The Gingerbread Boy

by Lori Lapekes

  Why let old Cave Pig realize he was trapped before he absolutely had to realize it?

  Then she tiptoed quickly out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

  Seconds later she was unlocking the front door and opening it, listening to Calvin’s muffled raving as he searched for her in the basement. Apparently, he hadn’t found out he’d been locked in, yet. Satisfied she had a little time, Catherine allowed herself a long sigh of relief. She was just about to step into the open air when she noticed the crumpled form in the shimmering pajamas in the far hallway.

  Catherine rolled her eyes.

  Crap! Beth was still passed out!

  What if Calvin, when he discovered he was trapped, got enraged enough to kick open the basement door? That was plausible. What if he saw Beth… and took his demented frustrations out on her?

  It was tempting to leave Beth where she was.

  But Catherine couldn’t do it. She hurried over to Beth and bent over her, debating on what to do. At last Catherine struggled to pull the limp blonde down the hallway and into Beth’s own bedroom.

  She could now hear Calvin beating on the basement door. She had to hurry!

  Not too gently, Catherine yanked Beth across the floor to her bed, then bent down, and pushed and rolled her beneath it. She pushed Beth as far under as she could, even prodded a little further with her foot, until her roommate was out of sight.

  Then she dashed out of the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The early morning sun glimmered behind the outline of the rooming house as Joanne marched across the yard toward the front door. Somewhere off in the still morning air a bird sang a lovely song, yet Joanne did not hear it. Her mind was too consumed in worry.

  Catherine was such a mess it was frightening. She’d withdrawn into herself so much this weekend that all she’d done was lie in bed, getting up only to use the bathroom. She’d barely had a few hours to recover from Calvin’s attack before the phone call came the next morning. An acquaintance from Maryland had called to say something terrible had happened to Mrs. VanHoofstryver.

  And the only person who even had a remote possibility of snapping Catherine out of her depression was missing.

  Joanne now stood before the house where Joey lived. Maybe he could help. Maybe he could go talk to Catherine and give some insight as to what was going on with Daniel, even if Catherine said Joey didn’t know where Daniel was.

  Joanne refused to believe that. Joey had to know something. He had better. Joanne’s best friend’s future was at stake and Joanne would pry the truth from Joey even if it meant knocking him down and sitting on him.

  Joanne held her breath and rapped briskly on the front door, then folded her arms against the chill. She stared upward at the old mansion. Her eyes rested on the top floor where tall, narrow windows lined what Catherine said was a ballroom. The thought struck her that if Daniel somehow disappeared for good, just as Catherine’s brother seemed to have done, then Catherine should never set foot in that ballroom again. The memories would destroy her.

  Joey had to know where Daniel was!

  Charged with anger, Joanne knocked harder on the door. The thudding echoed across the neighborhood.

  Finally, a vertical wedge formed in the doorway as it creaked open. The dim outline of a face transformed into a young man with heavy lidded eyes.

  “What do you want?” he asked drowsily.

  Joanne straightened. “I need to talk with Joey.”

  The young man’s eyes narrowed. “Joey who? There are three Joe’s in this place.”

  Joanne hesitated. “I don’t remember. He works with Daniel LaMont and The Front. Is he here?”

  The fellow cracked the door open a little farther. “Who knows? He’s in and out all the time. Go away.”

  Joanne’s eyes flashed. She turned sideways and slammed her ‘wide world of sports’ against the door, knocking it open, causing the kid to stagger backward in shock. She stepped inside, her hands on her hips.

  “Tell me where he is,” she demanded, “or next time it’ll be you.”

  Eyes wide, he pointed through an arched doorway across an enormous room. “See that stairway? Go up two flights. Turn left down a crooked hall. Joey’s room is at the very end. The only room on the end.”

  “Thank you,” Joanne said. She brushed past him and strode toward the stairs; the ghosts of the people, smoke and noise Catherine once described now swirling in her mind. She reached the stairway and scurried up, pinching her nose against the thick, musty scents of the old manor. It was hard to imagine this place as ever being the romantic setting Catherine had raved about months ago.

