The Gingerbread Boy (5 page)

It was over. It had been over long ago.

After several more breaths Daniel’s heartbeat slowed to normal. But he was unable to relax, knowing from past experience he’d have to get on the move to snap out of this.

Leaving the memories behind, Daniel tossed off the covers and lumbered out of bed, only to catch himself from falling. Bewildered, he wondered why his legs refused to move as he wanted. Why did they feel so numb, so weak? Rubbing his calves, he sat back on the edge of the bed.

Perhaps he’d overdone it last night, walking around in that freak blizzard with Catherine after Joey found his own vehicle disabled, too. It had been a long walk back to her rooming house and then back to Joey’s, but under no circumstance was he going to allow someone who’d been drinking to drive Catherine home in a snowstorm.

Yet it’d been wonderful.

The walk had been ruthless, the snow and ice had burned down their necks, and most of the time they couldn’t see each other’s faces. Yet Catherine seemed to have enjoyed the adventure just as much as he had. Daniel felt himself smiling.

Catherine.

Her small, heart-shaped face and dark Cleopatra eyes filled his mind. There was something about her. Something special. There was a kindness in her eyes, and a beauty she didn’t seem to know about. He liked that. He sensed an intriguing personality lived within that lovely frame, but there was also a lingering hesitancy a veil of self-doubt in her eyes. Still, Catherine could have been as shallow and vain as so many of the women he met in his industry, but instead, she wanted to devote her life to being a healer. Of animals.

He couldn’t wait to see her again. He hoped she’d heard him say he’d be out of town for a few weeks, but the wind may have blown his words away. He hoped not, but he would find her again regardless.

If she only knew who he was…
what he did, she might not think much of him…

He ignored the thought.

Feeling much better, stronger, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and walked barefoot into the kitchen to greet the morning. He was dazzled by the sunlight streaming in, bouncing off the countertops and illuminating the room.

He yawned, dragged his fingers through tangles of hair, and stretched so mightily he thought he might touch the ceiling. The coffee pot on the stove seemed to be calling out to him when a real voice from the next room shrieked, “Danger! Warning, warning!”

“Good morning, Yoo-Hoo,” Daniel called as he strolled into the living room. His blue and gold Macaw ruffled its feathers arrogantly as his master approached the room-tall cage.

“It’s only me, you twit.” Daniel said, opening the door and pointing an accusing finger into the bird’s face. Yoo-Hoo pecked fondly at the finger as Daniel quickly withdrew it. “Bite me, and you’re history,” he joked, scratching the bird’s head. “I just met a girl who’s studying to be a veterinarian. They may need avian volunteers to dissect in class one day.”

Yoo-Hoo cocked his head. “You’re an epitome.”

“Of what?” Daniel asked.

“Of charm and grace,” came the well-trained reply.

“Good parrot,” Daniel smiled. “Ready for another road trip?”

“Road trip.”

Daniel played with his life-long pet a few more minutes before flopping into his sloppy old recliner. Folding his hands in thought, he gazed out the picture window at a countryside smothered in snow-laden pines.

Somewhere in the reaches of his memory, Julia’s voice still echoed, “Why is it so cold?” But there was something else in his mind, balancing out the pain.

Something sweet. Something magical.

Before he realized it, Daniel was whistling softly to himself.

Chapter Three

Catherine didn’t expect anything in the horse-dissection lab to upset her more than she already was.

Daniel hadn’t contacted her since she’d met him two weeks ago. She couldn’t focus on her reading assignments with his charismatic face grinning phantom-like over the printed pages. She’d gotten a “C” on an exam she could normally ace, and her lab partner said she was disturbingly quiet. Now even her skin was dried out and flaky from an overabundance of the hot baths she soothed herself in each night. This was not like her at all.

Catherine walked through squealing double doors into the lab trying to convince herself that
this
was the sole purpose of her future, not some charming wise-guy with caramel-colored eyes who used to plant rubber spiders in peanut butter jars. But memories of what former students from years ago had told her about this part of her studies haunted her.

Ten to twelve horse carcasses would be hung in an enormous circle from hooks in the ceiling, their hooves hanging only a foot or so from the floor. Catherine closed her eyes tightly, trying to erase the ghastly equine carousel from her mind. Still, she heard the banging of doors as someone left the room. She wasn’t sure whether it was the shock of horse parts laid out on the tables that got to him or the overpowering smell of lemon floor cleaner.

Catherine had always loved horses, and although she wasn’t intending to specialize in their treatment, this class was important. She had to stay. She swallowed hard as their instructor asked them to gather in small numbers around each carcass. There were many more women compared to the men in their class, and Catherine and her partner Ellen were shocked to find themselves in a cluster of mostly male students. Ellen gave Catherine a sickened look as they stared dismally at what was left of their cadaver, a small black and white pinto with a creamy mane and tail. Thank goodness these animals had never been some child’s beloved pets. Or, so they were told.

She closed her eyes as the sound of razor-sharp instruments clinked in trays around them. It would be a long day.

****

“Whew, do you reek!” Joanne squealed when Catherine walked into the kitchen. “What have you been doing? Pickling vegetables?”

Catherine glanced gloomily at her. “No, dissecting horse parts.”

Joanne plugged her nose as her roommate deposited her armload of books on the countertop, then turned to her again with a more hopeful expression. “Were there any calls on the land line for me?” Mrs. Vanhoofstryver had insisted the home have a land line, for the old woman would never consider a cell phone herself. And, since she paid for it, Catherine hadn’t argued. It did come in handy sometimes.

