Page 23 of An Uncertain Road

The rain started after they took a break for lunch. In the backseat, Beth pulled out her parasol—not that a frilly thing like that would do much good against a full-blown storm in the open touring car. But the rain was light enough for an hour or so that Flora wished she had one of her own.

Soon enough, though, Beth nearly lost the parasol as the wind picked up, swirling around them. Fred helped her pull it down and stash it on the floorboards before it got blown away. Flora had to put one hand up to hold her hat in place, even with it tied securely under her chin. Still, she was determined to finish this leg of the tour as well as they had yesterday.

Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas. They came over a rise in the muddy road, and Flora had to stop the car. Where their path sloped downward on the other side of the hill, water rushed across, a current washing away the road itself as it passed. Flora looked at Jensen, unsure what the wisest course of action would be.

Without returning her look, Jensen swung himself out of the car and stepped down the hill a few feet, nearly sinking into the thick mud. He finally turned to meet her eyes and shook his head, words unneeded and likely to be drowned out in the din of the rain, rushing water, and running engine. They wouldn’t be getting through this spot.

Returning to his seat, Jensen leaned close to her and raised his voice over the noise. “Turn around. We’ll find shelter and figure out what to do.”

It took a few tries, but Flora got the car turned around without getting stuck in the mud and began the trek to find a dry place. When Henri had purchased this car, she hadn’t thought twice about not having an enclosed top like some manufacturers were fond of making. It had seemed like a lot of extra weight on a car she wanted to be as light and fast as possible. Most races didn’t run in the rain. But now she could see it would have been worth at least considering.

After backtracking several miles, they found the last small town they’d passed through and parked on the main street outside a hotel with a restaurant next door. Fred and Beth dashed to the restaurant, but Flora took a few more minutes in the rain to pull a tarp over the Decauville. She prayed as she and Jensen tugged the tarp into place that this delay wouldn’t cost them the chance of winning so early in the tour. There were so many days left.

Finally, they were all inside the nearly empty restaurant, wrapped in towels that the kind waitress had borrowed from the hotel while they watched the pouring rain through the large front window. Beth leaned against Fred, the two of them looking cozy and sweet. Flora turned away, trying to find anything less saccharine to look at.

Jensen didn’t seem able to sit for long. He was soon up pacing the floor in front of their table, stopping to look up at the sky every few times he passed the window.

Unbearable tension built inside Flora’s chest. “We need to get going. Jensen, is there another way on the map that we can use to go around? One that might not be flooded?”

He stopped pacing and brightened, as if having a task to occupy his mind helped the situation. “Let me see. I have the paperwork right here.”

Jensen pulled the envelope full of maps and itineraries from inside his jacket and laid them out on an empty table nearby. Fred joined him, leaving the women together.

Beth, looking as comfortable as a person could be despite being drenched, looked over at Flora. “Maybe we should stay here until the rain lets up. Surely, it won’t delay us too long.”

Flora glanced at her pocket watch. “We still have to get the rest of the way to Boston. Judging from how long the waitress said it takes by carriage, we have at least three more hours to drive.”

Beth patted Flora’s hand. “The car is faster than that. We don’t have to be there until six o’clock, correct?”

Struggling to keep from unleashing her frustration on Beth, Flora watched the men as they pored over the map, several locals joining them now. “With this weather making the road conditions worse, it’s very likely even the Decauville will take longer than a carriage on a good day. We need to keep moving.”

Beth fell silent. Had Flora’s tone been harsher than she realized? But she couldn't help thinking of all the drivers who would press on through the weather undeterred. Any teams that had already crossed the flooded road would be continuing toward the next stop while the Harrison Goods team sat idle. They would lose points on the second day and be forced to run the rest of the tour knowing they had no chance of winning. Flora couldn’t bear it.

Just then, Jensen straightened and turned to face them, holding the map up with a wide grin that made Flora’s heart leap in her chest. “We have it. These gentlemen tell us there’s a ferry that runs across the river on the other side of town. It should be passable. If we can keep moving from there, we’ll have a chance at arriving in Boston on time.”

Flora had an unexpected impulse to jump up and fling her arms around Jensen. He’d saved the day, and her rebellious heart was thrilled with that fact. Her mind knew better, though. There was nothing romantic about thinking she could depend on a man who despised the thing she loved most. No matter how she might be drawn to his softer, kinder side, he, too, often acted as though everyone around him ought to agree with his every opinion, much like Clement had.

Memories of her older brother made a shiver travel up Flora’s spine. She had to start proving to herself and everyone around her that she was as capable as any of the male drivers or mechanics, including Jensen. What would be left for her after this race if she didn’t?

* * *

When Flora pulled the car up at the river crossing, Jensen realized immediately that he’d made a mistake.

There was no well-built ferry with a permanent dock as he’d been expecting. Instead, a flat wagon drawn by matching white horses stood at the ready, ropes coiled on top. While the locals had assured him the car could be taken across, he wasn’t sure how they would even get it onto that wagon, much less through the rushing, head-high water.

Glancing next to him, Jensen cleared his throat, ready to take responsibility for the mistake. “I’m sorry, Flora. I thought this would be a viable solution.”

But she didn’t even hesitate. Swinging herself down from the car, Flora tugged her jacket sleeves into place and grinned. “This will do fine. We’ll get across and catch up in no time.”

She started marching toward the rough-looking men waiting with the horses, but Jensen rushed to stop her. “Flora, wait. This isn’t a good idea. The rain may have almost stopped, but everything is still soaked. That wet wood will be slippery, and the ropes won’t hold well. If we put this car on there and the slightest shift happens during the crossing, the whole thing will go under.”

Undeterred, she moved around him. “I’m sure they have a method for doing it, or the man at the restaurant wouldn’t have suggested we come here. We can at least ask them.”

Before he could stop himself, Jensen’s hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm. She turned back toward him, standing close enough he could smell a floral scent coming from her hair. Distracted by her closeness, he stared at her until she swallowed hard. But that didn’t discourage her one bit.

“We’re crossing here, Jensen. It’s the only way.”

Frustrated, he threw up his hands. “No, it isn’t. The rain is clearing off. We can go back to the other crossing and wait until the water slows. Or keep driving until we get to the next one. Anything is better than the foolish, dangerous notion that we could get the car across this way.”