From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 13 Jul 2005 23:58:45 -0000
Subject: NEW - Forgive Us Our Trespasses by Taffy Northwood (7/?) by taffyxf
Source: direct

Reply To: taffyxf@yahoo.com


Title: Forgive Us Our Trespasses
Author: Taffy Northwood
E-Mail: taffyxf@yahoo.com
Rating:  NC17 (eventually)
Category:  AU, MSR  
Archives:  Just ask.  
Feedback: Never in bad taste <g>
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner and any 
other XF characters are on loan only.  
Summary:  In 1909 New York City, there were two 
distinct and separate worlds: that of the very wealthy 
and that of the very poor.  Could love bridge the 
great divide between those worlds for two star-crossed 
lovers?
Author Notes: Like a huge part of the fandom, I've
become absolutely dotty over AU fic.  This is my 
modest attempt to put Mulder and Scully into another
time and place.  Please be aware, this is a 
work-in-progress. 

Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Katie Scully's story, part 7

"We should go to Italy for a honeymoon," Mathew said as 
he trailed a finger along her ribcage to circle her 
nipple.  "We could ride in a gondola in Venice and 
I'd cover you with kisses."

"Mathew, we can hardly afford a day at Coney Island, 
let alone a honeymoon in Italy," she said, laughing 
as his finger tickled her skin.  She took his hand 
and brought it to her mouth to press a kiss to the 
palm.

"We can dream, can't we?" he asked.  Catlike, Mathew 
stretched his long body beside her, arching his back
and expanding his chest.  He was as naked as the day 
he was born and more beautiful than anything she'd 
ever seen in her life.  

"I suppose," she conceded.  "But Italy?  It would 
cost a fortune."

He rolled onto his side, drawing one long, bare leg
up to bridge her thighs.  "Maybe it wouldn't be just
a dream.  I may just come into a bonus soon." 

"From work?" she asked, stroking her hand along his
flank.  He nodded, almost purring at her touch.

Good lord, she felt quite debauched, lounging naked 
in her bed with Mathew, both of them sated from 
lovemaking.  

This was her only time with him, these days.  Mathew
had warned her three weeks ago after they'd made love
for the first time, that he had to concentrate on work 
for a while so he could be free to marry her.  The 
days were long and lonely without him.  

The time he was able to spend with her was precious 
beyond gold.   Mathew always came by late at night.  
Just like that first night, he announced his arrival 
with pebbles tossed against her bedroom window.  

Being with Mathew felt like a dream.  He took her in 
his arms and kissed her, and the world fell away.  He 
made love to her, and it was as if they were the only 
two people on earth.   

Katie was shocked by how much she enjoyed physical
relations with Mathew.  As a girl, she'd had little 
exposure to the sexual act.  Her mother never spoke 
about it beyond admonishments not to let a boy "take 
advantage of her."  Katie supposed her mother had been 
waiting for a wedding before telling her anything 
about the act.

The comments she's heard from the more forward of
the nursing students were that it hurt and once a man
got what he wanted, he often moved on to another girl.
No one had ever told Katie how wonderful it could be,
how amazing it could feel.  She'd read a clinical
description of the sex act in a physiology textbook.  
But Katie was completely unprepared for the 
heart-stopping power of her response to Mathew.

He said she was "a natural."  She wasn't sure what
that meant, but Katie felt vague worry that she was
on her way to becoming a wanton woman.

She loved these moments after lovemaking and
before sleep.  She would tell Mathew about her day 
and all the goings-on at the settlement house.  Mathew
rarely shared anything about his daily life, saying only
that his work was hectic and miserable.  

"You deserve a bonus after all your hard work," Katie
said.  "But do you really want to spend it all on a 
trip?"

"You're the real bonus," he said.  "You're my prize 
at the end of the day.  I think you're right about 
Italy.  Maybe we could put the money toward a little 
house off Washington Square Park."

"A house?" she asked, delight creeping into her voice.

"A sweet little house," he replied.  "Big enough for
a baby or two.  With a cozy bedroom for us to make love
in and sunny kitchen where you could fix breakfast every 
morning."

"Glad to see you have your priorities in order, Mr. Fox."

"I most certainly do.  Sex, then food.  And photography,
of course--I'll have a darkroom in the basement where I
can develop my pictures.  And a little office.  I plan
to make my living from those pictures, some day."

Some day.  She lived for some day.  

Mathew nattered on a while longer about the house they'd 
buy and the backyard it would have where he'd hang a
swing from the largest tree and she'd plant climbing
roses.  Katie fell asleep to the warm drone of his voice.

The next morning found them following their usual routine--
an early breakfast of jam and bread and coffee and a kiss
at the back door.  Katie sighed as she watched Mathew 
slip through the gate at the far end of the backyard.

Turning away from the door, Katie set about cleaning up
the kitchen and washing the dishes.  While this was 
Katie's day off from the settlement house, it would 
hardly be a day of rest.  Maggie Scully did her washing 
on Thursday and Katie was expected to help her wash and 
hang the sheets and towels for the whole boarding house.  

Katie didn't mind hard work, but she wasn't looking 
forward to a day at the boarding house.  Late nights 
with Mathew meant Katie struggled through exhausted days 
on little sleep.  But the tension between Katie and her
mother was the real reason her feet were dragging this
morning.

The kitchen set to rights, Katie washed up and dressed
in one of her older shirtwaists and a gray skirt that
she'd patched after tearing it on a nail.  Laundry
day was hard on clothes and she didn't want to ruin
the few nice things she owned.

Amy Jacobs would be in soon to teach her first English
class of the day.  The students were mostly people 
employed on the nightshift and young mothers.  It
wasn't at all unusual for Amy to have three or four
babies attending class in their mothers' arms.

Up until a few months ago, Amy had shared the house
with Katie, sleeping in the room that Mathew had
slept in the night Tom Colton had beaten him.  After
her brief demonstration of independence, Amy had
yielded to family pressure and moved back to her
parent's home.  Katie missed her, but couldn't help
being glad at the turn of events that provided her
and Mathew with such glorious privacy.

Mr. Blevins, the chief trustee of the settlement house
committee had advertised for an additional staff member
to ease some of Katie's burden.  While Katie welcomed
the help, she fervently hoped the new employee wouldn't
be interested in living at the house. 

Pulling the door closed behind her, Katie looked up 
at the sound of wood hitting wood.  Shayna Berkowitz 
was on her back steps, beating her broom against the 
railing and sending billows of dust into the air.

"Good morning, Shayna," Katie called out.  

Shayna nodded her head, uncharacteristically quiet,
for which Katie was grateful.  Shayna's kitchen
curtains seemed to part every morning as Mathew left.
Katie was sure Shayna would have plenty to say.

Katie had almost congratulated herself on her 
escape when Shayna called out to her.  

"Katie!"

Fixing a neutral expression on her face, Katie 
turned to her neighbor.

"Katie, I know ya think this ain't none a my business, 
and maybe yer right, but I worry about ya.  Yer 
like a sister to me, and it breaks my heart to
see ya treated like this.  What kind of boy 
sneaks out of a girl's house like a thief in the
night?"

"Shayna," Katie began, touched by her friend's
concern.  "I wish you wouldn't worry.  I know 
what I'm doing."

"Sure ya do," Shayna scoffed.  "Yer so turned 
around over that boy ya can't see straight.  
But something's not right--mark my word.  
He's fine-looking, I'll give ya that, but that
boy's either got a wife or the cops are after
him."

"Shayna!  Mathew is certainly not in trouble 
with the police."

"Katie, I got a feeling deep in my bones.   He's
not the boy for you.  Now, what about that nice 
Dr. V?  He's such a nice fella and crazy about 
ya, Katie."

"Dr. Vitigliano is most definitely not 'crazy
about me', Shayna.  He's a good friend and 
acts completely professional to me."

"I wasn't born yesterday, Katie--I know when a 
man has eyes for a woman."

"Even if you were right--and I don't think you
are, but just suppose Dr. Vitigliano had feelings
for me, I don't return them, Shayna.  So it 
wouldn't matter.  I...I have to go now.  My mother
expects me this morning." 

They took their leave and Katie set off for her
mother's boarding house.  As she walked the blocks
to Clinton Street, she thought about what Shayna
had said about Vincent Vitigliano.

A few weeks ago, Vincent had suggested Katie attend
a lecture on the electrocardiograph.   Always 
fascinated by advances in medicine, Katie had found
the lecture interesting, though her mind kept
drifting to Mathew.
 
As they walked out of the lecture hall, Vincent had 
asked Katie if she wanted to get a cup of coffee.  
That hadn't been unusual--she and Vincent often shared 
a cup in the settlement house's big kitchen.
She'd given her regrets, saying she had some work to do 
back at the house, but in reality, she'd wanted to be
home in case Mathew stopped by.  Looking back, she
realized Vincent had stammered a little on his 
invitation and looked so disappointed at her refusal.

Maybe Shayna wasn't so far off the mark about Vincent,
but she was completely wrong about Mathew.  What did
Shayna know about that kind of love?  One look at her
husband was enough to answer that question.  He was
good to his family and brought home a decent salary, 
but it was impossible to imagine that Shayna had 
married him for love.

Katie frowned to herself.  Missy had married for love.
But so had Ma.

Katie arrived at the boarding house.  Charlie was
outside, bouncing a ball against the stoop, and he
burst into a smile when he saw her.

"Ahoy, minnow!" he shouted gleefully.  As always he
wore Da's old cap, and it seemed larger than ever now
that his hair was gone.  But even with his head
cropped close for the summer and an enormous cap
falling over his eyes, he was still the apple of her
eye.

"Why, Charlie, I didn't recognize you," she answered. 
"I thought for sure it was Christy Mathewson there
warming up his arm."

"Yeah, g'wan," he said.  "Ma's got the water boiling
for the washing.

"I hope you helped her fill the kettle," Katie said,
sternly. 

"Dmitri did that.  He was mopin' 'round the kitchen,
and Ma said he might just as well be useful."

"Dmitri's up early.  He didn't lose his position, I
hope."  Dmitri, one of the boarders, was a waiter at 
Delmonico's Restaurant, a plum of a job for such a 
young man.  But his hours were late and it was odd 
that he'd be about in the morning.

"He's waiting for a letter from the old country.  He's
worried about his girl," Charlie said.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Katie said.  Dmitri was
devoted to the sweetheart he'd left behind.   She was
a Jewish girl, which had prompted Bill to say he was
surprised there were any Jewish girls left in Russia,
with all of them over here.  And then Ma had reminded
him that our Lord's own mother was a Jewish girl, and
a silent mouth was sweet to hear.  

She found Dmitri and her mother both in the kitchen.

"Fill up the washtub and then you must have some
breakfast," Maggie said.  "Starving yourself won't
bring the postman any sooner."

Dmitri lifted the heavy kettle from the iron stove and
poured water into the tub, grunting at the effort.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully, but no breakfast," he said as
he sat down.

"Good morning, Ma." 

"Where have you been?" Mrs. Scully asked.  "Half the
morning's gone already."

"Sorry, Ma, I got held up," she said. rolling up her
sleeves.  "Good morning, Dmitri."

"Tell him, Katie.  He'll grow feeble if he doesn't
eat," Maggie said.

"Miss Scully, I cannot eat when my heart is like a
stone," Dmitri explained.

"Some tea," Maggie decided.

Katie bundled a sheet into the washtub.  The water 
was almost unbearably hot, but she knew it would 
soon cool.  

"Try some tea, Dmitri," she urged him.

"My beautiful Sophie could be dead," Dmitri told her.

"Good heavens!  I had no idea," Katie said.  She had
imagine that Dmitri was fretting about waning
affection, not life and death.

"More burnings, more pogroms.  I should not have left
her," he said.

"I'm so sorry," Katie said.

"You're looking thin, Katherine, and dark around the
eyes," Maggie said suddenly, studying her critically. 

"I'm feeling quite well," Katie said.

"The washing will wait if you haven't had your
breakfast."

"I ate, Ma."

"So you say.  We'll see at noon-time."

They worked for hours, scrubbing the sheets and
towels, rinsing and then turning them through the
wringer.  Dmitri carried the heavy washbaskets outside
and Katie hung the clean linen on the line to dry.

The mail delivery brought no word for Dmitri, and his
face was a gray mask when he left for the restaurant. 
The work grew heavier without his help, and by late
morning, Katie was exhausted.  When her mother
announced lunch, Katie was eager for the rest.  Maggie
loaded her plate and watched carefully as she ate.
 
After lunch, Ma boiled more water for her personal
laundry and Charlie's.

"Did you not bring your own laundry?" Maggie asked
when Katie returned from the clothesline.

"I have so little, it's no trouble to do it at the
house," she answered.  She didn't choose to add that
she took her shirtwaists and cotton skirts to the
Chinese laundryman.  Ma would snort at the
extravagance, or else complain that the clothes would
come back stained or with a funny smell.

When all the clothes were on the line, Maggie set to
preparing supper.  Katie took some rags for dusting,
but Maggie wouldn't have it.

"Take a rest, Kate.  Lie down and I'll call you for
supper."

"Ma, I feel fine--"

"Then suit yourself and stay awake, but I won't have
you working any more.  And you're stayin' to supper,"
she said, her tone indicating she would accept no
refusal.

Katie rolled her eyes, but she left the kitchen to sit
in the parlor.  As she settled into the big wing
chair, she realized she truly was fatigued enough to
fall asleep, but she was far to stubborn to let that
happen.  Instead she read.

First she read an article from the Catholic Weekly News, 
about Joan of Arc,  newly beatified and perhaps one day a
saint.   A good thing, Katie thought, that the Holy
Father could contemplate sainthood for a young girl
who wore armor and led soldiers to battle.  Better
would be if the Church could support the struggles of
young girls today, and not 500 years after they died.
 
Under the church newspaper was a section from The World, 
the newspaper that Charlie hawked every evening.  It was 
a week old, but worse, it was the part that gave news of
society folk.  It was hard for Katie to have any
interest in people who spent more on a bottle of wine
than Ma spent feeding the house for a week.  

Now here was a fine example.  Wagging tongues feared
that all was not well between John Jacob Astor and his
wife.  Why that would concern anyone beyond the two
themselves and their children, Katie could not imagine.

And here:  Mrs. Vanderbilt entertained a thousand of
her closest friends at her home in Newport.  

Next, a second chance at love:  Mrs. Diana Fowley,
widow of Hirum Fowley, former president of the Fowley
Steamship Company, was now engaged to Fox William 
Mulder, only son of William Mulder, well known in the 
world of finance, art and philanthropy.

This must be the young heir that Mr. Frohike and his
friends had discussed, with the rebellious sister. 
"Fox" was a word that Maggie used frequently, meaning
trick or outsmart, and at one time Katie would have
laughed at a name like Fox Mulder.   Now, with Mathew
around, she thought Fox was a very pretty name.

Of course her thoughts drifted back to Mathew, as she
dozed in the chair, waking only when the clock chimed
five o'clock.  Embarrassed to have fallen asleep in
the middle of the day, Katie was glad her mother hadn't
caught her.  Maggie didn't need further evidence of
Katie's late nights.

The laundry would surely be dry by now, she thought
as she went out to take it from the line.  As she tossed 
the pegs into their bucket, she ducked her head and smiled.  
She'd been taking in the washing when she first saw Mathew.

She remembered that day in perfect clarity--the way he'd
come out of the shadows, so bold and brash with his
camera.  His hazel eyes had sparkled with intelligence
and humor.  He'd intrigued her, with his hungry gaze and 
shabby clothes.  He spoke so beautifully as he apologized
to her for his rudeness.  Katie remembered feeling
embarrassing regret when he took his leave.  She'd been 
attracted to him in spite of herself.  

She was just carrying in the basket of dry clothes when 
Maggie called her in to help dish up supper.

"Charlie should've carried that in fer ya," her 
mother said.  "You napped all afternoon and still look
peaked.  If yer truly eating, then yer not getting enough
sleep," Maggie declared as she carefully pulled the
corned beef from the pot of boiling water.

"Ma don't think nobody eats enough, except that
good-fer-nothin' Missy married," Charlie observed as
he tried to pull off a loose piece of meat.  Maggie
slapped his hand away.

"Nonsense.  I think all the boarders eat plenty,"
Maggie said as she sliced the corned beef into paper 
thin slices, intending the meat to stretch to two meals.

"And where is everyone?" Katie asked.

"Mrs. Kearns'll be along soon enough.  She's been coming
home late these days.  Mr. Burkes has a dinner appointment."

"We ain't seen Mr. Fenig fer three days," Charlie said.
"Ma said she's gonna put his clothes out on the curb if
he don't show soon."

"Danny's working again, isn't he?" Katie asked.  Her
brother-in-law in fact had a name, not that the Scully
family chose to use it.

"We'll see how long that lasts," Maggie sniffed. 
"Meanwhile he's carted Missy and the babies out to
Brooklyn, where they don't know a soul."

Maggie had bid farewell to the land of her birth and
crossed an ocean, but she was deeply opposed when
Missy moved a bridge-span away.

When Bill and Mrs. Kearns arrived home from work, 
they all sat down for dinner.  Katie was grateful that
Bill hadn't brought Tom Colton with him.

Mrs. Kearns seemed disappointed that Mr. Burkes was
not at the table.

"I bet he has a date," Bill said.   

"What about you, Bill?   I haven't heard of any young
lady in your life," Katie said.

"Maybe yer not as smart as you think," Bill retorted.

"How's yer new job working out for ya, Mrs. Kearns?"
Maggie asked, with a nod at her children to hold their
tongues.   

"She's doin' factory work now," Charlie piped in.  

Mrs. Kearns smiled at Katie's look of concern.

"Not quite, Charlie.  I'm working in the office of a
factory.  I'm still a bookkeeper, but for a larger
company," she explained.

"Coming up in the world," Maggie noted approvingly.

"Eight stories up, and fifteen minutes to wait for the
elevator," Mrs. Kearns said.

"My elevator at the Flatiron Building goes a hunnert
times faster than that," Charlie said proudly.

"Yer elevator?  What are you, Charlie Mulder maybe?"
Bill teased.

"The elevator's fast enough, but too small with
everyone leaving at once," Mrs. Kearns explained.

"I'd take the stairs," Katie said.

"But they're locked.  We have to leave by the elevator
to show we haven't stolen anything.  I can understand
it for the factory girls, but I would never do that,"
the bookkeeper said.
  
Much as that Sunday three weeks ago, the meal was
interrupted by someone at the front door.  The knocker
slammed frantically and a little voice hello'd for
attention.

"And on your day off," Maggie told Katie
reproachfully.

Yet the visitor hadn't come for Katie but instead for
Dmitri.  It was Anna Penazek, whose father owned the 
corner grocery store.

"Papa said give this to Dmitri," she said.  She held a
battered envelope, almost covered with purple-stamped
ink and exotic stamps.

"That ain't real writing.  Lemme see that," Charlie
said.

"No!"  Anna held her ground, despite Charlie's
advantage in age and size.  "It's extra important 
and it's for Dmitri."

"Then how come you got it?" Charlie asked with a
schoolboy's sneer.

"It came to Papa because the postman couldn't read
the words on the envelope.  And I don't have to tell 
you anyhow!"
 
"Goddamn Russians!" Charlie spat the words at the
little girl.

"Charles Aloysius, that is quite enough!" 
 
Maggie's nagging and crabbing was familiar, but her
unadorned rage was a quiet and frightening sight.

"Ma--"

"You're excused, Charles.  Go wait in the parlor," 
Katie told him quietly.  Charlie paled as he realized 
the extent of his misdeed, and he slunk away from the 
table.

"Dmitri is at work, Anna," Maggie explained as if
nothing had happened.

"I'll bring it to him," Katie said decisively.  "I 
was planning to take a walk anyway."

Katie tucked the letter in her skirt pocket, straightening
her clothes around her.  She hadn't planned on walking
uptown in her shabby clothes, but poor Dmitri needed his 
news--good or bad.  Well, if the rich people thought she 
was a beggar, well, then, it couldn't be helped.

After a mile or two, Katie realized how exhausted she was.
Her mother had been so solicitous--her kindness harder to 
handle than her sharp tongue could ever be.  Guilt washed 
over her as she pictured her mother finding out about Katie's 
double life.  Maggie Scully was opinionated and could seem 
harsh at times, but there was a core of integrity and honor 
that Katie admired.   Maggie would be so disappointed.

Katie longed for the time when she and Mathew could come 
out of the shadows and be together openly and honestly.  
She wasn't emotionally equipped to handle all this skulking 
about.   While marriage had never been Katie's goal in 
life--not like most of the other girls she knew--she 
welcomed marriage's legitimacy.

The letter in her pocket felt as if it was burning through
the fabric.  Dmitri's whole world hung in the balance.  
He'd be bereft or jubilant, determined only by the content
of one dog-eared letter.

Delmonico's glittered like the top of a Christmas tree as
Katie approached the curved front entrance.  While she had 
occasionally eaten the food Dmitri brought home, Katie had
never been in the elegant establishment.  

A doorman stood at the base of the short staircase into the
restaurant, waiting to assist patrons from their carriages.
He eyed Katie as if she was an offensive piece of rubbish 
that had strayed into the entrance of his domain.  Katie 
held her head high, even as she twitched her skirt behind
her to hide the patch.  

"I have a message for one of the waiters," she said 
with as much dignity as she could muster.  At his look of 
disdain she continued.  "Dmitri Yeltsin.  He boards at 
my mother's."

The doorman's expression altered slightly at that bit of
information.  "Very well," he said, ushering her inside.  
He caught the maitre d'hotel's attention and explained 
what Katie needed.

"Ah, Dmitri," the maitre'd said.  "He's broken three dishes 
and two glasses tonight.  I hope you bring him good news.  
It will take him a month to work off the breakage.  
Wait over there.  I'll get him for you."
 
Nodding, Katie complied, moving out of the path of
traffic into the dining room.   A few minutes later,
Dmitri rushed to her, his face as white as his stiff
collar.  She pulled him into a red velvet curtained 
alcove.  If he was going to fall to pieces, he'd need
some privacy.

"Miss Scully, you...you have letter?" he stammered
out.  Katie worried that he might faint dead away before
she got the crumpled paper out of her pocket.

"Yes," she answered.  "Anna Penazek brought it by
at dinner.  Breathe, Dmitri."  She wasn't sure he'd even
heard her as he tore the envelope and with shaking 
hands unfolded the letter.  She watched him mouth
words as he read.  The look of panic on his face 
slowly changed to one of joy.

"Miss Scully!  She is safe!"  Dmitri threw his arms
around her in an impulsive bear hug.  "Sophie got
away from the city.  She has almost enough saved
to buy passage."

"That's wonderful, Dmitri," Katie said, when he
released her and she could finally take a deep
breath.  "I'm so happy for you."

Dmitri went back to his letter, reading it more
intently this time.  Katie moved to the opening
of the alcove, wanting to give him a little
space.  She watched as a large, noisy party left.
The women were beautifully dressed, the men all
in evening clothes.  

A couple entered the restaurant.  The dark-haired
woman was all in blue, diamonds glittering at her 
neck and wrists.  The man was striking--tall and
handsome in a swallowtail coat.  They paused as
the woman spoke to the maitre d'hotel.  Katie felt 
her knees turn to jelly as recognition crushed her.

