I seldom sleep late, especially when I am not in Brooklyn, so it was no surprise that I awoke before Katja. As I sat up I took the opportunity to study Katja as she slept. I have been around long enough to recognize the signs of living on the streets-the face pale with hunger and the lean frame, circles under the eyes from lack of sleep, a layer of dirt on the hands that takes more than a bath to remove. My poor Katja had obviously had a rough go of it, and it broke my heart and strengthened my resolve to get that guy. Deciding to let her rest, I arose and washed up before heading downstairs. Most of the girls were still with customers or already asleep-only Emma and a girl I didn't know were in the lobby. I stepped outside, picked up a paper from Specs just outside, noted the cloak by the door, and smiled before settling in to read the paper and wait for her to come down.
I had expected Katja to sleep longer, but she came down not much later. She was thinking too much, but I snapped her out of it, ready to get back to Brooklyn and establish some normalcy that a whorehouse could not provide.
"Let's get out of here," I said. "We can get some breakfast on the way." As she moved to open the door I gestured to the pegs. "You forgot your cloak."
"Whose is it? Where did you get it?" she asked as she slipped it on. It looked lovely on her, and I could tell she liked it as she touched the trim cautiously.
"It suits you," I dodged. I grabbed her pillowcase with a few items in it, and we headed out. The pace was slow; Katja was weaker than I remembered. She was paler, too, now that I was looking at her in proper daylight. It brought out all of the protective instincts in me, and that coupled with the lingering disbelief that she was back with me made me stick close to her side. As we crossed the bridge, we stopped again.
"You ever yelled over the side?" I asked, and she shook her head, giving me a dumbfounded look.
"Every kid's gotta do it once," I said.
"Are we still kids?" she asked, sounding both very small and somehow so old as she said it. It made me sad to think how much her childhood innocence had been torn violently from her.
"Today we are," I answered, grabbing her hand. "C'mon, it's fun." We leaned over the side and yelled. It felt good to let out some of that pent up stress, and I could tell she felt the same way. After getting a few dirty looks from a few pedestrians, we continued on. Just as we neared the Brooklyn side of the bridge, I spotted Red coming towards us, and Katja smiled as she saw him.
"Cat!" he yelled, and before I could stop him, he had grabbed her in a big hug. Her reaction was instantaneous. She began trashing and shrieking in his arms, and he jumped away as if she had burned him. I jumped between them, grabbing Katja's hands and guiding her to sit back against the bridge railing. She had stopped breathing again.
I held her hands and murmured reassurances as I knelt in front of her. I was grateful to see she had started breathing. It took a minute or two for her face to clear, and once she was aware of where she was I pulled her to her feet. I didn't want to give her time to dwell on the episode. She took a breath and stood there shaking.
"Look at me, Katja," I said, hoping she was able to process simple language. She took another shuddering breath, then met my eyes. I looked at her for a few moments, wanting to be sure I saw my Katja behind those fear-filled green eyes. I could see her return to a more normal state, but I didn't break the gaze, even as Red moved in to apologize.
"Not your fault," I interrupted him before he could say anything to upset Katja. It really wasn't his fault-I should have been more prepared for this. "Go tell everyone that Cat's back, but tell them no hugs." I should have sent that message ahead, but I knew Red would make sure it spread quickly, especially after this. At my words, Katja looked back down at the street.
"Look at me, Katja," I commanded again gently, and she complied. "This wasn't your fault, either." I reassured her that this was no big deal, all the while willing her to understand what I was saying.
"Red," she gasped out, and I realized she felt guilty.
"He didn't know. Hell, you didn't know. I should have suspected. He'll understand, Cat."
She nodded and straightened, and I released her to gather herself. She almost instantly reached out and grabbed my hand as if it were a lifeline. Maybe it was-if that's what she needed, that's what she would get. I gave her a small squeeze, and we turned back toward the end of the bridge. We hadn't gone two steps when Jimmy came rushing to meet us, Roller trailing behind. The dog barrelled into her, nearly knocking her down, and she knelt to embrace him. This time he did knock her down, but since she was still glued to my hand I simply hauled her to her feet. She was laughing, and I am pretty sure that dog will forever have a special place in my heart for making her laugh in that moment.
Roller had reached us at that moment, and before I could stop him he had thrown his little arms around Katja. I moved to haul him away, but Katja seemed okay. I met her gaze, saw she was alright, and shrugged. If she was okay, who was I to argue?
The kid was babbling now. I had to intervene.
"Whoa, kid, slow down!"
He did, looking up at me with an apologetic expression.
"I missed you, too, Roller," Katja said, and she began to cry, hugging the boy. Well, even if I couldn't hug her, at least she could take comfort from the kid. I gave her hand another squeeze and looked on helplessly as the tears flowed. I hate when girls cry, even if I could tell that these were happy tears. Ace and Greasefoot jogged up then, and it was their greeting, as natural as if she'd only been gone a day, that helped set us all at ease.
As the afternoon progressed, the boys trickled in-some between editions, some after selling out, and some just calling it a day-and checked in on Katja. She had been bundled in some blankets by Silver and, though she didn't realize it, looked like a queen holding court as the boys all waited for a turn to chat with her. They really loved her. I held back, wanting her to have some normalcy and knowing that the boys were almost as happy as I was to have her back. She was just so loved that everyone wanted a piece of her-she always had been. The boys kept her fed, warm, and entertained, which was probably the best thing that could have happened to her for now. I just stayed nearby.
