The Gingerbread Boy

by Lori Lapekes

  The door opened, and Mrs. LaMont held her breath.

  It was the man in the flannel. His face had a rough edge to it, like he’d seen more than his fair share of hardships, but his eyes were kind.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  Unplanned words tumbled out of Mrs. LaMont’s mouth.

  “I believe so. I’m looking for Catherine Sealey.”

  “She’s not home right now,” he replied, but she should be back this evening. Could I take a message?”

  “Well, ah am I speaking with the head of the household, her husband?”

  He tilted his head back and laughed.” Not exactly,” he said, “although we are related.”

  She gave him a confused look.

  “I’m her brother, Tony.”

  Mrs. LaMont’s jaw fell. So that was it! “I didn’t realize she had a brother.”

  “I’m kind of a long-lost brother,” he said. “The prodigal brother, of sorts. But I’m sure she’d trust me to relay a message.”

  Mrs. LaMont’s mind whirled. What should she do? Daniel had never mentioned Catherine had a brother. She’d gotten the impression Catherine was an only child. She’d have to ask Daniel about it, if she could do so without revealing the way she’d found out Tony existed. Or, she wondered, maybe it would be more comforting for Daniel to know Catherine had family close by at this point in her life, and she should tell him of this little trip.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” Tony asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, recovering from her stupor. “It’s not important. Maybe I’ll catch up with Catherine another time.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She waved a hand at him. “Yes. I don’t even know her.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and sighed. “You must be a salesman.”

  She looked at him oddly.

  “You don’t seem to know much about her except that she lives in this big old house. We’re getting used to you folks, though. Pretty soon we’re going to be afraid to come to the door anymore.”

  “But…” Mrs. LaMont began, then stopped her protest. Maybe it was better this way, to let him believe such a thing. She wasn’t supposed to be here at all, and the fact that she was here grieved her all of a sudden.

  What had she been thinking?

  Flustered, she quickly said, “I’m not too good at this type of thing. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  He nodded, and shut the door.

  It was over.

  Mrs. LaMont walked back to her car, shaken yet somehow relieved at how this even had unfolded, eager to return home to her son.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Catherine’s stomach coiled as she drove slowly through town. Daniel’s town.

  “This town is on my way back to school,” she muttered to herself, “No one would think twice of my stopping by to give Daniel’s scarf back to his mother. I’ll just stay a moment, then leave.” She glanced around the lovely city with its spreading maple trees and turn of the century houses, continuing to try and convince herself this little detour was no big deal.

  Of course, Daniel wouldn’t be there. He was probably carrying on with Beth someplace, or sitting on a mountaintop in Peru, still contemplating his identity. She no longer cared. Well, not that much. The mountaintop thought actually made Catherine breathe easier. But she still felt queasy inside, remembering how she had nearly driven off the road with Daniel in Maryland, and how he’d reached over to grab the wheel to rescue them and teased her about putting the rental car’s engine in a lawnmower.

  She glanced over to the passenger seat. No soft-spoken gentleman there now, nor would there ever be again.

  She wheeled over to the side of the road as a quiet despair swelled inside of her. She’d thought she was over this. She’d told Joanne and Tony she could do this herself. But she’d never felt more abandoned. She fought against the stinging in her eyes. So many wasted tears in the last year.

  But now, as the shade from a solemn old tree receded from her car, the glass of a dilapidated old phone booth suddenly glittered in the sun. A phone booth? She picked the scarf off her lap and twisted it in her hand. What would his mother want with a ratty old scarf, anyway? If it had been that sentimental to Daniel, he would have asked for it back himself. Maybe it was only sentimental to her.

  Maybe that’s why she should keep it.

  The glass of the phone booth sparkled again, more sharply this time, forcing her to shield her eyes. She squinted, surprised the old thing still existed. But the glass continued to dazzle. “Must be the way the clouds are moving over the sun,” she muttered.

