After the police left, Red and I began discussing and planning. We decided that the best option would be for Katja to stay with us for a bit, and we had plenty of storage space in the attic for her things. Red had just come up with a plan to get a wagon and a bunch of the boys over here when Katja woke up. I led her over to the settee and explained our plan. It was obvious that she was confused-after all, she had been through a lot and had just woken up-but I didn't give her time to process too much. I needed her to keep moving, and I needed to keep moving. Besides, time was short. She looked around in confusion, as if searching for someone. It dawned on me that she wasn't used to making a lot of decisions and that she was searching for her father for advice. I lifted her chin so she would look at me.
"I know this is hard, Darlin, but I'm here. Let me help you," I said, hoping she would understand that I really am good at this stuff and that she could trust me. She seemed to consider for a moment before nodding, and I in turn nodded over to Red before reminding him to take the dog. He would only be a distraction for Katja as she made her last memories here. As she washed up and dressed, I took the time to gather the documents and anything else we would need. When she came out, she spent several minutes in each room, just staring around. She fingered a chip in the doorframe, the ghost of a smile gracing her face as she obviously relived a happy moment. She nearly burst into tears as she looked at the notches measuring her growth, and I couldn't help but feel my own breath catch at that. The notch from nearly two years ago when we'd officially met was two inches below her current height. Had we really grown that much? Here were her parents' hopes for her, carved onto the wall-each notch a testimony to the love that had existed in the time since the prior one, each one speaking of the excitement for a shared future that would never come.
I gripped the tip of the cane in my suspenders tightly as I watched the emotions flick across her face until finally that face crumpled and she burst into tears. I stepped over and drew her to me, holding her as the front of my shirt gradually soaked through with her tears. She cried for some time, and I just held her, trying not to think too much. Eventually the tears subsided, and she pulled back, took a deep breath, and threw her shoulders back.
"Let's go," she whispered, and as her eyes swept the room one last time, I guided her out the door, locking it behind me. Red was just arriving with the boys, so I gave him the key and led Katja away quickly. There were so many things to be done, and if there's one thing I am good at, it's getting things done. Well, that and fighting, but that's not the point right now. I headed over to the family lawyer, posing as her older cousin Tommy. I was so grateful for all I had learned under Mr. Donovan-I was able to make sure the man was fair and honest. As he was a cut rate lawyer with a shifty look, I was glad of it. I couldn't do much about the debt to Katja's boss, but otherwise I was pretty sure most things would be settled quickly. Then we headed to the bank, where I closed out the accounts, talking about Katja's new life with me over in the Bronx. I can't fake a Boston accent, after all, but the Bronx is far enough away from Brooklyn that it makes sense to close out the accounts. There wasn't much in there, but we pulled it all out. It was at the undertaker that things got hard. We paid for Alfred's name to be put on the headstone he had saved so hard to buy and made arrangements for the burial.
Because it was safer not to have a funeral, this last visit, ostensibly to identify the body, would have to serve in its place. I went in first, mostly to make sure it would be okay for her to see him like this, but also to pay my own respects. I won't tell anyone what I said to Mr. Fischer-there were things he and I discussed that were just between us, and I wanted to thank him and get my closure. I will admit that I cried. I was going to miss him so much; he was the closest thing to a parent I had ever really known. Then it was Katja's turn. I stayed with her for a few minutes, and then quietly excused myself to just outside the door. I stood there listening, staying out of the way until Katja kind of broke down. Then I stepped in, and together we waited until she was calm. She said a prayer and a few things in German, and we left.
We had a quiet meal, though Katja hardly touched her food, and then headed back to the lodging house. For me, the familiarity of it was comforting, but it was all obviously bewildering to poor Katja.
"Have you ever spent the night away from home?" I finally ventured, mostly to break the silence that had taken hold. She shook her head, and I began talking, describing the various places I had stayed over the years-the orphanages, the lodging houses, the streets, abandoned places I had found . . . . Mostly I tried to fill the silence. I got little response from Katja, but at least she had an option other than being lost in her thoughts if she wanted it.
Once at the lodging house I showed her where to sign in and our process before taking her up to the small room next to mine. There are a few private rooms here, and none of the boys have wanted to intrude on my space by taking this one, so it's been empty lately. Most of the boys stay in the bunkroom anyway. It's cheaper. Mrs. Kirby doesn't charge me for the private rooms since I do so much, so I figure Cat can just stay here on my dime and pay the bunkroom fee. I gave her a quick rundown of the way things ran around here, and I could see she was trying to speak. Her mouth opened, then closed.
"We get up early, but I'll tell the boys to keep it down. If you need anything at any time, you come get me. I'll be around when you get up in the morning, and I can start showing you around the area, and then I can walk you to work. If you need something and for some reason I'm not here, the closest seller is Lefty, and he and Trip will be just at the end of the bridge. They can help ya or they can find me," I said, hoping that giving her another minute would help. It didn't. She just nodded. It broke my heart to see her looking so lost and so frightened.
