Page 12 of An Uncertain Road

The sanctuary filled within a few minutes. The musicians started up a familiar march, and all eyes turned to see the bride’s and groom’s attendants making their way down the aisle. Flora’s gaze followed their progress until Jensen walked past, mere feet from her. He was dressed to perfection in the same long black jacket, black trousers, and white bowtie that the other men wore. But unlike the rest, his expression was solemn, as if he regarded his position as best man with the utmost seriousness.

Once they were all in place, Owen and the minister took their spots. Then the music changed, and once again, the guests turned toward the back. Aggie and Mr. Harrison made their procession with deliberate steps, the bride glowing in a white silk gown covered in layers of lace with a delicate veil trailing behind her.

The ceremony began with the minister speaking for some time about love, drawing from the usual Scripture passages that Flora had heard a hundred times. No doubt, the words were meant to sound romantic and uplifting. Normally, she cherished the reading of God’s word. But all she felt right then was the constriction of the choices she’d made. Her marriage hadn’t been one of love as she’d thought it would be, and the fault for that foolish, rash decision could only be placed on her.

In the background of her thoughts, the ceremony went on with Owen and Aggie exchanging their vows. But Flora had to wonder if this was what the rest of her life would be like, watching others fall in love without experiencing it for herself. Had she squandered her only chance by marrying the first man that wasn’t her brother’s choice?

A sniffle from Beth brought Flora back to the present. The ceremony was nearly over, with vows made and rings exchanged. Flora glanced at Jensen, whose attention was riveted on the couple next to him. Was that the sheen of tears in his eyes? Was he that much of a romantic, deep down somewhere?

Flora shook off that thought. It didn’t matter if he was. She had no reason to be so intrigued by the idea that he could be longing for love as much as she was. Jensen hated the sport that was her passion in life. He despised the kind of risks that made her feel the most alive. If love was in her future, it wasn’t with Jensen Gable. She’d already married a man who was far too different from her. If she were ever to wed again, it would have to be someone who valued all the things she did. She wouldn’t doom herself to a life of strife again.

The minister finished the service and finally directed Owen to kiss his bride. The congregation sighed as the couple sealed their commitment and then walked back up the aisle with the wide, joyous grins of newlyweds. The wedding party followed them to form a receiving line, and the guests began filing out. Flora, Isabelle, and Beth waited, letting everyone else go before them.

After the last guests had left the church, the family members convened at the Harrison home for a reception and to send Owen and Aggie off on their honeymoon. Flora found herself sitting with Isabelle on one side and Jensen on the other as servants brought dish after dish to the long table in the Harrisons’ dining room. Happy conversation flowed around them, but Flora preferred to listen, not in much of a mood for small talk.

When Isabelle turned to ask Fred a question, Flora snuck a peek at Jensen to find him staring at the glass in his hand. He must have felt her scrutiny, though, because he spoke without looking at her. “Mr. Harrison has arranged to have your Decauville taken to his shop first thing Monday morning. I hope you don’t mind. He didn’t want to risk more damage by driving it until we can fix the overheating issue. If you’d like to oversee the work, you’re welcome to join us at the shop around ten o’clock.”

Oversee the work on her own car? Flora would usually respond with irritation to a comment like that, one that assumed she had no ability or interest in repairing her vehicle herself. But Mr. Harrison had already asked her to let the new crew use the repair and the process of setting up the Decauville for the tour as practice for their future race cars. And she couldn’t be too angry when his arrogant comment got her mind off of weddings and love gone wrong. “I wouldn’t miss it. I can’t wait until the car is back in good working order.”

Jensen raised his eyes to meet her gaze, his fingers continuing to turn his crystal glass around and around on the table. “Are you still sure you want to do this? The entire engine needs to be rebuilt to get the car running again, then we’ll have to prepare it for the trip. Not to mention, the intensity of the race itself. It’s a big commitment.”

“Are you trying to dissuade me again?”

The air around them shifted when his eyes lighted with humor. Flora’s breath caught, the unfamiliar amusement making him even more captivating than usual.

“I’ve been told it won’t do any good. Should I continue to try?”

Letting a coy smile turn up her lips, Flora shrugged. “I don’t see any use in it. You’ve heard correctly. Once I decide on something, I don’t back down.”

The lingering smile Jensen sent her flipped Flora’s stomach in ways she hadn’t experienced in years. She was flirting. With a man she could not afford to fall for, but whom she would be stuck with for most of her time over the next six weeks. If she didn’t get herself under control, a rash decision might seal her fate again.

