The Gingerbread Boy (25 page)

Catherine squared her shoulders and willed herself to continue. She
could
do this. She had to do this. Hazel was depending on her.

They slowed as they neared room number sixty-seven, and Catherine noticed that the door was cracked open about a foot. Daniel gently pulled her against the wall next to the door, and slid her into his arms.

“You can do this.” he said.

Catherine nodded. She ignored the pounding of her heart and buried her head against his chest. He felt so solid and supportive. She
would
be strong, she would! She turned her head to look at the wedge of dreary light coming from the slightly ajar door. No sound came from the room.

Oh Hazel, what has become of you?

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Daniel asked.

“I could never go in without you.” Catherine replied.

Daniel gave her a last hug. “Here we go.” Then he released her, took her hand, and slowly pushed open the door.

A bed near the window took shape in the darkness. Catherine squinted as Daniel clicked the door shut behind them.
Why were the drapes closed? Why did the room smell so musty? Why was it so cold?

At first the bed seemed an empty slab with crumpled sheets. A lamp shielded the view of where a person’s head would lay.

She and Daniel moved silently inside, their footsteps padding across faded tile.

“Daniel, I don’t think she’s here. Maybe this isn’t the right room.”

They circled the bed, and Catherine gasped.

She saw her.

Hazel’s head was turned toward the lamp, her eyes closed. Her skin, withered and dry, appeared dull gray against the starkness of the sheets. The rising and falling from her shrunken chest was barely visible.

Catherine felt faint. Hazel’s body seemed so tiny and pointed beneath the covers, like a child’s, a starving child’s! A person’s body shouldn’t be like that!

“Don’t they ever sit her up?” she asked, “Don’t they open the drapes and let the sun in? Don’t they care? Don’t they…”

Daniel squeezed her hand as they rounded the bed and stared down at the still, frail figure.

Catherine reached forward with a trembling finger and touched Hazel’s cheek. Her skin felt cold and dry as paper. Her senses screamed to pull away, but she fought the notion and cupped Hazel’s cheek in her hand.

“Hazel…” she whispered. “Hazel… it’s Catherine. I’m finally here.”

There was no response.

Daniel tugged on the drapery cord. A ribbon of sunlight beamed in, becoming wider as the drapes opened. Soon warm light fell on Hazel’s face and Catherine tried once more.

“Hazel. It’s Catherine. Please, let me know if you can hear me.”

****

From within a sea of blackness, Hazel thought she heard a voice. She couldn’t imagine where she was, the blackness choked her thoughts so. But that voice, that sweet voice. Was it an angel? Was she going to die? She hoped so. She prayed
this
wasn’t death. Death wouldn’t be this cruel… even for her…

“Hazel. It’s Catherine. I’ve come to see you at last…
and I’ve brought Daniel with me.”

Hazel felt something warm on her cheek. The darkness became a tiny bit brighter. She struggled to comprehend it all, to push the clouds from her mind. The voice became clearer. Desperate.

“
Hazel! Please let me know you know I’m here! I love you, Hazel!”

The voice began to sob.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, when you were still well. I’m sorry you’re so sick. I’m so sorry all this happened and I wasn’t there for you.”

She was alive. The voice wasn’t that of an angel, but she knew it was coming from somebody nearly as sweet. There hadn’t been much sweetness in her life, so she clung to that voice and fought with all of her might to pull herself toward it.

****

Catherine dug under the sheets, found Hazel’s gnarled hand, and held it tight. “Wherever you are, we’re with you in spirit. I couldn’t have come without Daniel’s help, Hazel. I need him. He’s a good man. He wanted to meet you, too. He’s not a viper.”

Hazel’s eyes snapped open.

Catherine’s breath caught in her throat. Daniel rested his hand on her shoulder for strength as Hazel slowly turned her head to gaze upward. Her pupils were circular brown stains against her flesh. A chill raced through Catherine as Hazel’s mouth opened.

“My name is Mrs. Van
Hoof
stryver.” came the parched voice.

“Oh Hazel, you’re
here
!” Catherine cried, flinging herself against the old woman, her hair spilling across the deathly gray face.

Daniel reached over to remove Catherine’s hair from the old woman’s skin, then paused. Hazel’s eyes didn’t look quite as unfocused as a moment ago. The nurses said Hazel was blind, but some kind of awareness seemed to be shining through.

