Page 54 of An Uncertain Road

Mr. Franklin shrugged, and although there were shadows of pain in his eyes, his voice reflected the same peace Sam seemed to have found. “As well as you could expect. It’s not easy getting used to my legs being gone and needing to wheel this chair around all the time. But Sam’s been kind enough to help me as I learn.”

Sam smiled. “It’s the least I can do. He’s still my teammate.”

Flora let herself relax back against the plush divan. She’d been so unsure of what to expect when she received the invitation to visit them. There had been so much bitterness and regret in Mr. Franklin’s words the last time she’d seen him. “You both look as though you’ve made some peace with what happened.”

Nodding, Sam answered first. “I spent time with a pastor who visited patients at the hospital after you all left. He said some of the same things you said, Flora. That the blame didn’t rest on any one of us. We all made choices that led to what happened. But that God always uses our mistakes to bring about some kind of good.”

Mr. Franklin leaned forward, drawing her attention back to him. “That’s why I had Sam invite you today. I want to take responsibility for my part instead of blaming others as I’ve always done. I know you believe Jensen sabotaged your team, and I have to set everyone straight. He didn’t do it. I thought he had, at first, and I told Sam so. But when I confronted Jensen about it at Bretton Woods, he said he didn’t. I was still trying to blackmail him then, so there was only risk involved for him to deny it. That’s how I know he wasn't responsible for anything that happened to your team.”

The tension that had gripped her since the accident released, letting Flora draw a deep, cleansing breath.

Rubbing one hand over his jaw, Mr. Franklin grimaced. “I regret all the trouble I caused. I see now what a waste these last few years have been. I spent so much time wrapped up in thoughts of revenge and hatred when I could have been building a good, respectable life. And it culminated in harming so many of you along with me. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Flora reached out and patted his hand where it rested on the arm of his wheeled chair. “You’re forgiven now, Mr. Franklin. As Sam said, we all made mistakes on the tour. Yes, some with farther-reaching effects than others, but God sees fit to forgive them all, so I will too.”

A grateful smile spread across his face. “Thank you. Now, I hope you’ll go tell Jensen he’s forgiven as well. You can’t hold something against him that he didn’t do.”

A flush worked its way up Flora’s neck. “I was so quick to assume that he did it. He tried to tell me, and I refused to believe him. What if he doesn’t want to forgive me?”

Sam and Mr. Franklin both burst into laughter, startling Flora. Sam recovered first. “Oh, he’ll forgive you.”

Mr. Franklin grinned even wider now, happier than Flora had ever seen him. “He’s a man in love. He’ll forget your doubts in a second if you admit you love him too.”

Flora’s back tensed, and she found herself responding more harshly than she intended. “Why do you believe you know so much about my feelings? What makes you think I’m in love with him?”

“Did you think no one saw you two kissing and holding hands?” Sam laughed again, and Flora looked away, crossing her arms as the heat seared farther up her cheeks.

But she couldn’t deny they might have a point. If he did love her—as everyone seemed to think—and she went to him ready to apologize for her doubts, would he offer forgiveness?

And what would it mean for her future if he did?

Shaking her head, Flora let the irritation over their assumptions go. “You’re right, I suppose. But don’t let it go to your heads.”

With smiles all around, they chatted for several more minutes. Then Flora stood to leave with a promise to visit again before she left town. If she left town. Sam smirked when she added that.

She returned to Aggie and Owen’s house to find it empty, save for Isabelle, who the cook told her was napping. Flora retreated to her room to get ready for dinner at the Harrisons’ home, which Mr. Harrison had called a celebration in the invitation he sent. What they were celebrating, she wasn’t sure. But, despite his absence the rest of the week, she couldn’t imagine the entire family would gather without Jensen there.

So she donned her favorite dinner gown, one made of point d'esprit and Chantilly lace in black and cream. It might be several years old, but it was still quite acceptable, and she felt her most confident in it. Sitting down at the vanity, she pulled and twisted and stuck pins in her hair until it resembled something her maid in France might have arranged. Close enough, anyway.

But the closer it came to the dinner hour, the more she found herself critiquing her look. And wondering if Jensen would like it. Perhaps she would look better in pink?

Owen found her pacing by the front door when he descended the stairs to wait on the others. “You look beautiful, Flora.”

She tugged at her skirt. “Do I? I’m not sure this is the most appropriate gown.”

Tilting his head, he examined not her gown, but her face. “Flora Montfort, are you worried about what Jensen will think?”

Throwing up her hands, Flora dropped down to sit on the stairs, not caring if it was unladylike to do so. “You’re not the first one today to assume I’m concerned with Jensen’s opinions.”

Owen’s eyebrows rose, and a half grin started on his face.

Flora had the urge to wipe it off by pulling his ear as she’d done when he’d teased her as children. “Fine. I am. Owen, I believed some terrible things about him that I now know to be untrue. He’s aware I didn’t believe him when he told me the truth. How can I make that right?”

Her brother, the only champion she’d had for so many years, knelt in front of her. “Flora, you were married. Didn’t you and Henri ever argue?”

She thought back to their fiery fights, of which there were many. “Of course. But we never took the time to work through it. I’ve told you before, our marriage was not healthy.”

A wide grin brightened his face, and he stood when Aggie appeared at the top of the stairs, elegant in dark-green velvet. He spoke with warm candor. “Well, I’ve only been married a few weeks, but I know a sincere apology can go a long way. Start there and back it up with action when you get the chance.” Then he stepped up to meet his wife.