The man in the swallowtail coat was Mathew Fox.  

"Dmitri," Katie said, her voice shaking.  "Who
is that?"

Dmitri peered out of the alcove.  "The woman in
the blue dress?  Oh, that's Mrs. Fowley.  Very
good customer.  And her new fiance."

"Her fiance?"  A wave of dizziness crashed over
Katie.

"Yes.  Mr. Fox Mulder."

To be continued...   

Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Katie Scully's story, part 8

"Miss Scully?  Are you all right, Miss Scully?
You look...like you have pain."

She blinked, raising a shaky hand to her mouth.
"Pain" was too fragile a word to describe what 
Katie was feeling.  

"I...I'm fine," she stammered.  "Just a little
tired."

Katie straightened her spine, willing herself 
not to collapse, not to scream.  

"I am terrible person, Miss Scully.  I have not
thanked you for bringing me letter."  Dmitri 
was looking at her with such kindness and concern.
Katie was afraid she might burst into tears in
front of him.

"I'm glad it was good news," she said, her voice 
shaking.  "I should go.  It's getting late."

Katie peered around the alcove's curtain.  Mathew
and that woman were following the maitre d'hotel
into the restaurant.  As she watched them disappear
from view, Katie wondered if a person could die
of a broken heart.  

With a hurried goodnight, Katie bolted from the
restaurant.  She walked quickly along William 
Street, dodging pedestrians.  She paid no attention
to the direction, her only desire to get as
far away from Delmonico's as possible. 

She'd been a fool.  A complete and utter idiot.  
"I love you," Mathew had said and she'd believed
him.  "We'll honeymoon in Venice," he'd told her 
and she drank his words like sweet nectar.

She had prided herself on logic and acumen.  Katie
was a modern woman who followed the teachings of 
Emma Goldman and rejected the idea that marriage 
was the only option for a woman.  Her nursing career 
had made her useful, given her life purpose.

Katie remembered looking down on silly girls who
read lurid romantic stories where young women were
duped into false marriages and left in ruin.  How
ironic, she thought.  She'd become a character in 
a tawdry novel. 

Her rationality had failed her the moment she'd 
fallen in love with Mathew Fox.  

Except he wasn't Mathew Fox, was he?  He was Fox
Mulder and he was going to marry someone else.  He'd
tricked her like some gullible milkmaid.  She'd been 
a right and proper goose, believing his lies.

Other girls fell in love twice a week, but Katie 
had always known there were things she wanted to 
accomplish, so she guarded her feelings carefully.  

She had given Mathew her heart.  

As Katie walked along block after block, her weeks 
with Mathew Fox passed before her eyes as if she 
were watching a motion picture show.  She saw herself 
tending him after his scuffle with Tom Colton, saw 
them talking the night away.  Katie remembered what
it felt like to kiss Mathew under the boardwalk.  
She relived each caress, each touch, each time they 
made love.  Katie felt bile rise up in her throat at 
that memory and stopped walking.  She took a deep 
breath in an effort not to be sick.

Where was she?  She'd walked so far, so fast and 
hadn't cared which direction she traveled as long
as it took her far from Mathew.  She really had to
stop referring to him as Mathew.  He was Fox Mulder.
Fox Mulder.  She repeated it to herself.  It sounded
ridiculous in her head.  

Exhaustion enveloped her as the emotional burst of 
energy began to fail.  She had to rest, but where?  
Katie couldn't go back to the settlement house.
Mathew would arrive soon, unaware that she'd found him
out.  He'd toss pebbles against her window, expecting 
her to let him in and give him her body.  She most
definitely could not go there.

She couldn't go to the boarding house, either.  Her 
mother had watched her like a hawk today.  Maggie Scully 
was a shrewd, observant woman--traits that had served 
her well as a mother and as proprietress of the boarding 
house.  Ma would know immediately that something was 
wrong and then Bill would find out and harass her 
until it all spilled out. 

She stood on a street corner, with tears in her eyes.  
She was so tired.  Katie looked at the street sign, 
amazed that in her dazed condition she'd managed to 
get to Delancey Street.  Now, she knew where she 
might find rest.

Katie walked along Delancey, until she reached the 
mighty Williamsburg Bridge.  Brooklyn beckoned on 
the other side--a place where there were no memories 
of Mathew Fox to torment her.  

It was a good thing she wasn't inclined to be hysterical, 
Katie mused as she paused on the bridge to look down at 
the murky water.  In the melodramatic novels, the wronged 
heroine would have attempted to toss herself into the 
dark river, only to be rescued by the stout-hearted
hero.  But no hero was likely to save Katie.

She was exhausted almost to the point of insensibility 
when she arrived at her sister's apartment in Williamsburg.  
She trudged up the three flights of stairs, pulling herself
along by the railing.  The smell of cabbage and onions hung 
in the air from the suppers that had been cooked that 
evening.  In one of the second floor apartments, a baby 
was crying.

"Katie!" Danny Murphy exclaimed as he opened the door.
"Is anything wrong?"

"Everything is fine, Danny," she said peering past him
through the parlor down the long hall to the kitchen.  
"Is Missy home?"

"Yes, of course.  Come in," he said.  He still looked 
worried.  "You're sure everything is all right?  Your 
family?"

"Everyone's fine," she said.  Considering the Scullys'
bad opinion of Danny, it was generous of him to ask about 
them.  "Where's Missy?" 

"She'll be getting the boys to bed.  I'll fetch her."  
Danny studied her face for a moment before leaving Katie 
alone in the parlor.

She'd always liked her brother-in-law.  Danny was a good 
man, who loved Missy and his sons.  He was a meat cutter 
who made a good pay which didn't always make it home to 
his family.  

Unfortunately, like so many Irish boys, Danny had a 
problem with the drink.   Too often, Danny could be 
found at the tavern down the street and too often, 
he drank until he forgot his responsibilities to Missy 
and their sons.  At least tonight, there was no scent 
of whiskey clinging to Danny.  

"Katie?," Missy asked as she came into the parlor through 
the little "railroad" hallway of the apartment.  "What in 
the sweet name a heaven are ya doin' here so late?  You 
look like you walked all the way from the old country."

"Only from New York," Katie said, with a faint smile.  
"I wanted to see you." Katie hoped she sounded matter of 
fact, and that her knees wouldn't buckle in front of her 
sister.

Missy took a good look at her sister, crossing over to 
take Katie's hands in hers.  "You better sit down before 
you fall down.  Come on, I'll put on some coffee."

Katie allowed herself to be led down the hall into the 
kitchen.  She sat at the table and watched Missy measure
out the coffee and fill the pot.  When it was on the 
stove, Missy sat opposite her sister.

"Are you going to tell me what's gotcha so upset you
walked all the way to Brooklyn at this time of night?"

"I made a mistake," Katie said, covering her face with
both hands.  "A terrible, terrible mistake."

"You made a mistake?  Minnow, yer the smartest, 
strongest person I know.  What kind of mistake could
you have made?"  At Katie's rueful look, she nodded.
"Was that fella of yours the mistake?"

"How...how did you know?"

"It's always a fella.  What happened?  Another girl?"

"That's not the half of it.  He...he wasn't who he said 
he was."

"They never are, are they?  They say they'll love you
forever and the next thing you know, they're down at
the pub every night."

"Oh Missy, I wish that was all it was.  He said he loved
me and I believed him.  But he didn't even tell me his
real name.  He's rich--very rich, and it turns out he's 
engaged to be married.  He lied to me about everything."

"Oh my poor sweet, I'm so sorry," Missy said, taking both
of Katie's hands in her own. 

"I can't believe I was so stupid," Katie said.  "How 
could I have been so gullible.  'We'll have a little
cottage just big enough for two'," she mocked.  "I've
been a complete dolt."

"You were a girl in love," Missy said, cupping Katie's
cheek.  "Men...men lie."

"Not all men," Katie protested. 

"They say what they think you want to hear, and if it
sounds pretty, they believe it themselves."

"Da wasn't like that."

"No?  How many times did he tell Ma he'd sell that
cursed boat and buy her a house in the country?  Men
tell you pretty promises about how they wish things
would be."

As if on cue, Danny Murphy came into the kitchen, a 
gentle smile on his face.  "Well, my dears, it's off
to bed with me.  Mick and I'll be bedding down on the
floor like soldiers.  He thinks it's very grand.  
Jimmy isn't all that excited--he'll be stayin' in
his crib."

"That sounds like fun," Missy said.  "Why don't you
get that old quilt of Ma's."

Katie fought back tears at her brother-in-law's 
unstated kindness.

After Danny bid them both good night, Missy clapped
a hand on Katie's shoulder.  "You're dead on your
feet.  I'll get you a nightgown."

It was a testament to the bond of sisterhood that 
Missy didn't ask Katie if she wanted to stay and 
Katie didn't offer false protestations of going
home.  

Perhaps it was the security of sharing a bed with 
her big sister as she had in the bosom of childhood,
but Katie slept the night through.  

She woke the next morning with her nephew's sticky
fingers on her face.

"Michael, leave your aunt alone," Missy scolded from
the doorway.  "Go back to sleep, Katie, it's early
yet."

Katie sat up and Michael climbed into her lap.

"I have to get back," she said.  

"I'll have breakfast on the table in a minute," said
Missy.  She held the baby against her hip.  "Michael,
come back and finish your porridge."

"Thank you, Missy, but I don't have time," Katie said.
"I'll be late as it is."  She had a long walk ahead
of her.

"It's only seven.  Eat your breakfast and you can
catch the El."

"I was going to walk," Katie said.  She wasn't
carrying so much as a penny, and somehow asking Missy
for money felt more embarrassing than confessing that
she'd been tricked like a farmgirl.

"I'll give you the fare, Kate.  I'm your sister."

Missy had enough of their mother in her that Katie
didn't try to argue.  She ate her breakfast and 
caught the El.

She arrived at the settlement house feeling grimy and
disheveled, but also strong and calm.  She'd been a
fool, and her heart would ache for a long time because
of it.  But there were people who needed her and she
wouldn't let them down.  

Shayna was waiting.  

"I was worried," she said.

"I'm sorry.  I spent the night at my sister's," Katie
answered.  

"It's good for a girl to visit her sister," Shayna
said.  

Shayna didn't press for details, didn't even ask any
questions.  

"That boy came around last night.  Hollerin' and
throwin' rocks and bang-bang-bang on the door," she
continued

"You were right about him," Katie said.

"I saw it in my heart, but better if I was wrong."

"There's another girl, and they're going to get
married."

"He should rot in hell!"

Katie was stunned yet comforted by her friend's
vehemence.  

"You shouldn't talk that way here," she said, but
Shayna had only begun.

"All his teeth should fall out, except one he can keep
for a toothache.  Blood and pus should drip out from
his ears.  Maggots should gobble his eyeballs."

Katie was torn between laughing and crying.

"You're making me sick," she said.

Shayna grew quiet, and then she surprised Katie with a
quick hug.

"Let everything I wish on him come true.  Or half, or
even one tenth.  That's all I'm gonna say."  She
released the embrace, and Katie saw she had tears in
her eyes.

"I'm going upstairs to change my clothes," Katie said.

"Go ahead.  I'll set up for the classes."

Shayna was capable of managing all the morning's
activities, and Katie thought about spending the day
in her room or riding up to the museum.  But it wasn't
her work that she wished to escape, it was her pain,
and that wasn't possible.

As Katie descended the stairs, she heard Shayna
shouting at the front door, and then she heard Mathew.
 
Not Mathew. There was no Mathew.  

"You go jump in the ocean and set yourself on fire!" 
Shayna screamed.

"Would you please just tell her I'm here?" Not-Mathew
asked.

"I'll tear off your skin!"

"For pity's sake, Shayna--"

"A wife you want?  The devil's daughter you should
marry!"

"Katie wasn't home last night.  Just tell me if she's
all right--"

"The pharaoh's plagues on you!  The scabies of Job!"

"I'll be back later, if you would be so kind as to let
her know."

Katie stood frozen on the staircase until she was sure
he had gone.

He had tricked her--foxed her, as her mother would
say.  He had foxed her into giving him her heart.  He
had lied about everything, right down to his own name.
 
He didn't deserve her heart and yet he still owned it.
She listened to his voice as he argued with Shayna. 
She heard the same mix of confidence and confusion
that she'd heard the first time he spoke to her.  So
refined, so well-spoken. 

She heard Shayna's furious curses and shuddered,
wondering how could anyone wish such evils upon
Mathew.  And at the same time she knew there was no
Mathew, and that the man on the doorstep was a
shameless swindler.

"Ptooey!  He's gone," Shayna said, turning around. 
Katie saw she was brandishing a broom.

"You chased him away with a broom?" Katie asked.

"Because he's dirt!  You should have seen me, shaking
the broomstick and telling him what should happen. 
And him, trembling with fright like a cowardly
insect!"

"I'm sorry I missed it," Katie lied.  If she had seen
Mathew, she might have lost all resolve and thrown
herself at his feet.

But she would have to face him, and soon.  She was
fortunate that her secret had kept when her visitor
was a stealthy nobody.  A noisy millionaire was
impossible to hide.

"You know what, Katie?  You should come for dinner
tonight."

"Thank you for asking, Shayna, but it's far too much
trouble."

"What trouble?  Another potato, an extra knedlich in
the soup?  And afterwards, you can join us for Shul."

"Shul?  I wouldn't understand a word."

"What understand?  You sit, you stand, you sing, you
pray."

"Shayna, I'll be fine."

Katie appreciated that her friend didn't want her to
be alone tonight, but now that the shock was wearing
off, she needed some time to herself.  She needed to
face what had happened and to understand how she had
let it happen.

She busied herself with routine activities, but all
around her were reminders of  him.  The table where
they ate breakfast.  The sofa where he sat the night
of his fight with Tom.  The jam pot.

Katie thought about moving.  She loved her job too
much to give it up, but she didn't have to live here.

"Didja hear a word I said?"

Shayna's voice startled her.  Katie felt numb and
distant.

"There's a man in the parlor who seems to be hurt. 
Mr. Frohike brought him in," Shayna said.

Sparked to life, Katie hurried to the parlor.  Mr.
Frohike was with his friend from the other night, the
one who was named for Johnny Ringo.  She recognized
the man on the couch as well.

"He's one of Ma's boarders," she told Shayna.  "Mr.
Fenig, can you hear me?"

"He looks like someone gave him a good crack on the
head," Shayna said.  "Oy, Katie, he's got all over him
pishetz.  Get him off the couch, quick."

"He came to our office and said he had information to
give us," said Mr. Langly.

"About an international conspiracy," said Mr. Frohike.

"Information and evidence," said Mr. Langly. 

"He's wet, Katie.  The stink will be forever," Shayna
complained.

"What happened to him?" Katie asked.

"He had a fit.  First his eyes rolled up in his head, 
and then he fell on the floor and started thrashing," 
Frohike said.

"That's how he hurt his head," Langly explained.

"Mr. Fenig, open your eyes," Katie said.  "Mr. Fenig!"

He opened his eyes, looked around and then closed
them.

"Wanna sleep," he muttered.

"At least get off his wet trousers," Shayna pleaded.

"He seems to be all right," Katie said.

"Yeah, but can you make him wake up?  He told us he
had proof," Langly said.

"We should call Dr. Vitigliano," Katie said.

"We don't need a doctor, we need an upholstery man,"
Shayna groaned.

"Call him, Shayna.  I don't want to leave Mr. Fenig
alone."

Shayna nodded to herself.

"You know, that's a good idea.  A visit from Dr. V.
would be not such a terrible thing."

Katie cleaned Mr. Fenig's head wound but didn't place
a bandage.  Shayna found some suitable clothing from
the donation bin and they changed him into dry
trousers.
 
When Vincent arrived, Mr. Fenig was awake and
chattering nervously.

"Leon Czolgosz, one man with one gun, and the
President dead.  Do you really think that's all there
was to it."

"The McKinley assassination?  There were thousands of
witnesses," Frohike said.

"They caught him red-handed," said Langly.

"A crazy anarchist," said Frohike.

"Exactly.  A crazy anarchist, right where they needed
him to be.  But Teddy disappointed them.  They won't
make the same mistake twice," Mr. Fenig said.

Vincent interrupted the diatribe to ask Mr. Fenig some
simple questions.

"Back off, mac, this was getting interesting," Langly
complained.

"Everyone out.  This is a medical examination."  Katie
commanded, and they obeyed.

Mr. Fenig knew his name and where he was.  He told the
doctor he'd had spells like this before, even back to
his childhood.

"His injury is superficial, but I'm concerned about
the way he's talking," Vincent said.

"I've known him for several years, doctor.  This is
normal for Mr. Fenig."

Vincent urged Mr. Fenig to rest for the remainder of
the day.  Katie placed a dressing over the wound and
offered to take him back to his room, but instead he
went off with his new friends, ecstatic that someone
would listen at last.

Shayna came into the parlor with a bucket of steaming
water and a scrub brush.

"There's a fresh pot of coffee and a nice babke in the
kitchen.  You two get out of my way so I can clean,"
she said.

"I'm sure Dr. Vitigliano has other calls," Katie said.

"Why, no," said Vincent.  "I'd very much like a cup of
coffee."

Shayna could barely contain her glee as she set about
scrubbing the sofa's upholstery.   Katie would have
to curtail Shayna's matchmaking attempts or she'd find
herself on a date with the milkman.

Katie led Vincent into the kitchen.  As she fetched
the china cups and saucers and placed them on the 
table, she tried to force her mind away from thoughts
of Mathew.  Unfortunately, the memories were far too
strong and she was flooded with images of kissing
Mathew, of his hands tangling in her hair.  Her eyes
clouded over with tears and she sniffed.

"Katie," Vincent said, laying a gentle hand on her
arm.   "What's wrong?"  

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head and smiling at
him.  "Nothing important."  

Katie poured the coffee into the cups and retrieved 
the milk pitcher from the icebox.  She and Mathew 
drank their coffee from the chipped white mugs that 
Katie had carefully left in the cupboard.  She would
never drink from them again.

"Is there anything in the world more wonderful than
fresh coffee?" Vincent asked as he took a sip.

Katie stirred milk into her coffee.  Why did it feel
as if she was betraying Mathew by drinking coffee with
an old friend?  There was no Mathew.  She had to keep
reminding herself--there was no Mathew.  

"Wait until you taste Shayna's babke," she said, 
passing a slice to Vincent.  "It's as light as a 
feather."  
 
They ate babke and sipped coffee and gradually, Katie
began to relax and forget herself.  Vincent regaled her
with funny stories about how his mama and her sisters  
argued every time they were together and pined for each
other when they were apart.  

He asked her opinion about the odd symptoms one of his
patients had been experiencing and told her what 
Dr. DaSilva thought was causing them.  And he asked her
to have dinner with him on Saturday.

Katie heard herself say yes.

If she could have revoked her answer gracefully, she 
probably would have done so.  Vincent was far too good
and kind to be hurt.  Was it fair to see him when she 
was still in love with Mathew?  But Mathew was no more
than a character in a story, and she had to move on with 
her life.  Despite Shayna's scheming and dreaming, Katie 
was only going to have dinner with an old friend.

Vincent took his leave, arranging to come by for her
at seven the next night.  Shayna was in the kitchen as
soon as the door had closed behind him.

"So?" she asked.

"You weren't listening at the door?"

"Katie Scully, I can't believe that after all these 
years, you would accuse me of...of...well, I can't 
help how voices carry in this old house."

"Shayna," Katie laughed as her friend continued to 
bluster.  "They only carry when you're pressing an 
ear against the door."   
  
"I'm gonna forgive you because you have a broken
heart.  Well, I better get the soup pot on the stove.
You sure you won't come and eat with us?"

"No, but thank you.  I'm going to get some work done
around here and make it an early night."

"All right.  But you holler if you need anything.
Anything at all.  Anybody comes around and bothers
you--they'll answer to me and my broom."

When Shayna was gone, Katie set a large pot of 
water on the stove to boil and went up to change 
into her old skirt and blouse.  She tied a scarf 
around her hair, grateful that the day had been so
cool--perfect weather for giving the old place a 
good cleaning.  

Perhaps some mindless hard work would keep Katie's
thoughts in check.  The kitchen floor needed scrubbing.
Maybe she could obliterate Mathew's footprints and 
thereby his memory.

The bucket and scrub brush were under the sink, where
Shayna had left them after she removed all traces of
Max Fenig from the sofa.  Katie filled the bucket 
with hot, soapy water, rolled up her sleeves and 
carried the chairs into the hall.  

Finally, she sunk to her knees and plunged her 
arm into the bucket, wincing at the heat of the
water.  She pictured Mathew's beautiful, lying
face on the floor as she savagely scrubbed.

She had finished nearly half the floor when she
sat back on her heels and tucked a disobedient
strand of hair back under the scarf.  Her back 
ached and her knees hurt, neither being much of a
distraction from the pain in her heart.  With a
sigh, she resumed her scrubbing.

The prospect of a lonely evening stretched before 
Katie. The settlement house was traditionally 
quiet on Friday nights.  So many of the patrons
were devout Jews who observed their sabbath and
couldn't attend activities after sunset.  She 
usually enjoyed Fridays, spending time with her
family, and of late, spending time with Mathew.
Damn Mathew.  She supposed Fridays would be ruined 
along with everything else.

A knock at the back door startled Katie out of
her musings.   A chill ran down her spine as a
familiar voice called out.

"Katie!  Are you in there?  It's Mathew."

She could have ignored him and perhaps he'd go away,
but sooner or later, Katie knew she had to face 
him.  She clambered up from her knees and carefully
picked her way across the wet floor.
 
"Mathew?" she asked as she opened the door.  "Mathew
Fox?  Or would that be Fox Mulder."

She watched the color drain from his face as 
realization hit him.  He closed his eyes for a 
moment as if he was in physical pain.  A wave
of sympathy passed over Katie, but she studiously
ignored it.  

"Oh my God.  Katie, I can explain--"  

"You can explain?  I'd love to hear it.  Yes, why 
don't you explain to me why you pretended to be 
someone you're not."

"I was afraid you wouldn't see me any more.  But I 
never pretended about what was in my heart, Katie.  
I love you."

"You love me?"  

"More than my life," he said, reaching out to 
touch her.  Katie stepped away from him.  "I
never lied about how I felt about you, Katie."

"You just lied about everything else.  If you
really loved me, you wouldn't have treated me 
like a...a...what was I, Mathew, some cheap 
little tart you kept on the side?"

"No, never that.  You were--are--my life.  When
I'm with you, I feel alive.  And I meant everything 
I told you, Katie.  I want us to be married."

It was all she could do not to throw the scrub brush
at him.  The audacity of the man, telling her that lies
were truth.  He'd try to convince her that lead was gold 
with his next breath.

"I don't think your fiancee would approve of that, 
Math...Mr. Mulder.  I saw you together last night at 
Delmonico's.   She's beautiful.   The two of you seem
very well suited."

"Oh God," he muttered.  "It was all for show.  Diana
knew I wouldn't marry her, she just wanted to break if
off on her own terms to keep her dignity."

"You really think I'm that gullible?  I read the 
announcement in the newspaper."

"I knew nothing about that.  You have to believe
me," he pleaded.

"I want you to leave," Katie said.

"Please, Katie."

"Goodbye, Mr. Mulder."

