The Gingerbread Boy

by Lori Lapekes

  “Play?” Catherine asked as Daniel walked into the middle of the room.

  “Play, goof around, like kids do,” he explained, stopping in quiet contemplation. “They don’t make places like this anymore.”

  “They certainly don’t,” Catherine agreed, moving toward the closest window. She looked out, smiling at the magical scene; city lights winking on and off behind fat, thickly falling snowflakes, the white-frosted tree branches, the glow of East Lansing rising out of the distance. It seemed so serene outside, and here, inside, that it was hard to believe the lower floors of the house were littered with intoxicated people.

  Catherine looked at Daniel in the center of the room. “Why did you bring me up here? Really?”

  “I thought you would appreciate it,” he said. “You have a love for animals. You must think about more than just what color of lipstick to wear, or what kind of shoes to put on, like so many girls do.” His voice lowered. “I wondered if you’d hear the same kind of music I hear when I come to this place.”

  Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but held back as visions of graceful women and gentlemen waltzed in ghostly fashion before her eyes. Soon a haunting melody also filled her ears. Moments passed before Catherine realized the melody wasn’t her imagination.

  Daniel was humming.

  She watched, spellbound, as he pulled off his cap and gently tossed it to the side. He unraveled the scarf from his neck and face, held it at arm’s length, and let it glide to the floor. He pushed away layers of shoulder-length dark curls, revealing a narrow face with high cheekbones. He smiled, his teeth glowing in the dim light. Then, standing in the middle of the cold, abandoned ballroom, Daniel closed in, and held his arms out for a dance.

  The sight of Daniel, like this, made Catherine’s throat clutch. So elegant, and handsome. Exquisitely handsome. For the first time, she really looked into his wondrous eyes. They were the eyes of a young man that held such a sense of kindness and depth that the unearthliness of it, if that’s what she could call it, sent the world spinning beneath her feet. She lost her breath. Her whole body went numb. She wanted to tell him that she had no idea how to dance as he beckoned her forward. She tried to work her tightened throat muscles to explain, but no voice would come out. Yet she found her hands rising to his nonetheless, as if in a spell. The touch of his hands as he folded hers in his sent a glorious shiver throughout her system, yet was magnetic at the same time, as if they’d melded together.

  Soon she was looking silently into his eyes, and he took her in his arms.

  A sense of unreality enveloped her as she flawlessly followed Daniel’s lead. Round and round they circled the room. The chandelier sparkled above and the windows revolved around them. It wasn’t until Daniel squeezed her hand and the warmth of his breath caressed her cheek that Catherine knew this was real. Around and around they danced. Around and around in his dizzying embrace. She neither felt the cold, nor smelled the dust. This was a dream, it had to be. She couldn’t feel her feet. She was as light as air, dancing on air.

  “I thought it was you carrying on up here, Mowgli,” a sudden voice with a southern drawl said near the stairway.

  Daniel’s humming ceased, and the dream dance ended. Catherine and Daniel stared into the darkness, hands limp at their sides now, as a lanky figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t watch you two any more,” the man said, drawing closer. “When the guys downstairs told me you were headed this way, Daniel, I figured you went up here. I especially figured it out because you’re the only person I’ve ever given a key to the old servants’ stairway.”

  Daniel shook his head at Joey.

  “Joey,” he said, “You’re an epitome.”

  “No, you’re the epitome.” Joey replied, stepping closer.

  Catherine wondered just what they were each an epitome of, and why Joey had called Daniel “Mowgli.” But it seemed to be a private joke. The room began to take on its former chill and she wrapped her arms in front of her, feeling abandoned all of a sudden, and so peculiar that she missed Daniel’s embrace.

  “Look at your lady friend,” said Joey, gesturing toward her. “She’s freezing. She’s going to get sick if you stay up here any longer.”

  Daniel seemed about to reply, but Catherine found her voice. “Don’t worry about me. People don’t get sick from the cold, it’s the germs that make you sick.”

