The Gingerbread Boy (13 page)

Catherine narrowed her eyes, then altered between gasping and laughing.
It
looks
like
Hazel up there, spying down on
me,
If the notion weren’t so ridiculous, it would have been unnerving.

Daniel’s eyes widened. “Why Catherine, you look flabbergasted.”

Catherine kept staring at the cloud until it dissolved into a shapeless mass. At last she told Daniel whom it reminded her of. “Now why did you have to point that cloud out?” She added, “Now I’m going to feel like she’s spying on us.”

“She may be like a nosy grandmother,” Daniel replied, “but we’re not doing anything she’d disapprove of. Don’t let her haunt you, Catherine. She can’t intimidate you from hundreds of miles away, and I doubt she’d want to anyway.”

Catherine looked at Daniel. This was the first time he sounded even remotely disapproving of her friendship with Hazel.

Daniel lowered his eyes, deep in thought. It took some time for him to speak again. Finally he turned to face Catherine, then picked up her hands and folded them in his own.

The warmth of his hands over hers was nearly otherworldly. She fought the notion that she was losing control to him, but it was a useless struggle as Daniel’s eyes met with her own.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” he began, “practically ever since you kicked me in the knee when we first met. I knew you were afraid of me, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable until I understood why. I started to understand when I heard about what Cave Pig did to you. You don’t trust men, and I can’t blame you. I can’t imagine all that has happened to you, or why Hazel encourages you to be skeptical, and I can’t blame you for devoting yourself to helping animals. They don’t hurt you. They don’t disappoint you.”

Catherine looked away, her throat closing tight. Daniel held her hands more firmly, his magnetic eyes drawing her back to face him.

“Catherine,” he whispered, “I swear, I’m not like those people. Any time you need me I’ll be there. I just want to make you happy, because you have made me happier than I can remember.”

Tears stung Catherine’s eyes. She was hearing things she’d never dreamed she’d hear from Daniel, and she wasn’t quite certain she wasn’t dreaming them now. Her throat constricted, and she knew if she were to try to speak, no voice would come out.

Daniel straightened, “Nuts. I’ve made you cry. That’s the last thing I wanted to make you do.” He shook his head, lightening his grip on her hands. I’m so sorry.”

He let go of her hands, pulled himself to his feet and turned toward the river.

A moment later Catherine also rose. Gathering her courage, forcing back all of Beth’s cruel taunting and Hazel’s warnings, she wrapped her arms around Daniel’s waist. His body, warm, and solid, stirred something within her she’d long since forgotten.

“You did make me cry.” she finally said, “But they’re not tears of sadness, they’re tears of joy. I’m tired of analyzing everything all of the time. I needed to hear you say those things. I wanted you to say them. Now I really know how I feel.”

Daniel turned slowly in her grip, so that her hands were now clasped against his back. He leaned down and cupped her damp cheeks in his hands.

“How
do
you feel?’ he whispered.

The force of his gaze was powerful, overwhelming. But Catherine met it and held it. “Happier than I’ve ever been in my life,” she replied.

A smile came across Daniel’s face. There were no worries, no fears, no lingering visions of old ladies’ faces in Catherine’s mind as Daniel reached down to kiss her. He kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then finally, hands still cupped around her cheeks, he kissed her mouth. The kiss was warm and surreal as Daniel’s lips moved and pressed against her own. He backed away once, staring at her, and Catherine’s mind spun as he pressed back in tightly, closed his eyes, and kissed her again. He continued to kiss her with a lingering, mind-numbing gentleness, then the kiss became more determined as they blended into the sheltering limbs of the fallen willow.

Chapter Nine

“It’s Catherine who gives you that sparkle in your eye, isn’t it?” Daniel’s mother asked with a knowing smile. She settled back with her cup of tea. “I’ve known you for twenty eight years. I know when my son is acting a little stranger than normal.”

Daniel regarded the elegant, raven-haired woman sitting across the table from him. “You always thought I acted strange,” he said. “Is it even more obvious, now?”

She laughed. “Yes, it is. And I’m glad to see it.”

