An uncertain road, p.1
An Uncertain Road, page 1
AN UNCERTAIN ROAD
ADVENTUROUS HEARTS
BOOK ONE
ABBEY DOWNEY
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Author’s Note
About the Author
Want more?
To Emilee, my wildflower, with hopes that you’ll grow to be strong, fight for your dreams, and rely on the Lord.
CHAPTER 1
June 1905
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
“Couldn’t you make it a few more blocks?”
As useless as it might be to talk to an automobile, doing so made Flora Montfort feel better about being stranded on the side of the street. She screwed the cap back onto the radiator and stepped away from the car as smoke billowed around her, covering her driving coat and hat with a fine layer of grime.
Sending a reassuring smile to her mother-in-law, Isabelle, who waited in the car, Flora blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, determined not to smear more grease on herself if she could help it. There certainly wouldn’t be enough time to scrub it off before joining the celebration dinner for her brother and his fiancée that evening. She and Isabelle had already missed the beginning due to several wrong turns she took on the way into town, but if they hurried, they could be there for the rest. Resisting the urge to kick her smoking, hissing automobile, she chewed on her lower lip as she tried to decide what to do.
“Flora, ma chère, can it be repaired?”
From her seat in the open touring car, Isabelle fanned a plume of smoke away from her face. Stately and elegant, Isabelle Montfort possessed features and a French accent so like Flora’s late husband Henri’s that she could envision how he would have been mocking her ineptitude by now. His mother, on the other hand, looked genuinely concerned, another confirmation that helping Isabelle start a new life in America was worth the immense effort of moving back to Flora’s home country. “Of course. No need to worry.”
While the statement was technically true, Flora couldn’t make the repairs alone on the side of the road. She examined her beloved Decauville again. The car had been a gift from Henri the year before his death, and she hoped it would be part of her new independent future. If they continued the drive, she risked permanent fatal damage to the engine. But the car was still running, even if it sounded rough. She was sure it was only a few more blocks to Owen’s house. After driving from New York City almost entirely on rutted dirt roads, couldn’t the car make it a bit farther?
As she glanced at Isabelle’s furrowed brow, resolve settled over Flora. She would get them to Owen’s house. She would find a way out of the mess Henri left them in. And she would see Isabelle live out the rest of her days in comfort, as the dear woman deserved to.
Flora returned to her seat. “I don’t have the tools to make repairs here, but I think it’s cooled off enough to finish the drive. For now, let’s get to Owen’s house so we can celebrate with him and Aggie. I’ll worry about fixing the car later.”
Setting the vehicle into motion, Flora spent the next few minutes praying that the Decauville would keep running. Four blocks to go. Three blocks. Two.
After the last turn, she released a sigh of relief. The lovely home Owen had described in his letters came into view. The Italianate-style house featured a magnificent square tower and the rustic stonework Owen had told her was common in the area. A wide, curved porch welcomed visitors to sit in the shade of the large trees that lined the street. The neighborhood was picturesque, perfect for a young couple preparing to start a family before long. A burst of pride warmed Flora’s heart. Her brother was proving already that he would care for his family better than Henri ever had.
Flora found a spot along the street to park the car and helped Isabelle step out onto the ground. By the time they turned to face the house, Owen and Aggie were standing outside the open front door with an older couple flanking them. If only there had been time to freshen up before facing the people who would be Owen’s new family. As it was, Flora smoothed her hair into place the best she could.
Her reluctance dissipated the moment her younger brother dashed forward and enveloped her in a hug. “Flora, you made it! I was worried.”
Crushed against his chest, Flora smiled at the concern in his voice. He was one of the few people who had ever worried about her. “The car overheated and forced us to stop. But I’m so thankful to be here now. I’ve missed you.”
They pulled apart, and Owen greeted Isabelle as if she was his own family. Then he led them to the porch, where Aggie and the older couple waited. Owen’s grin threatened to split his face as he slid his fiancée’s arm through the crook of his. “Flora, you remember my beautiful Aggie. And these are her parents, Albert and Mary Harrison.”
Mr. and Mrs. Harrison welcomed them with as much enthusiasm as Owen had. Aggie managed to slide her arm around Flora’s waist without untangling herself from Owen’s touch, the kind of feat easily managed by those in love. She was as beautiful as Flora remembered from their first meeting almost a year ago, sporting a spotless lace gown with her hair in a stylish swirled pompadour. But she was far from snobbish, despite the family’s obvious social standing.
Aggie pulled Flora close, her perfect features glowing. “I’m so glad you’re here, Flora. Having grown up with only brothers, you have no idea how thrilled I am to have a sister now.”
Flora couldn’t help but respond with a smile. “I only had brothers, too, so we’ll learn about sisterhood together.”
Aggie giggled as Owen led her toward the door. “Let’s not leave the rest of our guests waiting, shall we?”