  “Then you might not want to head back down to the first floor again.” Joey said. “Never saw so much bacteria. Probably latched onto y’all like a bad smell.”

  Catherine cocked her head to study this “Joey.” Everything about him, from his lazy Southern drawl to his boyish face and huge, gangly body suggested a simpleton, but Daniel said Joey was one of the smartest people he knew.

  “Uh, Joey,” Daniel interrupted,” I’d like you to meet Catherine. Catherine, spelled with-a-C. And Catherine, this is Joseph Thayer, the Third.”

  Joey stretched out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” Catherine took it, and her hand disappeared into his.

  “Consider yourself lucky to be serenaded by this guy,” Joey said, releasing her hand and gesturing toward Daniel. “Even if it is some silly waltz he probably just made up.”

  Catherine looked at Daniel in surprise. “You made up that song you were humming?”

  Daniel shrugged. “I’m a musical kind of guy.”

  “It was beautiful,” she said. “I love classical music. You must enjoy it too.”

  Daniel and Joey looked oddly at each other, managing half-smiles.

  “Let’s just say I love almost all music,” Daniel said, bending down to retrieve his hat and scarf, “Except some types of rap. I’ve never gotten used to that. It makes me feel like banging my head against a wall.”

  “Classical music makes me feel like banging my head against a wall,” Joey groaned.

  “Then you must have listened to it a lot,” Daniel chided, “to explain that dopey mug of yours.”

  “What do you mean my mug? The only time I’ve ever seen orangey eyes like yours was in a genetics lab, and they were attached to vermilion fruit flies.” Joey shot back.

  “And what were they doing to you in that genetics lab?” Daniel asked.

  Joey tipped his nose in the air. “Trying to learn how to clone such an intelligent, dashingly handsome fellow, of course.”

  Daniel folded his arms. “Oh, and when they found one, they’d try to apply those characteristics to you?”

  Joey scowled.

  Catherine watched in amusement as Daniel and Joey continued to hurl good-natured insults at each other. It must be a practice that only the worst enemies, or best of friends, could take part in without throttling each other. Finally she stepped in. “Enough! You guys act like the Two Stooges.”

  “The Two Stooges?” Joey asked, slouching slightly so that the kneecaps on his jeans bulged on toothpick-thin legs. “You’re here, aren’t you? I count Three Stooges in this room, Eastie.”

  Catherine blushed. She often forgot about her accent. She wondered if she dared call Joey “Southie” in rebuttal. She noticed Daniel eyeing her curiously.

  She tilted her chin toward him. “I can take it. I’m not too serious, remember?”

  “Better get used to the wisecracks around here.” Joey advised, “It never ends.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened, and Catherine wished she could tell if they really were orange. She folded her arms and studied him. “I remember you telling me that Mr. Thayer was an old fashioned southern gentleman. That must have been before the genetics experiment. Maybe they reversed the process by mistake.”

  Joey opened his mouth as if to say something, then remained silent.

  “Nice job, Catherine.” Daniel whispered. “He’s speechless.”

  “I have an older brother kind of like him,” she said.

  “Does he pick on you like that, too?”

  “At one time he did.”

  Daniel and Joey looked curiously at her.<
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  “Until I beat the snot out of him.”

  Joey laughed and backed away. “Watch out for her, Daniel, she’s a wild one!”

  Catherine’s jaw dropped slightly. She snickered to herself. Someone was actually calling her a wild one? Her brother, Tony, was the only one who’d ever considered her even remotely wild, and she hadn’t seen him in years. He could be dead for all she knew. She pushed that disturbing thought aside, as always, and dwelled on how most people now thought her too practical most of the time, too analytical. Wound up tighter than an eight-day clock, Tony once said. As prickly as a pinecone, but just as tough, he’d added. Yet with quirky, silly Joanne Prescott as one of her roommates now, Catherine felt she was changing. Thank goodness. And as much as she loved Hazel VanHoofstryver, she hoped never to become as crusty and distrustful of the world as her dear old friend back home.