He squeezed Catherine’s shoulder. “Catherine, I think she hears you.”

Catherine raised, looked steadfastly into Hazel’s eyes as she struggled to speak.

“My name is Mrs. VanHoofstryver… my name is… Vipers, Catherine. Nothing but vipers.” Long pause. “No…
not
all vipers… good… vipers… Mrs. VanHoofstryver. Catherine… Catherine. Help… lost.”

“I’m here, Hazel! I want to help you. What do you want me to do?”

“Catherine… happy… happy… dream… no… dance. Dance… dance… no … doorbell… happy.”

Tears ran down Catherine’s face as she struggled to comprehend what Hazel was trying to tell her. It was heartbreaking to see her search for the right words. She clutched Hazel’s hand tighter. “I’m here.”

“Happy… viper… Dance… Dan… Daniel. Happy Daniel.”

Catherine’s heart leaped. “You
like
Daniel? You’re happy for Daniel and me?”

“Ha… happy.”

Catherine brought Hazel’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “I’m happy too, Hazel. I really am. I’m so glad you understand about us. I wish there was something we could do for you. Anything.”

Hazel’s hand tightened around Catherine’s.

“Felicity, Catherine. Take… take… card… card…
take
Felicity… Catherine care Fel… take care of Felicity.”

“Felicity?” Catherine asked. “Who is Felicity? One of your cats?”

“Please… card… Felicity. Care of Felicity. You only one who cares. Felicity.”

Catherine looked straight into Hazel’s eyes, eyes which never moved from their stare at the ceiling. But there was now a light in them that hadn’t been before.

“I’ll find her… I’ll take care of Felicity for you, Hazel. I promise.”

“Thank… you… Catherine. Thank… love… too.”

“And I love you.”

The grip on Catherine’s hand went limp.

“Hazel?”

Catherine peered closer into the old woman’s eyes.

“Hazel!” But the sparkle which had been in Hazel’s eyes was now gone.

“Hazel! I’m still here! Daniel is still here! Can you hear me? Hazel? Hazel!”

“Catherine,” came Daniel’s voice softly in her ear. “She can’t hear you anymore.”

“Yes she can! She just can’t speak right now. The gates in her mind have closed again but she knows we’re here…”

That was when Daniel’s arm crossed in front of Catherine’s face, reaching in to gently close Hazel’s eyelids.

“What are you doing? What are you…”

“Catherine, she’s gone.”

Catherine shook her head, “She’s back in her coma. But she senses I’m still here, she knows.”

“She’s gone.”

“No!”

Catherine released the woman’s hand, watched it flop limply beneath the sheets, then slide off and dangle at the side of the bed. She leaped to her feet.

It was true.

She pressed her face in her hands, backing against Daniel.

“It can’t be. Not now! It’d be like… like she was waiting for me to visit, first.”

Daniel’s arms circled around her waist. “Maybe she was. Maybe she had to.”

****

“It’s a beautiful old house. I hope it doesn’t get sold and turned into apartments,” Daniel said as he stared at the pillared white mansion before them.

Catherine clutched his hand tighter, nodding silent agreement. At least it looked like somebody had been taking care of the home while Hazel was gone. The lawn was freshly mowed, the shrubbery and hedges neatly clipped. Somehow, that helped make it not such a lonesome place. The sorrow inside Catherine was thick enough without adding the sight of a forlorn house to it.

“I’ve never been inside.” Catherine said.

Daniel looked at her in obvious surprise. He shifted the weight of the pet carrier in his right hand.

“She always came to my place, or else we met somewhere.” Catherine explained. “I could never understand why. Now I know. It was her husband. She was afraid of him, and afraid for me.”

“Thank goodness he’s no longer there,” Daniel said. “But it looks like somebody is taking care of the place.”

Catherine agreed. She dreaded entering the old mansion, but she’d promised Hazel she would take care of Felicity. If there was more than one cat still here, she hoped whoever was watching the house knew which one Felicity was. She and Daniel would put the cat in the carrier and leave. They’d try to find a hotel that would accept pets, then stay two nights until the funeral before flying back to East Lansing.

Catherine doubted if she’d ever have a reason to return here.

A moment later, she was knocking on the front door with Daniel standing solemnly beside her. When no one answered, she knocked harder. Suddenly she was practically beating on the wood.