Inside, voices from farther down the dim hall confirmed the presence of Aggie’s extended family and friends. Another moment of reticence hit Flora. “Owen, could Isabelle and I clean up before we join the party? I’m a mess after poking around in the car on the road.”
Instead of Owen’s, a different deep voice rang through the hall. “I suppose that’s why ladies shouldn’t poke around in cars.”
Needing to see who would be so rude before even meeting her, Flora stepped around Owen. She found herself looking up at a tall man, lean muscle filling out his tweed jacket and matching vest nicely. His hazel eyes held her gaze with no hint of shame over his unsociable behavior. This man might be quite good-looking, but he was also showing a distinct lack of modern thinking. Flora couldn't stand the insinuation that cars were only for men. She’d been fighting that common opinion ever since Henri first convinced her to get behind the steering wheel. He might have had selfish reasons for teaching her to drive, but she’d proven herself more than capable, despite being a female.
Before she could sort out which retort might let this fellow know her exact feelings on the matter, Aggie swatted the man on the arm and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Jensen. Just because you hate cars doesn’t mean no one else should drive them. It’s admirable for a woman to be self-sufficient enough to get where she needs to go.”
The man didn’t miss a beat, as if they’d already had this conversation more than once. “It’s not getting where she needs to go that’s the problem. It’s getting there safely. You know as well as I do that those machines are lethal.”
Waving him off with one hand, Aggie turned back to Flora. “Please, don’t mind Jensen. He’s like another brother, complete with overprotective instincts. Let’s pretend the meeting didn’t start this way and make introductions instead. Flora, this is Mr. Jensen Gable, my father’s right-hand man. He grew up with my brothers and me, so he’s as good as family. Jensen, may I present Owen’s sister, Mrs. Flora Montfort, recently from France, and her mother-in-law, Mrs. Isabelle Montfort?”
The others all acted as if Jensen had been eccentric rather than insulting, so making an attempt to be civil was probably the best way to keep from ruining Owen’s dinner. Flora summoned the best smile she could manage. “How do you do, Mr. Gable?”
Aggie beamed as if she’d solved a national crisis and clapped her hands together. “You must call him Jensen, Flora. We’ll all be family once Owen and I are married.”
Jensen nodded when Flora looked toward him for confirmation. “It’s nice to meet you, Jensen.”
Expectant silence filled the hall, but she refused to return the favor of allowing him to use her given name. She was done with letting men’s behavior go unchecked while she remained agreeable and pleasant. Until Owen’s wedding was past and he was settled, Flora would try to steer clear of this man and his incorrect opinion about cars and the women who enjoyed them.
Putting aside the awkwardness of Mrs. Montfort’s silent refusal to allow the use of her given name, Jensen offered a slight bow to greet the two ladies. But inside, he was dying to find out why the younger Mrs. Montfort had been working on a car on her way there. Owen had mentioned his sister was driving her own vehicle, worrying that an accident could be the cause of her delay. It turned out he was right to worry, as Jensen had assumed. Everyday driving was far too great a risk for anyone, much less two ladies alone in an unfamiliar state. Why was he the only one who saw that Owen was a fool to have let his sister do it?
As Owen gathered the newcomers to show them rooms where they could freshen up, Jensen couldn’t help examining Owen’s beloved sister. Along with Owen’s effusive praise for her intelligence, her resourcefulness, and her kindness, Jensen had heard of her adventure-seeking ways and how her late husband had taken her along on all sorts of dangerous ventures.
From that part of the description, he’d expected the type of cloying, fortune-seeking female he was used to seeing at auto races. There had always been a few women who craved the thrill of being with a man who risked his life for fame and glory. But they’d been easy to spot, always clinging to a top racer’s arm or following one around while gushing compliments in an effort to get his attention.
Now that she was in front of him, Mrs. Montfort appeared to be the exact opposite. He got a closer look as she passed him in the narrow hall, her head barely coming up to his shoulder and the skirt of her sensible plaid suit brushing his leg.
While she was quite pretty, her air of independent confidence and easy grace added to her compelling looks. But it was the flash of temper in her eyes when she glanced up at him that intrigued Jensen. The women who followed around race car drivers didn’t usually have strong opinions about much except wanting the men to notice them. He had a feeling Mrs. Montfort was bothered by his original statement and would have expressed her thoughts if it wasn’t for her brother and the Harrisons standing right there.
Why was he disappointed that she didn’t?
After the newcomers disappeared upstairs, Jensen followed the Harrisons back into the parlor, where family and friends had gathered to celebrate the upcoming nuptials. Jensen found a spot to stand next to Mrs. Harrison’s chair, where he always preferred to be during social events. Despite her failing mental condition, she often made more sense than anyone else in society.
Having shown his guests to their rooms, Owen soon returned, pausing by Jensen and regarding him with an expression that made Jensen’s throat go dry. He’d seen that look before. Owen was thinking about the family business and planning something that meant change. “You know, Jensen, I hate to bring up work during a party, but Mr. Harrison is set to make an announcement, and I wanted you to hear it before it’s public knowledge.”
