Intersection

This story is by Kimberly Keagan and was part of our 2024 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

June 21, 1916

Cambridge, Massachusetts

“Your future awaits you, a horizon bright with possibilities.” The commencement speaker’s voice echoed through the auditorium and carried a flair for the dramatic.

Lilla Randolph struggled to stifle a snort of disbelief. The words rang hollow to her cynical ears. What did he know, a dean from another college —a man whose fate was his own? Her future was a road trip with no map, on pavement with potholes the size of New Jersey. From her seat on the stage, she scanned the dimly lit audience. Not one person out there related to her.

Lilla’s gaze landed on the handsome face of Rett Stone, the twin of a fellow Radcliffe graduate. A Harvard man with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and an athlete’s build—a favorite escort among her classmates. He’d even courted Lilla their sophomore year. When she’d confronted him regarding the rumors of another woman, he’d looked her in the eyes and said, “Don’t believe everything you hear, Lilla.”

But she had, and still felt the pangs of regret for not trusting him. For not trusting herself to know the right path to take.

Sixty agonizing minutes of boring speeches later and degree in hand, Lilla stepped out of the amphitheater. She shielded her eyes against the noon sun. Mothers and fathers dotted the lawn, their faces awash with pride. Most wanted their daughters to now marry and settle down. College could put strange ideas into a young woman’s head.

Truth be told, these graduates longed for the same thing as their parents. Seven of the graduating class already sported sparkling engagement rings. In fact, of the one hundred and six girls who entered as freshmen four years earlier, nine dropped out early to marry.

All Lilla had to do was examine her own parents’ relationship to see that marriage was not a desirable condition to spend one’s life in.

She skirted past a table set up to support the war effort in Europe but stopped when a volunteer asked if she’d like to help. Lilla already packed comfort bags for French soldiers. Father gave money to the Red Cross. “My family provides supplies. What else can we do?”

The woman manning the table picked up a pamphlet. “France is in desperate need of drivers and vehicles. Organizations like the American Fund for French Wounded are helping in that effort. Do you have a brother who owns a motorcar?”

Lilla shook her head but took the information anyway. She strode away from the table and across the lawn, stripping off the heavy black gown with each step. Her stomach clenched and beads of sweat ran down her back. With a silent petition to God, she begged for direction in her life.

In the parking lot, her eyes landed on Annie, who gleamed in the afternoon light. Picking up the hem of her skirt, Lilla jogged the last few steps to the only thing in the world that brought her a sense of freedom.

She ran a hand across Annie’s candy-apple-red hood. The motorcar was a birthday present—or a guilt payment—from her father who’d been in Switzerland with his second wife for the past year.

Lilla threw the AFFW pamphlet and her gown on the leather front seat on top of a folded newspaper. With a shaking hand, she reached over the door, flipped the ignition switch, and lifted a lever on the steering column to get the fuel flowing to the carburetor. She moved to the front of the car and positioned the hand crank. Gripping the handle with determination, she turned the metal rod in a clockwise direction.

The engine sputtered to life, and the heady odor of gasoline hung in the humid air. With a whoop, Lilla hopped into her motor car and adjusted the throttle, feeling the power of the machine beneath her fingertips.

She jumped when something tapped her shoulder.

Rett. If only she’d gotten Annie started two minutes earlier.

He leaned on the door. “Hello there. Where you headed?”

“Home.” The bay rum after shave he favored tickled Lilla’s nose.

“Really?” His head tipped to the newspaper peeking out from underneath her graduation gown.

New York Socialite Marries Man Half Her Age the headline screamed.

Lilla pulled black fabric over the offending paper. “No, I guess I can’t go home.”

“Do you know your mother’s new husband?”

Lilla’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes closed for the briefest of moments. “This article is the first I’ve heard of him.”

Rett hesitated. “He’s reputed to be a gold-digger who targets the newly divorced.”

Stupid, stupid woman.

Rett placed a warm hand on Lilla’s shoulder. “If you slide over, I’ll take you to lunch. You look like you could use some company right now.”

Lilla considered her options. Lunch with Rett seemed the lesser of the evils. “All right, but no one drives this car but me.”

Rett gave Annie an appreciative look. “It was worth a try.” He rounded the hood and opened the passenger side door.

Lilla grabbed the newspaper and gown and tossed them in the back seat.

“Where should we go?” he asked. He shifted and ran his arm along the back of the seat. His fingers lay within inches of Lilla’s neck, causing her breath to quicken.

“Let’s go to the park. You can buy me an ice cream.”

Twenty minutes later, vanilla cones in hand, they walked the quiet tree-lined commons. Ice cream dripped onto Lilla’s finger, and she swiped at the cool sweetness with her tongue.

Rett tipped his head to a park bench. “Let’s sit over there.”

Minutes ticked by as they sat in companionable silence and finished their treat. Lilla couldn’t remember the last time she’d been anywhere just for the enjoyment of it. She glanced at Rett whose face was tipped to the sun. When they’d been together, he’d mentioned that his father wanted him to join the family firm. “Aren’t you starting law school in the fall?”

Rett turned and picked up her hand from her lap. He laced his strong fingers through hers.

Lilla groaned inwardly and hoped she’d sufficiently washed all the grease from her fingernails that morning.

“I’m going to France in two weeks.” Gone was Rett’s teasing grin.

France? In the middle of a war? Her eyebrows lifted. “Really? There can’t be a lot of social activities going on in Paris right now.”

Rett chuckled and squeezed her hand. “You are a treasure, Lilla. Always putting me in my place.” He brushed her knuckles with a light kiss. “I’ve joined the American Ambulance Field Service.”

Lilla’s stomach dipped at the thought of Rett an ocean away. Tears threatened, and she cleared her throat. “I’d better drive you home. Your mother will be upset if your late for your sister’s graduation dinner.”

In the circular driveway of his parents’ red-brick Georgian colonial, Rett’s eyes searched Lilla’s face. “What are you going to do with yourself, now that you have no books to study?”

The million-dollar question. “I don’t know.”

“Will you come see me before I leave for Bordeaux?” He winked at her. “I can imagine the scene, with you giving me a teary-eyed goodbye kiss.”

“In your dreams, Stone.”

“And on that note….” Rett unfolded his long legs and exited the motor car. With a salute, he shut the door, then hesitated. The AFFW pamphlet stuck up from folds of the leather seat he’d vacated. “What’s this?” He bent over and snagged the literature before Lilla could get her hand on it.

“Oh,” her voice dripped with nonchalance, “the AFFW is looking for drivers with their own motorcars to go to France. They need people to deliver hospital supplies.”

Rett nodded. “My cousin Jane joined up, much to my aunt’s dismay.”

The front door of his parents’ home opened, and his mother lifted her hand in a wave.

With a small smile, Rett passed the pamphlet to Lilla. “I’d better go in.”

Lilla’s eyes trailed him as he strode up the walkway. He turned and gave her a charming grin before retreating into the house.

She looked at the brochure in her hand. Her heart thumped faster and faster.

Was this the answer to her prayer?

In her swirling head, she could hear her father’s voice telling her he forbade it.

But he wasn’t here, was he?

She took a peek at Rett’s family home. Rett stood at the picture window. Even from here, she could see his face. She imagined his blue eyes twinkling and his black-winged eyebrows lifted. Daring her.

She patted Annie’s steering wheel. “Well, girl, how do you feel about Paris?”

Annie purred her response.