  Finally she reached the designated floor, turned left and headed down the hallway. Not a soul was in sight. Good. Let them sleep off drunken binges as she crept past their doorways. After turning and twisting around a series of corners Joanne felt certain were designed to drive people of the late eighteen hundreds insane, she reached the end of the hallway where an enormous oak door loomed before her. She sucked in her breath, then pounded on the door.

  No response.

  “You’ve got to be home.” Joanne whispered.

  She pounded again… and again. The notion to scream “Fire” filled her mind, but she didn’t want to send a dozen half-naked men scrambling out their doors.

  Hmmm… maybe she should yell ”Fire!”

  At last, the door creaked open. A big fellow, no, a huge fellow, filled the entrance. Light brown hair spilled into sleepy eyes as he fastened a gray robe around his gangly frame.

  He gazed at her impassively. “Yes?”

  Joanne’s mind went blank. Joey was rather cute in a dopey sort of way, as Catherine had said. She recalled planning to come here and ask Joey about Daniel when Catherine had first met him. Although Joanne never made the visit because Catherine met Daniel shortly thereafter, the sense of déjà vu washing over her was disorienting.

  Joey continued to gaze at her oddly. “May I help you?”

  At last Joanne found her voice. “My name is Joanne. I’m one of Catherine Sealey’s roommates. I need to talk to you about her… and Daniel. It’s important.”

  Joey’s sleepy eyes became alert. “Eastie? Is she okay?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  Joey stood back in silence, then finally gestured her into the dimly lit room. His room was enormous, and, surprisingly, lovely. Joanne’s eyes wandered past an entrance that led into a room with a huge bed, then still into another room filled with computers and blinking, electronic devices. The room she was presently standing in was decorated with an overstuffed sofa, matching chair, lamp, and gleaming coffee table. Her feet sank into carpet that had to be an inch thick.

  “Please, sit,” he said, gesturing toward the facing chair.

  Joanne lowered into the chair, suddenly feeling anxious in the gloom. As if reading her thoughts, Joey switched on the lamp. Pleasant amber light filled the area, helping her to relax. Then Joey sat on the sofa, his knees cracking, and folded his hands together. His long bare feet looked like boat paddles against the sea-colored carpet. Joanne was taken aback at how cute Joey actually was. She had to snap out of it. She had to remember why she was here. For Catherine. The thought stirred her into action.

  “I have to know where Daniel is, Joey,” she finally said, “Catherine needs him now more than she’s ever needed anyone in her life.”

  Joey’s voice was soft, but firm. “What happened?”

  Joanne shook her head. “She’s depressed because Daniel is missing. She spends half the day soaking in the bathtub like she’s trying to scald off the pain. That’s bad enough. Then, a few nights ago, her old boyfriend broke into the house and tried to kidnap her.”

  Joey’s eyes rounded. He leaned forward, his stunned expression imploring for her to continue.

  “It was the man you and Daniel beat up at Harper’s a while ago.”

  A vein pulsed in his Joey’s forehead, but he remained silent.

  “Cathy’s all right
physically, she continued, “Somehow she locked the jerk in the basement, and that’s where the police found him. He’s in jail, now, but it was quite a trauma for her.”

  Joey lowered his head, his huge hands balled into fists. “I’ll pulverize the guy.”

  That’s not all,” Joanne said, leaning forward. “The next morning she got a phone call telling her that her best friend in Maryland had a stroke. They’re not sure if the old woman is going to make it. Catherine lost it after that. She’d been certain something weird was going on by the tone of Hazel’s letters, but she didn’t write back until it was too late. The guilt is killing her.” Joanne raised her arms, “all of this, and not even knowing if the guy she loves is alive or dead. She’s in shock, Joey. She can’t handle it, and I don’t know how to help her. Only Daniel can help her.” Joanne paused, looked straight into Joey’s bewildered eyes. “Joey for Catherine’s sake, tell me. Where is Daniel?”