  All at once Catherine switched off the ignition and stepped from the car, draping the scarf over her neck. A cool breeze coursed through her hair and cooled the damp areas of her clothes where she’d been resting against the upholstery. After her long drive, it felt refreshing.

  Taking a deep breath, not completely understanding why she was doing it, she walked to the phone booth and stepped inside. She picked up a tattered telephone directory dangling from a chain and began to flip through the pages, slowly at first, and then faster until the names beginning with an L appeared. She ran her finger down and stopped at LaMont, Lynell A.

  Why was she doing this?

  Ignoring her cell, she was suddenly punching in a number.

  What if Daniel himself answered?

  No. He had to be on tour. No reason to be back at his mother’s home, hours away from his own house.

  What if no one answered?

  Daniel’s mother would, if she was home. And suddenly Catherine knew why she really wanted to visit this town. She desperately wanted to meet the mother he’d often spoken so reverently of. Just once. Only then could she truly let Daniel go.

  “Hello?”

  The woman’s voice startled Catherine. She gulped. “Hello, is this Mrs. LaMont?”

  “Yes it is.”

  The voice was friendly and refined.

  Catherine’s own voice quivered. “I’m not sure why I’m calling. I’m a friend of your son, Daniel. I was… I was just passing through town on my way back to college and thought I might drop something off that I’ve had of his since last year.”

  “Whom did you say this was?”

  Catherine paused. What if Mrs. LaMont knew of her? In many ways, Catherine would be hurt if she didn’t. But if Daniel, in his bizarre mood swings, had mentioned the ugly lies Beth and Cave Pig had concocted about her, maybe his mother had believed them. What reason would she have had not to?

  The voice came back softly, “This is Catherine Sealey, isn’t it?”

  Stunned silent, Catherine nodded as though Mrs. LaMont could see her.

  There was a long pause.

  “Catherine. I’d love to meet you. Please come by,” the voice finally said, “I’d always wanted to meet you. Do you need directions to my house?”

  “I have the street address,” Catherine replied. I can find it”

  “Where are you now?”

  Catherine glanced at a street sign. “I’m actually in an old phone booth near the corner of… of let’s see… Vine and Garden.”

  “You’re only a few minutes away, then. I’ll see you soon. I look forward to it”

  “I do too,” Catherine said. Her shoulders relaxed as a feeling of peace settled over her. Obviously Daniel’s mother didn’t resent her. Apparently none of Beth’s awful fabrications had reached this far. That was something.

  A moment later she hopped into her car and pulled back into the street.

  ****

  Mrs. LaMont came slowly down the stairway, clinging to the banister for balance.

  She felt sick at heart over what she had to do. She raised her eyes to the ceiling as she reached the landing, and murmured, with quivering lips, “Please Lord, give me strength for what I must do in these next few moments.” She walked across the hallway and into the living room. There she drew back a corner of the draperies in the bay window and peered outside.

 
; An old vehicle was just pulling into the driveway. Catherine.

  A spear of excitement as well as despair overcame her. She let the draperies fall back slightly, enabling her to watch without being too obvious. She felt a little guilty, almost like she was spying, but she couldn’t help herself.

  She had waited so long to meet Daniel’s Catherine.

  ****

  Catherine stepped from the car and gazed in awe at the light blue Victorian home in front of her, one of the loveliest on the street. The long, tapered windows, the gingerbread, all of it gave off such friendly nostalgia. She steadied herself as she stepped onto the front porch and walked to the door. This was Daniel’s home. This was his mother’s home. In many respects, this was Daniel himself.

  She tried not to think about it.

  She had her duty. She would do it, and leave. No crying, no blubbering, no sentimental wishy-washy feelings of days gone by were going to overcome her. She was strong. In control.

  Sure you are.

  That little voice in her mind… was Tony’s voice. Once again it was making her life rather miserable. But mostly these days, it helped her.

  Before she had the chance to knock on the double oak doors, they opened. Catherine took a step back, stunned by the woman standing before her.

