The Gingerbread Boy

by Lori Lapekes

  Catherine shuddered as she and Joanne mixed with the hundreds of people milling around them, people who smiled at her and looked at her appreciatively, assuming she was part of their cause. What would they think if they knew she had spent several weeks dissecting a beautiful spotted pony?

  At least it kept her mind off Daniel…and Hazel…and her withering grades. For now.

  Joanne tugged at Catherine’s arm. “We’ve still got a little while before the guest speaker begins. I saw a guy from my class head toward the refreshment stand. I’d like to talk to him if we can squeeze through the crowd in time.”

  Catherine raised her eyebrows as someone jostled her in the shoulder, then she ducked as someone’s sign nearly struck her in the head.

  “Okay, but let’s walk by the road, it’s getting annoying here,” she replied

  Joanne nodded, and the two scurried through the crowd to the road to escape the congestion. Just as they reached the street, Catherine gasped.

  “What is it?” Joanne asked.

  Catherine couldn’t reply as her eyes followed a tow-truck down the street, a tow truck pulling a crumpled white Corvette.

  The car was a ruin. The engine was smashed into the driver’s seat. Both doors hung ajar, bouncing and grinding at each imperfection in the road. Pieces of chrome stuck out at absurd angles.

  Daniel’s car.

  No one could have survived that accident.

  Before Joanne had time to protest, Catherine raced down the sidewalk, her shirt flapping behind her. Along the way she reached down and tore off her sandals, flung them into a bush and streaked on in bare feet. She knew where she must go. There was a garage about half a mile away, she remembered Daniel taking Bruiser there before. That had to be where the wrecker was headed. Maybe the driver could give her some information on the fate of the Corvette’s owner.

  By the time Catherine stumbled into the garage a half-mile away, her breath burned in her chest. She stood, gasping, before the pitiful white automobile still attached to the wrecker. Fighting for control, she closed her eyes and forced her breathing to calm. She could do this, she could do this… finally she stepped slowly toward the ruin of a once-gorgeous machine. She caressed the buckled metal with a trembling hand and ambled trance-like toward the driver’s seat.

  “Daniel,” she sobbed, “if you’re dead I’m going to kill you.”

  Through tear-drenched eyes, Catherine saw a mangled driver’s seat soaked in red.She drew her hands to her face, spots swam across her eyes and her legs buckled beneath her.

  ****

  When Catherine came to she found herself staring into the eyes of a kind-faced black man. She vaguely noticed another nondescript figure hovering nearby, and then her eyes once again went wild.

  “Where is he?” She scrambled to her feet from her reclining position on a worn couch in the office. “Where’s the driver?”

  The black man drew back in surprise, then gently laid his hands on her shoulders to ease her back onto the couch.

  “Don’t get hysterical,” he uttered. “Calm down. We’ll get this straightened out.”

  Catherine took a deep breath, but stared at him with imploring eyes. The blood… the blood, all over the seat. The blood…

  “You passed out next to that ol’ Corvette,” the man continued. “Lucky thing you didn’t knock yourself silly on the cement.”

  “We were getting ready to take you to the hospital when your eyes opened,” came a voice from behind the black man, and the face of a heavy-set young man with brown eyes and a shock of dark brown hair appeared.

  Catherine’s voice trembled. “Were you driving the wrecker?”

  He nodded. “Did you know the driver?”

  Catherine felt like she’d been punched in the gut.

  “What do you mean, did I know him?”

  “No – I mean do you know him,” he hastened to reply.

  Catherine stretched eagerly forward. “Then he’s all right?”

  She saw the black man toss his colleague a distressful glance.

  “We… not exactly, all right.” The young man said.

  Catherine’s heart fell.

  “Don’t come to conclusions,” the black man interrupted. “I doubt if Andy knows the whole situation.”

  Andy sighed, shrugging. “By the time I got there, the ambulance was gone. They usually are. But I did overhear the police talking to one another.”

  The black man turned to him, folding his long arms thoughtfully. “So, what happened? I’d like to know myself.”