  Joey sat as motionless as a stone, as if trying to comprehend all he was hearing and make sense of it. At last he raised his hands to his face, and sagged back against the sofa. He gazed helplessly at the ceiling.

  “I can’t say.”

  Joanne jumped to her feet. “You have to! You’re his best friend!” She raised a fist at him. “Don’t lie to me, buddy!”

  Joey seemed to shrink into the upholstery. His eyes glazed over, and his voice was trembling. “He took off in the van with his parrot several days ago to visit his mother. I talked to her on the phone and she said Daniel had some things to ‘take care of.’ If she knows where he is, she won’t tell me.”

  Joanne became hysterical. “Did anyone notify the police? Can’t they hunt for that ugly old blue van of his?”

  “They aren’t concerned. He’s not officially missing if his mom knows what’s going on, but still, the whole band is scared. We’ve had to cancel bookings and I’m running out of things to tell everyone.”

  Joanne raised her hand to her mouth, tears glistening.

  What was happening? Why was Daniel so irresponsible all of a sudden? What in the world was going on with ol’ Robin Hood?

  “Aren’t you furious with him?” Joanne cried. “How could he do something like this to Catherine — to all of you? How can you just sit there?”

  Joey closed his eyes and put his face in his hands. “I want to be mad at him, but all I am is scared. You don’t understand Daniel like I do. If he’s running, he has good reason to run. I don’t think he’s that well, Joanne. And maybe it’s good Catherine finds that out before it’s too late.”

  Joanne sat back hard, her eyes huge. “Just what do you mean by that?”

  Suddenly Joey shook his head. “Nothing. I meant nothing. We should all just relax. Daniel will turn up and be fine, just wait and see.”

  But from the look in Joey’s eyes, Joanne wasn’t at all sure that Daniel was fine.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daniel sat mutely in the thick, nearly viscous silence of Dr. Nobel’s waiting room. He eyed the clock now and then as he glanced around the room at the other two patients. They, too, were solemn, in direct contrast with the sunny yellow walls and splashy paintings on the neurologist’s wall behind them.

  He didn’t want to look at his hands.

  He’d look at anything but those detestable hands.

  Sometimes the weakness crept all of the way up his arms to his shoulders, and lately, he felt it more in his legs than ever before. What was that all about? It took a conscious effort to walk without dragging a foot; it took conscious effort to appear even remotely graceful anymore.

  What was happening to him?

  Losing his grip on the ring and falling into the river had been the final straw.

  Talk about losing one’s grip!

  In despair, Daniel buried his head in his hands. His hair spilled onto his wrists, and he felt like taking it and tugging it all out of his head. What was wrong with him? Why was this happening so fast all of a sudden especially now, when his life was so full of promise? His career had sky-rocketed in the last year. His band was hot. So hot, Joey said, that they had an offer to tour as an opening band for the popular group Lift later this spring. It was a break all the guys had dreamed of, and deserved. They were like Daniel’s family now, and he was proud of those musicians. They were as close to changing the image of secular rock’n’roll to something good and decent as they ever might be. The band wouldn’t let him down.

  But would he let them down?

  It all depended on these test results.

  Daniel prayed his problems were only symptoms of over-exertion. That would be a treat right now. Yeah, he’d gladly accept a little dose of over-exertion here, a swallow of stress there. A pinch of pinched nerves would be a delight. Those problems were all treatable. They were what he longed to finally explain to Catherine.

  Catherine.

  How could he approach her, somehow explain the monsters lurking inside of him? The thought of disappointing her was unbearable. How was she accepting this unexplained disappearance? What could he have told her, or anyone, without lying? That he had the flu?

  What did he have?

  Sometimes you can’t hit the ground with your hat.

  Daniel was more scared than he’d ever been in his life. It was even more frightening now that the tests were over.

  The tests had been horrid.