  Mrs. LaMont was Daniel. The wavy dark hair, angular face, the coppery-colored eyes. She was as elegantly beautiful as Daniel was handsome. Catherine could not speak. She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected to practically see Daniel himself standing before her. Yet here he was in this tall smiling woman.

  “Catherine,” Mrs. LaMont said softly. “I’m Daniel’s mother. Please, come inside.”

  Suddenly Catherine knew it. She couldn’t go in. The moment she stepped inside, the moment she was surrounded by all the same furnishings Daniel had lived with, and touched, it could destroy her.

  “I’m happy to meet you,” she finally said. “But I can’t stay. I’m expected up at school in just a few hours. Thank you for offering though.”

  Disappointment fell over Mrs. LaMont’s face.

  Catherine looked downward. “I just can’t go inside. I’m sorry.”

  Mrs. LaMont nodded. “I understand. I would probably feel that way myself if I were you.”

  There was a long pause.

  Catherine tried to smile, once again looking up. “How is Daniel’s tour going? My roommate used to date the band’s manager, but she hasn’t heard from him, just like I never hear from Dan…” her voice dropped off.

  What was she saying? What was she blubbering?

  Mrs. LaMont toyed with a strand of pearls around her neck. “There were some setbacks at first, but I believe The Front has been out of state for a few months now.”

  Catherine nodded. “That’s good.”

  Mrs. LaMont’s eyes moistened as she gazed at Catherine. “How difficult this must be for you.”

  Catherine drew her lips into a tight line. Once again her gaze lowered. It was impossible to look Daniel’s mother directly in the eyes. That ugly, squeezing feeling was trying to take hold of her and smother her all over again.

  “It is hard.” She whispered. Then, adding more brightly, “But I’m fine. I hope Daniel would want it that way.”

  “Yes.”

  Another pause.

  “Catherine, please don’t hate my son. He’s always been rather unpredictable. He’s had a tough time dealing with his emotions.”

  “I know,” Catherine said. “He’s your little gingerbread boy.”

  “Yes. He’ll always be my little gingerbread boy.”

  Catherine glanced up, but Mrs. LaMont had turned away, and seemed lost in herself.

  Catherine saw a gleam in the corner of her eyes.

  “I don’t hate him.” Catherine said. “I don’t care what he does, how he acts, or even if he’s taken up with my old roommate. I’m always going to love him, Mrs. LaMont. I’ll always love the way he was with me.”

  There was another long pause. Both women stood and gazed boldly at one another.

  “You know,” Catherine finally said, her mouth tipping into a bemused grin, tears pricking her eyes “I was always so concerned about whether or not he really loved me, that I never actually told him how much I loved him. I just realized that. Just now.”

  At that, Catherine reached down and dipped her hand into her purse. “Daniel made me wear this to keep warm the night we met,” she said, pulling out the scarf. “It was sentimental to him. Maybe it will be to you too. I know it took a long time for him to get used to the winters up here.” She handed the scarf to Mrs. LaMont, adding, “Maybe it’ll still help him from getting too cold. He doesn’t like the cold.”

  Mrs. LaMont stared quietly at the long red fabric in her hands, hands as long and delicate as her son’s.

  “I do have to go,” Catherine said, straightening. “I’ve still got a long drive and a carload of junk to unload before dark. I’m so glad we got the chance to meet.”

  “So am I.” Mrs. LaMont replied.

  They gazed helplessly at each other.

  “Well, time to hit the road.” Catherine said, turning slightly. But, as she turned the world blurred, and her heart sank. She turned back to Daniel’s mother, and suddenly Mrs. LaMont was there with outstretched arms.

  Catherine fell willingly into her embrace, trying not to sob, yet sobbing, trying not to tremble, yet trembling.

  She didn’t know how long they stood holding each other.

  Then they parted. Without a backward glance, Catherine scurried to her car, started it quickly, and backed out.

