I confess that I had been nervous about telling Katja about Muriel, especially given the nature of our fight last night. I had essentially lied to her when I told her that I hadnt told anyone about what had happened-I had told Muriel, after all. All things considered, though, the conversation at Riverfront went better than I'd anticipated. It didn't start well when she seemed to be going into one of her episodes, but she snapped out of it quickly and transitioned almost instantly into concern for the girl. Katja never ceases to amaze me. She'd have every right to resent Muriel or be bitter. After all, it was her inaction that allowed Katja to get hurt. I admit that a part of me was a bit resentful, even if I forced that part down yesterday. Trust Katja not to think that way, though. Her biggest concern was for Muriel's emotional state. She didn't even have time to be annoyed with me for the omission this morning.
"She can start a new life with new friends," I reassured her.
"And old memories," she muttered. Uh, oh. That's not good. I sensed this wasn't about Muriel anymore, but about her own memories. I couldn't imagine how frightening and ugly they were, and my heart ached for Katja. I remembered what Emma had said about needing time to heal. She had been so outwardly strong so far, but the memories would be with her forever. I could never erase them, no matter what I tried. But I could bury them beneath mountains of good, loving ones.
"She'll make new ones," I answered. "So will you. And the old ones that are good? She'll keep those, just like we will. She's tough. She'll be okay. And so will you." I don't know if I said it for her benefit or mine, but it helped to say it out loud-particularly as a future statement. There is plenty of room for time, healing, and unfortunately, suffering before it comes true.
"How can you be so sure?" Easy, Darling. You're still you. I explained that to her, but I'm not sure how much of that sunk in. It didn't matter. The point was that I was sure, and the more I spoke the more sure I became. I could be confident enough for both of us for now.
"You will always be you, Katja. He can't take that from you. Nobody can," I added.
"You can," she said. Damn. She did understand.
"I won't," I promised, and I knew she believed me even before she said it. When she asked me about being mean, I knew my innocent Katja was back. We chatted for a bit, but she managed to surprise me. I have to say that I am not easily surprised. I like to know what people are thinking, and Katja is usually an easy read. But every once in awhile, she gets me.
"No. I think you are the most compassionate, giving person I know," she was saying. Damn again. I was the one who was supposed to see through her, not the other way around. I don't think of myself as compassionate or giving, but I guess, now that I thought about it, she was right. I would do anything for my boys. Very few had ever noticed it-I liked it that way-and nobody had ever voiced it. It embarrassed me, and it's harder to do that than to surprise me!
"I don't think anyone has used those words about me before," I muttered.
"Papa did," she said, and that caught my attention. I knew Mr. Fischer had a gift for seeing people as they truly were. I could not think of a more special compliment than that, and for a moment I was overwhelmed with missing the almost-father I had had.
"Your Pa was a special man," I said.
"I know. And he said the same about you. He thought of you like a son, you know," she said.
It's funny. A week ago, I was dead inside, not knowing where Katja was. Now she was here, and her words made me feel more alive than I had ever feIl have been admired and respected and liked my whole life. But this was different. This was being loved, and there was only one person from whom I wanted love more than from Alfred. I smiled at her, and she impulsively kissed me. Come to think of it, was that the first time she initiated a kiss? It might be. That content feeling inside me grew, but I carefully schooled my features, preparing for the next thing. It wasn't long in coming as the conversation quickly led back to Muriel and our search for other victims.
"I hope not. It's bad enough that he did those things to two of us," she said. Oh. I hadn't looked at it from that perspective, hoping only to find someone to help my Katja, but she can't help but think of others. She was right, of course, though both my instincts and experiences with men like Santorelli told me there were more victims.
"I hope you're right," I said, and I realized that I meant it. Even if it did make our case harder . . .
"So when does Santorelli get arrested?" she said, and that's when we got to the heart of why I had asked her to lunch.
"Well, that's the thing. We need to file a police report. Then they should arrest him. You up for that today?"
"I guess," she said, but she was looking down. A sure sign of insecurity. Then again, I doubt one can ever feel ready for such a task. With a bit of handholding (literally-hey, she has wonderful hands, okay?) she agreed, and we finished our meal. Well, I finished mine. I noted with dismay that she hadnt really eaten much of the salad she had ordered. She was still was not eating right, and that had me worried. I was trying not to be a nag, but I also needed her to eat. It was a difficult line to walk. I pushed some, but left it alone after a bit. After last night I wanted her to trust me fully before we went to the police station. I knew that she was worried about that.
Sure enough, as we walked up to the station I felt her tense up beside me. We saw officers coming and going, and each one made her a touch nervous. As we approached the front door, I grabbed her hand and turned her to look at me.
"Hey," I said, taking advantage of the fact that she was looking me in the eye. "I know this is hard, but these guys are not here to arrest you or take you away. I'm right here, and the boys and I won't let them take you away. Neither will Mr. Donovan. We're here because, for the first time in my life at least, we're on the same side as them." She bit her lip, and I put my hand on her chin.
"Hey, think back to when we used to meet your Pa on the bench by the park. You weren't afraid of the bulls then. Why not?"
She looked startled for a moment, then thoughtful. "Papa said that the police were there to help us," she said, and I could tell she was replaying some conversation with her father. I saw her square her shoulders. "He said I should be nice to them because they have a difficult job."
"Yeah, and now we need them to do their job. But we can't do that unless they know what happened. Okay?"
