Page 18 of An Uncertain Road

Fred nodded, looking cheered that Jensen understood his plight. “Yes, exactly. I get time alone when I’m studying or preparing sermons, and once we move into the parsonage the church will provide, I imagine there will be a little space to spread out and pursue our separate interests a bit.”

The mention of Fred’s job reminded Jensen of the situation awaiting him when he returned from this trip. “Are you looking forward to starting your ministry after this is over?”

“Very much. There’s plenty to be anxious about when I think about being responsible for a congregation, but I’m glad I finally get the chance to do the Lord’s work.”

Jensen considered the term for a moment. He’d heard it before but never thought of what it might mean for him. Was there some work he should be doing for the Lord? He couldn’t even figure out what he was good enough at to eke out a living. It was doubtful he would ever have the chance to do something that would benefit anyone else’s spiritual life.

As if realizing there was more to the question than friendly interest, Fred fixed his gaze on Jensen. “Father told me about what’s happening at the store. How do you feel about the fact that working at Harrison Goods has been such a struggle?”

“I’ve felt better about a lot of things.”

Fred frowned. “You don’t have to be glib with me, Jensen. I’m your friend, and I want to know what’s changed in your life. You aren’t the smiling, caring man you were when I was growing up and watched you and Gregory start your careers. Has working at Harrison Goods taken that out of you?”

No, Gregory did. Thank goodness Jensen hadn’t spoken the words out loud. He appreciated the rest of the Harrison family’s unspoken agreement not to talk about Gregory. They shied away from reference to his name or the accident. It was hard not to bring up the man who’d been such a big part of his life, but at least if no one mentioned him, Jensen’s secrets were more likely to stay that way and not rip the family apart. “It’s not as bad as that. It’s a solid, secure job.”

“That doesn’t mean it provides any benefit to your life, though. Father said he intended to give you a position long enough to find something you enjoy more. Have you any thoughts about what that might be?”

How had he gotten wrapped up in this conversation instead of chatting about the weather or something else similarly innocuous? Jensen shook his head and pushed up from the chair. “I don’t know, Fred, and I can’t think about it when I’m tired. I’m going to get some rest now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Fred wished him a good night, but Jensen could feel his friend’s curious eyes drilling into his back until the stairs curved and hid him from view of the lobby. He prepared himself for a long night. He might not find much sleep in his room, but at least he wouldn’t have to discuss his problems with anyone for a few hours.

CHAPTER 9

The first day of the tour dawned sunny and clear, and Flora should have been excited. Even though it had been two days since the Coney Island trip, the morning light brought all the conflicting moments from that day back to her. It had occurred to her in the hours she’d spent watching Jensen go over the car in meticulous detail in the hotel garage that when he turned into the gruffer version of himself, he was working through something in his mind. If only he would tell her what those things were. If he’d allow it, there was a good chance she could help him without their conversation devolving into a petty argument.

The end of that day in Coney Island—when she’d walked with Jensen under the amazing lights of Luna Park, before their dinner with Fred and Beth—had glued itself into Flora’s mind as one of the most beautiful moments of her life. Even now, as she twisted her hair up and secured it with enough pins to keep it tightly under her hat, her heart thumped hard at the memory of his closeness, their hands brushing as they walked.

Of course, that led to remembering the intense moment before she’d tasted that horrible cheese. And then his kindness to her the rest of the day. Laughing together at the vaudeville show. So far, she’d enjoyed his company far more on this trip than she would ever have imagined a few weeks ago.

But what would the race bring? Would the sullen version of Jensen show up today, filled with worry about things he couldn't control?

Pressing a wide-brimmed hat onto her head, Flora secured it with a bow under her chin and gave herself one last appraisal in the mirror. Her favorite lightweight driving jacket was mostly wrinkle-free, and she appeared ready for a day of driving. If only she could calm her nerves so she might feel as put-together as she looked.

Joining the others in the lobby, Flora nodded to them all in greeting. She’d keep the weight of such an important event to herself. Jensen hardly met her eyes, while Beth and Fred filled in enough conversation for all four of them. It would be a very long race indeed if this continued for the entire ten days.

They loaded into the car, and Flora navigated through the busy city to the Automobile Club of America headquarters at 58th Street and Fifth Avenue, where the race would start. Spectators and team members were everywhere when they arrived. Flora eased the Decauville into a spot at the end of a line of cars that had already formed. While Beth and Fred wandered off to look at the other cars, Jensen opened the hood to check everything over one last time. Flora leaned against the driver’s side door, taking in all the pre-race activity.

It had been so long since she’d experienced the thrill and tension of the moments before a race started. She counted more than thirty other cars. Hoping to ease the strangeness between them, she mentioned a few standouts to Jensen. “This is a solid field of competitors. There are at least three Pierce-Arrows, a few White Steamers, Packards, and Napiers. The Decauville can run right with any of those.”

He offered a grunt while his face remained buried in the engine. Flora fought the urge to grab his shoulder and turn him to see the most beautiful automobile in the group. “You should see this stunning black Panhard et Levassor. The wood trim is so elegant compared to all the other cars. What a machine.”

He didn’t respond, clearly not sharing her passion for the fine collection of cars around them. She turned her attention to the people. Drivers, mechanics, and riders were all milling around, admiring each other’s vehicles and answering questions from the gathered spectators. Flora watched it all from her spot, not sure whether to mingle with the other teams or not. In France, race teams hadn’t always been friendly with each other. What would the atmosphere be like here?

A man with a badge marking him as an official for the race walked over and glanced at a page in his hand. He turned to Jensen. “This is the Decauville driven by an F. Montfort?”

F. Montfort? Flora straightened. Mr. Harrison hadn’t put her full name on the application? Jensen kept his eyes on the official as he stepped between the man and Flora. “Yes, it is.”

At least it wasn’t a lie. But did the man think he was speaking to F. Montfort? He checked off a spot on the paper, then pulled a thick packet from the bag on his shoulder. “Included here is your car number. Affix it in a visible place, please. You’ll also find maps, descriptions of the designated route, details about lodging, and other important information. Please don’t lose these items. The race starts in twenty minutes.”

Flora started to speak up, but Jensen grabbed the packet and thanked the official while he strode toward the next team. She speared Jensen with her gaze. “Why did you talk over me? Someone needs to correct the assumption that you’re F. Montfort.”

Jensen handed her the packet while shaking his head. “No, we don’t. I don’t know why Mr. Harrison made that choice, but look around. How many other women do you see?”

Without even glancing at the groups scattered among the cars, she knew what he meant. There were only a handful of women with the teams, and most of them were already sitting in the back seat of a car. They weren’t the drivers. “It could turn out to be a benefit that he did it this way. A female driver might very well have been denied entry.”

As much as Flora hated it, he was right. Hadn’t she had the same issue in France? Henri had even gone so far as to sign up with his name as the driver, then switch seats with her at the last moment. “But everyone will realize soon enough.”

Jensen shrugged. “Let’s see if they’re willing to take that stand here in front of these crowds with all the publicity that’s on the line.”