  Catherine eventually noticed that both Joey and Daniel were staring over her head. She turned to see them looking out the closest window. Her eyes widened at an outdoors obliterated in white.

  “When did the snowstorm start?” she gasped.

  “Minutes ago,” said Joey. “I’d heard we were in for a blizzard, but it’s a surprise that it’s starting this early in the season.”

  “It’s a whiteout.” said Daniel.

  All three fell into silence. About the same time the wind began to shriek around the windows, rattling them so badly Catherine was afraid they’d break and send snow swirling throughout the lonely old ballroom.

  Finally Daniel turned to Joey. “I promised to get Catherine home safely, but the starter went out on Bruiser. I hoped to get a ride home from you, and maybe one for Catherine, too. She’s been walking forever.”

  “Walking!” said Joey. “No one should be walking around in that. Sure, I’ll give her a ride home.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll probably eventually have to give half the drunks downstairs a ride too.”

  Daniel held his scarf out to Catherine. “Why don’t you wear this,” he said. “You’ll need some protection from this weather.”

  “But what about your cold, your sore throat?”

  “I still have my hat. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure,” Catherine agreed as Daniel stepped close to gently wrap the scarf around her head. She found herself staring numbly at his mouth as he bundled her up.

  “I’ve had this same scarf since my sister gave it to me when I was twelve years old,” he said quietly. It’s kind of ratty now, but it’ll keep your ears warm.”

  Catherine suddenly realized the night was almost over, and she didn’t want it to end.

  “We should take another stairway back down,” Joey said, jingling some keys in his pocket. “It’ll take us around all of the congestion down there.”

  Catherine was puzzled. “Why do you seem to have keys for everything around here?”

  As Joey started to walk off toward wherever the stairway lay, he looked back at her. “Didn’t Daniel tell you? I own this house.”

  Catherine looked at Daniel in surprise

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “I told you his rent was cheap,”

  “I reckon there are a lot of things you didn’t tell her.” Joey laughed, walking off so that his voice was muffled.

  But Catherine heard.

  ****

  Dear Hazel,

  I hope you are well. I’m fine… Beth is still driving me crazy at the house, as usual. If it weren’t for Joanne’s goofiness, I’d have a nervous breakdown. I’m glad I found at least one good friend out here. Just last week she dragged me out to a march at the capital. This one protested the cruelty of experiments on lab animals. If it boils down to senseless torture, I understand why Joanne feels so strongly, but someday I’m going to have to treat animal victims in my own practice, and just the thought of it makes me nauseous.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to mention this, but, well, here goes… I met this guy last night, Hazel. Yes, he’s one of those “filthy abominations” as you say. But he’s like no one I’ve met before. He’s kind, he’s smart, and he makes me laugh. His hair is longer than I usually like, but it looks good. We’re just friends of course, you don’t need to worry. At this point in my life that’s how it must be. Still, it was great to run into a man I can connect with.

  You won’t believe how we met! It all started out when I was in a lousy mood and took a long walk and thought Calvin was stalking me. Was I ever wrong.

  Chapter Two

  Julia’s eyes widened as she pulled her sandwich out of the paper sack. Daniel didn’t think he’d ever seen his little sister look as pleased. “You didn’t smoosh my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with my apple!” she said, digging in the bag to retrieve the fruit and a small box of raisins.

  “I made a point to put the apple on the bottom of the bag ever since you told me Amy’s mother puts it in last, and lets it mush everything,” said Daniel, settling back on his elbows and stretching his long legs out on the blanket.

  Julia seemed genuinely astonished he’d remember such a thing, and sprang to her feet to hug him. Daniel glowed inside. His eight-year-old sister adored him. He may as well have been Superman, or The Incredible Hulk, not a gangly teenage musician with an old Gibson guitar usually strapped on his back. He glanced over at a craggy tree where his guitar case leaned against the trunk. Maybe he’d entertain Jules with a few old tunes after the picnic. She loved it when he sang to her.