  Andy seemed hesitant, his eyes darting back and forth from his boss to Catherine. Finally he spoke. “The driver went too fast, missed a curve, and drove head on into a brick building on Lincoln Avenue.”

  Catherine went numb. Andy’s voice faded, and she felt a strange feeling of dislocation, like she was hearing his words through cotton.

  …ran off the road… and hit a brick building?

  “Apparently he had his seat belt on,” she heard Andy continue from a thousand miles away, “but I think he’s in the hospital. Bad shape. I’m sorry,” he added.

  Catherine rose. She could not feel her feet.. “What hospital did they take him to?”

  “Saint Lawrence.”

  Catherine’s gaze floated past both men. She headed for the door. “Thank you, I have to go now, I have to get to the hospital, I have to go…”

  “Hold up,” the black man declared, “You’re in too much shock to go anywhere.” He paused. “By the way, what is your name?”

  “Catherine,” she murmured, head low. “I have to go. Daniel will be okay, but I have to make certain. He’s probably cut up, has broken bones, won’t be able to sing for a while… but he’ll make it. I have to see.”

  “How do you plan to get there?”

  “Walk. I’ll just walk.”

  He glanced down at Catherine’s dirty, shoeless feet. “You didn’t drive here, did you?” he asked as Catherine put her hand on the doorknob.

  She shrugged, pushing the door open to walk out.

  He turned to Andy. “She’s delirious. Give her a ride to the hospital. She should be checked over herself.”

  Andy nodded, then dashed out after Catherine. “Hey,” he called, grasping her arm, “I can drive you there. You’re in no condition to walk three miles.”

  Catherine made no reply as the young man quickly ushered her past the mangled Corvette toward his pick-up truck. He opened the passenger door for her and she slid in as he jogged around the front of the truck.

  She forced her eyes away from the Corvette. Daniel couldn’t die. He was going to be okay. He must.

  “Was the driver your husband?” Andy asked carefully as he started the ignition and pulled out of the station.

  Catherine gazed blankly ahead at the tan glove compartment. How could she answer that question? What was Daniel to her? What was a man she was in love with, but hadn’t heard one word from in two weeks?

  “I can tell you care for him deeply,” Andy sighed, eyeing her with concern as they rumbled down the street. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he offered, attempting to keep Catherine’s attention. “What’s his name?”

  “Daniel LaMont.” Catherine mumbled.

  “Daniel LaMont… from Daniel LaMont and the Front?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, man,” was all he could say.

  Uncomfortable with the silence, he leaned over and flicked on the radio. Ironically, a classic song by Elton John came from the speaker, filling the air with his woes about missing Daniel.

  ****

  When Catherine entered the hospital she spoke to a receptionist at the information desk. “Yes,” the woman said, “there was a young man recently admitted who was the victim of a severe automobile accident.” She paused. “Are you family?”

  Catherine looked away, then bleakly shook her head.

  The receptionist frowned. “I’m sorry, but I can offer no more information right now.”

  Catherine looke
d back to her. “Just tell me this if you can,” she struggled to say, “is his name Daniel? Daniel LaMont?”

  The woman shook her head. Catherine fell against the wall from relief. It wasn’t Daniel… it wasn’t Daniel!

  Then it struck her. Maybe Daniel’s car had been stolen, which meant he was still missing.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Catherine and Joanne walked quietly past silhouettes of tall, majestic pines standing serenely against the twilight. Stars winked down at them from the dusky sky as they strolled along the road in the still evening air, their sneakers making soft, padding sounds on the pavement. The Looking Glass Café was just ahead. They’d deliberately parked about a mile down the road just to enjoy the walk.

  “How can going to the cafe make me feel better?” Catherine asked. “It’ll only remind me of Daniel. He’s the one who introduced the place to me, I’m not sure I can handle the memories.”

  “Trust me, you’ll be fine after I show you what I found there..” Joanne said.

  “And you’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?”

  “No, you have to see for yourself.”