  Body scans. Needles poked in his arms and legs with electric currents shooting through them. Being wired to space age machines that took readings of muscle movements. Foreign words bounced across Daniel’s mind, rang mercilessly over and over like the sound track from an old record listened to from another room: Muscle fasciculation, fibrillations. And the worst of them all, the doctor’s unintentional slip of the possible condition Daniel had gleaned from all his own study… degenerative nerve disease. Degenerative nerve disease and the list of M-words that it could signify: muscular dystrophy, multiple sclerosis. Even motor neuron disease. A disease that usually struck in middle age.

  Please, God, no, not motor neuron disease. Not Lou Gehrig’s disease. He was only twenty eight, nearing twenty nine. He’d like to make thirty.

  From a seeming great distance, Daniel heard his name being called. He looked up to see a receptionist addressing him a few feet away, her smile limp.

  Daniel stood, and steadied himself. He felt as if a stranger was standing in his shoes, and that he was seeing and sensing everything from that stranger’s eyes as he rose and followed her to Dr. Nobel’s office.

  ****

  Daniel drove all one hundred and twenty miles home calmly, his blue and yellow childhood friend perched protectively on his shoulder.

  It was dusk when he pulled into his driveway and turned off the ignition. He loped to the front door, unlocked it, and stepped into the dark, silent kitchen. He didn’t bother to turn on the light. He shut the door and leaned heavily back against it, releasing a long, quivering sigh.

  Then the shaking began.

  Still perched on his shoulder, Yoo-Hoo ruffled his long feathers from the unusual vibrations.

  “You are an epitome.” He squawked.

  Daniel managed a weak smile. “Of what?”

  “Of charm and grace.”

  “Of charm and grace,” Daniel whispered. His voice dropped as his throat closed.

  Before long, tears were running down his cheeks. He felt his sanity take a deep shudder, and slide closer to an invisible abyss. Still leaning against the door, he sank slowly down until he was nothing but a dark form huddling alone in the gloom.

  Of charm and grace?

  Never again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Catherine sucked in her breath and walked to the next station, her fingers clenched fiercely around her clipboard. She stopped to gaze down at a small organ half covered in a towel lying on the table. Her stomach did a slow turnover at the sight.

  At least she recognized this one. A placenta. They rarely asked what the organ was in these lab practicals; it was assumed
the student knew. The questions were more like, what species did it come from… what main nerve connects to it… what muscles is it surrounded by? These lab practical tests were grisly, and seemed anything but practical. Catherine felt a little nauseated before each one.

  This time was the worst.

  There had been at least twenty stations so far, ten more to go. At each, whatever organ, bone or muscle that lay there filled her with fear. What if Daniel was missing because he’d been in some catastrophic car accident? The sight of each lung, liver or heart created ghastly accident scenes in her mind…darkened roads slippery from gore…

  Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. She had to get through this! She had to think of poor Hazel, and what it would mean to the old lady if she continued to do well on these wretched tests. Hazel believed in her, believed in her enough to give her thousands of dollars in tuition. She must do well. Hazel was going to awaken one day and ask for her, and Catherine would not disappoint her. Hazel would awaken from her coma, and things would be fine. Better than they had ever been. Her husband could no longer torment her, and she’d realize that she was free at last. Free to be who she wanted to be and not the eccentric old ‘witch-Hazel’ children thought she was. She’d be able to visit Catherine and learn Catherine finally believed her that her advice had been right all along… men were vipers! Cave Pig was going to rot in jail and Daniel, wherever he was, well, he could just rot, too!

  The blaring of a buzzer jarred Catherine from her thoughts. Her minute and a half was over, and she hadn’t written one word.

  “Move on.” She heard a voice say as the next student approached. Catherine gazed bleakly at her, then shuffled to the next table. “Vipers, nothing but vipers. They can’t be trusted, can’t be depended on,” came Hazel’s voice in her mind.

  “I’ve got to concentrate,” Catherine mumbled to herself. “I’ve got to get through this. It’ll be over for the year in less than two months. I’ve got to get back on track with my dreams. This is what Hazel’s money is for.”