Yes, this was going to be the conversation he’d been dreading. Jensen was aware enough of his shortcomings to recognize that he’d made a mess of every position Mr. Harrison had tried to put him in at his successful sporting goods store. Jensen wasn’t cut out for managing employees, for paperwork, for dealing with indecisive customers. He was cut out for one career, but that was out of the question.
Leveling a look straight into Owen’s eyes, Jensen waited for him to come out and say what he had to say. He’d been expecting this moment since Aggie announced her engagement and Mrs. Harrison’s health further declined.
Owen shuffled from one foot to the other, then drew a breath, as if gathering his wits. “Mr. Harrison and I are meeting Monday to work out the details of me taking over for him after Aggie and I return from our honeymoon. He’s ready to retire from running the company. But I’ll have to make a strong impression on the board. I can’t continue employing someone who isn’t helping us move forward, no matter how much I like him as a person.”
Jensen tried not to let Owen see how hard he had to swallow before he could respond. “I don’t hold any hard feelings. I knew I’d run out of chances at some point.”
Owen’s face scrunched in confusion. “Then why haven’t you found another job already?”
Was there a way to answer that wouldn’t dig up long-buried, painful secrets? That wouldn’t force him to admit he was only good at working on cars, but he could never touch one again?
A commotion at the door was the most fortunate distraction he could have imagined. The Montfort ladies swept into the room with Mr. Harrison, who began introducing them to the other guests.
Owen reached out to squeeze Jensen’s shoulder. “I didn’t want you to hear that news without me letting you know personally. But there’s more Mr. Harrison has to say and it might be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”
Owen joined his sister while Jensen let himself sag back against the ornate paper-covered wall.
From her seat, Mrs. Harrison reached up to slide her fingers into his. “My dear boy, I wish you didn’t have to struggle so.”
Doing his best to smile at the kind woman who’d stepped in when his mother died, Jensen nodded. “So do I.”
She cocked her head to one side, eyes far away in an expression he knew meant her mind wasn’t in the present moment. “Perhaps Gregory can help. He’s very good at running Albert’s store. He could teach you.”
Pain shot through Jensen so hard and fast that he couldn’t breathe for several heartbeats. As it always did on the rare occasions Gregory’s name came up, Jensen’s mind started playing memories of that day. As if it were happening in front of him, he saw the young errand boy, Sam Kelly, running toward him with the bad news. Twisted, torn metal at the site of the accident. Archie Franklin, Gregory’s rival in the race, smirking as he walked away unscathed.
Jensen squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain his composure. Mrs. Harrison didn’t know she’d brought up old hurts. If Gregory had been there, none of this would even be a problem. He would be running the store and Jensen could follow whatever dream he wanted. Instead, Gregory was dead, and Jensen was directionless. He’d spent the last five years trying to make up for Gregory’s absence—for his part in that tragedy—by helping to make Harrison Goods a success. But he was failing. Now Owen would take the reins of Harrison Goods and Jensen would be without a job, a failure in the eyes of the people he cared for most.
And all because of one stupid, youthful mistake.
“Oh, hello. Have we met?” Mrs. Harrison raised her voice, and Jensen finally forced his eyes open to find Mrs. Montfort standing nearby. She’d changed into a form-fitting lace gown, the light pink creating a dramatic contrast with her dark hair and eyes. But those chocolate pools were narrowed now, darting back and forth between him and Mrs. Harrison. Had she caught any part of the conversation? Did she know who Gregory was?
Thankfully, she didn’t ask. A gentle smile graced her face when she turned to Mrs. Harrison. “Why yes, but only for a moment. I’m Owen’s sister, Flora.”
Mrs. Harrison brightened. “From France!”
“Yes, that’s right.” Mrs. Montfort radiated compassion and grace, and Jensen’s heart warmed toward her. Anyone who took the time to be kind to Mary Harrison was worth keeping around.
Then Mrs. Montfort glanced up and met his gaze. Her smile flattened. Was she still angry about his comment earlier? He should probably apologize, but he’d meant it. No one ought to go poking around in an engine if they didn’t know what they were doing. Lives were on the line any time an automobile was involved. Why did he need to sugar-coat that reality?
He opened his mouth, searching for a truthful way to smooth it over with her, but the graceful tapping of silver on crystal caught their attention. Mr. Harrison stood at one end of the parlor with Owen next to him, beaming like a proud father. A pang hit Jensen without warning. He’d hoped Mr. Harrison would look at him like that when he took over Harrison Goods.
Silence fell over the room, and the family patriarch began his announcement. “As many of you know, Owen here has proven to be quite an asset to Harrison Goods. So much so that he’s agreed to take on the responsibilities I’ve shouldered for years so that I can retire by the end of the summer.”
