Page 15 of The Pursuit of Elena Bradford

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Andrew stood among the willows by the lake and watched Elena Bradford watch Kirby Frazier paint a portrait. Not Elena’s but that of a lady who seemed to be a friend of hers. He had never seen the woman posing for the artist. Perhaps a new arrival. Perhaps a relation of Elena’s.

He could go ask. Leave the shadow of the willows and join the group that had assembled to watch Frazier. If Dr. Graham had told the man to be entertaining, he had taken it to heart. He was putting on a show with elaborate sweeps through the air with his brush and a stream of words that had the people around him smiling and laughing.

Elena too. She appeared to be entranced by the man. She hadn’t even noticed Andrew when he walked past them and around the lake to the shade of the willows. In the shadows again. He had been watching for her after their talk among the roses. Had even planned to ask if she wanted to play a game of battledore. It had been so nice sitting with her as the sun came up.

But then he had left her without properly saying goodbye. Instead, he had allowed thoughts of Gloria to darken the plea sure of their time together. Talking of snakes and buzzards as though he wanted to remind her that all was not beauty in their world. He wouldn’t be surprised if Elena ran in the opposite direction when next she saw him instead of smiling a welcome.

For certain, Frazier wouldn’t be bringing snakes and buzzards into the conversation, although Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if the man had added a few such things to his paintings now and again.

Maybe the artist was the snake in the grass, with a place here because of Andrew’s words to Dr. Graham. Andrew shook his head. He was being ridiculous. The man seemed nice enough, affable. What was souring Andrew’s mind was what he’d heard as he’d walked past those under the big oak where the man had chosen to place his easel.

Our Elena. Who was Frazier to be claiming Elena as his? He had only met her on the stagecoach traveling to the Springs the same as Andrew. Had promises been made in other meetings here? Perhaps Andrew wasn’t the only one Elena met in the gardens to share her sketches.

He tamped down his runaway thoughts. It wasn’t as if it mattered if that was true. She wasn’t his Elena either. He had simply suggested friendship to her. She had simply accepted that suggestion. People came to this place to enjoy the beauty, to dance and be healed, to meet new acquaintances. Elena had seemed glad to accept his friendship. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy other friendships as well.

But there was something about Frazier that bothered Andrew. He wasn’t sure the man could be trusted. True, he had acted courageously on the stagecoach, or perhaps foolishly. The horses would have tired and stopped of their own accord without his heroics. Some men had to continually prove how brave, how strong they were.

His friend Zachary was like that. Never satisfied with doing things the simple way. He was forever daring more than necessary. If they were riding across a field, he didn’t want to go a few extra yards to a gate. He would jump the fence with no regard to his mount. The higher the fence, the better.

That could be why he had taken off in the middle of the night with Gloria. The daring of it. He could have gotten any girl he wanted, but stealing his best friend’s bride-to-be practically on the eve of that friend’s wedding must have been a challenge he couldn’t resist.

Andrew shook his head and almost smiled. Zachary could do that to him. Infuriate him and make him laugh at the same time.

Somehow—who knew why—he had never blamed Zachary for his heartache. He’d given Gloria all the blame. He never doubted she had been the instigator of his friend’s betrayal, of her own betrayal. Even now, trying to look at it clearly as he stared at the blue of the lake, he still felt that way. Zachary would have probably brought Gloria back before dawn and acted as though it was all some silly prank and no harm done.

But they hadn’t come back. Gloria must have wanted the adventure Zachary promised over the settled life she thought Andrew offered. Had he offered that? A life devoid of excitement and challenge?

Perhaps so. He didn’t like courting disaster. He saw no need in tackling fences so tall his horse might be permanently lamed and his own head fractured.

Instead, his heart had been fractured by Gloria’s betrayal. He hadn’t gone after them. He had accepted Gloria’s choice. His father, had he still been living, would have said Andrew wasn’t man enough to chase after them.

His grandfather hadn’t said that. He hadn’t said anything, but if he had, Andrew knew it would have been good riddance to the both of them. Zachary for being a danger to his horses and Gloria for being a danger to Andrew.

“ It was bound to happen sooner or later. Better that it was sooner.” Grandfather Scott hadn’t said that to Andrew but to the guests that had to be told the wedding was off. He hadn’t seemed to care that Andrew overheard him.

Neither he nor Andrew’s mother had taken to Gloria.

They would both like Elena Bradford. Why had that thought slipped into his head? Unless they decided to come for a night at the Springs themselves before the summer was over, it was unlikely they would ever even meet Elena.

It would be nice if they could join him for a summer weekend. Maybe he should write his mother and suggest that. He could tell her about meeting a female artist. He was sure Grandfather Scott would find a way to get reports from Dr. Graham about Andrew’s progress of shedding his melancholy. In some ways his grandfather was the same as his father. “Buck up and face whatever life hands you.” It was the love behind his grandfather’s words that made the difference.

He could almost hear his grandfather telling him to stop hiding in the willows and go join the group watching Frazier. Step up beside Elena and be that friend he had offered to be, but instead Andrew turned and walked the other way.

Something about Elena drew him. He did want to know her better, but he might be foolhardy to risk his heart again.

Perhaps tomorrow morning he would feel more daring and seek her out among the flowers again. At sunrise. On a new day the Lord made.