To be continued...

Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Katie Scully's story, part 9


"You have beautiful hair," sighed Amy Jacobs as she
glided the brush through Katie's long russet hair.

"Then why are you trying to change it?" Katie asked.

"Because a girl should make the most of her assets,
especially when she's going out with a dreamy young
doctor."

"Ouch!  Amy, what are you trying to do?"  It was
weariness and indifference that had made Katie agree
to let Amy "try something different" with her hair.  

"Sorry.  Sit still, I'm going to make you into a
goddess."

"I think you're more excited about this date than I
am."

"It's like a story.  The beautiful nurse and the
handsome doctor who rescues her."

"Rescues her from what?"

"Oh, I don't know.  Her life of drudgery?"

"Or maybe it's the insane English teacher who's 
trying to pull her hair out."

Amy was excited, Shayna was excited--the whole
neighborhood, it seemed, was excited.  Vincent arrived
promptly at seven, awkward and flustered, a bouquet of
flowers clutched in his fist.

"Good evening, doctor.  So, where are you taking her?"
Amy asked.

"Miss Jacobs, so good to see you," Vincent answered. 
"I, er, thought we might go to a restaurant."

Katie put a hasty end to Amy's questions.

"Amy, perhaps you could put these beautiful flowers 
in some water.  Did you leave your motor running,
Vincent?  We'd best be off, then."

Vincent's nervousness was painful to behold.  Katie
was aware that they had an audience as  they drove
away.  Motor cars were becoming more commonplace but
a fine machine still drew plenty of attention in
the neighborhood.  

"I've reserved a table at Delmonico's," Vincent
informed her.

"No!" she cried, startling herself as well as her
companion.  "I mean, it's so... I just don't think 
I'd feel at home there."

"The food is delicious," Vincent said, clearly
disappointed.  "But it's no matter, I know a place
you'll find more 'haimish.'"

"I'm certain I'd enjoy that more," said Katie,
mustering her enthusiasm.  Vincent was a dear friend,
and she didn't want to infect him with her gloom.

They drove north, past Central Park, and Katie's
curiosity grew.

"I'd have to guess you're taking me to the Polo
Grounds," she said.

Vincent laughed.

"They don't play baseball at night, silly.  How 
could they see the ball?"

They arrived at their destination.  Vincent took
Katie's arm and led her down a flight of stairs 
to a small, noisy restaurant.

A portly man in a black jacket greeted them at the
door.

"No room, no tables.  Next time you call first."

Vincent would be so embarrassed, Katie thought.  It
was all her fault, for ruining his plans for
Delmonico's.

"It's all right, Vincent.  Let's go," she said.

Vincent, however, was grinning.

"Come on, Tio Carlo, knock it off," he said.
 
"Eh, get ovaheah!"

Vincent and the man embraced, and then Katie found
herself caught up in a huge hug.

"Mr. Bigshot doctor don't have no manners," he said.  
"I'm Carlo Franchetti, his favorite uncle."

After the introductions were completed to Uncle
Carlo's satisfaction, Vincent and Katie were seated
at a small table near the back of the room.

"You don't need no menus, Vincenzo.  I'm gonna take
care of you right."

Not only Uncle Carlo, but half the restaurant seemed
to be related to Vincent.  There were some friendly
acknowledgments all around, and then, as if by
agreement, almost everyone kept a respectful distance.
The lone exception was the waiter, who seemed to feel
that his services at the table entitled him to share
his observations.

"Don't worry about it," Katie told Vincent.  "If it
was my family, they'd be pulling up chairs and asking
you to declare your intentions." 

"I'm sure someone's taking notes, to report back to 
my mother.  And Uncle Carlo keeps winking at me over
your shoulder," Vincent said.

"You see what we would have missed if we'd gone to
Delmonico's?" Katie laughed.

Vincent shook his head.

"In so many ways people everywhere are all the same. 
But sometimes I wonder."

"What do you mean?" Katie asked.

"I'm thinking about my private patients, compared to
my clinic patients," he answered.

In addition to the work he did for the settlement
house and surrounding neighborhood, Vincent was a
junior partner to a doctor with a lucrative and
exclusive practice.
 
"Different diseases."  Katie nodded.  She thought
about undernourished children with dark hollows below
their eyes, and textile workers with coughs that 
never went away.

"Different in how they respond.  So cold and stoic. 
So haughty."

"Perhaps they see you as an outsider," she suggested.

"I suppose, but I'm talking about how they treat each
other.  There's a distance, even within families."

"That doesn't seem possible," Katie protested.  "They
must have feelings like everyone else."

"I'm sure you're right, but they scarcely show them."

"I think that's sad."

"I do too.  But what do I know, I'm just a fiery
Italian."

Katie couldn't help wondering about the Mulder family.
About Fox.  Fox--she fixed the name in her head. 
Fox, not Mathew.

"Maybe they don't think love is important," she
ventured.

"Not as important as many other things," Vincent 
said after some consideration.  "I suppose they're 
a bit like royalty, where alliances matter more 
than romance."

Soon, of course, conversation turned back to their
shared passion, medicine.  Katie barely noted the
passage of time, except as new dishes appeared on the
table and old ones were cleared.

"She don't eat nothing," commented the waiter as he
removed a platter.  "But that's good, Vin.  She'll get
fat soon enough once you're married."

Vincent said something in Italian, provoking a sharp
response from the waiter.  After a few more heated
exchanges, the matter appeared to be settled.  

"Is everything all right?" Katie asked tentatively
after the waiter withdrew.

"Sure.  We're cousins."

It was all in all an enjoyable evening, although Katie
felt a measure of relief when at last it was time to
leave.  The restaurant was a little too warm for
comfort.

"My goodness but that was a lot of food," Katie said
as Vincent drove her home.

"Far more food than a person should eat," he agreed.  

Many of the dishes had been strange to her, but she
found most of them delicious.

"I loved those kreplachs," Katie said.

"Kreplachs?  Oh, I think you mean the ravioli."

"Ravioli.  Yes, it was wonderful."

"What about the octopus?"

Katie laughed.

"Don't try to tell me I ate octopus!"

"OK.  I won't."

When Vincent let her out at her door, Katie thanked
him for a very pleasant evening, and she meant it. 
For many hours she'd thought about Fox only fleetingly.  

With a sigh she climbed the stairs and went to bed, 
knowing that sleep would evade her.  She could read 
all night, if she had to, but "Pride and Prejudice" 
was a mockery now.  She would catch up on the medical 
journals, difficult reading that commanded all her 
concentration.
 
She slept at last, waking early to the imagined sound
of pebbles against her window.  She knew she should
try for more sleep, but she found herself too
uncomfortable.  She'd fallen asleep reading about the
signs and symptoms of various poisons, and now she
felt distinctly nauseated.  For a few seconds she
tried to reason with her stomach, but then she bolted
out of bed, reaching the basin with no time to spare.
 
She retched forcefully, bout after bout of vomiting. 
When she finished at last, she found herself so weak
and wet with perspiration that she wondered if she
might not be ill, but it was more likely that the
strange foods combined with her bedtime reading was
the cause.  And sick or well, she did not want to
share the room with the full basin.  She carried it
downstairs.

Katie felt better after her chore was completed.  She
washed and dressed, wondering if she might not go to
the early Mass and avoid her mother's scrutiny until
noon.

Shayna would be unavoidable, but Katie was almost
glad.  Shayna's support, and Missy's, would help her
survive.  She didn't feel guilty facing them, the way
she did with Ma.

Shayna was sitting in the kitchen when Katie came down
again.

"Good morning," Katie said.

"Nu?" Shayna asked.

"It was nice," Katie said.

"Nice?  So when will you see him again?"

"We have clinic tomorrow, Shayna.  You know that."

"So don't tell me.  It was only me who found him for
you."

Katie smiled.

"He took me up to 115th Street."

"He couldn't find any place in New York?"

"His uncle's restaurant."

"Oh, Katie, that's good then.  He took you to meet his
family, and on the first date."

"I don't think that was his design."

"You see how it works, with an honest boy?"  Katie's
face must have betrayed her pain, because Shayna was
instantly contrite.  "Oy, my big mouth!  Go on, Katie,
tell me about your nice dinner."

"I haven't seen so much food since your Seder."

Shayna beamed.
 
"And when you think the meal is over, they bring you
something else.  And when you can't eat another bite,
they bring out fruit."
 
Shayna nodded her approval.

"You should eat fruit."

"No," Katie said, with a little too much force.  
"Right now, I couldn't eat anything.  Before Mass,
I mean."

Shayna nodded her head, a thoughtful expression on
her face.  "You feel okay?"

"I'm fine," Katie assured her.  The one thing she didn't
need was Shayna fussing over a little upset stomach.

"That's good.  You look a little blechedikh, though.  
And you know with the windows open, you hear all kind 
of noises early in the morning.  I thought maybe you
weren't feeling well."

"I'm fine, Shayna.  Oh dear, look at the time.  If I 
hurry, I can make seven o'clock Mass.  Can you hold 
down the fort?"

"I'll be a regular Sam Houston," Shayna said.  "You
go."

Katie's old straw hat hung by the back door.  
Pressing it atop her hair, she pinned it down.  
Never again would she wear the smart little bonnet 
trimmed with cherries.  She'd bought that had to 
impress Mathew who in all likelihood had found it 
cheap and shoddy.  Maybe Amy would like the little 
hat.  After all, it had been so pretty. 
 
The day was warm, even at such an early hour.  The
smells of the city were intensified in the heat,
adding to Katie's nausea.  Her shirtwaist was limp 
by the time she reached church.  

Any hopes of avoiding scrutiny were dashed as she 
spotted her mother and Charlie walking down the center 
aisle.  As they turned to enter their pew, Charlie
spotted Katie and waved.  She'd assumed her mother 
would go to the 8:30 as she often did in the summer.  
Quietly dropping into a seat next to Maggie, Katie's 
mind reeled with memories of a Sunday weeks ago when 
she'd basked in the glow of love.

She returned to the settlement house after church, 
hoping she might feel better after a cup of tea and 
a rest.  She stretched out on her bed, trying
to catch the occasional stray breeze through the 
open window, dozing to the sounds from the street
below.  An hour later, she got up feeling only 
slightly better.

As she walked to her mother's to help cook lunch, 
Katie wondered how long it would be until her mind 
didn't circle back to Mathew Fox and the tiny parcel
of days that she had been in love.

"You look like the last rose o' summer," Maggie Scully
said when Katie walked into the kitchen.  "Sit down,
for pity's sake."

"I'm fine, Ma," Katie said with more certainty than
she felt.  She took an apron down from the hook by
the stove and tied it around her waist.  "What can
I do?"

"You can shell those if you want," her mother said, 
nodding at a large bowl filled with pea pods.  

Maggie bustled around the kitchen, stirring here, 
basting there.  The kitchen sweltered as the oven 
radiated heat.  Katie paused to draw the back of
her hand over her forehead.

"Where's Missy?" she asked.  Her sister had to be
somewhere in the boarding house as Katie had spotted 
an unwilling Charlie minding Michael on the front 
stoop when she came in.

"Puttin' Jimmy down for a sleep.  Poor mite was so
fussy.  'Tis no wonder after that long ride on the El.
And that husband of hers leavin' her to carry two
babies all the way from Brooklyn."

"Danny's not here?"

"He's 'under the weather', according to Missy.  
Hung over, more likely.  Lazy, good for nothing..."

"All right, Ma," Missy said from the doorway.  "What
needs doin'?"

If Missy had heard her mother's diatribe, she 
didn't let on.  

"You might as well peel those potatoes," Maggie said
on her way to check the contents of the oven.

"How are you?" Missy asked softly as she brought the
bowl of potatoes over to the table where Katie stood
shelling peas.  She nudged her sister with her elbow.

"I'm fine," Katie answered, nudging back.  "How are
you?"

"Cramps like the dickens, and it's hotter than a
furnace.  Ninety degrees out, and she's got the oven
goin'."

"It wouldn't be Sunday dinner without something hot
and hearty on the table," Katie whispered. 

"Maybe we can talk her into a picnic next week."

Katie responded with a perfect but even quieter
imitation of their mother:

"Aye, that would be a fine spectacle, eatin' outside
like hobos."

Maggie had definite ideas about Sunday dinner, and
fortunately she didn't hear her daughters' whispers.

"I found us a nice leg of mutton," Maggie announced as
she closed the oven door.  "I'll roast those potatoes
in the drippin's."

The heat of the kitchen added to the thought of the
heavy meal to come made Katie flush.

"Aren't you hot, Ma?" Missy asked.

"And I suppose people don't have to eat when it's hot?
Give thanks yer not cold," Maggie answered.

Katie smiled.  Their mother could be so predictable.

Missy decided to change the subject.

"Mr. Fenig told me you took care of him, after his
spell," she said.

"Ach, yes," Maggie said.  "I had no idea the poor man
was ill."

Katie wondered if Mr. Fenig's illness was the only
reason Ma had softened toward him.

"Is he working again?" she asked.

"More than ever.  I was wonderin', Katie, do you think
that's what gave him his spell?" Maggie asked.

Katie pondered.  She'd heard of hatmakers with
terrible nerve problems, and of course dozens of other
diseases connected with particular occupations.

"What kind of work does he do?" she asked.

"He reads newspapers," Maggie said.

"Really?  They pay him for that?" Missy asked.

"Because he reads hundreds of papers, and he cuts out
the stories people want to read.  It's a clipping
service."

"I've heard of that.  If George M. Cohan wants to know
what they're saying about him in Chicago or San
Francisco, he pays for someone to look for his name in
all the papers," Katie said.

"Oh, I get it.  But that's a lot of reading," said
Missy.

"That's what I was thinkin'.  Maybe that's what gave
him his spell," Maggie said.

Katie remembered that Mr. Fenig's fits went back to
his childhood.

"I don't think so," she said.

When the peas were shelled and the last potato was
peeled, Maggie suggested that the mutton could cook
without any help from the girls.  

"Let's take a walk," Katie suggested.  "I'll buy you a
Coca-Cola."

The blazing streets were a relief after the sweltering
kitchen as the two sisters walked to Penazek's
grocery.

"If I didn't have my monthly, I'd be on the beach with
the kids."

Katie was about to offer her help for the outing, when
something else caught her attention.

"We use to always get it at the same time," she
commented.  "Maybe it's because you moved to
Brooklyn..."

Missy's face was pure concern.

"Katherine, you're late," she said.

"A few days," Katie conceded.  "But I've had a nasty
shock."

"Oh, Minnow. . ."
 
Katie was about to protest.  Surely the horror of Fox
Mulder's lies was enough to throw her system into
chaos.  And last night she'd stuffed herself until she
was sick.  Couldn't that make her late?

But she didn't protest, because what Missy suggested
now seemed not only possible but certain.

On some level, she had realized something was very 
wrong, almost as if some uninvolved bystander had 
counted the days going by and watched her be sick.  
But she'd pushed any thought of a baby out of her head
as firmly as she'd closed the door behind Fox Mulder.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what would she do?

"It'll be OK," Missy said.

"How?  How will it be OK?" Katie felt like she was
choking.

"I don't know," Missy admitted.  "What about Tom
Colton?"

"My God, Missy, no!"  Katie felt tears form.

"Then you'll stay with us in Brooklyn.   My widowed
sister.  And we'll find a lawyer.  That rich boy will
have to pay."

"Missy, stop, just stop.  I can't think right now!"

"Think about the baby, Katie.  Think about what that
boy did to you."

"He wasn't trying to hurt me."

Gradually, Katie had come to understand why she'd
been so easily deceived.  Mathew believed his deception.
He'd gotten so caught up in his make-believe world,
he'd drawn her in along with himself.  But Katie
lived in the real world and had to live with the
consequences.  

"It will be all right," Missy assured her again. 
"We'll go get our Coca-Cola, and we'll figure
something out later."

For the remainder of the afternoon, Katie heard
everything around her and responded with exaggerated
interest, but she felt numb, as she had when Da died. 
She knew nothing would ever be the same.

Mr. Fenig was enjoying his new status at the table. 
Professor Burkes was particularly fascinated by Max's
theory regarding the Prohibition Pary.

"So the real goal of the temperance movement is to
prohibit alcohol so they can make a fortune by selling
it illegally?" he asked.

"There's a man from another city."  Fenig leaned
forward.  "I found him in Omaha.  I found him in
Detroit.  And Cincinnati and Kansas City and
Philadelphia and San Francisco, and they introduce 
him as a friend and ally from another city."

"Then he's the one who wants the ban?" Burkes asked.

"He gives them the money, and he tells them what the
others have planned.  And when he's in Philadelphia
they say he's a friend from Detroit, but in Detroit
they say he's from Cleveland."

"And how do you know about him?" the professor asked.

"I read the papers.  All the papers.  And Mr. Alex
Krycek can't be from everyplace, but never the place
where he is."

Burkes stopped smiling.

"Stranger things have turned out to be true," he
allowed.

"And not just the Prohibitionists.  I find him with
the Anarchists and sometimes the unions.  But he's
always from another city."

The table was hushed.

"So he goes from one meeting to the next, and he tells
them what to do?  Pays them so that they do it?  By
God I wish I had his job," said Bill.

"But that's mean," Charlie protested.  "He's foxin'
people to do what he wants without even knowin' it! 
'Cause they want folks to quit their drinkin', and he
wants only to sell 'em their beer!"

"See, Charlie, you gotta ask yourself.  Wouldja rather
be one of the people gettin' foxed, or wouldja rather
be on the side that's foxin' 'em?"

"He's right, Bill, it's terrible!  At least it would
be, if it was true," Missy said.

Katie frowned, remembering something.

"At the settlement house, a man gave us a large gift
to use as we wished.  And he didn't want to say who
gave it."

"Was it him?  Was it Alex Krycek?" Doris Kearns asked
in a whisper.

"No, another name.  And now I know who gave the gift. 
Mr. William Mulder," Katie said.

"My friends know his son," Fenig said proudly, and
Katie realized she truly had gone numb inside, because
she didn't flinch.

Later, in the kitchen, when Katie and Missy were
helping with the clean up, Maggie was still pondering
Fenig's strange story.

"I know what I believe, that drink can be a pure evil
for some folks," she said, with a sideways glance at
Missy.  "But shuttin' the saloons?  It's like throwin'
out the honey to keep away the flies."   

"Ma, I gotta tell you somethin'," Missy said suddenly.
"I think I'm expectin' again."

"What are you sayin', girl?  Haven't ya any sense?"
Maggie asked, a catch in her voice.

"I'm not sure yet.  I just thought you should know."  

Maggie went out the back door to throw the dirty
dishwater out, and Katie shot her sister a rueful look.

After the kitchen was clean, Katie, Missy and their
mother went to a matinee leaving Charlie to watch the
babies.  He groused mightily that this was work suitable
for a girl until Missy slipped him a nickel.

The movie house was dark and not quite as hot as outside.
Katie would have dozed during the picture if it hadn't 
been about a young girl who is turned out of her
employer's home when she has a baby by the handsome 
son of the manor house.  Stumbling around in a blizzard,
the poor girl and her child were nearly frozen to death
before being taken in by a kindly woodcutter.

"What a dolt," Missy said as they walked back to the
boarding house.  "She should have stood up for herself
and made that rich boy pay.  Why should the poor woodcutter
support his child?"

"Maybe she had too much pride," Katie replied.  She had
always scoffed along with Missy at the silly melodramatic
plots of the movies they saw on Sunday afternoons.  This
one was every bit as ridiculous, but she couldn't laugh
at it today.

"A girl's reputation is her most precious possession,"
Maggie Scully intoned.  "Once it's gone, she's ruined."

Later that night, Katie dreamt she was wandering the
streets of the city in a raging snowstorm, holding a 
lifeless baby.   In the morning, she woke to find her 
face wet with tears and bright sunlight streaming through 
the window.  Glancing at the clock on her dresser, 
Katie groaned as she saw that it was past eight o'clock. 
Clinic began promptly at nine.  

As soon as her feet touched the floor, nausea hit 
Katie like a bucketful of water.  She was able, this
time, to race downstairs before being sick over the
toilet.  When she was sure her stomach wouldn't 
rebel again, Katie washed up and went into
the kitchen.

"You need to keep some soda crackers by the bed,"
Shayna said from the kitchen door.  

"What are you talking about?"  

Oh dear God, Katie thought, why did all this have to 
happen in the summer where open windows and close 
quarters removed any semblance of privacy.

"Soda crackers.  Eat a couple before you even pick up
your head in the morning.  Saved me every time.  Izzy 
was the worst though.  Thought I was gonna die with 
him."

"Shayna," Katie said, closing her eyes.  "I don't 
even know for sure."

"Yeah, yer right.  No use buyin' trouble--it comes
free all the time.  Just remember about the soda
crackers."

"Can you set up for clinic?" Katie asked.   At
Shayna's affirmation, Katie flew upstairs to get
dressed.

The first patients were already waiting by the time
Katie entered the classroom they used for the weekly
clinic.  Vincent arrived, carrying his black doctor's
bag that the children of the neighborhood all believed
was where he carried the new babies.

The morning went by quickly and Katie managed to keep
her nausea in check through the cases of prickly heat
and sunburn.  She even survived Mrs. Tanner's phlegmy 
cough.

Clinic was nearly over when a young man appeared in
the doorway of the classroom.   His left hand was
cradled to his midsection and wrapped in some cloth.

"Excuse me," he said.  "I was told there was a doctor
here."

"Yes," Vincent said, motioning the young man into the
room.  "Here, sit down and we'll take care of that.
My name is Dr. Vitigliano.  What happened?"

The young man allowed Vincent to remove the cloth 
wrapping from his hand.  He winced in obvious pain
as the badly burned skin was revealed.  The stench 
of chemicals and burned flesh wafted to Katie.

"I've been working on a project," the man said.  Katie
noticed that he spoke well, his diction clear and 
precise.  

"That's a pretty bad burn," Vincent said.  "What were
you working with?"  

"Sulfuric acid," he said, hissing when Vincent began to 
clean the skin.  "I'm working on an electric starter 
for the automobile."

"Capital idea," Vincent said.  "Make that miserable
hand crank a thing of the past."  

"That's the idea."  Pale with pain, the young man
closed his eyes.  

"What's your name?" Vincent asked.

"Pendrell.  Sean Pendrell.  I let myself be distracted
for a split second and the next thing I knew, I
could smell the skin burning."

Katie struggled to keep her feet under her as 
she watched Vincent dab at skin that looked like
raw meat gone bad.  Her stomach rolled and nausea
rose in her throat.  

"Excuse me," she said, hurrying from the room.  

She barely made it to the bathroom before heaving 
violently.  Shuddering, she staggered out into the
kitchen.

She sat at the table, her head pillowed on her
arms and fought back tears.  How humiliating, she
thought, how incredibly unprofessional to abandon her
post like that.  Vincent would think her a terrible 
nurse and he'd be completely right in that belief.

But his voice was gentle when he found her and touched
her shoulder lightly.

"Katie?  Tell me what's wrong.  Are you ill?"

"Oh, Vincent," she said, her voice thick with tears.
"I'm so embarrassed and so very sorry."

"Sorry?  For what?  Being human?"  Vincent sat down
next to her, taking her hand.  "Would you let me
examine you?"

