Chapter Three

New York City, 1902

Tuesday, Day Two

Morning

Bolt was awoken by the bright sunlight shining in through his curtainless window. It was a moment before the sleep cleared his mind, then he sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding, as he remembered the events of last night. He swallowed hard, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, praying it had all been a nightmare. The pain that he felt as soon as his hand made contact with the left side of his face assured him that it had indeed been real.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed, stumbling to the washbasin, and splashing water onto his face. He ran his wet hands through his unkempt dark hair, a halfhearted attempt to coax it to lay down flat. He studied his image in the small cracked mirror that hung on the wall, grimacing at the purplish bruise on his cheek. He was going to have a hard time explaining this one to his boss. Bolt made his meager living as a stock boy in Avery's Department Store, and his boss didn't tolerate anything.

He couldn't help but think, as little as he was paid for what he did, there should be some leeway with things like this. But of course, there was no leeway. And his miniscule pay was what had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place. But that wasn't something he wanted to be thinking about right now. Bolt reached for his comb, running it through his hair, and readying himself for work.

The sky was a grayish white when he left the house, a sign that the first snow of the season would be upon them soon. He turned his collar up, pulling his coat around him tighter to ward off the winter chill, as he walked the 3 blocks to Avery's. Usually he looked forward to his workday, if only because it gave him a chance to see Hannah, who worked the ribbon counter, even though it was only for a few moments in the morning, and at their lunch break.

It was where they had met, almost two years ago. Bolt smiled at the memory, forgetting the biting cold for a moment.

New York City, 1900

Avery's Department Store

Bolt pushed open the door to the alley with his foot, his hands occupied with the large empty crate he had just finished unloading. He dropped the crate next to several others which were waiting to be taken to the dump, turning back towards the side door just as it clicked shut. He made a face, he'd forgotten to prop the door open. The darn thing's lock was jammed, and if you forgot to prop it open, you'd get locked out. Bolt sighed, turning from the alley towards the street; he would have to go in through the store's main doors.

As he made his way towards the door, he saw a girl, maybe a year or two younger then him, standing outside the store glancing from a piece of paper in her hand up to the sign on the door. He held off a grin at the cute, confused expression on her face. He started to say something to her, when his senses came back to him, and he realized it wasn't his place. He lowered his head, giving her a wide berth, as he always did with customers. After all, they didn't want to interact with a common stock boy.

"Excuse me."

She spoke, and his heart skipped a beat. He looked back, expecting to see her addressing someone else, but no one was around. He could feel his cheeks color slightly when he realized she was talking to him, "Can I help you, miss?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you work here?" She spoke with a trace of a smile on her lips, and Bolt smiled back, as if he'd been smiling at this girl all his life.

"Yes, I do. How did you know?"

Her hinted smile blossomed into a full one, and Bolts heart skipped yet another beat. He swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his feelings. She gestured at the thick tan apron he was wearing, part of his uniform for the store. "Avery's" was embroidered across the chest in thick black lettering. "Oh. That." Now he knew his cheeks were red, embarrassed to be acting so stupid in front of her. She must have thought he was a complete idiot. "Yes, I do. But I'm not a salesman; I'm just a stock boy. I can find you a salesman if you'd like though." Thinking that must be what she was looking for.

"Oh, no, actually, I was hoping you could direct me to Mr. Morrison's office. I'm applying for the open position. He's looking for a new ribbon girl."

Understanding dawned on Bolt's face, and he smiled at her again, pushing open the glass door, and ushering her inside, "Of course, his office is on the third floor. When you see him, tell him Michael Shaw sent you for the position. He'll hire you on the spot."

"Are you Michael Shaw?" She asked, wrinkling her forehead slightly, in that same look of confusion she had worn earlier.

He grinned down at her, "No, Mr. Shaw is one of the partners. My name is Elijah, Elijah Henderson."

"Hannah Evans," She replied, offering her name, her eyes sparkling, "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Henderson."

"Please, call me Elijah."

"Alright, Elijah. Then you should call me Hannah."

Bolt pointed out the door to Mr. Morrison's office. "He's right through there, good luck, Hannah. And remember, Mr. Shaw sent you." He said, winking as he backed away.

Hannah grinned at him, before turning away, knocking lightly on the office door.

Bolt lowered his head against the wind, wishing it wasn't so cold. Or at least not so windy. He glanced up as he approached the store, smiling as he saw Hannah there, shivering in the cold, but waiting for him by the front door, like she always did.

"Hannah, you know you don't have to wait for me out here, it's too cold!"

Hannah grinned at him, teeth chattering, "Yeah, but if I have to hear about 'fraternizing with the stock boy' from Mr. Morrison again, I think I'll scream."

Bolt pulled her away from the glass doors, and any onlookers, before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "I missed you." He said into her hair. He had missed her, even though it had only been a night. Perhaps the feeling was magnified by his current situation, and the fact that he had no idea how to deal with it.

Hannah smiled, resting her head on his chest, and enjoying the warmth his body was providing. She loved the way she always felt so safe in his arms. So… right.

Bolt sighed, knowing he was going to have to go face Mr. Morrison. "I'd better go. I need to go talk to Mr. Morrison before he gets busy."

Hannah pulled back, smiling up at him. When her eyes fell across the bruise on his cheek, her smile quickly faded. "Elijah! What happened?!" She asked, brushing her fingers across his cheek.

Even the slight touch caused him to wince a little, involuntarily. "It's nothing. I just rolled off my bed this morning. Knocked against the night table." Bolt swallowed, hating the fact that he's just lied to her, but knowing she wouldn't understand the truth. He had to figure something out, and fast, he was down to 6 and a half more days.

Hannah's forehead wrinkled in concern, "Are you sure you're ok?"

Elijah couldn't help chuckling at her, as she worried over the bruise. It wasn't much of one, as bruises go, even though the kid had surprised him, there hadn't been a whole lot of power behind his punch. "Yes, I'm sure I'm ok. Give me a little credit, won't you? I'm a stock boy, didn't you know? We eat nails for breakfast."

Hannah laughed, squeezing his biceps playfully, "How could I have forgotten?"

"I'll see you at lunch?" He asked, his eyes still twinkling in mirth.

"Same time" She answered, entering the building before him, and making her way to the ribbon counter, to set up.