“You’d like her, mom,” Daniel said, watching his mother arch an eyebrow, “Her hair is longer than mine.”

Both laughed at that, yet the conversation was taking on a more serious tone than their talks usually did. Mrs. LaMont leaned over the table to gaze into her beloved son’s eyes.

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy,” she whispered. “You’ve driven yourself so hard. Ever since we’ve been in America you’ve pushed and excelled. You’ve succeeded in everything you’ve ever set out to do, whether it was to win a spelling contest, or pull together this band. But I’m concerned about the toll it’s taken on you, Daniel. Maybe you should slow down and—”

“—And smell the roses?” Daniel interrupted.

Mrs. LaMont nodded. “If that’s how you want to put it. You’re a brilliant composer. You could do more of that. You could write
symphonies
if you put your mind to it. If you slowed down, appealed more to the intellectual crowd, who knows how far you could go?”

“But who would I be reaching?” asked Daniel.

“People more
like
you,” came the reply.

Daniel shook his head. “Isn’t it the sick who need the doctor? Although I’m no doctor, I am a guy who hopes his heart is in the right place and tries to make a dent in today’s lousy music. The way I look, the way I feel, the way I think, is all geared toward making that little difference for the better in rock and roll. We’ve gone over this a hundred times. I know you hate my music.”

“I don’t hate it, I just prefer a more, lets say, mellow sound.”

Daniel nodded. “Mom, our CD has three ballads on it, now. But life isn’t all romantic ballads. It’s songs of questioning and frustration. We need to encompass it all. It’s complicated. Trust me.”

Mrs. LaMont sighed, resting her chin in her hand. The worried expression remained in her eyes, yet she managed a weak smile. “I’ll remember that. You’ve never let me down.”

“You just want me to smell those roses right?”

Mrs. LaMont nodded, then took a sip of tea before her eyes darkened in concern again. “I know I don’t see you often, but I’ve noticed other changes in you.” Her voice lowered, as though the words she were about to speak were difficult. “You don’t seem as coordinated as you once were Daniel. You don’t walk as gracefully. You drop things more often. You seem so tired.”

“I thought I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed now that I’ve met a special girl.” Daniel said, staring at his partially numbed fingers.

“I see that in you, too, and that’s why I’m so excited,” his mother replied, straightening. “I think Catherine will help settle you down, help you to relax. Help you to truly be happy. Without that, Daniel, this inner drive, this… this
thing
that you have, is going to catch up with you somehow, and I don’t think it will be pleasant.”

Daniel smiled to himself, knowing where the conversation was leading.

“…You remind me of that little story about the gingerbread boy I read to you as a child. You just run, run, run, trying to get away from the heat. Run, run, run ,” she added dreamily, recalling the verse, “as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man.”

“I’m the gingerbread man, and I’m out of the pan.” Daniel added, smiling to himself. “But mom, nothing is coming after me. There’s no wily old fox.” He leaned over to take her hands. “I
promise
I’ll be all right. I know I ran away after dad died. But I was only eleven, I didn’t understand.”

“You also camped out in the woods for days after we lost Julia.” Mrs. LaMont reminded him. “And I had no idea where you were for hours. Those were the longest hours of my life.”

“I know. I think I did crack up a little bit then. But I recovered, mom. We
both
did.”

“Still, you’re always going to be my little Gingerbread Boy.” Mrs. LaMont murmured, tears filling her eyes.

“By the way, it’s called the Gingerbread
Man
.,” said Daniel. “I’ve grown up, mom. I can handle whatever life throws at me now.”

“But this… this tenosynovitis problem has had quite an effect on you,” his mother said, and with seeming great effort added, “And look how long that’s lasting, even after you stopped playing guitar. You’re all I have, Daniel! Please take better care of yourself. Every time I look at you, I see your father, and I never want to lose that.”

Daniel squeezed her hands. “I miss him too, mom.” There was a period of respectful silence. Daniel stared at the patterns in the oak tabletop, remembering the robust face of his father and his gentle manner. Remembering his wisdom, and his faith. Losing his father and his sister were the toughest things he’d ever faced. But he thought of how Catherine had finally opened up about losing her father, and possibly a brother, too, and seeing her strength was an inspiration. It was one of the reasons he was falling in love with her.