"I...I'm sure it's nothing.  Really, Vincent, I'll
be fine."

"How about Dr. Scanlon, over on Houston Street?"

"I don't know him," Katie said.

"That's the point."  Vincent gave a small smile.  "I
worked under him at Bellevue, and I can vouch for his
expertise.  Nor matter what's wrong, it's better to
know than to wonder."

Over the next few days, Katie gave Vincent's kind
advice a lot of thought.  She needed to know for certain
before she lost her mind.  

The week passed in a confused haze.  Katie found that
Shayna was quite right--soda crackers eaten before she
got out of bed did, indeed, help her nausea.  

Mail arrived for her each day--heavy cream velum envelopes 
embossed with a Fifth Avenue address and Mathew's 
distinctive scrawl.  Each day, she handed the unopened 
letters back to the postman with the word "refused" 
written across the front.

Wednesday evening, Katie excused herself from the evening's
events and lay down on her bed.  She'd nearly dozed off 
when raised voices on the stairs roused her.  The voices 
became clearer and louder as she approached the stairs.

"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Fancypants 
Richman?"

"I have to speak with Katie.  Please, Shayna.  It's 
important."

"Please keep your voice down, Mr. Mulder," Katie said 
with more composure than she felt as she descended.  
"We have classes in session."

"We need to talk," he said, more quietly.  

Katie had to admit that Fox Mulder looked as if he'd 
been living in hell.  Well, good.  That was only what 
he deserved.  So why did that still tug at her heart?

"We've said all there was to say."  

"No we haven't because you still don't believe me."

When she realized Fox wasn't leaving until he'd had
his say, she sighed and led him downstairs and out the
front door.

"All right, Mr. Mulder," she said, wrapping her arms 
around her middle.  "What was so terribly important 
that you needed to disrupt the entire settlement house?"

"I never meant to hurt you, Katie.  You have to believe 
that."

"I do believe you," Katie said.  "When I first found out
who you really were, I thought, perhaps, you were merely
amusing yourself with the lower classes.  But now, I
understand.  You believed the things you told me.  But
you were still playacting, Mr. Mulder.  And you did
hurt me--even if you didn't mean to."

"I can't lose you."

"You say you love me.  Do you respect me, Mr. Mulder?"

"Of course I do," he said, grasping her hands between his
own.  "I have the utmost respect for you."

"Well then, I'm going to ask you to respect my wishes and
leave me alone."

Withdrawing her hands, Katie turned and walked back into
the settlement house, leaving Fox Mulder alone on the
front steps.  She managed to get up to her bedroom before
the tears began. 

The next day, Katie told her mother that she could
only help with the laundry in the morning.  Maggie 
seemed worried, but kept any questions to herself.

That afternoon, Katie mustered every ounce of her 
courage and went to see Dr. Scanlon.  The examination 
was uncomfortable, but she clenched her hands into 
fists and endured.

Later, she sat across from Dr. Scanlon in his
book-lined office.  Katie wasn't sure if it was 
pity or disdain that she detected as he looked 
at her.  She straightened her spine and raised 
her chin.  She'd accept neither response from him.  

"You're definitely with child, Miss Scully," he said,
with emphasis on the "Miss."  "According to my
calculations, your confinement will occur in February."

"I've been feeling quite ill, Doctor," Katie said.  
"As well as very tired."

"The pregnancy appears healthy," he answered. "Malaise
is to be expected."

Katie had the distinct feeling that Dr. Scanlon would
have had more sympathy if she'd been "Mrs. Anybody"
instead of "Miss Scully."  

"Have you any instructions for me?" Katie asked. 

"Rest when you can.  Eat a wholesome diet.  Nothing
that common sense wouldn't dictate.  I understand you
are a nurse employed by the settlement house." 

"Yes, I am."

"I'm not sure it is suitable for you to continue in
that employment, Miss Scully.  In light of your
condition."

"I'm capable of handling my responsibilities, at least
for the present."

"Perhaps you are, but would that be suitable?" he
asked pointedly.

Katie rose and left.  She fumed the entire way back to
the settlement house.  

If Shayna hadn't been waiting for her, Katie would
have gone next door to get her.

"You ain't the first and you won't be the last,"
Shayna said.

"I knew better."

"What people know and what they do ain't always the
same.  Katie, ya gotta tell yer mama.  Yer gonna need
her."

"Not yet, Shayna.  Not until I figure out what to do."

"Listen to me good.  There's people around, some of
'em doctors even, who can fix this  like it never
happened.  I seen girls get hurt that way, and one I
heard about even died, so I don't think you should do
it.  But bubbela, if yer gonna do it, it's better it
should be right away."

Katie shook her head.

"No.  Not that."

Shayna heaved a sigh of relief.

"OK.  I just wanted you should know.  Then another
thing ya wanna think about is gettin' married.  And
again, better it should be sooner instead of later."

"Not that either," Katie said staunchly.

"You make that millionaire billionaire pay what he
owes and you'll find plenty of men who would have ya,"
Shayna said.

Katie stood up, pushing her chair away from the table.
Shayna was trying to be practical and helpful, but
her advice was so coarse and ugly that Katie couldn't
bear to listen any more.

"I'm going to take a walk," she said.

Over the days ahead, Katie discovered in herself an
almost a magical ability to ignore her own troubles
for hours at a time.  She was as efficient as ever at
running the settlement house and watching over her
patients.  She told herself it was a blessing.

Friday evening in the quiet after sunset, Vincent
Vitigliano surprised her with a visit.

"It's good to see you," Katie said brightly, but
Vincent's face was dark with concern.

"I fear I've done you a terrible wrong by recommending
Dr. Scanlon to you," he said.

"He's not a pleasant man," Katie agreed.

"I knew him as a gifted diagnostician.  I didn't
suspect that he'd be unethical."

"Unethical?"

"Katie, he told me."

"Oh.  Well, since you referred me... a fellow
physician...."  It wasn't unethical for a doctor to
report back to a colleague on a mutual patient.  Katie
was more concerned with the fact that Vincent knew
than with the manner in which he'd been informed.

"There was nothing professional about it.  He's not a
nice man," Vincent said firmly.

"I don't blame you, Vincent," she said.

Minutes passed.  Vincent sat at the kitchen table,
making no move to leave.

"I'll put on some coffee," Katie decided.  She busied
herself with the percolator as Vincent continued to
brood.

"I assure you, I don't hold you responsible for Dr.
Scanlon's actions," she said, but still Vincent was
silent.

At last, with a cup of coffee in his hand, he began to
speak.

"I'm 34," he said.

"I thought you were younger."

"Most people do.  I started working in this
neighborhood while I was still in training, to gain
experience.  And I stay because it's important to me,"
he said.

"That's fortunate for all of us."

"It's important to me, and I know it's important to
you.  You see, Katie, we care about the same things,
and we work together so easily.  I'm very fond of you,
and I'm bold enough to think that you care about me as
well."

"Vincent, I do care about you--"

"Working together, with mutual respect and affection. 
I think in time you could grow to love me."

"I wouldn't use you that way," she said, her voice 
hoarse with emotion.  "I couldn't."  

"I don't want you to answer yet.  Take the time to
think about what I said.  Until then, my offer
remains."

Katie couldn't say a word.  She didn't want to hurt
him but she could never accept his proposal.  He
replaced his cup on the saucer, and he left.

She did think about his offer.  Vincent was kind,
intelligent and handsome.  And it wasn't as if she
would be deceiving him.  There was the baby to
consider as well.  She was sure that Vincent would
make a fine father.  She knew what Shayna would say,
and probably Missy too.

She knew it would be wrong, at least she thought she
knew.  But she had been so sure that sleeping with Fox
Mulder was right.  Maybe it was time to admit that she
didn't know as much as she thought she knew.

On Sunday Maggie was strangely quiet, but more than
once Katie felt her mother's sad eyes upon her.   

Mr. Pendrell returned to the clinic on Monday, his
hand much improved after a week of healing.  He
inquired politely if Katie was feeling better.  

Katie and Vincent were focused and professional
throughout the day, and neither one mentioned her
condition or his proposal.  Katie didn't invite him
for coffee afterwards, and he didn't linger.  

Again and again Shayna asked her what she was going to
do, but Katie had no answer.

Late on Wednesday Katie found herself sewing
frantically with Shayna and Mrs. Tibby.

"Explain it again.  Julius Caesar is going to play
Marc Antony?" Shayna asked.

"Yes, because he knows all the lines," Mrs. Tibby
said.

"So why can't he wear his same toga, from when he was
Caesar?"

"Because Portia's going to be Caesar," Mrs. Tibby said
patiently.

"And Caesar's toga has a big red spot in front, when
you move the folds aside," Katie said.

"And I'm afraid Portia's going to break her neck if we
don't get Caesar's toga hemmed.  And Caesar is going
to bust out of Marc Antony's costume, if we don't
finish taking it out," Mrs. Tibby said.

"Oy, show business.  And I thought it was all glamour."
Shayna sighed dramatically.

The women were startled by a forceful knock at the
door.  Before Katie had reached the foyer, Mr. Blevins
had let himself in.

"Good evening, Mr. Blevins," Katie said politely,
although such a late call by one of the trustees was
unprecedented.

"Good evening, Miss Scully.  Unfortunately my purpose
here is not pleasant."

"Is something wrong?" Katie asked.

"Very much so, as I know you're aware.  Indeed, I'm as
disappointed by your dishonesty as I am by your moral
failing," he said.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Blevins.  I answer to my
conscience, as I'm sure you do yourself," Katie said.

"Your conscience, it appears, is sadly wanting, as Dr.
Scanlon has informed me.  Your position here is
terminated immediately.  You may have until tomorrow
morning to remove your effects."

End of Book 2: Katie Scully's story.  Continued in
Book 3: Fox Mulder's story.

Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Fox Mulder's story.  Part 10

He wasn't drunk.  Not yet, at least.  Fox Mulder 
took another sip of scotch whiskey and waited for
the familiar fire as it slid all the way down to
his belly.  No, he wasn't drunk, but if the last
few days had taught him anything, it was that the
anesthetic qualities of hard liquor were vastly
overrated.
 
His heart felt as if it had been pierced through.
Even when he closed his eyes, the image of Katie's
face was before him, pain pouring off her like 
rainwater.  He brought the heavy cut glass tumbler
to his mouth and swallowed another mouthful.  

Placing his glass on the mahogany table, he reached
into his pocket and withdrew an envelope.  The 
paper felt dry and brittle in his fingers.  

"Refused," he read, softly, as if saying it aloud
would help him believe it.  "Refused."

Fox could still smell the furniture wax the maid had
used when she'd dusted and polished the parlor that
morning.  Of course, now the smell was overlaid
with the smoke from Fox's cigar.  The room was quiet
and cool, suiting his dark mood.

"Fox, dear, how many times have I asked you and your
father not to smoke cigars in the parlor?  The stench
hangs in the air for days." 

His mother stood in the doorway, exasperation plain on 
her face.  He'd expected something more than irritation
from his mother this afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he said, stubbing the cigar out 
slowly.  He hadn't been enjoying it anyway.  "How was 
the Orchid Society Luncheon?"

"It was just lovely.  Mrs. Schuyler certainly outdid 
herself with the menu and floral arrangements.  I think
she bought up every orchid east of the Mississippi.  
And, of course Diana was simply radiant, as always."

"Radiant, was she?  Didn't she have some important news
to announce?  Something shocking?"

"No, darling.  Why on earth would you ask that?  Fox,
is something wrong?  You've been looking perfectly 
dreadful, dear.  Why aren't you at work?  Are you
ill?"

"She didn't say anything about calling off the wedding?"

"Of course not, dear," his mother said, sitting next to
him on the settee.  She took his hand, shocking him a
bit with the uncharacteristic gesture.  "Fox, I know 
you're a little overwhelmed by the thought of marriage,
but remember, Diana will be right by your side."

"There will be no marriage," he choked out.

"Oh darling, every bridegroom goes through some
uncertainty.  It's perfectly natural."

"No, Mother.  There will be no marriage.  I'm not 
marrying Diana Fowley and she knows it.  She promised 
me...she gave me her word that she would tell everyone 
at the luncheon." 

"You're talking nonsense, Fox.  Of course there's going
to be a wedding.  Diana's planning an engagement party 
for next month."

He was on his feet in a moment, pacing from the fireplace 
to the window and back.  Diana had given her word.  He'd 
gone to her the day after Katie had confronted him with his 
deception.  Fox had been a fool living in a dream, just as
Katie had said.  While he'd played out his fantasy with the
woman he loved, real life and Diana Fowley had seemed like
a distant mirage.   

The price he'd paid in allowing Diana to bring the engagement 
to an end on her own terms had been far too high.  He'd lost 
the only woman he'd ever loved and he had no desire to 
continue the fabrication, even if Diana and the Schuylers
made his family suffer.  

Skinner had been right.  Diana was never going to break
the engagement on her own terms.  She would try and wear
him down until she could seduce him to the altar.  Damn it,
he wasn't going to participate a day longer.

"No matter," he bit out.  "I'll take matters into my own
hands, tonight."

"Dear?" his mother asked, her voice tremulous.  She 
tolerated his eccentricities and smiled at what she 
considered his youthful enthusiasm.  His desperation
frightened her.  "Are you going to work?"

"I don't think that I will," Fox answered, downing the
last of his scotch.  He stood with eyes closed and allowed
the fire to penetrate his heart.  "I'm going out for 
a while."

"You'll be back in time for Mrs. Phelps' dinner party, 
won't you, dear?"  

"Never fear, Mother.  I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Giving instructions to Edgar to bring his car around, Fox
waited in the bright sunlight for the Pierce Arrow to 
pull in front of the house.  The car had been a slight act
of rebellion.  His father had been nearly apoplectic when
he found that Fox had purchased the car that President
Taft had made popular by purchasing two of them earlier 
in the year.  

Fox pulled away from the curb.  He'd bought the car with 
the intention of thrilling Katie.  He'd pictured them side 
by side, touring along country roads.  Now, he drove the 
vehicle through the neighborhoods where he hoped to catch 
a glimpse of her.  

In the two weeks since Katie had discovered his true identity,
he'd spent more than a few nights parked in front of the 
bordello that stood a stone's throw from the settlement house.   
The bawdy house was a source of much embarrassment to Katie, 
but Fox found it ideal camouflage for the Pierce Arrow.  
Anyone spotting him sitting in his car would assume he was 
a chauffeur. 

Hidden in the darkness, he'd watched the comings and goings 
of the people who attended the classes and programs.  He 
knew it was wrong.  Katie would see it as the worst kind of 
violation, second only to deceiving her with his identity.  
But he couldn't help himself.  The need to be near her in 
any capacity was too strong to resist.

He would hold his breath waiting for a glimpse of Katie.  
Last week, he'd nearly gone mad when he spotted her 
leaving the settlement house with a tall, dark-haired man.

The next days had taken a terrible toll on Fox.  He'd been
alternately eaten up with jealousy, angry with Katie for
moving on with such ease, angry with Diana for holding
onto him with such tenacity, and angry with himself for 
botching everything and losing Katie.  

He'd drunk himself into a stupor each night.  Each morning,
he'd been unable to rise from his bed.  Luckily, his 
father had assumed he spent his evenings with Diana and 
had admonished him that he'd wear himself out before the 
wedding.  And each evening he returned to prowl the streets 
around Katie's neighborhood.

After several evenings passed with no sign of the dark man,
Fox gathered his courage and returned to plead with Katie
again.  He'd braved Shayna's sharp tongue, grateful that 
she didn't have her broom at the ready.  His heart had 
soared at the sound of Katie's voice.  

As she drew him out on the steps of the settlement house,
Fox realized he only had moments to speak to her before
she shut him, quite literally, out of her presence.  How
could he fight when she asked him to respect her wishes 
and leave her alone?  His heart broke when she turned and 
walked away, closing the door after her.  

The pain of that moment tore into him as surely as a 
knife to the heart.  In the few moments of their exchange, 
Fox had been awash in memories.   He'd relived every 
touch, every caress.  The way her alabaster skin had 
glowed in the moonlight.  The way she felt in his arms.  
The way it had felt to make love to her, the sound of 
her moaning in his ear.

He'd had no idea it could be that way.  He was by no means 
inexperienced, but he'd never been in love with a woman 
before.  Since his late teen years, he'd had relations with 
a long line of actresses and dancers that ended with Sheila 
Fontaine.  He'd regarded the sexual act with Sheila and the 
rest as an exciting and recreational outlet.  Nothing prepared 
him for making love with someone who adored him and whom he 
adored.  He'd been most profoundly shocked by the power of it.

If he dwelled on his loss any longer, he'd surely go mad.  
With a wrench of the wheel, he steered in the direction 
of Canal Street.  He would stop by the hardware shop and
ask Langly to enlarge some of the better portraits of
Katie.  Or maybe instead he would order that all the
film be destroyed, along with every print.  Fox
couldn't decide which option would be more painful.

He entered the store to find the more circumspect of
the two proprietors behind the counter. 

"Good afternoon, Mulder," Byers greeted him.  There
was always a marked hesitation when Byers addressed
him, a noticeable pause as he forced himself to
dispense with the honorific "mister."  

"Afternoon," Fox said.  " Is Langly here?"

Byers shook his head.

"Perhaps I can be of service?" he asked.

Fox rocked on his heels, eyeing the rows and rows of
shelves.  

"Do you like hardware?" he asked idly, thinking of all
the hours he spent tracking investments and currencies, 
and how little time it left for the things that mattered 
to him.

"Do I like hardware?"  Byers looked at Fox uncertainly.  
"Yes sir, I like it very much."

Fox gave a dry laugh.  Even if Byers had understood
the question, he would force himself to offer an
ingratiating reply.

"Is there something you need?" Byers asked.  He was
clearly uncomfortable, but Fox didn't care.  He had no
place to go until tonight.

"I don't know that Langly will be back today," Byers
continued.  "He's working in the lab."

"He has a lab?"  Fox was intrigued.  "I suppose he
fancies himself another Thomas Edison."

"We have a lab, yes," Byers answered stiffly.  "We
received a patent for our burglar alarm."

"I didn't know," Fox said.

"And our next invention will change the world." 
Byers' usual diffidence disappeared for the moment.

"Really?" Fox asked.

Byers dropped his eyes.

"Perhaps that's an exaggeration.  But it will be
popular."

"Don't keep me in suspense," Fox prompted.

"We're still working on it," Byers said, turning away.

"Please tell me.  Perhaps I could invest."

"Are you serious?"  

Fox saw he had the man's complete attention.

"Why not?  If it's something worthwhile," he said.

"We're so close.  But it's difficult when you can't
afford to buy supplies."

"Then some additional capital would be helpful?"  

Fox assumed the mask of bland goodwill that he brought
to poker games and negotiations.  Byers looked eager
but cautious.

"It's an electric starter, for the automobile," he
blurted.

"Ah."  Usually it was Edgar or one of the footmen who
cranked Fox's vehicle to life, but he'd performed the
undignified task himself more often than he liked.

"A fine idea, wouldn't you say?" Byers asked, his eyes
shining.

"A capital idea," Fox agreed.  "But how would it
work?"

"Quite simple, really.  A small electric motor to
replace the crank."

Byers launched into the technical aspects, and Fox
found himself weighing the man more than the plan.

"I don't know exactly when we'd be able to pay you
back," Byers said, after he completed his explanation.

"If your scheme doesn't work, you'll never pay me
back," Fox said.

"But if it does, we could double your investment."

"I could assume the total financial liability.  And
offer a small salary to the designers."  Fox dangled
the bait.

"And in return?" Byers asked.

"An equal share in the invention--if you happen to
succeed."

"An equal share?  But we're doing all the work."

Fox shrugged and waited.

"I'd have to talk to the others," Byers said.

"Others?  Not just you and Langly?" Fox asked.

"We're machining most of the parts, but there's
another fellow who knows about power cells and 
wiring.  And a fourth man who dreamed up the idea."

"Four of you?  That only leaves twenty percent for
me," Fox complained.

"If my partners decide to accept your terms."

"Don't take too long," 

"What if your father doesn't agree?" Byers asked.

"My father won't be involved.  As a mark of my
confidence, I'll risk my personal assets."

The disbursement would be small enough that Fox could
cover it on his own.  He lacked the interest or
enthusiasm to present the idea to his father or DT.

"I'll still need to talk to Ringo and the others."

"As I said, don't take too long."

It was the first time in weeks that Fox had felt a
flicker of interest in anything financial.  He felt
buoyed for a moment, as he worked the crank on the
Pierce Arrow.  Maybe he'd take some pictures at the 
piers, or in one of the parks.  But as he got behind 
the wheel, his malaise returned.  Anyway, it was nearly 
time to get ready for Mrs. Phelps' soiree.

He returned home, driving the Pierce Arrow back to the
part of the carriage house that had been given over to
the automobiles.  A footman ran out to meet him and 
take the car once Fox hopped out.

He felt grimy from driving around the city.  In his
despondence, personal grooming had fallen by the wayside
as he lost interest in almost every daily task.  Mourning
Katie took all of his energy.  Tonight, he'd have to 
summon whatever strength he had to make himself
presentable.  He had a job to do and that gave him 
purpose.

He arrived at his room, and stood with his hand on 
the doorknob.   Head bowed, he knew there was something
he had to do first and walking a few feet down the 
hall, he knocked on Skinner's door.
 
"Come in," Skinner's voice called through the door.

Mulder stood in the doorway for a moment, longing
for the days when he didn't feel awkward in this
man's presence.  Skinner sat in an armchair by
the window, the late afternoon sunlight blazing
through to shine on his bald pate.

"You look like something that climbed out of a 
sewer grate," Skinner said, looking up from his
book.  "Where in Hades have you been?"

"Hades," Fox answered as he flopped down on the
sofa, his long legs sprawled out before him.

"Your father's patience is wearing thin, Mulder.  
He's been cursing a blue streak about your missing 
work."

"He's going to be far angrier after tonight," Fox
said, passing a weary hand over his face.  "You
were right, you know."

"I was right?  I should ask for that in writing.
Pray tell what was I right about."

Fox sat forward, his hands clasped between his 
knees.  His relationship with Skinner had been
badly damaged by their conflict over Katie.  Fox 
was torn between not trusting the man and desperately
needing an ally now that his world had shattered.

"You said that Diana Fowley wouldn't let me go.
You were right.  I was perfectly clear the last time
I spoke with her.  I said I'd been patient enough
and that she had to tell everyone that the marriage 
was off.  She's not only failed to do so, the damn
woman is planning an engagement party."

"I'm afraid I'm not surprised.  What are you going
to do?"

"I won't allow this fraud to continue.  I'll do what
needs to be done tonight."

"Good," Skinner said, nodding.  "It's best to do it
with one stroke."

"If only it would set things right again."  Weary
beyond words, Fox rubbed his eyes with the heels of
his hands.  "It's all gone to hell.  You were right 
about that, too."

Skinner closed the book, setting it on the table
at his elbow.  He slowly removed his spectacles,
placing them atop the book.

"I wish I'd been wrong.  It gives me no pleasure
to see you destroy yourself.  You're drinking far
too much, Mulder, and not eating nearly enough.  I
don't think you've been to bed before the small 
hours once in the last two weeks.  Your parents 
may not have noticed, but I have."

"Nothing matters anymore," Mulder muttered.  