  ****

  A pale hand pushed the curtains away from the window. Behind it, sad amber eyes watched the old car tear off down the street until it was lost from view. Had he done the right thing?

  Had anything he’d done been the right thing?

  Did it even matter that they’d been for all the right reasons?

  Daniel tried to stop crying. He couldn’t wipe away the tears when it was impossible to raise his arms that high. Had it been right to ask his mother to pretend he wasn’t home? He’d forced her to lie because of him.

  What had he become?

  He could accept his fate. Finally. But why, oh why did it have to hurt others? Why, especially, did it have to hurt Catherine? The sickness in his heart was more unbearable than the sickness in his muscles. What else could he have possibly done? He couldn’t have let Catherine see him like this… fallen from an idealistic young man who knew exactly what he wanted and where he was going, to this… a hundred-ten-pound collection of atrophying muscle and wasted dreams.

  Despair began to wrap its insidious coils over him.

  And then a light flashed nearby. A marvelous light. Daniel steadied himself on his walker, and turned his emaciated face toward his dresser. The emerald ring sitting on top of it was glowing.

  What?

  The sun wasn’t coming in through the small crack in the draperies, not that he could see. The rest of the room was dark. But the ring was glowing. Not as brightly as the first gleam of light, which had made him turn to look, but it was still sparkling. Somehow, calling to him. Daniel pressed his eyes shut in wonder. When he re-opened them, the glow was gone. And, with clear assurance, he knew what he had to do. “Thank you,” he murmured to the ceiling. Then, hobbling over to the dresser, he managed to open a drawer just below the ring where he kept a stack of notebook paper and a pen.

  He would write. Even if it were with the pen taped to his fingers, he would write one last note to Catherine while he was still able.

  ****

  Catherine wasn’t certain what made her look twice at the phone booth as she drove past it. Then she pulled over once more, not certain she had seen what she had just seen. She wiped her eyes, rolled down the window, and peered straight at the crude sign taped across the door. Out of Order

  She blinked, looked at the sign once more. That sign hadn’t been there a half hour ago! She knew it. Yet the sign looked rumpled
and yellow from days of sun and rain.

  “Excuse me,” she called to a middle-aged woman walking a dog. “How long has this phone booth been out of order?”

  The woman stopped, raised her eyebrows. “That thing doesn’t work,” she mumbled. “Hasn’t for years. I don’t know why they don’t just tear it out. No one uses them anymore.”

  Then the lady walked on.

  Catherine sat dumbfounded. She was unable to drive for a long time.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Happy birthday you old seahag!” Joanne bellowed, blowing a party horn into Catherine’s ear. “How’s it feel to be over a quarter of a century old?”

  “Not bad, you old bat.” Catherine laughed, blowing her own horn back into Joanne’s ear.

  Penny put her hands on her hips. “All right, children, what do you think this is, a party?”

  “That’s what I thought it was,” Gail shrugged, popping a balloon, causing them all to jump. “It’s been a tough year. We’ve needed something like this for a long time coming.” She popped another balloon and laughed.

  Catherine glanced to the corner of the living room where a great brass cage nested against the wall. Inside, a young gray parrot ruffled his feathers and danced nervously across his perch. “Come on, guys,” she said, “We’re scaring the feathers off of Hee-Haw. Maybe we’d better settle down and behave.”

  Joanne shook her head. “What for? As soon as your neurotic brother arrives we’ll all get stupid and Hee-Haw will start braying like a mule. Crazy bird,” she added wryly, looking over at the cage. “You’d have this whole house filled with rescue critters from the animal hospital if you had your way, Cath.”

  Catherine shrugged. “And you’d have this whole house filled with men if you had your way.”

  “Only if they were also caged,” Joanne said, and they all giggled.

  Catherine smiled to herself, so pleased to have this rare fun day, this group of friends. It would bolster her throughout the next few hours… a few hours spent with someone Catherine was both excited and terrified of seeing once again.

  ****