“You’re thinking about Catherine again, aren’t you?” His mother asked.

Daniel glanced up, surprised he had been so obvious.

“How did you know?”

“I’m your mother.”

Daniel grinned, satisfied with the reply. When he spoke, his voice was hushed.

“She’s special, mom. She’s bright, and she’s funny. And she
thinks
about things. She’s compassionate. She’s strong, sometimes stronger than I am. Yet I have
you
… and Catherine has no one.”

“She has no mother?”

“She won’t talk much about her mother, yet. What I do know is that her father ran off when she and her brother were little, so her mother moved them near a friend’s place in Maryland where she and her brother worked hard to try and help pay off their father’s debts. Catherine didn’t mind working, but her mother used the money on alcohol and boyfriends. Catherine lived with her for years, trying to save money for college because scholarships couldn’t cover the cost of veterinary school out of state. But she’s on her own out there.”

“That’s some upbringing,” Mrs. LaMont sighed. But her tone of voice was not one of disapproval, merely of concern. “It seems Catherine is trying every way possible to be as much unlike her mother as possible. It’s sad they don’t relate to one another.”

Daniel nodded, wondering what it would be like if he could barely tolerate his own mother. The thought was unfathomable. He was glad Catherine had her eccentric old friend, Hazel VanHoofstryver, to confide in. Still, he wasn’t certain how healthy that relationship was at times. He hoped one day to become Catherine’s best friend, her kindred spirit… her soul mate.

Daniel told his mother more of Catherine, and his voice took on a dreamy quality. If his mother truly wanted him to slow down he’d have to want it, too. And lately, he was wanting it. Then he thought of how Joey had approached him recently and questioned the possible change of image he’d have to his female fans if he had a steady girlfriend. It’d been a rough thing for Joey to confront him with, and Daniel understood the band could lose fans if the groupies found out he was ‘taken.’ But those weren’t the kind of people he wanted the band to draw. Later Joey had backed off about the situation, realizing it’d been lame to even bring up.

Joey needed a Catherine in his life, too. Maybe that was the real thing eating at him.

“Am I ever going to meet your Catherine?” Mrs. LaMont asked.

Daniel nodded. “She’s on spring break, now, and our gigs are local for the next few weeks. Maybe we can work something out.”

“Daniel Lewis LaMont. Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to ask a girl to meet your mother.”

Daniel grinned. “No, mom. I just hope she doesn’t think it’s too forward of me. There are so many things I’d like to ask her, so many…” his voice dropped off. “Never mind. I’ll know when the time comes.”

Mrs. LaMont gave him a knowing smile, and rose from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Daniel stared curiously after her as she left, wondering what his mother was up to. She was the kind of woman you couldn’t second-guess. She was like a wavering apparition, always changing, but always delightful. One moment she could be intense and philosophical, and the next moment she was making jokes about needing the shoeboxes for her feet instead of the shoes. When he’d arrived this afternoon, he found his mother, still smartly dressed from a fancy luncheon, chasing flies around the house with a dust mop.

At last she returned. She placed a small felt-covered box before Daniel and stood back, a melancholy look in her eyes.

Daniel looked from her to the box in wonder.

“Your father gave that to me when I was only twenty years old.” She said. “It took him two years before he was able to save up and go to Peru to find it. I’d like for you to have it.”

Daniel stared at his mother a long moment, and then reached gingerly to lift the lid. An emerald ring sparkled under the light of the chandelier. Daniel drew in a breath and carefully picked the ring out of its holder and turned it around in his fingers.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, struggling to keep his voice even. “Are you sure you’d like me to have this?”

Mrs. LaMont nodded. “It’s yours. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to give it to you.”

Daniel wiped his eyes with his free hand.
His own father had picked out this ring over thirty years ago. To give to the woman he planned to marry.

The ring felt warm to his touch, as if all those years of love had been summoned to this moment.

“I’ll treasure it, mom. Someday I’ll give it to the woman I know will treasure it just as much.”