"I take it things had ended badly with Katie."

"Two weeks ago, she found out who I really am."  I
have no idea how or why, but she was in Delmonico's
one night when Diana and I arrived for dinner."

A tremendous weight lifted from Fox's chest.  No
matter the outcome, Fox felt relief at just telling
someone what had happened.

"She must have been devastated," Skinner said.  

"She said she never wanted to see me again.  
I...Skinner, I don't know what I'll do without her
in my life.  Katie is like the air I breath, the
water I drink--she's everything to me."

Silence stretched between the two men as Skinner
looked at his hands, obviously deep in thought.

"I'll go to see her," Skinner said, finally.  "Perhaps
she'll listen to me."

The ember of hope that Fox had thought completely
extinguished, flickered ever so slightly.  

"Thank you.  Thank you, Skinner," he said rising to
shake the man's hand.  "I'd better get ready for
the party tonight."

"God, Mulder, when was the last time you saw your
barber?" Skinner asked, as he stood up.  "You look
like a caveman."

Fox reached up to touch his overlong hair.  His hair
was sadly in need of a trim, grazing his collar in
the back and flopping into his eyes.  

"You're just jealous," he teased, gesturing at Skinner's
bald head.  It felt good to banter again.  He hadn't 
realized how much he missed it.  

Fox bathed and wrestled into a formal suit.  Unlike
recent weeks, when Skinner came in to help him with 
the cuffs, he admonished Fox to stop moving, joking 
that he'd have to put him in a headlock if he fidgeted
any more.

His father greeted him with barely contained anger.
It was surely only the prospect of the advantageous 
marriage between Fox and Diana that kept William 
Mulder from blasting his fury over his son's lack of
attention at work.  That rage would surely escape 
its confines once Fox did what he had to do.  

They took the horse-drawn carriage though 
the family had purchased a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost
months ago.  Teena Mulder still preferred the more 
roomy interior cab of the carriage so her gown 
didn't become crushed.

His mother seemed pensive as they traveled to 
the Phelps home.  Seated across from Fox, her gaze 
returned to his face over and over.  Clearly, she 
remembered their conversation earlier in the day 
and was worried.

They arrived and Fox surveyed the room in search
of Diana.  He found her laughing at something a
tall man was saying.  As Fox drew closer, he realized
it was the same craggy-faced man she'd been talking
to at Delmonico's the first night he met her for
dinner.   As he had that night, the man held a 
cigarette between his long fingers.  Fox wondered
how addicted the man must have been not to wait 
until after dinner when the gentlemen retired to
smoke cigars and drink brandy.

Diana and her friend didn't see Fox as he approached, 
allowing him to overhear their discussion.

"You'll tame him soon enough, my dear.  But try not to 
break his spirit." 

"I assure you, I prefer my lovers spirited," Diana
said before she noticed Fox at her side.

"Good evening," he said to the smoking man.  "I hope 
you don't mind my stealing Mrs. Fowley away from you."

"It would only be fair," the man replied, letting a 
long plume of smoke escape his lips.  "Such a
lovely woman should not languish in the company of an
old man.  Reluctantly, I must relinquish her."

Fox waited until the man was out of earshot before he
leaned in to Diana and hissed, "I told you a week ago
Saturday that this charade had to end, Diana.  It has
gone on far too long and I won't be a party to it a 
day longer."

"Fox, dear, you must be patient with me," Diana cooed,
slipping her hand around the curve of his elbow.  

"I've been patient.  More than any man could be expected 
to be.  You had the perfect opportunity at the Orchid 
Society Luncheon and you failed to clear up this 
disaster."

"The right moment simply didn't present itself, Fox.  
We have families to consider.  Your mother, for instance, 
is so very happy with the idea.  I just couldn't bear 
to tell her--she would have been crushed."

"You leave me no choice, Diana," Fox said as he strode 
off.

Fox snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray and
sipped it as he moved over by the terrace doors.  The
evening breeze offered a respite from the warmth of the 
drawing room.  From his vantage point, he watched Diana,
who was deep in conversation with the craggy man.  She
looked tense as she glanced in Fox's direction through
a mist of cigarette smoke.  

He spotted Dewitt Traut chatting with Mrs. Schuyler
and caught the man's eye.  DT excused himself and 
made his way over to Fox.

"It's good to see you after so long.  Seems as if you've 
forgotten the way to the office, Fox.  Maybe we need to 
draw you a map."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Dewitt.  I've...had some issues to
attend to."

"Son, we realize you're young, so we've given you plenty 
of rope.  Just see that you don't hang yourself with it."  
DT may have been smiling, but Fox could tell he, too, 
had run out of patience.

Fox looked away, embarrassed that he'd upset his mentor.  
His eyes lingered on Diana and the tall man. 

"Who is that man, Uncle DeWitt?"

Stony silence.

"Uncle?  Who is that man with Diana?"

"I don't see him."

Fox sighed and wondered if pressing the issue would
accomplish anything more than further irritation of
Traut.

The butler called them in to dinner and Fox found himself
sitting beside Diana.  She attempted to make small talk,
but Fox chose to keep his swirling thoughts to himself.

His gut was twisted into knots with the anticipation and
he could barely do justice to either the turtle soup or 
filet of sea bass that followed.  He felt like the trapeze
artist he'd seen once when he was twelve--waiting, waiting
waiting for the moment when the trapeze was in the right
position and he could reach out and grasp it.

When George Schuyler stood to toast his niece and her 
fiance, Fox knew the trapeze was firm in his hand.

"Please everyone, let's all raise a glass to Diana and 
Fox!" George said and everyone happily complied.  Diana 
was magnificent, turning to offer Fox a radiant smile.  
The smile didn't extend to her eyes, and he thought he 
detected a little panic there.

"Mrs. Fowley and I thank you for your kind wishes," Fox
said as he stood.  "But we must announce that there is no 
engagement."  

"Fox, please," Diana whispered at his elbow.  He turned to 
pin her with a long look.  

"Sadly, this *engagement* was no more than a delusion on 
the part of Mrs. Fowley.  I apologize to you all for my 
part in this unfortunate circumstance.  I allowed the
deception to continue for far too long in my hopes that
Mrs. Fowley would correct the situation.  But, as she
has not, I must reiterate--there is no engagement.  
There will be no marriage between Mrs. Fowley and myself." 

Several of the ladies gasped and Fox was sure his mother
was one of them.   He couldn't bear to look, picturing 
instead the look of shock and dismay he was sure marked
her face.  At his side, Diana's chair nearly toppled 
as she ran from the room.  Gravely, the man with the
cigarettes rose, nodded to Mrs. Phelps and followed
Diana from the room.  A low murmur traveled around the 
table.

"I'm so sorry to have disrupted your dinner with 
unpleasantness.  If you'll excuse me," he said to 
the hostess.  "I have an urgent matter to attend
to."

Mrs. Phelps nodded numbly.  Teena Mulder managed
a weak "Fox?"  He assured his parents that he would
find his own way home and not to cut their evening 
short on his account.  Bill Mulder's face was dark
red, his eyes burning with fury as Fox passed him.

As he passed through the drawing room and foyer he 
cautiously kept a eye out for Diana and her 
smoky companion.  Fortunately, there was no evidence 
that they'd lingered at the Phelps house and Fox
was able to make his escape without incident.

He stood on the steps of the Phelps house, taking a 
long, deep breath of warm evening air.  It smelled
wonderful to him, horse manure, automobile exhaust
and all.  It was the scent of freedom from Diana
Fowley. 

He'd been worse than foolish in ever thinking he could
woo Katie Scully while carrying on a public liaison 
with another woman.  He'd been mad to think he could
win Katie's heart without utterly giving her his own.

His headstrong, wayward little sister had chosen love
and freedom over wealth and family.  He understood at
last that her flight was not a fall from grace, but an
escape.

Nothing mattered now but regaining Katie's love and
earning her trust.  He arrived home filled with
determination, but lacking a definite plan.

Skinner was waiting outside.

"Did you talk to Katie?" Fox asked anxiously.

"She wasn't in," Skinner said.  

"Was she really out, or did she refuse to see you?"
Fox asked.

"Did you break the engagement?" Skinner asked.

"Yes--but what about Katie?"

"Let's find someplace to talk.  I want a full
accounting of your emancipation."  

They walked to the same local bar where a few short
weeks ago Skinner had ordered him to break off with
Katie, sealing the message with his fists.  Tonight
Fox and his old tutor were allies instead of
adversaries.

Fox recounted the events at the dinner party, to
Skinner's admiration.

"I wish I could have seen it," he said.

"She left me no choice," Fox said.

"I preserved her letter."

"Thank you."  Diana had spelled out her request for a
false public courtship in a letter.  Fox's gentlemanly
instinct had been to destroy it, but Skinner had been
shrewd enough to save it.

"Mr. Schwab offered you a position," Skinner said.

"That was two years ago, and said in jest."  

"It was no joke, Mulder.  Your talents are known and
appreciated far outside your father's firm."

"If Father discharges me, other firms will shun me to
avoid offending him.  Or else they'll mistrust me as
his son," Fox said.

"He won't discharge you, he'll exile you to the London
office."

"And I will resign.  I'm not without means, Skinner."

"Really?"  Skinner gave a dry cough.

"What about Katie?"

Skinner picked up his glass, turning it in his hands. 
Fox knew he was stalling for time, but kept his
patience.

"I went to the settlement house," Skinner said slowly.
 
Fox waited, knowing that trying to hurry Skinner along
would only make him take longer.

"Katie's gone.  She doesn't work there anymore. 
Mulder, Katie was accused of 'immoral conduct.'  She
was fired and evicted."

To be continued...

Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Fox Mulder's story.  Part 11


Katie had lost her job and her home.  Fox's breath
caught in his throat as he contemplated the enormity
of her plight.

"They fired her and put her out on the street?" he
asked Skinner.

"She had friends, family," Skinner tried to reassure
him.

"I ruined her.  Her work, her home, her virtue.  I
took them all."

Skinner's silence was his assent.

"I have to find her."  Fox was halfway to his feet
when Skinner's hand caught his arm.

"Sit down, Mulder.  You'll accomplish nothing by
running off into the night."

"I've got to find her!"

"How do you hope to do that?" Skinner asked.

"Well... She has a friend I can question.  And I know
where her mother lives.  I'll pressure the trustees of
the settlement house--or you can take care of that.  
I know one of her brothers, and I think she has a
sister, too.  She's Catholic--I'll try the churches."

"Those are good plans, Mulder.  We'll get started in
the morning,"  Skinner said firmly.  His bossiness
held a degree of familiarity and comfort, but the time
had long gone when Fox was willing to be told when to
go to bed.

"Skinner, she could be out there with nowhere to go."

"I don't believe that.  I'm sure she knows people who
would take her in."

Skinner's confidence was reassuring, and Fox reminded
himself how resourceful Katie was, how inventive and
clever, and how much everyone around her came to love
her.

"You think she's safe?" Fox asked.

"I'm sure of it."  Comforted by that thought, Fox 
allowed Skinner to lead him out of the bar.  
"Come on.  You'll feel better after a good
night's sleep."

Once he was home and in his room, he stripped off his 
formal clothes and thought about going to bed.  Fox 
was sure there was no way he'd sleep tonight with 
thoughts of Katie swirling through his head.  He'd 
go mad if he stayed in his room and brooded.

Fox quickly dressed in casual clothes.  Closing his
door gently behind him, he tiptoed down the hall, not
wanting to alert Skinner.  

The house was quiet as he descended the back stairs.  His
parents were still at the party, undoubtedly under the
most uncomfortable circumstances.  It might be cowardly,
but Fox had every intention of postponing the inevitable
row with his father.  

He'd hoped the carriage house would be deserted, but a
groom sat just inside the door, dozing in his chair.  

"Sir?" the young man asked, rousing from his nap.  
"Is everyone home?   I...I must've dropped off.  
Sorry, sir.  Mr. Edgar is going to have my head."

"Only if he finds out," Fox said.  "Which he won't from
me.  My parents are still at the Phelps.  Help 
me get my car started."

"Right away, sir," the groom said, as he trotted over to
the car.  He worked the hand crank, starting the car and
pulling it forward for Fox.

"You haven't seen me," he told the groom as he slid 
behind the wheel.

"Haven't seen hide nor hair of ya, sir."
  
Though he knew it was pointless, Fox drove to the settlement
house and gazed at the upper floor.  The house was quiet 
at this late hour, the evening's activities long finished.  
A light burned in one room on the third floor but Fox knew 
it wasn't Katie's.  Memories of the amazing things that 
happened in that room flooded his mind until he was forced 
to drive away before he lost his mind.

He knew driving through the streets of the east side was
pointless as well.  Scanning doorways, peering into alleys--
he wasn't sure what he hoped to find.  Surely, he wasn't
going to come across a ragged Katie huddled on a doorstep
and even if he did, she wasn't going to look on him as
a hero, saving her from a life of degradation.

She would see him, instead, as the cause of the destruction
of her life.  

Dispirited, he drove home and fell into bed where he 
tossed and turned until falling into a restless sleep.

He woke the next morning, exhausted but intent on his
mission.  Fortunately, Mulder & Traut was closed on Saturday
during July and August, leaving him free to begin his
search.

"Master Fox, yer skin and bones.  Let me fix you somethin'
that'll stick to yer ribs," Cook said as he grabbed an apple 
from the kitchen table.

"Next time," he said, tossing her a grin as he flew out the
door.  "I'm in a bit of a hurry."

He ate the apple in the car as he drove over to the
Berkowitz home.  He had decided to go to her house and 
not to speak to her at the settlement house.  If she'd
speak to him at all, she was more likely to talk freely
at home.  

"Izzy Berkowitz, you better be goin' to the
synagogue," Shayna called out to the bulky looking 
adolescent who emerged from the back door.

"I'm goin, Ma, I'm goin'."

"No stickball!  I'll hear about it!"

Izzy was still grumbling when he shouldered past Fox as
he approached the house.  

"What are you doin' here?" Shayna asked, her eyes narrowed
at the sight of Fox.  "Haven't ya caused enough trouble?"

"Shayna, please.  Can I come in?"

"Sure, why not.  You should see how the other half lives."

Fox entered a hot and stuffy kitchen where a baby sat on
the floor, banging on a pot with a wooden spoon.  

"Chaimie, enough already with the banging." Shayna grunted as
she lifted the baby.  Turning to Fox, she asked, "So what do 
ya want as if I didn't know?" 

"How is Katie?" he asked.  

"She's all right, no thanks to you."

"I need to speak to her, Shayna.  Do you know where she is?"

"Haven't you done enough to that poor girl?  Got her fired
and kicked out.  Can't ya leave her alone?"

"But that's just why I need to talk to her.  It's because
of me she's lost her job.  Let me help her--it's the
least I can do."

"Yer right.  Ya should help her, but she don't listen to
me and she don't wanna see you."

It was clear Fox wasn't going to get any information out 
of Shayna.  At least not right now, but he sensed a tiny
bit of sympathy in her.  

"Would you give her this?" Fox said, handing Shayna a 
business card.  "Please tell Katie to get in touch with 
my lawyer.  Mr. Leamus will see that she gets anything 
she needs."

Shayna snorted.

"But first she gotta sign her name that she never met
you and nothin' ain't yer fault."

"No!  I'll instruct him to release funds to her, or
argue her cause to the board of trustees.  Whatever
she wants," Fox said.

Shayna shifted the baby against her hip and placed the
business card in a cigar box on a shelf.

"She'll grow wheels and turn into a streetcar before 
she asks you for help," she predicted.   

Fox thanked her anyway. 

While the visit to Shayna gave him hope that
somewhere, Katie had shelter, the visit to her
mother's house was more alarming.  After a few minutes
of sparring with Maggie's sharp tongue, Fox realized
that Maggie knew nothing of Katie's reversal.

"Fox Mulder?  Because yer tryin' to fox me to think
yer kin to the famous William Mulder," Maggie said.

"I need to find your daughter, Katie."

"If ya had genuine cause to see her ya'd know where 
to find her."

"Will you tell her I want to see her?"

"Oh, sure I will.  I'll tell her Fox Mulder was
inquirin', and also Flim-flam Rockefeller."

At Penazek's grocery, little Anna related the sad
story of beautiful Katie, who was led astray by a rich
man with a golden tongue but a heart of ash.  Her
father signaled her to silence as he weighed out Fox's
sunflower seeds.

The newspaperman Frohike came into the store as Fox
was leaving.

"Any pictures for me?" he asked.

Fox shook his head.

"Stick with it, mac, you're good.  Hey, I can front
you some dough, if that's your problem."

"I don't need it."

"No?  Then get a haircut."

Late in the afternoon, Fox took the advice.  A
garrulous barber talked politics while he snipped. 

"The Chief's in for a fall, that's what I say."

"Pardon me?" Fox asked in surprise.  At Mulder &
Traut, his father was commonly known as "the Chief."

"Mr. Charles Murphy--the Chief.  You gotta take care
of your people.  Ya turn on 'em, and it's all over, 
no matter who you are."

Fox recognized the name.  Murphy was the boss of
Tammany Hall, the political machine behind New York
politics.  Because of Murphy's custom of conducting
his business from an upstairs room at Delmonico's
restaurant, Fox had even crossed paths with the man
several times.

"He calls 'em socialists, but all they want is what's
owed 'em," the barber continued.  

"The picketers?"   Fox had paid little attention to
the world beyond his own misery, but he was aware that
many of the city's sweatshops had been shut down by
strikers.

"He sends the cops to arrest 'em, and his bullies to
beat 'em up."

"Even the girls?" Fox asked.  Most of the sewing
machine operators were female, as well as most of the
picketers.

"Makes no difference  The cops say they're a menace to
the community, and the judges agree."
 
Even after sunset, Fox wandered the streets.  He
spotted Izzy Berkowitz, when an angry giant in a
bowler hat shoved him out the door of a pool hall, 
but no sight of Katie.

Fox believed now that she had at least a place to
stay.  He'd set Skinner to the task of having her
reinstated at the settlement house.  It might take a
few days, but he was sure the Mulder name and fortune
would prevail.  If only she would let him give her
some money.

He might have to accept that she would never see him
or speak to him again.  Fox could not live with being
the cause of her destruction.

Back home, Skinner related his attempts to reverse
Katie's dismissal, hampered because it was a summer
weekend and key trustees were unavailable.  For the
rest of the evening Skinner tried in vain to distract
him with chess and conversation.

Despite all of Fox's intentions to get up early and
go to Katie's church, he overslept on Sunday morning. 
Another restless night left him groggy and sluggish.  
He scrambled into his clothes and raced off to Mass.

Katie had talked about going to Mass but Fox always 
had the impression that she attended to please Maggie 
Scully.  While he didn't know which parish, he figured 
it would be somewhere near the boarding house and not 
in the settlement house neighborhood.

After he'd left Mrs. Scully's on Saturday, Fox had driven 
up and down the streets around the boarding house until 
he'd come to a Catholic church.  St. Brigid's rose
out of the working class neighborhood like a stone and
stained glass mountain.  He was sure this was the
right place.

It was nearly 8:45 by the time Fox parked the Pierce
Arrow and dashed up the steps of St. Brigid's.  Mass was
already well underway, the people seated and the priest 
on the altar.  He stood at the back of the church, scanning 
the congregation for a glimpse of auburn hair.  Unfortunately, 
he didn't spot Katie in the rows of pews.

He tried to follow the Mass, but his Latin was rusty
and the words all blended together in his mind.  He
was attracting attention from his post at the back of
the church as congregants turned to see who had come in
late.  It wouldn't do for Katie to spot him standing
at the back--she'd surely bolt.  His stance at the back
of the church left him too exposed, so Fox took a seat 
in the last pew.

One Mass ended and another began and Fox found his 
backside numb, but no sign of Katie.  By the time the
third Mass ended, he was sure he'd suffered nerve damage.

The parishioners had all left and Fox still sat in the
last pew.  On the altar, the priest extinguished the last 
candle with an eye on Fox.  His footsteps echoed in the 
cavernous church as he made his way to Fox's pew.

"You must be very devout or very penitent.  You've 
been here all morning, haven't you?  I'm Father McCue," 
the priest said, extending his hand.

"Pleased to meet you," Fox said as he shook hands. 
Giving a false name was tempting, but completely 
inappropriate under the circumstances.  "I'm Fox Mulder.  
I enjoyed your sermon, Father."

"I'm glad, since you heard it three times.  Tell me, 
Mr. Mulder, which was your favorite edition?"

If the priest was taken aback by his famous name, he 
didn't let on.  

"You seemed especially inspired at the 9:45, but each
one was special in its own way."

"Why don't you tell me why one of the mighty Mulders 
is St. Brigid's most faithful son this morning?"

So, the old priest wasn't completely out of touch 
with the corporeal realm.  Fox wondered if Katie 
had unburdened her soul to him.

"I...ah...I believe a friend of mine attends here.  
I hoped I might see her this morning."

"My, my, you must be very devoted to this friend.  
These pews aren't very comfortable."

"Now that you mention it," Fox said, controlling the
urge to rub his numb derriere in church. 

"And your friend's name?" 

"Katie...Katherine Scully."

"Ah, yes.  The Scully's are among our most faithful
parishioners.  You missed them, though.  They usually 
come to the seven o'clock."
 
"Was Katie...was she here?" Fox asked.  Damn it, he
should have made sure he got up on time.  

"Now that you mention it, I believe it was just
Mrs. Scully and young Charlie this morning.  I do 
hope Katherine is well."

"I do too, Father," Fox said.

"Well, I'd best be on my way.  It's time for luncheon
and my housekeeper gets very cross if the food gets
cold after all her hard work."

Fox left St. Brigid's and drove home.  He was running
out of places to search for Katie.  His need to repair
the damage he'd done was so great, he had actually toyed
with the idea of hiring a private detective.  Only the
worry that the issue would be mishandled and Katie's
reputation would be further damaged kept him from 
doing so.

He arrived home and was greeted by Edgar.  Fox had 
one foot on the bottom stair, preparing to bound up
to the relative safety of his room, when the butler 
cleared his throat.

"Mr. Fox, your mother requests that you join her for 
luncheon.  Cook will be serving in half an hour."

Fox nodded and went up to his room to freshen up.  
Skinner was nowhere to be found, and Fox hoped he was 
having some success with the settlement house trustees.  
Finally, he could postpone the inevitable and he went 
downstairs. 

"Hello, dear," his mother greeted him as he entered  
the dining room.  "You were out rather early this 
morning."

"Hello, Mother."  He kissed her proffered cheek and took
his seat.  "Yes, I had something to attend to."

Edgar entered and served their poached salmon in aspic.

"I'd hoped you might escort me to Mass this morning," 
Teena said, taking a small forkful.  The Mulder family, 
along with a large percentage of society attended Trinity 
Church.  

"I'm sorry to have missed that opportunity, Mother.  
Did Father go with you?" 

"Your father slept in this morning.  He had rather too
much to drink last night.  Not very surprising, I suppose."

"No.  No, I wouldn't imagine it was.  Mother...I...I'm so 
sorry for the embarrassment I caused you."

"I wanted to talk to you about that, Fox," his mother said.  
"I have to admit to being shocked at your revelation, even 
though you'd intimated that things weren't right yesterday 
afternoon."

