Page 17 of The Pursuit of Elena Bradford

17

Elena was not there when Ivy went back to the room after she and Mother had been to the baths. While Ivy had to force down drinks of the spring water, she liked soaking in the baths with rose petals floating around her to give the mineral water a more pleasant scent. Robes and towels were always within reach. The baths gave her a glow through and through, and she stayed in the tub until the tips of her fingers wrinkled.

Her mother had already left the bathhouse to enjoy the June breezes on the veranda. Ivy offered to join her there, but her mother had other orders for her and Elena. “No need in that, my dear. Such relaxing is for us older folk. Go find Elena and the two of you walk around the grounds. How does she expect to meet any possible suitors if she keeps hiding out in the gardens with that silly sketchbook?”

“I’ll ask her, Mother.”

“Do more than ask. Tell her in no uncertain terms that I said so. And perhaps that new lady you spoke to earlier today can join the two of you in a stroll.” Her mother had frowned. “Whoever heard of such a thing? A young woman without a proper escort.”

Ivy heard the echo of Elena’s words that they were in almost the same situation, but she would never repeat them to Mother, even if she could see the truth in what Elena said. They were there without a male escort. At least Vanessa had a father coming later.

That thought brought moisture to Ivy’s eyes. Her poor father couldn’t be coming. Even if he had done little more than pat her head now and again, she loved him. Of course she did. He was her father.

If only he hadn’t died so suddenly. He would have found a way to lift them out of this awful situation they were in. Surely Elena’s marriage possibilities couldn’t be all that stood between them and poverty.

Her mother did have a way of always seeing the dark side of things. It wasn’t fair for her to expect Elena to pick a husband with the only consideration his fortune and no thought of love. She talked as though love didn’t matter at all.

That must be why she thought their weeks here at the Springs would make Ivy forget Jacob. That couldn’t happen. Dancing with a thousand men wouldn’t make her forget Jacob.

Ivy would do as her mother said and find Elena for that walk after she wrote to Jacob. She had promised. She needed to have a letter ready to send if—no, when—she figured out a way to have it delivered to Lexington. Her love for Jacob was true and right. The Lord would open up a way for her to send a missive to him.

Ever since she could remember, she had felt a comfort in prayer. Afraid of the dark? In her mind, she would see the Lord beside her with a candle. Someone at school made her cry with unkind words? She would remember the words, “For God so loved the world.” She was one of those in the world. The Lord loved her.

There was also the verse, “Honor thy father and mother.” She did that. Slipping a sheet of her mother’s writing paper from her case wasn’t dishonoring her mother. Or stealing. Her mother would give her the paper if she asked.

Still, her fingers trembled and she looked over her shoulder toward the door as she pulled out her mother’s writing case. When she opened it, a few coins stared up at her. She could take one, maybe two, of these to pay someone to deliver her letter. Her mother might never miss them.

Ivy stared at the coins for a long moment before she slipped out a sheet of paper and firmly closed the case. She would not take the money. If she needed a coin to get her letter to Jacob, one would appear along her path. That would be a sign the Lord did not want her to forget Jacob.

Her heart was racing as if she had danced five times in a row without stopping for a second’s rest. She fanned her face with the sheet of paper, then pushed open one of the windows to lean out and pull in a breath of fresh air.

The hotel was four stories high, and while her mother complained about the stairs, Ivy loved their bird’s-eye view here on the top floor. Music floated up to Ivy, and she caught the scent of magnolias. This did have to be one of the loveliest places on earth. If only Jacob was here with her. She turned from the window to sit at the writing desk. She dipped the pen nib into the ink and tried to think of the perfect words to write.

Dear Jacob,

Graham Springs is a beautiful place with flowers and trees and the nicest people. Music floats in the air as servants sing and play guitars, fiddles, harmonicas, and who knows what else all day long. That keeps everyone in the sweetest of moods. Plus, there’s an artist we met on the stagecoach. He paints the ladies’ portraits. Well, not mine. Mother would never allow that.