"How are you so calm?" she wanted to know.
"I'm not. Street kids like me don't usually do to well with the bulls. But I'm here, and we can do this-together." We started walking toward the station when a thought struck me.
"Wait a minute, Katja," I said, and my serious voice caused her to halt and turn suddenly toward me, fear evident in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked, and I could hear the tremor in her voice.
"Nothing like that," I said. "But police reports are public record. That means if we file a report today, he'll be arrested-and the whole thing will be tomorrow's headline." She looked at me with some confusion, and I went on. "This will be the big front page headline story. That means every newsie will see it. They won't use your name or anything like that. But they will use his, and the boys will easily put two and two together. From the moment we file a report, every newsie will know what happened to you. You have to be prepared for that, and I don't know if you are."
I could see her processing that. Her nose wrinkled and I could tell she was deep in thought. Knowing Katja, she was running through a million what-ifs and playing scenarios out in her head. I waited patiently for several minutes, though I doubt she realized it was that long. I just watched her chew her bottom lip, then the inside of her cheek, her gaze distant, and her nose wrinkling and unwrinkling adorably. I tried not to admire the curve of her neck, her soft, fidgeting hands, or the wispy curl of hair behind her right ear that had escaped her bun. Finally her face cleared and she looked at me frankly. That meant she needed honest answers from me.
"You said before they won't judge me." I nodded, not saying anything, and she took another deep breath, nodded to herself, and continued. "And the headline will be good?"
"Yeah. Probably a lot of fancy words; won't need a lot of embellishing," I replied.
"So the boys would sell well-maybe a bit more than usual?" she asked.
"Yeah, probably. But not if you don't want them to sell or to use a different headline," I explained. I could taboo a story and had done so once before-when one of our older boys had been mistaken for a gang member and murdered just a few months after I had taken over. None of the boys had used the story to sell papes that day, and a few had refused to sell in defference to Slink. I could do the same here, though of course the boys would read the story.
"Well, if my story helps them make a bit more money, isn't that a great way to repay them?" she asked. I started at that. I hand't looked at it from that angle, but of course Katja would be thinking of the well being of the boys.
"If that's what you want," I said hesitantly. Did she really want the boys blaring her story out like that, even if her name wasn't attached?
"Yeah, it is. Besides, it might help Muriel, right? Or would it be bad?" she asked with such trust in my response and such naive innocence that I wanted to kiss her right there. But she had a point.
"Maybe we should wait a day. It would only be fair to give her a heads up," I said, the wheels turning. I could send Snap with a message to her-or maybe it would be better to go myself. Another thought occurred to me. "You'll want to give Ingrid a heads up," I added.
Katja bit her lip, nodding. "You're right," she said, and I could see the nervousness about that particular conversation.
"She'll understand. She's on your side, remember?" I reassured her, and she looked up at me and gave me a small smile.
"You're right. But it still makes me nervous. Mainly her folks, you know? They're so-well, German. You know, proper and whatnot."
"So tell just her. Let her tell her folks or not. You guys can decide that together. But all of this is still your decision."
"No, I want to do this for the boys," she said. "But they should know ahead of time." I nodded.
"Yeah, they should. Are you up to telling them?" I asked, fully aware of the answer. She looked at the ground and shook her head. "You want me to do it?" I asked, and she looked up at me. Her eyes were full of tears now. God, I hate that.
"Do I have to be there?" she asked.
"Only if you want to be," I replied.
"So I guess we're not doing this today," she said ruefully, looking up at the station entrance.
"Tell me when you're ready, and we'll come back," I answered.
We spent the rest of the day selling. She was really terrible, but it was adorable watching her try. She was too shy and too quiet to attract the attention of most passers-by. The only way people even noticed her was when her dog would catch their attention and lead them to her. I sold my normal afternoon stack of 150, though I worked a bit for it. She didn't know it, but I had asked a few of my regulars to buy from Katja that day so she could sell out her small stack. I also had to work for it a bit more because instead of being all business, I was slightly distracted by the dog and the banter I shared with its adorable owner.
After we finished we headed down to the docks. "So, you said you wanted to learn how to fight, right?" I asked, and Katja's face lit up.
"Yeah!" she said, her enthusiasm contagious.
"Well, there are a few rules to fighting that I'm gonna teach you first. The first is that, in a serious fight, cheating is allowed. If you are in a fight, it's probably because it's necessary. That means winning is necessary. So if you need to cheat to win, do it. This is especially true when your opponent is bigger than you are-in your case, that means always."
She nodded. I laughed.
"You're nodding now," I said. "But the reality is that you're going to have a hard time with that rule. You're too generous and too nice. The time will come when you can't be that nice. You have to mean it. But for now, let's work on all the ways you can win without cheating. We'll practice the actual cheating later."
She grinned. "Sounds good," she said. We spent the evening practicing with a slingshot. Katja is adorable, but coordination of this type is not her strength. At first it was downright scary being near her with the slingshot, and she nearly hit Silver in the leg. But after a few wild shots she got the hang of it, and while her aim wasn't very good yet, it was at least in the vicinity of the bottles we were using as targets. I put Legs on making her a slingshot of her own so she wouldn't have to keep mine. I felt a bit naked without it. But if it meant she had a shot at defending herself, she could have it. She would need to practice, but I could think of worse ways to spend a May evening.