"I didn't have any choice, Mother.  I would have done
anything to avoid that scene but Diana left me no choice."

"I know, Son."

"You know?"

"Dear, Louise Harkness spoke to me after Mass this morning.
She's Mrs. Schuyler's cousin by marriage on her mother's side.  
She was reluctant to speak ill of a relative, as you might expect, 
but...well, it seems that Diana was quite wild when she was a 
girl.  The family kept things quiet, but there were...liaisons.  
One in particular was with a young composer. Completely 
unacceptable."

Fox hung his head.  The damage caused by this whole affair
was vast and far-reaching.  If only Diana had held to their
agreement, this nightmare might have been avoided.  

"This is terrible," he said.

"I'm afraid it is, dear.  Quite shocking.  I can't say I'm 
surprised really.  I'd always suspected she wasn't stable.
But she was a Schuyler, after all, so I convinced myself
that she was high-spirited.  Dear, you haven't touched
your salmon."

After lunch, Fox went up to Skinner's room, but the man
was still nowhere to be found.  Feeling restless and 
unsettled, he left the house and set off walking down
Fifth Avenue.  He skirted Central Park, the warm sun on
his back.  Well-dressed New Yorkers rode in carriages,
enjoying the mild Sunday and observing each other in
their finery.

Skinner had said that finding Katie might be a long
process and Fox was beginning to believe him.  It was
doubtful that Katie could ever love him as he knew she
once had.  His immaturity and selfishness had destroyed 
his chances with her.

But Fox still hoped that he would be able to find her
and that she might forgive him for his lies and his 
weakness.  To that end, he vowed to amend his life.
No more would he drink himself into a stupor to forget
his troubles.  His search for Katie would never be 
abandoned, but he'd confine it to his own time.

He'd be at work early on Monday morning and do his job 
to the best of his ability.  If his father saw fit to 
fire him, well, then Fox would accept that and find 
other work.  

He walked for hours, returning home tired but with a
calm he hadn't felt since Katie told him goodbye.  It
was time to grow up and be a man.  

As good as his word, Fox rose early the next day and
arrived at the office before his father or DT.  Even
Morris Fletcher had not arrived yet, which surprised
Fox.  Sometimes he thought Fletcher slept at the office,
so intent was the man in proving himself indispensable
to the firm.

Fox settled himself at his desk, pulling out actuarial
tables and reports that had been neglected for weeks.
It would take hours just to sort through the correspondence
that crowded his inbox.

"Fox!  You found our little office.  I'm glad the map 
wasn't necessary after all."

Dewitt Traut lounged in the doorway of Fox's office,
a wry expression on his face.  He held a mug of 
coffee in his hand.

"It was just where I remembered it to be." 
 
"Did you drive in with your father?" DT asked.  He
made himself comfortable in the chair opposite Fox's
desk.    

"Lord no," Fox replied.  "I crept out of the house
before dawn.  I'm hoping Father will cool down a
bit."

"That may take a while, son.  Still, you live in
a pretty large house.  I suppose you could avoid him
for a long time.  I take it, you haven't talked about
what happened Friday evening?"

"No, sir," Fox said, quietly.  "Father sequestered
himself in his study all weekend.  Mother decided
to get away from the city heat for a few weeks.  
That and the gossip mill."

"Newport?" 

"Maine.  The gossip will be moving to Newport next
week when the season gets underway.  Mother went to
the house in Ogunquit."

"A pity about Mrs. Fowley," DT said. He took a sip of
his coffee.  "She seemed like quite a catch.  Wealthy, 
attractive, connected.  And experienced from what I 
understand.  I guess things are rarely what they seem 
on the surface."

"She knew I didn't want to marry her and she kept 
up the charade long after I asked her to end it.
She left me no choice.  It had to be ended publicly
and definitively."

"I can see your point.  Still, it would have been
a fine match."

"I didn't love her," Fox said.

"Ah, 'love.'  The stuff of romantic stories and
fairy tales.  You'll find, Fox, that 'love' is
vastly overrated and rarely lasts."

"You're wrong, Uncle."  Fox hadn't realized he'd 
spoken so passionately until he saw a sly smile
creep across DT's face.

"Let me guess--you're in love with someone other
than Mrs. Fowley."

Fox stared at his hands, knowing without looking
up that Traut still had that amused look on his
face.  

"There is someone..." he said, finally, realizing
it was futile to try and deny his feelings when
he'd been so transparent.  "But it doesn't matter.
She wouldn't have me if I crawled over hot coals."

"So dramatic, Fox.  I'm sure it isn't as dire as
you think.  It's quite amazing what a little money
can do to salve a woman's hurt feelings."

"You don't know...She's not impressed by money or
power."

"Everyone is impressed by money and power, Fox.  
Even when they think they aren't.  It's in our 
nature."

"This girl is different.  I've never met anyone
like her."

"Then have your fun with her.  Take care of her
financially--in as grand a style as you like.   
But remember, Fox--when it comes time to settle 
down and continue the Mulder name, you have a 
responsibility to your family and to the firm.  
Not to mention the thousands of people who are 
employed because of our success.  Their livelihood 
is in your hands.  Don't be foolish and saddle
yourself with a marriage the wrong girl."

"That, Uncle, is exactly what I'm trying to
avoid."

Traut let the smirk fade from his face.

"I'm purchasing a sizeable block of Fowley
Steamships," he said.  "Word of Mrs. Fowley's 
public embarrassment has taken its toll."

"I noticed," Fox said.  He had foreseen the 
downturn, although he hadn't expected it to be 
so large.

"Do you think it's a sound investment?"

Fox sidestepped the question.

"I think it's the right thing to do," he said.

"I'll do my best to help you smooth things out 
with your father," Traut said.

"Thank you, Uncle."

The partners had a luncheon appointment with J. P.
Morgan and other bankers.  Fox was not invited to
join them.  It would take time for the Fowley scandal 
to be forgotten.  His exclusion was no hardship for
Fox; he found the meetings to be as exciting as 
watching dust settle.  

Being left behind also allowed him blessed freedom.
He purchased a hot dog from a street vendor and 
walked along Broadway.  Wandering the streets,
he enjoyed the warm weather and soon found himself
at the settlement house.  He smiled, when he realized
where his feet had carried him.  No matter he might
try to think about other things, some part of his 
heart was always with Katie.

Fox stood on the opposite side of the street, his heart
aching as he remembered how much Katie had cared about
everyone who came to the settlement house.  He'd been so
selfish, concerned with only his own wants and needs.
Now, not only was she exiled from the work she loved, but
dozens, maybe hundreds of people were denied her 
talents and compassion.

Someone came out of the front door of the settlement 
house and stood on the top step.  It was the same man who
had escorted Katie one evening when Fox had been 
parked across the street.  The man descended the stairs,
carrying a black satchel.

Fox trotted across the street, reaching the man before 
he climbed into a Model T that sat parked at the curb.

"Excuse me," Fox said.  "I noticed you were coming from
the settlement house."

He had no idea what possessed him to stop this man.  He
wasn't sure the man would even answer such an obviously
pointless remark.

"Yes," the man answered, waiting for Fox to explain 
further.

"I...I hear one can get medical care there," Fox stammered.

"Yes, but unfortunately, you've missed clinic hours.  
We're done for the day, but if you're in need of medical
care, I'll try and fit you in at my practice.  I'm Dr. 
Vitigliano.  If you come by the office on Second Avenue."

"Thank you," Fox said.  "That won't be necessary.  I've
been thinking about making a donation."

"That would be wonderful," Dr. Vitigliano said, smiling.
Fox wished he could hate this man, but he was so obviously
well-meaning, it was hard not to like him.  "Oh dear, I had
better be on my way or I'll be late for office hours."

"I don't want to hold you up.  Is there someone else I could 
speak with?" Fox asked.  "About the services offered here, 
specifically the medical treatment?"

"I'm not sure who might be able to help you.  Unfortunately,
there isn't a nurse on duty."  Dr. Vitigliano sounded bitter
about that fact and Fox wondered how much he knew about 
the circumstances of Katie's dismissal.  

"That's too bad," Fox said.

"You don't know the half of it," the doctor muttered.  "You
might check with Mrs. Berkowitz inside.  She may be able
to help you." 

With that, Dr. Vitigliano set about cranking his car with 
a bit more vigor than seemed necessary.  He quickly hopped
in, once the car was started and with a brief wave, pulled
into the street and disappeared.

Fox wasn't sure what he would do with the information he'd
gotten today.  He walked back to the office making a mental
note to have Skinner check out this Dr. Vitigliano.  

He arrived back at Mulder & Traut with minutes to spare before
his lunch hour was over.  Fox turned his attention back to 
the nest of letters and cables that had taken over his desk, 
making steady progress until Morris Fletcher appeared at his 
door.

"How nice to find you in the office, sir," Fletcher
said.

"Is there a purpose to this interruption, Fletcher?"

"There's a gentleman to see you, sir.  A Mr. John
Byers."  Fletcher straightened his shoulders, sobered
by the rebuke.  His tone made it clear that Byers did
not seem worthy of his respect, and Fox was careful to
correct that impression.

"Please show him in.  And bring us some coffee and
biscuits."

While Fletcher fetched refreshments, Fox attempted
to straighten the piles of paper on his desk.  

"So, what brings you all the way down here?"  

"My partners would be honored to meet with you.  We'd
like to show you our lab," Byers said.

"Excellent.  I'm interested as well."

"Would this afternoon be convenient?" Byers asked.

A more seasoned negotiator would have hidden his
eagerness, but Fox had no intention of exploiting his
inexperience.

"I believe I can find the time," he said.

Fletcher interrupted, bearing a tray of refreshments.

"A telephone call for you, sir.  Mr. Leamus."

"Please switch it in," Fox said.  "Excuse me a moment,
Mr. Byers."

Fox clutched slender body of the phone as he waited
for the call, lifting the earpiece on the first ring. 
Mr. Leamus was his personal attorney.  

"Something awkward has arisen, Mr. Mulder.  I believe
it would be best if you met me in my office," Leamus
said.

Joy rose in Fox's heart.  He'd handed Leamus's card to
Shayna, daring to hope that Katie would contact him. 
DT's inference that money would salve Katie's feelings
was offensive and ridiculous, but it was only right
for Fox to try to repair some of the damage he'd
caused.

"What is this about, Mr. Leamus?" he asked.

"It's rather personal, Mr. Mulder.  There's a *woman*
in my office--"

"She's there right now?"

"That's correct--"

"I'll be right over.  And please, Mr. Leamus.  Don't
let her leave!"

With a mumbled but incomprehensible apology to Byers
and not a word to Fletcher, Fox raced from the office.
 He didn't stop to collect his automobile.  He would
arrive more quickly on foot.

To be continued in part 12...

Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Fox Mulder's story.  Part 12

Fox trotted the two blocks from Mulder & Traut to
Leamus' office, leaving alarmed pedestrians in his
wake.  One particularly slow-moving woman called him
a ruffian as he shouldered past her.

As he ran, he tried to imagine what he'd say when 
Katie was at last before him.  Truth was, there 
was nothing he could say to her that he hadn't said 
already.  Fox pictured himself falling to his knees
before her, throwing his arms around her waist and
hugging her to him until she accepted his apology
and allowed him back in her life.  His chuckle at
that thought sounded insane, even to him.  

Pushing through the doors of the building, he 
passed by the elevator.  He didn't have time for a 
leisurely ride; Fox took the stairs two at a time.

He burst through the door of Leamus' outer office,
breathing hard.  Henry Weems, the attorney's
amanuensis, blinked at the sudden movement.

"Mr. Mulder," Weems said, "Attorney Leamus is 
waiting for you."

Fox all but ignored him.

"Katie!" he shouted as he shoved open the door to 
the inner office.  

"I thank you for your prompt attention," Leamus said.

The sober, gray-haired man sat behind his large oak 
desk.  There was no one else in the room.

"Where is she?" Fox asked in anguish.

"Fortunately, I have her waiting in our conference
room.  Mr. Mulder, if you can't maintain a cool
exterior, it would be best if you allow me to deal
with her alone."

"I don't want you to deal with her!  I want to see
her!"

"What kind of hold does she have on you?"

"I'm going to marry her," Fox answered impatiently.
 
Leamus sighed to himself and drummed his fingers on
his desktop.

"I'll see her now," Fox said firmly.

"She's hoping for an increase in her allocation.  
I was going to advise you to extend it to her, in
exchange for a formal relinquishment of her claims. 
Marriage isn't necessary, Mr. Mulder.  I urge you to
reconsider."

"I'll find her myself," said Fox.  He didn't know his
way around Leamus' office suite, but he could wait no
longer for his lawyer's cooperation.  Instead of
choosing the door that led outside where Henry Weems
sat waiting, Fox opened a second door.  It had to lead
somewhere.

"Have you ever seen this woman in the daylight?"
Leamus asked pointedly, following Fox into a hallway.

Fox would make him apologize, and then fire him
anyway.  But first he had to find Katie.

"Mr. Mulder, her claims are ludicrous.  Her virtue 
was lost some time in the last century."

Fox would force him to apologize, fire him and then
beat him senseless.  But where was that conference
room?

Leamus managed to slip ahead of him and open a door. 
Fox shoved him roughly in his hurry to enter the
room.

"Katie!"  The cry died in his throat as he recognized
the aging blonde chorine.

"Fox?  I knew you wanted to take care of me," said
Sheila Fontaine.

"What do you want, Sheila?" he asked roughly.

"Honey, that house you got me is so small, and the
Brooklyn Bridge is right outside my window . . ."

Fox turned his back and left the room, Leamus
trotting after him once again.

"How do you want me to handle this?" he asked.

"Any way you see fit."

"I believe an increase would be practical, in 
exchange for her quitclaim--"

"I told you, Leamus.  I don't give a damn!"

Henry Weems smiled pleasantly as Fox hurried past him.

"Good evening to you," Weems called cheerfully after
him.  

Fox stumbled down the stairs, unable to feel his feet
under him.  His heart was a lead weight in his chest
as disappointment blanketed him.  He'd been so sure
that the woman in Leamus' office was Katie.  He
should have known that she'd never accept a penny of
Mulder money.  His Katie was a proud woman.

Fox smiled at the thought.  His Katie.  Whether she
knew it or not, she was his and he was hers.  He only
had to find her and explain it to her.

A week ago, he'd have found the nearest tavern and 
set about drowning his sorrows.  But that was no 
longer an option for Fox Mulder.  Katie needed a 
mature man and not a pathetic wretch who crawled 
into a bottle.  With a deep sigh, Fox walked back 
to the office.

"Mr. Byers said to tell you he couldn't wait," 
Fletcher said when Fox returned.  

"I'll call him later," Fox muttered as he sat behind 
his desk.  The pile of correspondence and files still
awaited his attention.  

Over the next few days, Fox did his best to work hard.
His astute business sense enabled him to once again
guide Mulder & Traut to invest in several lucrative
ventures.  

His father managed to be civil to him, which puzzled
Fox until DT explained that the Fowley Steamship Company
had not resurfaced after initially taking on water.
In Bill Mulder's eyes, Fox as well as the firm had 
narrowly escaped a bad deal. 

Teena Mulder returned from Maine as soon as she heard 
that the gossip mills were painting the Mulders as the 
injured parties in the Fowley debacle.  But with the 
Newport season commencing soon, she was far too busy 
to focus on her bachelor son.   Fox was enormously 
relieved to be safe, at least for the moment, from the 
parade of insipid debutantes.  He had plans for his 
evenings that didn't include the New York City social 
whirl.

Fox called John Byers, hoping to reschedule a meeting 
with the elusive invention genius, but the man was in
Detroit for several weeks.  His instincts told him that 
the deal was solid and had the potential to make him a 
fortune.  Fox instructed Leamus to go ahead with the 
dispersal of funds to the project.  The lawyer's amused 
tone irritated him, but Fox couldn't fault the man.  
Truly, he'd made a wretched mess of his life and only
time would allow the memories of that to fade from 
people's minds.

He hadn't given up hope of finding Katie, but he was 
rapidly running out of options.  He felt his best bet
was still back at the settlement house.  Fox made a pest 
of himself with Shayna, visiting so often that she 
finally put him to work helping her make knishes.  He 
cut his thumb peeling potatoes and stiffling a curse, 
bled all over his handkerchief.  Shayna bandaged his 
hand, clucking to herself about useless rich boys.  She 
must have felt sorry for him, though, as she let her 
guard down and gave him a worthwhile tip.

Fox remembered Katie talking about her family and knew 
that her sister was married to a man who had trouble 
keeping a job.  Shayna told him that the sister was 
living in Brooklyn these days.  With Skinner's help, 
Fox obtained an address for Mrs. Daniel Murphy.

He drove across the bridge to Williamsburg, finding 
Mrs. Murphy to be a redhead with more than a passing 
resemblance to his beloved Katie.  But this woman's 
hair was a barely contained riot of curls and she had 
a baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her skirt.

"Well, can ya beat that," she said when he told her his
name.  "Ma said you was askin' questions about Katie.  
She dint believe ya were the real Fox Mulder, but I 
seen yer pitcher in the newspaper and you're him."

"Yes, I am, and I need to find your sister.  Please, 
Mrs. Murphy, she means everything to me."  His voice 
sounded desperate in his ears.

"Ya can call me Missy," she said, her face softening.  
"You want a cuppa coffee?" 

She led him down a narrow hall to a tiny, cluttered 
kitchen.  Missy poured him a cup of strong coffee that 
burnt his tongue as he sipped it.

"Is Katie all right?" he asked, as the little boy 
peered at him from under the table.  The child drew 
closer and closer until he tugged on the cuff of Fox's 
trouser.  "I know she was turned out of the settlement 
house because of me."

"She's safe," Missy said, confirming what Skinner had 
insisted.  "She found work writin' up doctors' notes.  
It keeps body and soul together.  Mikey, stop botherin'
Mr. Mulder."

"He's fine," Fox said as he craned his neck to smile at
the child.  To his surprise, the boy climbed out from 
under the table and extended his arms to be picked up.
The child's head fit directly under Fox's chin and he
breathed in the tender, salty smell of his scalp.

She was easy to talk to, reminding him of Katie so much
that he had to blink back a tear.  This woman was both 
rougher and softer than her sister.  Hugging the warm 
weight of the child on his lap, Fox poured his heart 
out to her.  He spared nothing, from his photography, 
his search for Samantha, his love for Katie and the 
terrible mistakes he had made.  

"I believe ya," she said when he'd finally run out of 
words.  "That's where I seen yer pitcher--the paper said
you and that lady ain't gonna get married."

"Please," he had pleaded.  "I love her so much it hurts.
I need to see her."

"It ain't gonna be easy," she said.  "Katie's got 
that damn Scully pride by the bushel basket and she was
hurt real bad by what you did.  This might take some 
time." 

She promised to talk to Katie and for the first time in
days, Fox felt a glimmer of hope.  He handed her his
business card, writing both his phone number at home and
work on the back.  Missy would accept only a few coins
from his pocket so she could call him from the candy
story on the corner if she had any luck with Katie.

He stayed close to home whenever he wasn't at the office, 
but as a watched pot failed to boil, a watched phone 
refused to ring.  After a few days of staring at the 
silent black device, he grabbed his camera and headed out.   

Taking photographs soothed his soul in a way that nothing
else had.  Just as after Samantha had left, he felt 
centered by the act of framing a picture, of creating a 
record of this moment in time.

Frohike was polite about the pictures of children playing
behind a schoolyard fence, and old men napping in the
sun as they sat in chairs on the sidewalk.  But the pictures
that gained his interest were those of the workers.  

Fox no longer hid behind a pseudonym and dressed in shabby
clothes.  He dressed now in his own clothes, though he 
carefully chose simple items for his excursions.  With his
real name, he was granted access to manufacturing plants and
managed to take photographs capturing people in the act
of making things.

Factories churned out coats and candy, windowpanes and
wigs, and behind their faceless walls toiled thousands
of faces.  Young faces, mostly.  Some were children.

The factory owners explained to Fox that children took
naturally to factory work, with their energy and
nimble fingers.  He voiced no dissent, but his photos
showed little hands that had lost some of those nimble
fingers.

Fox found an unexpected audience in his mother.  She
had dropped the Orchid Society for a new passion, the
Women's Trade Union League.  Father scoffed at a
cluster of wealthy society ladies taking up the cause
of the greenhorn factory workers, but he wasn't truly
perturbed.  He laughed at Alva Belmont, calling her a
headline-grabber, but he harbored a grudging respect
for Pierpont Morgan's daughter Anne.

"Pity she wasn't born a boy," the Chief observed.

In light of his new credo of honesty in all things, Fox
showed his parents his photographs.  His father muttered 
that they were a foolish waste of time, but Fox noticed 
that Bill Mulder poured over the pictures for a 
considerable length of time and commented on the
composition of one or two.

Teena, on the other hand, took a real interest in Fox's 
photos and expressed outrage at what she saw.

"It's disgraceful!  Little children working next to
huge machines, tending open fires!"

Picketing by the shirtwaist workers continued.  Some
of the smaller manufacturers had reached agreements
but the larger ones held out.  Father said it was easy
for them to hold firm over their slow season, and that
they would have to settle by winter.  Mother made
sizeable donations to the strikers' fund.  Like Fox,
she was offended by the sheer unfairness of the
conflict.

Fox photographed the picket lines.  The first photo he
ever sold had been of three girls leaving a factory at
the end of their work day.  It would have been an
interesting study if he could have found those same
three subjects.

Most of the strikers were Jewish girls, with Italians
and others represented as well.  Their supporters
carried banners from the Women's Trade Union League,
but these were socialites and college girls.  The
police seemed equally hostile to both contingents. 
They arrested picketers and WTUL demonstrators for
disturbing the peace, but never the ruffians who came
to harass them.  Like the police, the ruffians were
soldiers of Tammany Hall.

Fox did his best to stay in the background as he took
his photographs, to avoid provoking the coppers or the
strongmen.  Late in the afternoon, the crowds thinned.
Some of the picketers headed for home, the WTUL rolled 
up their banners and the police drew back.

It served Fox well that many of the girls knew him as
the "picture man."  A few struck poses for his
benefit, which he obligingly photographed.  He
preferred to be unseen, but he was happy enough to be
tolerated.

He captured his best work of the day when a skinny old
man arrived in a cart pulled by a sway-backed gray
nag.

"The rag-picker.  Do you think he'll cross our line?"
one of the girls asked another.

Apparently the ragman traded in the textile scraps
left over by the manufacturing process.  Fox snapped
pictures as a group of girls began to argue with the
ragman.  If only he had a way to preserve the
dialogue!

"So you're on strike.  So I should suffer?" asked the
ragman.

As the girls explained their grievances and hardships,
the ragman responded with his own list of woes.  His
wife was ill!  His horse had to eat--and his wife, who
ate like a horse!  And his brother-in-law--don't ask!

But in the end, the man honored the picket line. 
Muttering about Columbus, who instead of discovering
America should have broken his head, the ragman climbed 
back onto his wagon and clicked at the horse.   Fully
occupied with his photographs, Fox was startled when
somebody tugged at his sleeve.

"Buy a paper, mister?  Get the whole World for a
penny."

There at his elbow, with his oversized cap
half-covering his eyes, was little Charlie Scully. 
Fox nearly dropped his camera.