"So what happened?" Red came up behind me, startling me. I hadn't realized I'd been staring at Katja until his voice snapped me back to reality.
"She's been through a lot," I answered vaguely. "Most of it bad. Something made her react to being hugged tightly. She did the same thing to me. It wasn't your fault." I knew that was what he was asking.
"So other than that . . . " he trailed off, but the question was implicit. Was there anything else that would be problematic?
"Not sure yet," I answered. "I think we should keep an eye on her, but probably best to also give her space, especially physically. The last two months have been so hard on her, and she never really processed her father. I'd imagine she has a tough road ahead, but all we can do is take it one day at a time."
He nodded, following my gaze over to where Katja was talking with Sam. He had brought her a small sandwich, but she was only nibbling at it. That worried me, too. With as little as she had eaten in the previous weeks, she had lost a lot of weight and, to my mind, was dangerously thin. I knew it would take time for her to regain her normal weight and eating habits, but she had hardly eaten anything all day, and with all the walking we had done, I was worried about how little she had eaten.
It was clear Red's mind was similarly occupied when he observed that she wasn't really eating.
"She really needs to eat," he murmured and stood up. "Maybe that's something I can help with." I grinned up at him, then resumed my vigil, though I did remember to send the boys down to lessons. It was one of those rowdy nights, and things were getting louder. I was just thinking that Katja looked tired when Ace beat me to the punch. Katja stood, looking a bit lost, then seemed to shake it off and headed upstairs, calling goodnight to the boys. I saw through her bravado, though. I set the house and neighborhood watch for the night, then headed upstairs myself. I was grabbing my things for the morning, when I heard her tentative voice next door.
"Spot?"
"Yeah, Cat, I'm here," I said, stepping through the adjoining door into her room "I was just getting set for tomorrow. You turning in?" She nodded. "You gonna be okay?" I asked, looking at her lost expression.
"I don't know," she said, and I nodded. That made sense. I figured she would need some time to sort through her feelings. This wasn't home to her the way it was to me, so it was only natural that she would be nervous.
"I'll be next door reading," I said, hoping to reassure her. "Call if you want some company or if you need anything." She just nodded again, and I returned to my room. I settled onto my bed with a book, but for the first bit I was listening to make sure she had settled. Once both she and the dog were quiet and seemed to have nodded off, I headed downstairs to wash up and check in with Flex, the boy on house watch for the night before turning in myself.
I have a pretty good sixth sense, and it was this that woke me sometime around four am. I listened closely and heard a soft whimpering coming from the room next door. Katja was dreaming. I could tell the moment she woke up and heard her breathing heavily. I threw on some clothes, then walked over to the door.
"Cat?" I asked. "You okay?" She nodded, but her inability to look at me gave lie to the nod. I sat down beside her. "You want to talk about it?" I asked.
"I was just worrying about today," she said. She was chewing on her bottom lip and hugged her knees as she continued, "I am guessing I don't have my job anymore; even if I do, I don't know if I can work for Antonio again. What if he—"
"You are never going back there," I interrupted. "I won't let him near you." God, after all that, did she really think I expected her to just go to work as if nothing had happened? Did she really think I would let him near her?
"I just thought he might try to take me back there," she whispered.
"Where? Can you tell me about any of it?" I prompted, hoping she would open up about what she had experienced over the last few weeks.
Cat took a shuddering breath, then began to speak. At first her voice was a bit tremulous, but as she spoke the words came faster and the tremor stopped. She described the place and her feelings as that bastard pressured her and how he would take advantage of her. As she spoke tears fell, but I forced myself to stay quiet and just listen. I wanted to punch the wall, I wanted to wrap her in my arms, I wanted to yell and throw things, and I wanted to kill Santorelli with my bare hands. But I sat still, forcing myself to understand what she had been through. She described her utter faith in me, and it was all I could do to stay still. She had been counting on me, and I had let her down.
"I thought maybe that way I could see you again someday without getting you in trouble. I though maybe someday . . . " she trailed off. God. She had wanted to take a job as a prostitute just to see me again. I didn't know my heart could break any more, but somehow it did-in fact, what little was left shattered. "I guess I just thought that maybe if I tried hard enough, I could make everything okay and that somehow you would show up and make everything okay," she finished after a long silence.
"God, Cat," I managed. "I just—" I ran my hand through my hair. I had no idea what to say or even what to think. How could I have thought I could protect her? Her faith in me was so misplaced. I had let her down in the worst way possible-the biggest letdown in the history of mankind. I struggled to think of what I could say to her, why I deserved to even have her beside me when I felt her arms come around me. She leaned into me, and somehow I found myself laying on my back, her head in the crook of my right shoulder, my left hand holding her right on my chest.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. I had fancied myself a king, a leader. Some leader I was. Yet after all this she blamed herself and was apologizing to me? No way.
"No, Katja. Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. None of that was your fault. Nothing. It was mine. I should never have let you out of my sight. I should have found you. I should have . . . " I don't know what I should have, but she would NOT be allowed to think any of this was her fault. My throat constricted, and I fell silent.
"Spot?" she asked, and I tightened my arms around her, unable to speak. "Can we just forget about all of it? Can we just pretend that it never happened?"
"We can try," I managed to answer, taking comfort in the thought.