She looked at what she had written and shook her head. This sounded as though she were having such a wonderful time that she didn’t miss him at all.

She dipped the pen nib in the ink again.

I wish you were here.

That was better. What she wanted to write.

If you were, then the summer days would be perfect. We could walk in the gardens or play lawn bowling or battledore in the daytime and dance away the nights. Dr. Graham, the man who owns the Springs, insists on everyone dancing. He says exercise is almost as good as his spring water tonics, and dancing is certainly splendid exercise. He also insists everyone imbibe his spring water. I do, even though it does have a most dreadful taste. Elena avoids more than a sip. Mother drinks it willingly in hopes it will cure her headaches.

She had veered away from what she wanted to write again. She sighed and turned back toward the window. If only she were artistic like Mr. Frazier or Elena. Then she could send him a drawing of her alone with tears on her cheeks. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t alone all the time or that she hadn’t actually dissolved into tears. He wouldn’t be alone all the time either.

She gripped her pen tighter. That Melba Smith was probably finding ways to be wherever Jacob was. She had been after him forever. Hot blood rushed to her face as she pictured Melba making eyes at Jacob, practically asking him to kiss her.

Slow down. She could almost hear Elena’s voice in her ear. Elena had a way of being so calm, always in control. Even on the stagecoach when they could have all been killed, she had sat silent while protecting Mr. Frazier’s painting as though she had been assigned the task.

What would she do now? Better yet, what would she tell Ivy to do? Get control of her thoughts. Stop imagining things that probably would not happen. Ivy pulled in a breath and held it a moment as she looked out the window again. Birds were singing. A little wind rustled through the oak leaves. Voices and laughter drifted up to her along with the music.

She took another deep breath and imagined Jacob’s arms around her. She was the one he wanted to kiss. Not Melba.

Ivy halted her runaway imagination and stared down at the words she’d written. The page was almost covered, but if she wrote small, she would have room for a few more sentences. What would Elena tell her to write? But no, these last words needed to be Ivy’s to Jacob.

She shut her eyes to picture him. For a second, she could see nothing but his angry face when she’d told him she had to come here with her mother. She squeezed her eyes tighter to get rid of that image and picture him smiling at her instead. A sad smile, since she was here and he was there.

Tears slid down her cheeks. One of them dripped off her cheek onto the letter to smudge a few of the words. He would see that and know the tear was because she missed him so much. She dipped the pen into the ink and began to write.

I love you. I miss you. I will be home soon and we will have time to be together before the end of summer. Know that whenever I have to dance with someone, I imagine it is you. Only you.

Love forever, Ivy

She read over the last lines. She had spilled out her heart in those words. She folded the letter into a neat square and wrote his name and address on it. She blew on it to dry the ink before she slipped it deep into her pocket with a little prayer that she would find a way to send it to him.

As she put the cork back in the ink bottle and waved the pen around to dry its nib, she could almost feel her mother’s disapproving eyes watching her. She hurried out of the room and practically ran down the stairs to get away from the guilt chasing after her. She stepped out of the hotel into the sunshine and felt better at once as she looked around. No sign of Elena.

When her mother waved from the veranda, the letter burned in Ivy’s pocket as she hurried away from the hotel to find Elena the way her mother had told her to. But where should she look? Elena could be in any of a dozen flower gardens with her sketchbook or inside reading or who knew where.

Maybe Mr. Frazier had seen her. She might even be watching him paint down beside the lake. That sounded like something Elena might do.

Ivy kept her eyes on the path as she walked and could hardly believe it when she saw the sparkle of metal. She stooped to pick it up. Not a dollar or half-dollar. Only a cent piece, but it felt like a sign that she would find a way to send her letter to Jacob.

By the time she got to the lake, her steps were light, her guilty feelings forgotten. She couldn’t wait to tell Elena about the coin.