  “If you say so.”

  They strolled silently on.

  Once Daniel had introduced Catherine to it, she had taken Joanne there several times. Both girls enjoyed the nearly magical atmosphere of the Looking Glass Café. Before Daniel disappeared, they would occasionally drive out there after a long day just to sit, munch on a sandwich, and watch the customers, quite often local farmers and agriculture students. Once inside the cluttered, dimly lit restaurant a visitor was overwhelmed with nostalgia, from the crooked paintings on the walls by a local artist to the ancient pottery used for dishes.

  But Joanne said she had a surprise to show her there.

  “You know, I really believed that smashed car was Daniel’s,” Catherine said, thinking back to the day before. “How many cars can there be like that in one small city, anyway? The interior was the same color, the wheels were the same design, everything. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “You will know soon,” Joanne said. “Just hang in there.”

  They shuffled on in silence.

  “It’s beautiful out, isn’t it?” Joanne finally said, gazing at the sky. “So quiet and peaceful out in the country.”

  Catherine nodded. She made no reply.

  “You know, I’ve been wanting to tell you about something for several days now, but have been afraid to,” Joanne said, her words oddly guarded.. “I didn’t know how you would handle it before. But after what you’ll see tonight, I think you’ll be able to handle it just fine.”

  Catherine glanced at her friend, puzzled. “Go on.”

  “I mean… I know you could handle it, I just didn’t want to… I mean… oh , I’ll just spit it out.” Joanne sighed. She paused a moment, then stopped in her tracks.

  “Joey asked me out for dinner. He likes me, Cath.”

  Catherine stopped walking, too. She turned to face her friend.

  “You mean he likes-likes you?”

  Joanne nodded vigorously. “Who woulda thunk, eh?”

  Catherine chuckled. “That’s wonderful. You two would make a cute couple. Jo and Joe.”

  Joanne raised her eyebrows. “So it doesn’t bother you?”

  Catherine shrugged. “He’s a great guy. A little smug, maybe. And that accent of his would take some getting used to. Still, he’s one of the good ones.”

  There was another silence. Both girls stared quietly down at the gravel.

  “Why did you think it would bother me?” Catherine asked, although she already knew the answer.

  Joanne took a long time to reply. When she did reply, her voice was so faint Catherine could barely hear it. “It seemed wrong to feel happy when you were sad.” She looked up at Catherine. “It still doesn’t seem right.”

  “Are you happy?” Catherine asked.

  Joanne managed a limp smile. “Yeah. I’ve got mixed feelings, though. I want things to work out for both of us. We’re like a team, you and I. Seeing you miserable makes me miserable.”

  Catherine smiled to herself, and tipped back her head to stare at the sky. She breathed in the fresh scent of the night, and a feeling of peace washed through her. “I just realized something, Jo. No matter how pitiful I feel, I can always find something to smile about if I look for it. I’m lucky, Joanne,” She looked back to her friend, “You are probably the best friend I’ll ever have. I couldn’t get through all of this without you. I guess what I really mean to say, is thank you.”

  She embraced Joanne. “I want you to be happy. No matter how things work out with me and Daniel,” Catherine whispered. “Remember that.”

  “I will,” Joanne said.

  They broke apart, wiping tears. “I’m hoping that in a few more minutes you’ll be happier yourself,” Joanne added, “We’re almost there.”

  A moment later the girls reached the unimposing rectangular building with its clapboard siding and crooked roof. Its dumpy looks were charming in a peculiar way, from the oblong sign hung at an angle above the doorway to the tiny lights glowing around the windows. They stepped inside and were greeted by a rush of warm air and the aroma of coffee and homemade bread.. It was dark as Joanne led Catherine through a narrow row of weathered tables toward the rear of the restaurant. Joanne pulled two chairs away from a table against the wall and beckoned Catherine.

  Catherine crossed her arms and leaned toward Joanne after they took their seats. “Okay Jo,” she said. “What is it you want to show me?”

  Joanne clasped her hands together and gestured toward the wall.