* * *

In the Harrison Goods garage, Jensen ran one hand through his already messy hair, mentally cursing the high early-July temperatures that made the building an oven. It didn’t help that for the three weeks since the wedding, he and Mrs. Montfort had argued every day over the Decauville, debating what changes to make so the car would perform its best during the tour. Every chance she got, Mrs. Montfort pushed for anything that would add speed without considering the impact on safety and endurance. She knew plenty about what it took to get a race car to go fast. But her vehicle’s capability didn’t always translate to the best setup for the conditions, a fact she either didn’t seem to understand or wasn’t willing to accept.

Standing beside her behind the car, he once again repeated the phrase he’d already uttered a thousand times. “But the car has to get through ten days of rough driving, Mrs. Montfort. Keeping it together through all that is more important than being in front.”

She faced him without hesitation, hands balled into fists and pressed against her hips. Dressed in what he guessed was an old blouse and skirt covered by a heavy leather apron she’d borrowed from the line of them hanging by the door, she looked quite capable of handling herself in the shop. As intriguing as the idea of a woman who could hold her own with a racing crew might be, despite her competent appearance, she probably didn’t even know which way to hold a wrench.

Mr. Harrison had secured her promise that the shop crew could make all the mechanical changes to the car, giving Jensen a reprieve from Mrs. Montfort attempting to meddle with the setup behind their backs and causing problems in the process. But still, a smear of grease from the engine compartment had somehow appeared on her cheek, tempting his hand to reach up and wipe it away. He was getting to be skilled at forcing those wayward desires deep down, pretending—even to himself—that they didn’t exist.

Bringing his mind back to the discussion, he tried to find a way to deny her proposed change to the car that wouldn’t make her dig in even more. If he’d learned anything about her in the many afternoons they’d spent together working on the car, it was that this look meant she intended to get her way. He listened for a moment as she explained her reasoning. “A light car is a fast car. That steel plate underneath is so heavy. We’ll be much faster without it.”

Her idea sounded good in theory, but the reality was often different. Jensen prepared to stand his ground. This was a battle she wasn’t going to win. “But the entire purpose of it is to protect the more delicate parts under the car from rough road conditions, which we will be facing every day on the tour.” He kept his voice as even as he could manage. “It’s an integral safety feature, and many of the other cars won’t have that protection. It’s a benefit to us and it’s staying.”

She stared him down long enough that Jensen started to get distracted by the color of her eyes. Were they more like the chocolates Mrs. Harrison was fond of or the rich, dark leather of his favorite chair in the Harrisons’ library? His wayward thoughts paid off this time, causing him to inadvertently wait long enough that she grew frustrated.

She threw up her hands and turned back to the car. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, we should give it another test drive to make sure everything functions well in this kind of heat.”

Jensen dropped the lid back over the engine compartment while looking around the shop. It was empty and silent except for the sounds of the city at dusk that drifted in through the open bay door. His heart sank as he realized all the crew members had left while they’d been facing off. He’d done well avoiding it to this point, but this might be the moment when he had to climb into the car, something he hadn't done in five years. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but today is Independence Day. The rest of the crew have left for their well-deserved time off. We have the rest of the week to finish up the changes and test it all you want. Leave the drive for tomorrow.”

Ignoring him, Mrs. Montfort hopped into the driver’s seat, a joyful glint sparking in her eyes. “I had forgotten about Independence Day. I missed the fireworks and parties while I was in France. There’s something about the exuberance of our American rebel spirit that’s unmatched anywhere else.”

And there was something undeniably appealing about a vibrant, beautiful woman sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. When they weren’t fighting, he had to admit that spending time with Flora Montfort was more fun than he ever expected. When he’d let Fred convince him to do this, he wouldn't have believed he would enjoy having Flora in the shop, nor that he would anticipate seeing the fire of passion for racing light up her face.

Still sitting in the car, Flora patted the passenger’s seat. “Get in. We’ll do a quick test drive, and that will give us more time to fine-tune things tomorrow. It’s getting late, but I’ll hurry so you won’t miss the celebration.”

Jensen tried to move toward the car, but his feet refused to obey. Of course, he’d known when he agreed to this that he would have to get into the car. But he’d thought he might feel more prepared when the time came, that working on the car every day would give him a sense of familiarity that would make it more natural to open the door and step inside.