“It wasn’t that Iwouldn’t. It was that Icouldn’t.”
Charlotte knitted her brows together. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Arthur shouted.
Arthur’s words seemed to linger, reverberating off of the library’s walls. Both Arthur and Charlotte went quiet. And then the only sound left was thetick-tick-tickof the mantel clock and the crackling of wood in the fireplace.
“Arthur, Jesse was probably very hurt by you sending him away,” Charlotte said. “And, personally, I think you could have handled the whole thing better.”
Arthur clenched his teeth. Charlotte was right. Heknewshe was right. And he hated it.
“He’ll be fine,” Arthur said with a flick of his wrist. “Once he’s had some time to stew, he’ll come to the realization that I had no choicebutto send him away.” Charlotte crooked an eyebrow, and Arthur sighed. “Although, IsupposeI could have explained myself a bit better first. Or been a bit... kinder.”
He pursed his lips as the memory of their meeting replayed in his mind, but this time, with the knowledge that he hadn’t been one hundred percent in the right. He winced as he tried to view the same scene through Jesse’s eyes. Oh, he hadn’t been very nice to Jesse, had he? He hadn’tmeantto be cruel. He’d been stressed about the meeting. His stomach had been in knots for over a halfhour by the time Jesse had shown up, so much so that he’d barely even been able to eat the hors d’oeuvres. But Jesse hadn’t known that. How could he have?
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. “I have to apologize to him.” He lolled his head to the side to face Charlotte and reluctantly met her eyes. “Don’t I?”
“Yes,” she said. She patted his knee twice and removed her hand. “I’m afraid so.”
Groaning, Arthur turned away and began to bounce his leg. “I hope he forgives me.”
Arthur’s muscles tensed, unease crawling up his throat as he waited for Charlotte to reassure him.
But she stayed quiet instead.
***
On Saturday morning, Arthur showed up at Putnam Press and knocked. He waited for several minutes, fighting a shiver as the wind blew past, but still, no one came. Dread settled heavy in his stomach as he cupped his hands over the window to look inside, telling himself Jesse had probably been so preoccupied that he hadn’t heard the knocks. But no one was there. Arthur’s heart began to race.
Where was Jesse? Didn’t he need to start on the formes for the newspaper by now? Arthur needed to investigate, needed to see for himself whether Jesse had punched his time card into the clock earlier that morning. Arthur’s hands shook as he fumbled for hiskeys. He was trembling so badly that he barely managed to shove the brass into the lock, but eventually, his fingers steadied long enough for him to unlock the door.
Once inside, Arthur hurried over to the punch clock on the wall and began looking through the employee cards for Jesse’s name. It took some frantic searching—searching that involved tossing other men’s cards on the floor as he worked through them, even though he could have simply straightened each of them to read the names printed on the tops of the slightly curled papers—but he finally found it. Arthur’s eyes fell to the latest entry.
Friday, February 10, 1893
Time in: 07:10 a.m.
Time out: 11:22 p.m.
Arthur furrowed his brow. Jesse had worked late the previous evening. Extremely late. Did Jesse typically work until eleven on Fridays? Arthur couldn’t remember Jesse ever telling him that, if so. In fact, Arthur recalled Jesse saying that he was often the one who took care of the cooking and cleaning at home because his hours tended to be much more favorable than Giuseppe’s.
Which meant that Jesse must have stayed late intentionally.
Jesse was avoiding him.
The sinking feeling in Arthur’s stomach turned sharp, and the pain inflicted by the blade of regret nearly caused him to curl into a little ball right there in the middle of the print shop. Despite the fact that Arthur had already realized, thanks to Charlotte, that he’d handled Thursday evening’s situation poorly, he hadn’t realized justhowpoorly until now. Jesse must not have only been mildly irked by Arthur’s behavior—which, to him, must have read as either callous or cruel or both—but seriously hurt by it. Because Jesse O’Connor was not the type to shy away from conflict. Arthur had learned that after only a few minutes, or perhaps evenseconds, of their first meeting. Knowing what he knew about Jesse, Arthurhad expected Jesse to be waiting for him in the shop, if only to yell at him for how he had behaved. Arthur had expected Jesse to confront him, to demand that Arthur explain himself. But Arthur hadnotexpectedthis.
Arthur cupped a hand over his mouth. Good God, he needed to fix this.Now.
Arthur hurried out of the shop, only barely remembering to lock up before sprinting over to the spot where the streetcar stopped. Thankfully, he only needed to wait for five minutes before the next one came. As soon as it halted, Arthur hopped inside. He stayed toward the front for the entirety of the ride, holding onto one of the bars overhead while praying that Jesse would let him into his home so that he could explain himself.
When he reached his stop, he exited the streetcar and hurried toward Jesse’s home. He circled around to the back of Walsh’s Clothing before beginning to pound on the door with his fist, unable to bring himself to care whether people passing by on the street heard him or not. Neither did he care if patrons of the clothing shop heard him, or even Mrs. Walsh herself. If need be, Arthur would help Jesse and his friend find a new place to live. He had no patience for civility right now. What was most important was that he speak with Jesse so that they could move past the events of that horrible evening and beArthur and Jesseagain.
“Jesse!” Arthur cried out, still hammering his fist on the wood. “I need to speak with you!” He rotated his fist, first knocking with the side of his hand and then switching to his knuckles and then back to the first position, his heart slamming into his rib cage seemingly in time with his furious strikes. “Jesse! Come outside!”
After what felt like two or three minutes of frenzied knocking, Arthur heard footsteps on the stairs. He removed his hand as he waited for Jesse to answer, but he couldn’t keep the whole of hisenergy contained, and so he began to bounce on the balls of his feet.
Arthur’s muscles tensed when the handle finally turned.