"Charlie!  How are you?"

"Ain't easy sellin' papers in this heat." 

"You don't have any papers," Fox observed.

"I was just goin' back for my second load, but ain't
nobody wants to buy 'em when it's hot like this."

The boy had a good memory, and an eye for a sucker. 
Fox smiled.

"I see your problem.  Maybe I could take them off your
hands."

"That'd be swell, mister."

"It's not too hot to eat, is it, Charlie?  Do you like
chop suey?" Fox asked.  The hope of finding Katie
trumped the drama of the ragman.

"A fella's still gotta eat--oh, look't that!" 

Across the street one of the remaining Tammany
strongmen seemed to be picking a quarrel with the
beleaguered ragman, but Charlie's attention was
elsewhere.

"That's my brudda!  He does favors fer Big Tim!"
Charlie's face glowed with pride.  Fox studied the
ruffians across the street.  One of them was his old
adversary Tom Colton.  

"Which one?" he asked.  Fox was eager for any new
knowledge that could lead to Katie.

Without answering, Charlie dashed into the street.

"Hey, Bill!" he called.

Again Fox tried to guess which of the ham-fisted men
might be Katie's brother, until his attention was
pulled back to the rag-picker's wagon.  The ragman was
on the sidewalk now, arguing with one of the toughs,
but something or someone spooked the old horse.  It
whinnied, reared back and then tried to take off
sideways, dragging its shaky cart with it.

"Look out!" one of the factory girls yelled, but
Charlie was clearly oblivious.

Fox thrust his camera at one of the picketers and
sprinted after the boy.  The horse, which had been
dancing in panic, chose a direction and broke into a
gallop.  With his instincts working faster than his
brain, Fox hurled himself against Charlie's back,
somehow succeeding in rolling them both out of the
path of the runaway wagon.

"God in Heaven, ya saved his life, mister!"  A 
young woman with crisply curled blonde hair knelt by
Fox and the boy.  "I seen it all, yer a hero."

Blood ran from Charlie's nose, splattering his shirt.  
He groaned through gritted teeth, obviously aware
of the audience of picketers.  

"Are you hurt, Charlie?" Fox said, offering his 
handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood.  

"I want my mudda."  Charlie's voice was muffled by
the cloth and he looked as if he might cry.  "I
want Katie."  

*So do I,* thought Fox.  *Oh, so do I.*

"Then let's get you home," Fox said, helping the
child to his feet.  Charlie yelped as he tried 
to stand, his leg giving out as soon as he put
weight on it.  Fox quickly scooped him up, carrying
him to the Pierce Arrow with a parade of young 
women following behind.

The blonde woman opened the car door and helped
Fox arrange the boy on the back seat.  Another 
picketer cranked the car until it started.  When
Fox gently ran his hands over Charlie's leg, he
felt a definite lump under the skin.  

"I'll go as fast as I can," Fox said after he 
climbed into the car.  He noticed that the camera
had been placed on the front seat during the
commotion.   "You're going to be all right."

"I want my mudda," Charlie whimpered.

"OK, Charlie, I'm going to take you to your mother.  
But first we're going to find you a doctor."

"No!  It's gonna hurt!"

"He'll make it better," Fox promised.

The boy moaned as the car jounced over a bump
and Fox glanced back with worry.  Charlie's red
hair was vivid against the pallor of his skin as
he grimaced in pain.

Fox drove to Dr. Vitigliano's office on Second
Avenue, praying the whole way that the doctor was 
in.  Skinner's investigation of the man had shown 
him to have an excellent reputation as both a 
physician and a humanitarian.  Fox wished Vitigliano 
would move to another continent.

Parking at the curb, he pulled Charlie from the 
back seat as gently as he could but the boy 
screamed in pain.  A passer-by gaped at the sight 
of the bloody child carried into the building.

Luckily, Dr. Vitigliano was in his office.  The 
nurse directed Fox to carry Charlie into an 
examination room and went to get the doctor.

"Charlie!" the Vitigliano said, recognizing 
the boy. "What happened to you?"

"My leg got broke." 

"Charlie was almost run over by a horse and cart," 
Fox explained.

"He saved me, Dr. V.," Charlie managed to gasp out
as he looked up at Fox.  "I was a goner."

"Well, it looks like your diagnosis is correct,
Charlie," Dr. V. said after examining the leg.  
"It's a broken leg, all right.  I'm going to give 
you a hypodermic needle that's going to make you 
sleepy."

Charlie moaned as the nurse bared his hip and rolled 
him slightly to give the doctor access.  He cried 
briefly when the needle was given, but soon quieted 
and fell into a deep sleep.

Fox found himself a bit wobbly as the doctor and nurse
manipulated the leg to set the broken bone.  He looked
around the room to avoid watching their activities.

"I remember you," Dr. Vitigliano said, his voice even
and matter-of-fact despite his exertions.  "You were 
asking about the settlement house.  Did you ever find 
what you were looking for?"

"No," Fox answered.  "Not yet."

"How do you know young Charlie?" the doctor asked as
he wrapped the leg with cloth strips.  

"He sells me a paper from time to time," Fox answered,
not wanting to reveal more than he needed to.  "I've
driven him home in bad weather."

"I'll have a look at your head while the cast dries,"
Vitigliano said.

"I'm fine."

The nurse seemed surprised, but the doctor shrugged
and continued his work.  An hour later, Charlie's leg
was encased in a plaster of paris cast.  The boy had 
slept through the nurse washing the blood off his face 
and hands.  He roused briefly as Dr. Vitigliano and 
Fox carried him to the car, but was asleep again as 
soon as he was placed on the back seat.

"Tell Mrs. Scully that I'll be by this evening to
check on him," Dr. Vitigliano said as Fox got into 
his car.

Fox drove to the boarding house, craning his neck 
occasionally to check on Charlie.  He parked the car
and tried to lift the boy without waking him, but it
was impossible.  With the added weight of the cast and
the effects of the hypodermic, he was an awkward and
noisy burden.

"My brudda's in trouble now!  I'm tellin' Ma."

"It's OK, Charlie.  I'll have you inside in a minute,"
Fox panted.

"My own brudda.  I was a goner fer sure, mister."

Fox carried him up the steps.  Charlie leaned forward
and grabbed the knocker, slamming it vigorously until
the door was opened by his sister Missy.    

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" she exclaimed.

"Bill's in trouble now!  Tell her, mister!"

"Ma!  Charlie's been hurt," Missy called.

Fox was almost blinded by the sweat dripping down his
forehead as he carried Charlie into the parlor. 
Maggie and Missy buzzed around him, and he felt almost
lightheaded when Charlie said the very words he wanted
to say:

"Where's Katie?  I need Katie."

At last Charlie was settled onto the sofa and the 
details of his misadventure spilled out.  Bill's 
failure to respond to Charlie's call was a prominent 
detail.

"He didn't hear you.  He didn't even know you were
there," Fox assured him.

"And why not?" Maggie asked indignantly.

"Cuz he was busy with his roughnecks, tryin' to
frighten some poor sweatshop girls," Missy answered.

"No, no.  He was on the other side of the street," Fox
said.

"While his little brudda was bleedin' in the gutter,"
said Missy.

"I was a goner fer sure!" Charlie affirmed.  "Get
Katie here so I can tell her.  I need Katie to make
sure Dr. V. fixed my leg up OK."

"When she's done with her nap, child.  You close your
eyes too," Maggie said.

Fox grabbed Missy's hand.

"She's here?" he asked.  Missy met his eyes.

"Minnow's slept enough," she said.

The debate was ended when Katie appeared in the
doorway.  With everything Fox had wanted to tell 
her, he could only manage to croak her name.

"Katie."

"What in heaven's name is going on?" Katie asked.  She
gave Fox a cold stare before turning her attention to
Charlie.

"Mr. Mulder saved Charlie from a runaway cart," Missy
said.

"I was a goner fer sure," Charlie crowed.

"Katie."  It seemed to be the only word he could say.

Katie satisfied herself about her brother's condition
and then turned back to Fox.

"Thank you, Mr. Mulder.  And I'll thank you again if
you'd be on your way."

"Surely the man's entitled to a cup of tea first,"
Maggie said, to Fox's eternal gratitude.

"I want him to leave," said Katie.

"No," said Fox.

"Katie, for the love of God.  He's almost in tears,"
said Missy.

"I won't go.  Not until you listen to me."  Fox had
never felt so desperate.

"What could you possibly have to say to me, Mr.
Mulder?" Katie asked.  Her face was flushed and still
creased from her nap, and her hair was coming unpinned
on one side.  She was even more beautiful than he
remembered.

"Marry me, Katie.  I love you and I can't live without
you, and I'll spend the rest of my life working to
earn your forgiveness." 

"You've done your duty, Mr. Mulder.  You may leave
now," Katie said.

"Don't be a fool, Katherine," Maggie said harshly.  

"Katie, listen to him.  And he doesn't even know,"
said Missy.

"You didn't tell him?" Katie asked.  

"I swear, Minnow.  And look, he's hurt."  Missy traced
two fingers against the side of Fox's head, and he
pulled back in pain.  

"He is hurt," Maggie confirmed, "and you're a nurse."

Katie couldn't escape her logic.

"Sit down, Mr. Mulder."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I'll get you some water," Missy offered.

"Your shirt is torn," Katie observed, touching his
shoulder.  "What's hurting the most, Mr. Mulder?"

"I love you, Katie."

"You'll have to remove your shirt."

"Take him to my room, Katie.  Charlie needs to rest,"
Maggie said.  

"I ain't sleepy," Charlie said, but his eyes were
closed.  "Hey, mister, you was gonna buy me some chop
suey."

"This way, Mr. Mulder," Katie directed him briskly.

He followed her.  He was at once both terrified and
confident.  He had no notion how he could convince her
to give him a second chance, but he knew he would
never, ever leave her.  

Missy brought water, a glass which he drank thirstily
and then a basin.  Then she retreated, for which he
was also grateful.

"Katie--"

"Miss Scully," she corrected him.

"I love you, Miss Scully.  I want to marry you."

Katie helped him take off his shirt.

"Just a scrape," she said, cleaning his shoulder.  "No
need for a dressing."

She used a fresh cloth to clean his temple.

"Does anything else hurt?" she asked.

"What hurts the most is when you call me Mr. Mulder."

"Well then, I believe you're all patched up--Mulder."

He laughed.  "That's what Skinner calls me.  It
sounds...different coming from you."

"Thank you again for what you did for my brother."

"He's a wonderful boy," Fox said.  He winced as Katie
applied a bit of sticking plaster.  

"He is that.  You'll live," she said, surveying her 
work.  "My mother isn't going to be satisfied until 
you've had your tea, so you might as well come 
along.  But don't get too comfortable, Mulder.  
You'll be on your way as soon as you're done." 

She led him into the dining room where Maggie and
Missy had laid the table with cups and saucers.

"You sit here, Mr. Mulder," Maggie said, indicating
a chair at the head of the table.  "Missy, cut our
guest a slice o' pie."

"Thank you," he said as Maggie Scully poured him
a cup of tea.  "You're very kind."

"Ack, go on with ya," Maggie said.  "I have to 
apologize for my behavior the time you came by
looking for our Katie.  I had no idea you were...
well, who you said you were."

"That must have been difficult for you, Mr. Mulder.
Telling the truth about who you were and not being
believed."  There was a sharpness to Katie's voice
that brought a stern look from her mother.

"Katherine Scully, I just don't know what's gotten
in to you."

Missy stifled a giggle behind her napkin, which
didn't please Katie one bit.

"Katie has every right to be angry with me, Mrs.
Scully.  I wasn't honest with her when we first 
met and I've regretted that more than I can say.
But I love your daughter, ma'am, and if she'll 
have me, I want to marry her."

"Come on, Katie," Missy said.  "Don't be such a
stiff-neck.  You're crazy about the man."

"Stay out of this," Katie told her sister.  "It
isn't any of your business."

"Like hell it isn't.  This man loves you and wants
to marry you and your stupid pride is getting in your
way.  Think of the..."

"Missy..." Katie warned.  "Be quiet."

"He's got a right to know," Missy said, looking at
her sister.

"I've got a right to know what?" Fox asked.  

"She's gonna have a baby."

"What?" Fox's tea cup clattered against the saucer
as he set it down too quickly.  He barely registered
that his fingers had been scalded by the hot tea.
"Is this true?"

"You heard her," Katie said softly.

Fox was vaguely aware of Maggie Scully rising from 
the table, and motioning for Missy to leave the dining
room with her.  Fox stood up, his hands gripping the
table's edge.

Katie's head was lowered so he couldn't see her face
but he heard her sniffle.  Fox knelt at her feet, 
covering her hands with his own.  

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.  "You must have felt
so worried and alone.  I wish I'd known.  Katie, I
don't want you to have to go through this alone.
I love you.  Please say you believe me."

"I...I believe you, Mulder."

"Then if you believe I love you, let me take care
of you."

"I wish it were that easy.  I don't even know you,
Mulder.  The man I fell in love with was Mathew Fox."

"I know you have no reason to trust me, but I'm 
going to ask you again.  Katie Scully, will 
you marry me?"

To be continued...

Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Fox Mulder's story.  Part 13


"And with the power vested in me by the State
of New York, I now pronounce you man and wife.  
You may kiss your bride."

Fox Mulder needed no prompting to tip Katie's 
chin up with one finger and kiss her. It was only 
when the judge cleared his throat that Fox drew 
back to smile down at her lovely, breathless face.  

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Mulder.  May
you have many happy years together."

With one arm around Katie's waist, Fox shook
the judge's hand.  "Thank you, sir.  I'm sure
we will."  

Fox fought the urge to pinch himself, afraid this
was a wonderful dream.  Katie standing there, leaning
into the curve of his arm, her body warm and solid.

Two weeks ago, he'd saved Charlie Scully from the 
ragman's wagon and carried him to the boarding house.
Fourteen days had passed since he knelt before Katie,
and heard her whisper the one word he longed to 
hear--yes.

Maggie Scully had not been pleased when she heard her
daughter was to be married in a civil ceremony at 
City Hall.  She had chosen to stay at home with Charlie.

But the church insisted on a lengthy period of inquiry 
before agreeing to a marriage between a Catholic and 
Protestant.  Even Maggie recognized that with Katie
two months along, time was of the essence.

He watched Katie lean over to sign the marriage 
license, the simple gold ring on her finger catching 
the light.  His own wedding band was a welcome weight 
on his hand.

"You make a beautiful bride, Katie," Missy said, 
smiling at her sister.  With her boys at the boarding 
house, Missy had been able to serve as witness, 
along with Walter Skinner.

"Thank you," Katie said, clutching the little bouquet of
orange blossoms Fox had bought her for the occasion.  

It was only the truth, Fox thought.  In an extravagantly
braided, pale yellow suit, Katie was stunning.

"Congratulations, Mulder," Skinner said, shaking Fox's 
hand.  "Don't botch this."

His hand on her back, Fox guided Katie through the door
as the little party left the office.   

"Pay the clerk on your way out," the judge called after 
them.  In the outer room, a tearful young bride sat with 
her equally young groom.  Standing over the pale-faced 
boy was a burly looking man who reminded Fox of Katie's 
ruffian brother.  

Bill Scully hadn't been very happy when he found out 
his sister was getting married to Fox Mulder.  Bill was
a man who saw the world in adversarial terms.  If you
weren't Irish and Catholic, you were the enemy.  His 
guilt over Charlie's broken leg kept Bill from venting 
his full ire over the marriage.   That and the advantages
he saw in having a wealthy brother-in-law.

They all went back to the boarding house for a small
wedding lunch.  

"Now, now, you're the guest of honor," Maggie said
when Katie reached for an apron.  "Why don't you go
check on Charlie.  Missy can help me get lunch on 
the table."

Fox followed Katie into the back room where a fractious
Charlie lay.  The bed had been moved closer to the 
open window, which did little to relieve Charlie's 
misery as he could now watch the other boys as they
played.  He pined mightily for his lost freedom.

"My leg itches," he complained.  "Them crutches dig
inta me and hurt, and Ma took away my Deadeye Dick 
books."

In the two weeks since his injury, Charlie's leg had
begun healing, but he was irritable and bored.  Katie 
tweaked her brother's toes and sat on the edge of the 
bed.

"Itching is a good sign," she pronounced.  "It means
you're healing.  Now, who on earth gave you such 
inappropriate reading matter?"  

Katie swiveled her head to look at Fox, who held up 
his hands in innocence.  In fact, Fox brought penny 
dreadfuls and candy for Charlie almost every day, 
sneaking them past Katie and her mother. 

"I would never corrupt a young mind," he lied.  "Only
wholesome stories for you, young man.  I'll have Skinner
drop off some Horatio Alger books."

Charlie's retort was interrupted by Maggie in the doorway
announcing that dinner was ready.   Katie left to help her
mother as Fox brought Charlie his crutches.

"Now those Alger books are pretty big," Fox murmured into
Charlie's ear as he leaned over to help Charlie up.  "A
Deadeye Dick fits inside with room to spare.  I'll have
Skinner get a few of those, too."

"A pity your parents couldn't be here," Maggie said when 
they were all settled around the table.

"Yes," Fox agreed.  "It's too bad they're out of town."

That wasn't exactly a lie, Fox thought.  His mother and 
father were in Newport and not so far away that they 
couldn't have come back for their only son's marriage.  
Somehow, though, the Scullys had gotten the impression 
that the Mulders were in Europe.

The truth was, Fox hadn't told his parents that he was
getting married.  The morning after Katie had accepted
his proposal, Fox woke to find his parents preparing to
leave for the summer house.  It seemed like providence, 
so he decided to tell them when the act was complete.  
In fact, he'd sent them a telegram this morning, saying
that he was spending a month at the family camp in the 
Adirondacks and would have a wonderful surprise for them 
when he saw them next.

He was pretty sure Katie was on to him, at least from
the shrewd look she gave him now.  He'd promised her
that he was done with lying, but it was foolish to wait
for his parents to return from Newport and risk coloring
their opinion of Katie with inconvenience.

For he was sure his parents were going to love her.  How
could they not?   With her kind heart and lovely presence,
Katie charmed everyone she had ever met.

"It wouldn't be a wedding without cake," Maggie Scully 
said, as she brought out a pretty cake decorated with 
yellow sugar roses.

"Cut me a big piece," Charlie demanded.  "And I want a 
rose, too."

"All hail King Charlie?" Missy said, holding a piece of 
cake just beyond the boy's reach.  "You'll sooner get a 
smack on the head from me with those manners, broken leg
or no."

"Please?" he pleaded.  His sister cocked her head as if
trying to decide what to do before she placed the cake
before him.

After they had their cake, Fox looked at his pocket 
watch.

"Katie, we should be on our way.  I'd want to make it
to Twin Pine Lake before dark."

"Ain't it romantic," Missy said as Katie rose from the 
table.  "A honeymoon in a cozy cabin in the woods."

Katie retrieved her new leather grip filled with the few 
clothes she allowed Fox to buy her for their honeymoon.  
Fox took the bag from her as they made their farewells 
and soon they were on the road.

She fell asleep somewhere between Poughkeepsie and
Saugerties.  Watching Katie sleep was one of Fox's secret
pleasures and he was getting more opportunities during
her pregnancy.  He settled into the long drive, enjoying
the breeze through the open windows.

He chuckled remembering Katie's reaction when he suggested
they honeymoon at Twin Pine Lodge.  Her only experience
with the country were the Tammany Hall excursions which
generally resulted in sunburn, mosquito bites and cases 
of poison ivy, despite the officials' dire warnings.

He wondered what she'd say when she saw the lodge.  He'd
spent some of his happiest moments at Twin Pine.  It had
been built by his grandfather in 1880.  Bill Mulder did
not enjoy spending time at the camp, but Fox had spent
many summer days with his grandfather.  When Laurents Mulder
died eight years ago, he left Twin Pine Lodge not to his
son, but to his grandson.

Katie woke just as they were entering Albany.  Watching
her stretch and yawn, her graceful arms over her head, 
Fox nearly lost control of the car.  

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said. 

"You must have been tired."

"I'm always tired, these days.  I just about fall 
asleep when I'm walking."

"I'll be sure to wake you if you doze off while we're
hiking.  Or swimming."

"Mulder, you know I can't swim.  I still don't know 
why you bought me a bathing costume."

"I'm a very good swimmer.  I'm going to teach you."

She shot him a skeptical look.  He grinned back at
her and covered her hand with his.

He still had trouble believing his Katie was here
with him, traveling to their honeymoon.  When she'd
first agreed to marry him, he knew the impending birth
of their child was her main motivation.  It was his
job, now, to convince her that marriage was a good
idea in every way.

Finally, they turned off the main road onto the
narrow pathway to the lodge.  The car bumped along
the unpaved path before breaking through the trees
to view the magnificent rustic chalet main building
of Twin Pine Lodge.  

"Here we are."  Fox pulled the car onto the gravel
driveway.  The sky behind the lodge was tinged with
pink as the sun set, painting the weathered wood with
a soft glow.

Katie gaped at the building as she got out of the car.  
 
"Let me show you inside," he said, guiding her up the
wooden steps.  

She gasped when he opened the door, revealing the great
hall with its massive stone fireplace and vaulted 
ceiling.   A carved wooden staircase led to the upper
floor where the bedrooms lay.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God," she murmured.  "This is 
your...camp."

"We like to be comfortable," he said.  "Come on, I'll 
show you the kitchen." 

"Mulder, this is far too grand," she said, following him
into the enormous kitchen.  "You could fit my mother's
entire house in that room out there."

"I had the caretaker stock the pantry for us," Fox
said as he checked the ice box.  "Fried chicken, cold
salads, cheese, eggs, milk and roasted beef.  We 
certainly won't starve."

He knew Katie was going to have a difficult time adjusting
to the opulence his family took for granted.  If left to 
his own devices, Fox would live far more simply.  But he 
had to admit, he liked being comfortable and he loved his 
lodge.

"Let me show you the bedrooms," he said, taking her hand.

Fox carried their bags up to the second floor and into the
master suite.  Katie followed, her eyes wide and rather
alarmed.  Her gaze traveled around the room from the 
massive four-poster bed to the oak armoire and finally 
the chaise lounge by the windows.   

"It's beautiful," she said after a few minutes of wandering
through the bathroom, and his and hers dressing rooms.  

Fox wasn't sure if she was overwhelmed by the size of
the lodge or if, perhaps, he'd assumed too much by settling
them both in the master bedroom.  Katie had seemed pensive
since they had arrived.  After a moment, she slipped off 
her jacket and went into her dressing room to hang it up.
Well, at least she was planning on staying. 

"Do you want to unpack, or are you hungry?" he called out
as he flopped onto the chaise.

"Unpack, then eat," she replied, her voice muffled as she
bent over her bag.  "I haven't had a chance to thank you for 
my new clothes.  Although, I could have certainly made do with 
what I had, especially as I'll be too fat to wear these soon."

He'd taken her to the finest clothing store in New York
City to buy an appropriate trousseau for an Adirondack
honeymoon.  With such a brief engagement, there had only
been enough time to have off-the-rack items tailored 
for her.  Fox smiled, watching Katie hang up the twill
walking skirts and summer frocks.  She'd be so surprised
when she saw the full wardrobe he ordered while she was
changing back into her own clothes.