  “Look there,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll agree. It’s a masterpiece.”

  Catherine smiled skeptically, and looked. She had to scan some graffiti for several seconds before she spotted what Joanne was talking about. Then she gasped. Snuggled inside a shakily drawn heart were her name, and Daniel’s.

  “He even dated it,” Joanne said. “That was written today, Cath. He’s back. Robin Hood is back.”

  Catherine’s throat tightened. She could not speak

  “I noticed it when I came out here for lunch today.” Joanne explained, placing her hand on Catherine’s arm. “For all I know, Daniel could have just left – or maybe he wrote it at breakfast. It’s a miracle I spotted it with all that grunge around it. Shows you what an interesting social life I have, huh? Sitting and reading inscriptions on walls in a backwoods restaurant for an hour.” Her voice faltered. “It is Daniel’s writing…isn’t it?”

  Catherine nodded. It was Daniel’s writing. No doubt. Large, shaky letters. The implications written inside the heart were overwhelming..

  Daniel was back.

  It took several moments before Catherine’s throat would open up enough to let her speak. “I remember when Daniel first brought me here,” she said as Joanne waved a waitress away. “It was the morning after Cave Pig attacked me at the bar. We sat at this table – this very same table…and watched the sunrise.” She reached out to trace over the inscription with a trembling finger. It must have been her imagination – for it felt warm to her touch.

  “Now don’t go rushing over to his house,” came Joanne’s voice from a thousand miles away. “No matter what, let him come to you.”

  Catherine pulled away her finger, then found herself scanning the crowd. Somewhere within the cluttered tables of students quietly reading, writing or talking, she almost expected to see Daniel’s smiling face as though he’d been secretly waiting there for her all along.

  No such thing happened.

  Still, the joy she felt could not be concealed.

  Joanne clenched her wrist. “You’re getting all sappy and glowing eyed again,“ she said, grinning. “It’s kind of disgusting, but it’s the you I’m used to.”

  PART TWO

  A butterfly alit on my shoulder one day.

  Upset at the time, I brushed her away

  Figuring that butterfly had nothing to say.


  It lit on me again in my sleep.

  I brushed her away with one finalizing sweep

  …Then dreamed of horrors and wicked things in the deep.

  If that butterfly should ever alight on me again,

  I’d joyfully welcome her back and then

  Allow these ruined hearts to mend.

  Chapter Twenty

  When Catherine opened her front door that morning the sweet smell of rain-washed earth nearly knocked her over. She stood still, gulping in the sweet air, reveling in the sight of tender new leaves sparkling with raindrops.

  Maybe, for once, this was going to be a good day.

  Regaining her senses, Catherine pressed her books tighter into the crook of her arm and stepped forward, shutting the door softly behind her. She began walking across the porch to the steps when something unusual in her peripheral vision made her stop, something against the porch wall behind her that wasn’t normally there.

  Something like a person.

  She turned around, and her free hand went to her mouth.

  Leaning peacefully against the siding, his chin tucked into his chest in slumber, his long dark hair framing his face was Daniel.

  Catherine froze. She blinked, and stared wordlessly at him as minutes ticked by, as her legs began to quiver, as the blood rushed to her ears. The thudding of a sparrow’s wings as it dipped out from under an eave startled her back to her senses.

  Daniel slumbered on.

  Catherine took a tiny step forward on rubbery legs, her eyes never once leaving his face.

  She took another step, then another, until she was only a few feet from him. She raised her free hand, longing to touch his face to make sure this wasn’t a dream, but her hand trembled maddeningly. She couldn’t touch him. She didn’t dare. A touch might awaken her from this lovely dream, and the vision might fade away like smoke. Then, ever so slowly, his chin still tucked against his chest, Daniel’s eyelids opened, revealing the lovely amber eyes Catherine had come to love.

  He said nothing, made no movement. His eyes, focused on Catherine, registered sadness, registered compassion, registered some kind of silent anxiety that Catherine had never seen there before.