"Cat, if you can't go to work, you don't have to. We can find you something else. But I think it might help to keep busy." I looked at her intently as she sat on the bed. "I'll leave ya alone, now. Wake me if you need anything." I walked over and kissed her forehead, then left her to her thoughts. I had only walked two steps when I heard Katja yank open the door I had just closed. I turned and saw the wild panic in her eyes. What-?
"I just—" she faltered, having no idea how lovely the sound of her voice was at that moment. "Where are you going?"
"The boys will be coming in soon. I like to make sure they all made it back okay and check in with them down in the lounge. I have to make sure the younger ones got to their lessons, and I have to make sure everyone is okay on money. At nights I make my rounds in the neighborhood. Do you want to come down and sit with the boys?" I asked, hoping she would. It would help her to be around people.
"I—I don't know," she said, tearing up again.
"Hey," I said gently. "Nobody expects you to be sociable right now. The boys have all lost someone. They're pretty understanding."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to feel sorry for myself. I'll pull myself together and come down. If the boys can be strong, so can I," she said, but her gaze down told a different story. I did what I usually do-put my fingers under her chin and lifted her face to mine. I wanted her to understand.
"None of that looking down," I said. "And you don't compare yourself to them. Everyone handles things differently. These guys won't judge you for crying. They all do it—usually to Red because they think I'll judge them for it, but some of them to me—especially before I was the leader. We all cry, especially when we lose people we love." I realized that my own emotions were getting to me now. She must have seen it, because she moved in to giv me a hug. I rested my chin on the top of her head. "Your pa was special to me, you know," I added, and she nodded.
"So what do we do now?" she asked.
"We keep going. We support each other—the boys, us, your friends . . . " I said. It's the same answer I have always given, and it has never been more true.
"So I guess we should go downstairs?" she asked, biting her lip.
"I need to. You don't have to if you don't want to."
"Can I just sit downstairs? Maybe in a corner?"
"If you're up to it. If not, don't worry about it," I said. She nodded again-I swear she looks like a marionette with all the nodding she's done today-and followed me downstairs. I tried to let her figure out what to do with herself while I made my rounds. I had missed them last night, so it was important. See, I can't check in with everyone every day, so we have informal teams-two or three older and more reliable newsies assigned to each group. If it's nice out and people want to spend the night on the streets, the team leader knows where they are so the night watch can help keep an eye on them. If they made other arrangements like Ms. Cara's or a friend's, I like to know they aren't missing. Group leaders also help keep the peace in the borough, invoking my name as needed. I was talking to Brown, who assured me that all of his team had made it back that night, and Ace, who told me of a scuffle between a bootblack and one of the younger boys. The bootblack had come away the winner, but Scamp would be alright. Might have to give him some fighting tips. I made a mental note to check in with Scamp. The whole time I kept a subtle eye on Katja. She was reading, her feet curled up under her in the big armchair. Most of the boys were smart enough to leave her alone, and many of them asked me instead about how she was doing.
"She's holding up," I said each time. It became an automated response. The reality was that I had no idea how she was doing-she hadn't told me. But I have learned a few things about loss over the years, and I will say that most of the time the question, while meant well, is annoying at best. I would just have to read between the lines until she was ready to open up.
The lessons were over-the younger ones were streaming upstairs, ready to learn the finer newsie arts of poker and roughhousing, the education the ladies in the Children's Aid Society didn't teach. Most of them like to come and try to talk to me after lessons. I am a bit of a hero to them, and I hadn't been around last night. Roller, though, went over to Katja. I watched from across the room as they talked, then watched him scamper off and return with a book. Well, that was new. Story time. One of those things the littler boys all want, even if they would never admit it to tough old me. It wasn't long before there were a dozen or more smaller boys sitting at Katja's feet, looking up at her eagerly as she turned each page.
I had a lengthy conversation with Silver while Katja read. It seems that Tarface, the leader of the bootblacks after Hide, was having some dissention in the ranks. We discussed at length whether it would cause any problems. A glance at the clock told me it was getting late, and I headed over to the story group and sent the boys off to bed. Then I set the house watch-the newsie in charge of keeping peace and dealing with problems inside the lodging house-and my night watch boys. Four boys wander the neighborhood via the rooftops, ready to step in as needed if there's any trouble. It's rare, but like to know what's going on. It's how we know about things like the illegal cock fights, for example. We're usually out for a few hours and sometimes will hand off a shift to another newsie. Those on watch don't get as much sleep, so I try to rotate so nobody does it more than once or twice a week except me.
It was a mercifully quiet night, and the few hours of fresh air and lonely moonlight on the rooftops did me good. It was here that I finally found a way to grapple with my grief. I would continue to mourn Mr. Fischer for some time, but I took that first crucial step and found my peace on the rooftops of Brooklyn.