Daniel dropped the pet carrier and grasped her hand. “Don’t hurt yourself. You’ve beaten yourself up enough about this already.”

Catherine pressed her eyes shut. Why did she feel so angry? Was this part of grief? What was wrong with her?

Daniel stroked her hair. “Maybe we should come back later. Better yet, I can come back by myself and you can stay at the hotel to rest.”

Catherine nodded. Maybe that would be a good idea.

But before she could consider it further, there came the sound of a latch being unhinged. Then the door opened.

A balding, middle-aged man peered at them. His dark eyes looked more bored than angry. He crossed his arms in front of a worn, plaid shirt.

“If you two are from some real estate company, don’t even bother wasting my time. Mrs. VanHoofstryver is not selling.”

“No, we’re, well, I’m a friend of Hazel’s.” Catherine said. “Who are you?”

“You’re a friend? Hazel had no friends. Just gawkers who liked to stare at her, wondering when she was going to die.”

The words silenced Catherine. She lowered her head.

The man squinted at her, peering closer at her face.

“Who did you say you were?”

“Catherine Sealey. This is my friend, Daniel LaMont.”
The man’s eyes didn’t leave Catherine’s face. They merely widened. “You’re really Catherine? Hazel’s Catherine? The one who cured Cinder?”

Suddenly Catherine felt like she was Dorothy standing at the gate to Oz, with the gateman asking, “Dorothy? The
witch’s
Dorothy?”

She nodded.

The man unfolded his arms and straightened. His look softened.

“We spoke to Hazel at Pebble Creek a few hours ago,” Daniel explained. “She wasn’t very coherent, but we did understand she wanted Catherine to take care of her cat. We only spoke a few minutes,” he added, his voice lowering, “before Hazel passed away.”

The man’s face paled. He turned his head and buried it into his arm. Catherine stared at him, flabbergasted. Was there actually another living soul who could sincerely grieve over Hazel’s death?

At last the man looked up, then opened the door wider.

“Come in,” he said softly. “We need to talk.”

He gestured them into a huge foyer with a marble floor. A few antique tables were scattered about the room, one holding a colorful Chinese vase and the other a potted fern. Other than a rich mahogany stairway sweeping upward, the room was empty. Catherine gazed up to the second floor, then brought her hand to her mouth when she saw the gaping hole ripped out of the banister rails.

The man’s eyes followed her gaze upward. “I should fix that,” he mumbled. “Still have to work on the floor, too.”

Catherine glanced down, and then hopped sideways. Scrapes covered the floor where she had been standing.

“This area has many bad memories,” the old man sighed, beckoning them into a room to their right. “We can relax in here.” He gestured Catherine and Daniel onto a richly tapestried sofa, then drew pocket doors together behind him.

Catherine gazed around the dark, high-ceilinged room. It was decorated in burgundy and beige, and cluttered with antique furniture. The room held a faint odor of animals, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Catherine could picture Hazel sitting stiffly in the winged armchair before her, her hair pulled tightly into that severe bun, several cats crawling about her legs or sitting on her lap. It was odd that Catherine hadn’t seen any signs of the animals, even Cinder. Maybe they were afraid.

The man took a seat in a wing chair opposite them. He was a large man, but as he sat down he seemed to shrink into himself, looking frail.

“Who are you?” Catherine finally asked.

“Stewart,” he said quietly, “Stewart Thompson. I’m the groundskeeper here. Have been for nearly thirty years, ever since Hazel bought this place. Nearly quit when she married that ogre, Eugene, but she begged me to stay on. She made me promise to watch over this place if anything ever happened to her… and I’m keeping that promise. Now that she’s gone, I’m not sure what to do. I believe all of her affairs are in order, but it will take time to figure them all out. At least old Eugene won’t be getting any of it,” he said, “it’s all he spoke of since the accident.”

Catherine’s eyes widened. What? Did Stewart talk to ghosts? Daniel and Catherine glanced warily at each other.

“I was under the impression Eugene died in the accident.” Daniel said.

“He did.” Stewart replied, watching his visitor’s faces skewer in confusion. “I’m talking about the first accident… when he tripped over one of Hazel’s cats and broke his back falling down the stairs. That’s what put him in the wheelchair. He became a paraplegic, turned even nastier than he was before. Grew huge, bloated. He was a devil, that man.”