"Would you like me to unpack your clothes?" she asked
as she returned to the bedroom where Fox was sprawled.

"I'll take care of it later," he said, patting the
chaise next to him.  When she had joined him, he 
stroked a finger along her jaw.  "How are you feeling?"

"A little tired," she replied, closing her eyes at
his touch.  "And starved."

They went downstairs and surveyed the full larder. 
Sitting at the rough-hewn oak table in the kitchen, they
ate a supper of cold roasted beef and potato salad.  
 
As they sat over a dessert of oatmeal cookies and
glasses of iced tea, Fox enjoyed watching his new
wife with unabashed happiness.  Skinner had spoken
the unvarnished truth when he called Fox "one lucky 
bastard" upon learning Katie had accepted his proposal.  

When he noticed that Katie could hardly keep her eyes
open, he suggested they make an early night of it.  She
offered him a sleepy smile and took his hand as he
drew her up to bed.

"I feel like such an baby," she said, as he unbuttoned
her dress and helped her out of it.  "Falling asleep
as soon as it gets dark out.

She stood before him in her camisole and petticoat, 
as beautiful and graceful as a Degas ballerina, so
tired she was swaying on her feet.  It amazed him that
she was so open and natural in her state of undress.
Katie had always been a practical woman, not given to
girlish airs.  

She roused long enough to slip into her nightgown.
It took all Fox's self-control to help her slide
between the crisp sheets of the big bed.  

Though he wasn't the least bit sleepy, Fox stripped
off his suit, tossing each item onto the chaise 
and climbed into bed behind her.  As he lay in 
the darkness, he rejoiced again in the deep 
pleasure of curving his long body around Katie's
smaller one.

Fox slept well, but woke early and slipped out of bed.  
Katie lay sleeping on her side, her mouth slightly 
open.  He wanted to kiss her but wouldn't risk 
rousing her.

Fox had pledged himself to perform a certain task 
and he wanted to complete it, unaided, before Katie 
was awake.  He wanted to make coffee.

He had watched Katie do it.  He and Skinner had tried
it together, with mixed results.  He had begged Cook
to teach him, and produced several drinkable pots
under her direct guidance.  This morning he was on 
his own.

He knew how to light the stove and grind the beans and
measure the water.  The tricky part was the timing. 
Skinner said to lower the heat just before it boiled
over.  Amusing, but less than helpful.  Cook seemed to
do it entirely by instinct.  Katie said something
about the frequency of the percolation and watching
the color of the liquid.

Breakfast had been such a magical time for them once,
quiet and intimate.  Fox hoped to awaken those old
feelings.  Breakfast in bed.  Then something else.  
He ached to feel himself inside her again, but not 
until she felt those longings as well.

Fox's sense of triumph when he sampled the coffee was
no less than when he'd convinced Father to loosen his
ties with Equitable Insurance.  He prepared a cup for
Katie and carried it upstairs.
 
She wasn't in the bed, so Fox wasn't surprised to hear
movement from the direction of the dressing room.  
What did surprise him was when he made out the sounds
of vomiting.  She was in the bathroom beyond the
dressing room.

"Katie!" He burst into the bathroom, where his eyes
confirmed what his ears had heard.

"Mulder, get out."

"But you're ill!"

"Out.  Now."

He retreated reluctantly, closing the door behind him.
He wanted to run downstairs where there was a
telephone, but he was afraid to leave her.

She came out of the bathroom and glared at him.

"Mulder, we're going to have to establish some rules
of conduct."

"Are you OK?"

"I'm fine.  Just some morning sickness."

"I've heard of that."

"Good.  Have you heard of privacy?"

"Er, yes."  He felt unbearably foolish.  "I, er, made
you coffee.  But you probably don't want it now."

She actually smiled.

"Give me a few minutes," she said.

She wanted to dress for breakfast, so he left her
dressing room for his own and did the same.  He
thought back to the simple closeness they'd shared in
the kitchen at the settlement house, with Katie in her
muslin nightgown.  

His disappointment vanished when she joined him at the
table.   She looked unbelievably charming in her sturdy
twill walking skirt and cambric blouse.  He cut two thick 
slices of bread and passed her one.

"Bread and jam.  Like before," she commented a little
wistfully.

"I loved you then and I love you now.  Nothing's
changed for me."

She met his eyes but said nothing.  Fox sighed.

"I know.  You fell in love with Mathew Fox, and now
you're married to Fox Mulder," he said.

"Well, you do look very much like him.  Only thinner."

"Yes, Mathew was a fine, brawny lad.  Good with his
fists."

Katie laughed, and the whole room seemed to brighten.

"We'll have to fatten you up.  Although soon I'll be
fat enough for both of us."

After breakfast Katie agreed to a hike, and Fox was in
his glory as he led her over one of his favorite
trails.  She was enchanted by the most ordinary
discoveries and astounded by the variety of life.  Fox
had never considered himself a naturalist, but his
knowledge was sufficient to impress Katie.

Toads, chickadees and even skunks filled her with
wonder.   Fox made the huge blunder of directing her
attention to the large, gnarled roots of a red cedar 
tree.

"See how he's hidden among the old leaves?" he asked.

"I don't see anything," she began, but then she saw
it.  And screamed.  Fox took her hand and drew her
back.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't know you were afraid of snakes,"
he said. 

"I'm not," Katie said, gripping his hand.  "I was only
startled."

Fox regretted that he'd frightened her, yet it was
taking all his will not to laugh.  The snake in
question was a slender garter snake, no more than a
foot long.

"It can't possibly hurt you," he said.

"I was taken by surprise, that's all.  Just a harmless
little snake."  She couldn't suppress a shudder. 
"There aren't any venomous snakes here."

Fox hesitated.  There were some timber rattlers, but
they'd never been a problem.

"Mulder?"  She had caught his hesitation.  "Are there
any venomous snakes in this area?"

"As long as you don't go poking under rocks and look
before you step--" he started to explain.

"Take me back," she demanded.  

The walk back to the lodge was faster than the hike
out.  Katie stuck by his side and never let go of his
hand.

"Mulder, do you remember the first time you came to
the east side?" Katie asked suddenly.

"I lost my way.  All those narrow streets with names
I'd never heard of.  I felt as if everyone was
watching me."

"You felt as if you didn't belong."

"I felt like a trespasser.  Tom Colton wasn't the
first who told me to mind my own business and go
home."

"Now I'm the trespasser," Katie said.

"Never.  This is yours now."

"You've met my mother.  I've never met yours."

"My mother will love you.  She'll want to know
everything about your work at the settlement house. 
My father will start out aloof, until he realizes 
how smart you are."

"You're a dreamer, Mulder.  I'm not part of your
world."   

"You are my world, Katie."

He felt her squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back.

The woods were thinning as they approached the lodge.

"It's much warmer here," Katie commented.

"We can cool off in the lake."  

Fox looked up at the sky, counting the few fluffy
clouds, as he waited for her answer.  If she saw his
face, she would know what he was thinking.  He pictured
his arms about her in the water, her body against his 
with only a few yards of wet silk and taffeta between 
them.  The sales assistant had raised her eyebrows at 
his choice of costume, with its scandalously short 
knickers and a skirt barely to the knees.  She had 
warned Katie quite sternly that she must wear dark 
stockings, not light ones, or her knees would show.

"That would be nice," Katie said.

"OK!"

They clasped hands even as they entered the great hall
of the lodge, and Fox gave thanks to the timid local
snakes that had delivered her hand into his.  They
parted for their separate dressing rooms.

The seclusion of the camp had allowed for nude
swimming, one of life's great pleasures, but now Fox
was glad for the thick cover of his swimwear.  He could 
feel Katie warming toward him, and he dared to hope that 
he could regain her trust.  But he would have to let her 
take the lead in the matter of intimacy.

The sight of Katie in her bathing dress put Fox's
restraint to the test.   The curve of her hips and
legs made him long to tumble her to the floor.  He
confined his appreciation to a huge smile.

"I love this costume," Katie said.  "It's very
practical."

He mumbled his agreement as they walked down to the
dock.

Katie looked out over the glassy surface of the lake.

"It's calm and still.  Nothing like the ocean," she said.

Fox remembered that her father had been lost at sea.

"It's gentler.  Not so deep and cold," he said.  

"You go in first."

"OK."  He dived in and swam out a few strokes before
he surfaced.  

"You can use the ladder," he called to her.

"Is it cold?" she asked.

"Just at first.  Come on in, Katie."

She climbed gingerly down the ladder, but stopped at
the lowest rung above the surface of the water.

"Come on," he called.

She took another step down, so that her feet were in
the water.

"It's freezing!" she complained.

"It's warmer once you start moving."

She swirled on foot around.

"Still freezing," she announced.

Fox was about to tell her that it didn't matter, they
could try another day, when she flung herself into the
water.  He grabbed her even as she grabbed on to him,
and finally he had to reach for the ladder to keep
them both afloat.

"You make quite a splash," he said.  It was just as
he'd imagined, their bodies so close and Katie
clutching him with all her might.

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked.

"You were wonderful.  I just wasn't expecting that."

"Well, stay alert.  I'm waiting for my swimming
lesson."

He guided her hands to grasp the ladder instead of him
and instructed her in the art of the kick.

"Your legs are stronger than your arms.  That's where
you get most of your power," he said.

He taught her as he had been taught, one action at a
time.  After she'd mastered the various kicks and some
basic strokes, he had her take a breath and rest on
her back with her arms outstretched.

"Look, you're floating," he said, his arms just
beneath her.

"You're not holding me?"  she asked in shock.  She
broke into a frenzy of kicking and reaching, and Fox
pulled her close again.

"I think that's enough for the first lesson," he said.

"I almost had it," she said, regaining her dignity.

"You had it, Katie.  But you're cold and tired."

"I'm not, Mulder, not at all."

Her lips were blue, and Fox wondered belatedly if he
should have been more considerate of her condition.

"I'm hungry.  Let's go inside," he said.

The pine needles crunched under their shoes as Fox
and Katie walked through the pines.  His arm was
around her waist and he could feel her shivering
in her wet bathing costume.  

"You're chilled," he said, drawing her closer.  
"I'll run you a hot bath."

He reluctantly released her from his grip, as they
entered the lodge.  Katie wrapped her arms around
herself and he wondered if she missed his embrace 
as much as he missed holding her.

"Let me get that bath started," he said.  He took
the stairs two at a time, passed through the bedroom
and had the taps running full force before she
made her way into the bathroom.

"Do you have any idea what a wonder that is?" she asked, 
pointing at the steamy water pouring into the porcelain
tub.  He'd tossed a handful of rose bath salts 
into the water and now the scent permeated the air.

"It's a convenience," he said.  Leaning over, he splashed
a hand around in the water, satisfying himself that 
it was the right temperature.

"You've never had to heat water on the stove and lug 
bucket after bucket of it up a flight of stairs or you  
would see this for the miracle it is," she replied with
a chuckle.

"Well, why don't you get into this nice, hot, miraculous
convenience and warm up?"  

She was right, he thought, as he watched her unfasten
the buttons on her suit.  There were a thousand aspects
of life that he'd never had to deal with.  He prided
himself on being down to earth, but he was quite aware
that wealth had smoothed his way through life in ways
he couldn't begin to know.

The wet sleeves of her bathing costume twisted on her 
arms, trapping her, until he helped her loosen their 
bonds.  Katie's skin was clammy and cold under his hands 
as he helped her wriggle out of the bathing costume.  
It was all he could do not to take her then and there 
on the hard tiles of the bathroom floor.  

His hungry eyes took in the changes pregnancy had 
wrought on her body.  Her breasts were fuller and his
hands itched to cup them.  Her belly, once so flat, 
curved just enough to hint at things to come.

"In you go," he said, gripping her hand to steady her 
as she stepped into the tub.  Katie sank down in the 
hot water with a deep, satisfied sigh.  

"Oh, Mulder, this must be what heaven feels like."  

"You look like an angel," he said.  Her breasts bobbed
at the edge of the water, the nipples rosy from the heat.
Katie's cheeks and lips were flushed pink.

"I look like a bedraggled mouse," she said, unpinning 
her hair and smoothing out the tangles.  "You must be 
cold, Mulder.  You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

"Your lips and fingernails are blue.  You've been so 
concerned about me, but you're just as cold and wet."

"I'm used to it," he said.  "I've been swimming in that
lake for years." 

"Well, you should get out of that wet bathing suit."

He nodded.  The wool fabric felt clammy and uncomfortable.
Fox went into his dressing room and stripped off the wet
suit, pulling on his dressing gown.  

When he returned to the bath, he didn't see Katie.  His
curiosity was relieved when her head broke through the
surface of the bathwater with a gasp.  

Tilting her head back, she swept the hair from her 
face.  "Would you pour some clean water over me," she 
asked.

He retrieved the silver water pitcher from the bedroom
and filled it with warm water at the sink.  Katie 
knelt in the tub and tilted her head back so he could
pour the water over her.  It sluiced over her hair and
skin in a sparkling rush.

There were a few memories that he would keep with him
always--the vision of Katie with the laundry basket
the first time he'd seen her, the way she looked the
morning after they'd made love for the first time, her
sweet face on their wedding day.  But this image
of Katie, back arched, breasts glistening and wet,
hair a russet tumble down her back where strands 
clung to her perfectly rounded bottom--this was
something to dream on until he died.

Katie rose out of the water to stand before him.
Bending at the waist, she twisted her hair into a 
long rope, squeezing the water out.  His mouth was 
dry, and he was in serious danger of having his 
manhood jut out through the folds of his dressing gown.  
Katie straightened up and extended her hand.

"Can you hand me a towel?  Mulder?" 

He couldn't move.  He couldn't speak.  Fox wanted
her with an ache so deep, it threatened to drop him
to his knees.  Standing in the tub, Katie was almost
as tall as he was.  Her eyes were wide, the blue
so intense he was reminded of the lake on a clear
day.  

He felt the magnetic pull of attraction drawing him
forward until he stood inches from her warm, wet
body.  Her eyes never left his face and he wondered
if she felt the same force between them.

And then her arms were around his neck and her lips
pressed to his and he knew she felt it too.  His 
dressing gown became plastered to him as her wet
body pressed against his.  Her skin was smooth and
fragrant under his hands.

With his arms around her waist, he lifted her out 
of the tub and set her down.  His joy could barely
be contained when she untied the sash on his dressing
gown and pushed it off his shoulders.

Her hands were gentle and familiar as they stroked
over his shoulders and down his chest.  She slipped
her arms around him, pressing an open-mouth kiss
between his pectorals.

"I've missed you," she whispered into his skin. 
"So very much."

He wanted to speak, to tell her that he hadn't had
a happy day without her.  But his words couldn't get
past the lump he had in his throat after hearing 
her words.

He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the
bedroom.  His heart raced with the knowledge that he
would soon be making love to his sweet Katie.

He lay her on the bed and climbed along side so he
could drink in the sight of her.  Katie's skin seemed
as white and smooth as he remembered, but he decided
a thorough examination was needed.

He traced her body with the tips of his fingers, 
skimming over the fullness of her breasts.  Her 
nipples were as hard as pebbles and she gasped 
when he touched them.  

"They're sensitive these days," she said softly.  
He drew his hand away, but she grabbed it and 
directed it back to her breast.  "Don't stop, I 
like it."

He almost threw his head back and crowed with pure
pleasure.  A woman who told him what she liked...
he was surely the luckiest man on earth.  She 
apparently liked touching him as well as her hands
were traveling over his body, touching, caressing,
stroking.  

She pulled him onto her, spreading her legs until
he rested in the cradle of her thighs.  In a 
heartbeat, he was in her and he wanted to cry out
with the sheer wonder of it.  Her legs wrapped 
around him, holding him within her and he thought
that maybe this was a miracle to her too.

He wanted to commit the sensations to memory--the
way she felt under him, how tight and hot she was
around him--but the need to move was far too strong
and he began to thrust into her.

He knew he couldn't last long, certainly not with
Katie moaning and mumbling over and over that she
loved him.  Her body undulated beneath him and her
heels dug into the small of his back.  Suddenly,
she stiffened and cried out.  His world shattered
into a thousand pieces of light and sound and 
emotion.

They lay wrapped in each other's arms, as their 
breathing returned to normal.  Fox stroked a 
finger along Katie's cheek.  

"Didn't you say something a while ago about being 
hungry?"

"Now that you mention it," he laughed.  "I'm starved."

Katie's hair was still quite wet, so Fox laid a fire 
in the massive stone fireplace in the great hall so
she could dry it.  They spread a blanket out in 
front of the hearth and had a picnic lunch of cold
fried chicken and pickled tomatoes.  Fox roasted 
potatoes over the open fire.

"Who taught you how to swim?" Katie asked between bites 
of chicken.  

"My grandfather, fortunately.  My father used to tease
that when I was in over my head I'd figure it out
quickly enough, but my grandfather taught me step by
step. I never afraid with him."

"I wasn't afraid either.  Except once or twice."  She
laughed and reached for a pickle.  "You love it her,
don't you?"

"I do," he confessed.  "I wish we could stay here 
forever."

"We have to go home eventually," she said.  "But 
where is home going to be, Mulder?"

"I suppose we'll stay at a hotel until we find 
a house.  We have the whole city to choose from,
though.  I thought perhaps we'd live near Central
Park.  Maybe you'd like to learn to ride a horse."    

"That's funny," she said, her face pensive.  "You
once suggested we buy a house near Washington Square
Park.  But that wasn't Fox Mulder."

"No.  No, it wasn't," he replied.  It was Mathew Fox who
had said that, it seemed like a lifetime ago.  "We could 
live wherever you want, Katie.  Washington Square, Central
Park--I'd live with you in a shoebox."

"A shoebox with a nursery," she said, laughing.  

"And a darkroom."

"And a dumbwaiter.  Mrs. Tibby had one and it was such
a convenience."

"Mrs. Who?  Sounds like a housecat."  

"It's Mrs. Thibedeaux, actually, but everyone calls her
Mrs. Tibby.  She lead the Shakespeare Players at the 
settlement house.  Mrs. Tibby took me in when I lost 
my job."

"Oh God," Fox said, taking her hand.  "I hate that they
did that to you.  I'm glad she was there for you."

They talked all afternoon, imagining their lives together.
Over the next weeks, they would talk often of where they
would live, how they would order their lives.  

They swam nearly every day.  Katie grew to be a natural
in the water.   For her second swimming lesson, Katie 
dispensed with the black stockings.  By the third time,
they left all the black taffeta and wool back on the shore
and swam as God made them.  Fox noted that Katie's backstroke
was much improved once her arms were free of restrictions.
The sight of her round breasts arching out of the dark water 
was icing on the cake.

Fox took her hiking often, though she always kept a wary eye 
out for snakes.  They would take their lunch along and picnic 
in the woods.  More than a few times, they were so overcome 
with desire that they made love under the trees.

They couldn't keep their hands off each other.  A glance,
a touch, a sigh was sometimes all it would take to 
draw them into each other's arms.  Fox and Katie christened 
just about every room in the lodge, from the great hall to 
the kitchen pantry.

Fox gave scarcely a thought to the world of finance
and investing.  DT telephoned one evening to ask his
opinion of the Bessemer process versus the open
hearth, and Fox practically growled at him.

"You're intruding on my honeymoon, Uncle," Fox said
darkly.

DT chuckled.

"If that's what you want to call it."

Fox had left Katie sitting by the fire to answer the
telephone.  He hoped she couldn't hear him.

"I told you I was marrying the girl I loved.  Wasn't
that clear to you?" he asked.

"Most weddings involve families, parties, planning and
announcements.   I don't think you were as clear as
think," DT answered.

"I'd be pleased to discuss steel mills when I return
to New York," Fox said, and he hung the earpiece back
on the phone with a decisive click.
 
The world within the confines of the lodge was golden
and filled with love.  Fox had not been so blessed in
his life to not be a bit protective of that new and
wonderful world.

Some days, they drove down to the village where they 
bought provisions. Katie would wear one of her new
summer frocks, and they'd have ice cream sodas at the 
local drug store.

Frequently Fox would find Katie sweeping in the 
kitchen or otherwise performing the duties of a maid, 
and when he couldn't persuade her to stop, he found 
himself helping her.  When she insisted that the 
floors had to be washed and waxed, he arranged for 
the caretaker to see to it, and whisked Katie off 
for a day at Saratoga Springs.  They sampled the 
waters, which Katie found quite disappointing.  
Then he showed her the race track and bought her an 
extravagant dinner at the Italian Gardens.   

DT had the temerity to telephone a second time, and
Fox was confused by both the tone and content of the
conversation.

"Pardon me for interrupting your honeymoon.  I'll be
brief," Traut said.

"What happened?"  Fox had been so isolated that
anything could have occurred without his knowledge. 
Perhaps J.P. Morgan and Bernard Baruch had formed a
partnership.  Maybe Andrew Carnegie had married
Elizabeth Gurley Flynn.   

"Your father and I have been very, very happy with
your work.  I hope you've been equally happy here."

"I see," said Fox, although he was baffled.

"A young fellow with your charm and talent can expect
offers from other bankers.  Fox, don't make any
decisions without talking to me.  Or your father. 
He'll be returning to town this week."

"OK."

"You'll find that some firms follow their own rules. 
Some men make their own rules."

"I haven't sought a change in employment, Uncle."  Fox
wondered if Morris Fletcher had decided to start that
rumor.

"I know that, son.  Be careful, that's all."  DT ended
with a hearty congratulation for Fox and his new
bride, and Fox mumbled his thanks.

"May I ask what that was about?"  Katie asked.  She
had followed him into the library when the telephone 
rang.

"I haven't a clue," Fox said.  "Uncle Dewitt prides
himself on being enigmatic."

"You have an Uncle Dewitt?  I'm sorry he couldn't
attend our wedding," Katie said.

Fox was about to explain that "uncle" was an honorary
term, when he noticed what Katie was wearing.

"That's my shirt!"  Katie had been half-undressed when
he'd left her to answer the phone.  Evidently she'd
donned his discarded shirt, but failed to button it
over her naked skin and the effect was breath-taking.

"Do you mind?" she asked, smiling seductively.

"God, no!"

The library was one of the few rooms they had yet to 
christen, but that omission was swiftly rectified.

DT's muddled warning would have been forgotten if not
for an incident the next day.

Fox left Katie sipping her soda in the drug store
while he drove off alone to purchase gasoline.  When
he returned he found her somber and unsettled.

"You really must teach me more about your world," she
said.

"I told you, Katie.  You are my world."

"I'm serious, Mulder.  A man sat down next to me and
started to speak as if he knew everything about us."

"Who was he?"  

"I was too taken aback to ask his name.  He said you
were a man with a great destiny, and I could be part
of that.  Indeed, it was my duty to be part of that."

The soda jerk was a dim young man known, appropriately
enough, as Zero.  Fox called him over.

"Do you know the man who was talking to my wife?" he
asked.

Zero shook his head.

"Never saw him before.  Gave me a whole dollar for a
pack of Morleys and didn't even want his change," Zero
said.  Fox placed a dollar on the counter and led
Katie out of the drug store.

"Did he threaten you, Katie?" he asked.

"Not in words.  But I didn't like the way he spoke to
me."

Fox didn't like it either.  The next day they drove
back to New York.

To be continued...