  Julia was his biggest fan. She was certain he’d be famous one day.

  She dropped down on the blanket again, giggling when her knees cracked beneath her. She took a big bite of her sandwich and stared up at the sky.

  “I’m glad it’s finally sunny out,” she said. “It feels good on my face.”

  “Mine, too,” Daniel agreed. “It’s still pretty cold out, though. We’re lucky it warmed up enough for this picnic. It could snow any time up here in early November.”

  “I know,” said Julia, fiddling with the scarf Daniel had asked her to wear in case the wind came up. “I still don’t like snow much. Not yet, anyway.”

  Daniel stared at her. Julia was such a sweet child, a blessing to their family. But she’d always been fragile. It worried him and their mother endlessly.

  Julia took another bite of her sandwich. A large crumb fell from her mouth and landed in her lap. Picking it up, she tossed it into the woods. “For the birds,” she said. “Whatever kind of birds they have here. I don’t think they have any that look like Yoo-Hoo, though, do they?”

  Daniel laughed. “No Jules, I’m pretty sure parrots only live in the jungle.”

  “I miss the jungle.”

  “Yeah,” Daniel said quietly, “Me, too,”

  “I miss dad.”

  Daniel lowered his eyes and picked absently at a blade of grass.

  “Me too.”

  There was a thoughtful silence. At last Julia’s eyes flicked toward her brother. “Do you think we’ll ever go back to South America?”

  He bit his lip. He, Julia and their mother had only relocated to the States in the last year. Their father had passed away from heart problems in a remote area near Pacupall, Peru, where they’d been living as missionaries. Rampant disease, mostly cholera, had sickened many of the villagers, including Julia. Despite treatment, the illness had nearly taken Julia from them. Daniel secretly doubted their mother had the strength to ever return. She’d brought her remaining family back to America to be near relatives in Michigan, as if hoping to erase the painful memories from her mind and re-adjust to the alien culture she’d once known as a young girl.

  Julia finished her sandwich and grinned, as if forgetting about going back. “I do like the food here better though,” she said, licking her fingers, “I got sick of fish, rice and bananas.”

  Daniel laughed. Fish, rice, and the plantains his mother used to boil like potatoes had made up their main diet for so many years, that now, something as simple and common as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was an unbelievable luxury. H
e also loved the food, but had not packed a lunch for himself this afternoon because he had a sore throat. Food would scrape going down, and he’d rather save his voice for singing. His music made the transition to another country easier for her. Even though Daniel’s voice could no longer be joined with their father’s, it was still comforting to Julia, and Daniel was thankful for that.

  Julia noticed him glance at his guitar. She pulled off her scarf, handed it to him and said, “ I can tell you want to sing, but I know your throat hurts. You should wear this instead of me.”

  “I feel fine, keep it.” Daniel said.

  “Wear it just for a little while,” Julia pleaded, “So you don’t get more sick. I want you to be famous some day, just like people on radio and TB.”

  “You mean TV,” Daniel chuckled, taking the scarf and obligingly wrapping it around his neck. “I don’t think this matches my wardrobe, Jules.”

  “That’s okay. At least it’s bright. I could see you from miles away.”

  “Why would you need to do that?” Daniel asked, watching her jump to her feet. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

  “To get your guitar. You were staring at it.”

  “I was?” Daniel asked, drawing to a sitting position and crossing his legs in front of him. He watched the awkward little girl with the bright smile and flowing brown hair walk toward the tree, and then closed his eyes. She was right; the sun did feel good on his face. It made up for the cold, nearly prickly feel of the air. He decided that, although he missed the jungle and its thick, exotic smells, he also enjoyed the smell of the cold. Here, in the woods, the air smelled clean, like sticks. Bark. Evergreen. It was a fresh scent, a cleansing scent. Maybe there were things here he could grow to love besides the food.

  Daniel’s eyes flew open as a rifle shot pierced the silence.