Free Nigh - Book 1 by Marie Bilodeau

Chapter 1
     
    The small gear popped out and tumbled to the floor,
the desk lamp lighting its fall before it vanished into the
darkness below the workbench.
    “Damn it!” Alva flicked back a sweat-dipped strand
of rust-coloured hair that escaped her braid, and crouched to find
the escapee. She felt under the workbench with oil stained fingers,
but calluses blocked any sensation resembling a small gear.
    “Argh, under-the-workbench gross.” She stood back
up, disgusted, wiping her hand on the leg of her blue
coveralls.
    “What’s that? You’re gonna clean under the
workbench?” Gruff’s voice boomed behind her.
    “Oh ya,” she turned, eyebrow raised. “Next thing
you’ll tell me, you expect me to mop the floors, too!”
    “Clean shop is a busy shop, Al.”
    She grinned. “It IS clean. Cleanest in town! As long
as you don’t look under the workbenches.” She sat on the stool, the
innards of the watch laid bare before her. Intricate little swirls
hugged gears and tumbled into small notches, so many that Alva
didn’t know where to start. Each tiny gear did so much, an
intricate system of metal and planning that turned time itself.
    She sighed and gently closed the watch. Gruff’s
dirty overalls blocked her peripheral vision. “I thought you were
gonna save your money to get that fixed, Al.” His voice was
uncharacteristically soft.
    “I need to save money for Pete’s school. Besides,
this isn’t gram’s watch.” She showed him the scratched, tarnished
cover. She’d kept her great gram’s watch in perfect condition, just
like her dad had before her.
    She shrugged. “I didn’t want to practice on the
original, but I thought that if I could practice on another watch,
then maybe… I don’t know. I don’t think my hands are young or
nimble enough anymore.”
    Gruff guffawed, throwing his head back, his
rebellious white hair swaying with his amusement. “If your hands
can’t handle the small stuff, we’re all in trouble!” He held up his
large hand, the right thumb tweaked to the side – it had never
healed right after a car had slipped off its jack and snapped
it.
    He sobered again. “You should keep trying. Maybe
you’ll repair finer things than cars someday!” He turned back to
finish his inventory.
    “I like repairing cars!” She screamed after him, but
he just waved back without answering.
    The garage had already been closed for a few hours.
Neither Alva nor Gruff were in any rush to get back home, him to an
empty nest, her to an empty home. Pete would be back tomorrow, at
least. She hoped the university visit had gone well. Her little
sister wasn’t one for disclosing information on the go. Probably
too lost in her own thoughts to think of texting Al.
    The main shop lights were off – drivers seemed drawn
like moths to a flame to a lit garage. Alva relied on a small desk
lamp.
    “All right,” she mumbled. “My dad built trains, I
fix cars, and now let’s go smaller and fix a watch. Let’s make this
happen!”
    She grabbed her flashlight and crouched again. She
imagined the grit under the bench would consist mostly of dirt and
maybe some food. Only the small metal gear should reflect the
light. Well, she hoped there weren’t too many sharp and pointy
things under there, anyway.
    The light beamed and blinded her for a second. She
placed her cheek against the cold concrete floor, following the
beam. Most of it looked like small rocks, probably all the crap the
city threw on the roads during ice season.
    A piece reflected the light. “Gotcha,” she said,
reaching in to sweep forward everything in that vicinity. She
reached as far as she could, practically wedging her shoulder under
the bench. She extended her fingers as far as possible, but just as
she lowered her hand, something sharp pricked her.
    “Son of a…” she jerked back, knocking into the bench
and throwing herself back. A hammer landed near her head.
    “You okay?” Gruff called from the parts room.
    “Ya, I’m