn’t really dislike him, I just didn’t want to marry him.”

“I heard your tearful prayers every night,” Hattie stood and refilled Suzanne’s cup, “And that boy, Garth? You’ve mooned around him since you were knee high.”

Suzanne nodded and sipped her tea reflectively, “But I just got out of one arranged marriage. I’ll not meekly walk into another. I don’t want him marrying me for my land.”

“Suzanne, we really need to talk,” Garth suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“I don’t think we have anything to discuss,” She replied crisply, then rose and made her way out to the veranda. From the screens she turned and peeked into the kitchen.

Garth turned a bewildered look on the housekeeper.

“Give her some time to calm down, then tell her what’s really in your heart?”

Later, as the sun began its slow slide into the horizon, Garth found Suzanne on the veranda basking in the late day warmth.

She could almost feel the tension rising in her neck the minute she realized his presence. “What are you still doing here?” Her voice was distant.

“Suzanne, please hear me out.”

“I see nothing to talk about. I was an unwilling participant in the betrothal to your brother. But I’m no longer a baby, and I refuse to cowed into another.”

“Hear me out,” Garth pleaded, “I have loved you since the first time I saw your tiny face. You are my miracle. Do you think for a minute I won’t love and cherish God’s gift to me for the rest of my life? Marry me.”

Suzanne squinted at the setting sun. She had dreamed of Garth, of his lean body, tanned by the work in the fields. Her pulse quickened.

“Yes,” She whispered and flew into his arms.