Joanne unplugged her nose. “Sorry, kiddo. Daniel didn’t call here. It certainly would have been nice if you’d found out his last name, maybe then you could Google him. I don’t think
Mowgli
was his last name, was it?”

“No. Just a nickname.

Joanne eyed her friend steadily over a pan of ‘glop,’ a concoction she’d invented which mixed macaroni and cheese with ground beef and tomato sauce. She and Catherine practically lived on it, while Beth and their fourth roommate, Penny, thought it was repulsive.

“Guess what happened to me today?” Joanne asked as Catherine took care of her coat and boots.

“What?”

Joanne started to snicker, her silly, amusing giggle. “I was sitting on the steps by that weird crooked tree in the Botanical Gardens when someone came down and stood behind me and said, “Hey, darlin’, why are you all alone?” I spun around and there was a handsome black fella staring at me with eyes that looked like they were going to pop out of his head. I didn’t think a black man could turn as red as he did! Must have thought this big, bushy black hair belonged to an African-American gal, not some pasty-faced French wench.”

Joanne watched as Catherine grinned at the image. It was nice to see her roommate smile. Joanne was rarely as concerned about their other two roommates, Beth and Penny, especially Beth, but she was honestly worried about Catherine. “Yup,” Joanne added, folding her arms and walking around Catherine as if inspecting a used car, “He turned around and walked away real fast. So, I suppose I scared another man off. Must have been my wide world of sports that attracted him in the first place.”

“That was probably it,” Catherine said, smiling to herself slightly while scraping back a chair to slide into. Joanne loved to refer to her derriere as her “wide world of sports” the apparent name of an old television show her mother used to watch. Although the saying was a joke about the size and “accessibility” of her rear, Joanne was one of the least “loose” women Catherine had ever known.

Joanne leaned over her friend, scrunching heavy eyebrows together and whispered, “Aside from your first horse-dissection class, which I don’t even want to hear one word about, are you feeling all right?”

Catherine put her hands in her face. “I’m okay. I just can’t stand feeling like I’m waiting on eggshells for some guy to find me. I’ll probably never see Daniel again, and that’s fine. I just want to know why he didn’t come back, that’s all.”

“Baloney.” said Joanne, folding her arms. “Something happened to you up in that old ballroom. You aren’t the same. I don’t know what it was, but I wish it’d happen to me. Sounds like it was magical. Even if you are a miserable wreck now because of it.”

Catherine said nothing, but the look in her eyes told Joanne what she’d said was true.

“He
would
have shown up again if Beth was the one he bumped into that night,” Joanne added with a snort, “He wouldn’t have dared not to, or she’d send some of her rich daddy’s thugs after him. But girls like you still have a good chance.” She sighed, putting her hands on her hips, adding, “Then, there are fat girls like me. We have to grab whatever we can and reel them in.”

“You’re not fat,” Catherine scolded, “Quit saying you are.”

“Well, maybe it’s just my wide world of sports, then,” Joanne giggled, “But I think it’s fat.”

“It’s not fat. Quit downgrading yourself. You are a wonderful person and will make a superb elementary teacher one day.”

“That’s because I act like I’m eight,” Joanne shrugged. “But hey, go take your bath. You reek.”

“Thanks.”

“You take a bath twice a day when you’re upset, anyway. You may as well take one when you really need it.”

“You’re right. I feel like filth.”

“I bought some new lavender bath soap, want to try some?”

“Could I use a gallon?”

“No problem.”

With that, Catherine managed a weak smile and rose slowly to her feet, then trudged out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Joanne watched after her friend in concern. She didn’t like the circles forming under Catherine’s eyes, or the unusually tight set to her face. Drat that guy, Daniel, or Mowgli, or whoever he was! If Catherine was too timid to put this to rest once and for all, Joanne would. She was anything but timid, not intimidated by anyone. She’d go to that stupid rooming house and have a brief chat with this smart-alecky “Joey” person Catherine had mentioned. She’d give him a few choice words to repeat to his friend, Daniel, for both her sake as well as Catherine’s.

Besides, Catherine said Joey was kind of cute, albeit in a dopey sort of way, and she wanted to see him for herself.

****

“Get up here, woman! I’m hungry,” the gravelly voice bellowed.

Hazel VanHoofstryver lifted her chin, clutched the tray with a firmer grip, and slowly ascended the stairway. Her pointed shoes clicked on each step.

“Hurry up! I can’t wait all day. Get that skinny little butt moving!”

Hazel cringed, but she couldn’t let Eugene sense her fear. He’d use it against her.

At the top of the stairs, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation. A confrontation that had taken place at least once a day, every day, over the past year. It never got easier.

Convinced she could deal with it one more time, she opened her eyes and walked stiffly down the hallway toward her husband’s room.

As usual, she wondered whether or not it would be for the last time.

****

The annoying peck of a sharp fingernail on Catherine’s shoulder slowly drew her back to consciousness.

“Get up! It’s only seven-o’clock at night,” came Beth’s voice. “All you do is sleep or study all the time, miss perfect. Get up and do something!”

Catherine groaned, turning over on the sofa. Beth’s platinum blond locks and sharp blue eyes came into focus.

“I am doing something, I’m resting.” Catherine mumbled at the cross-armed figure standing over her. “I’ve had a l-o-n-g week, Beth.”

“Even if I had to saw up horse parts, I wouldn’t be as morose as you,” Beth said. “You’re hopeless, Sealey.”

“Thank you for your opinion,” Catherine murmured. She turned toward the back of the couch to bury her face. She wouldn’t let Beth Shaker get to her, she
wouldn’t.
To think, the pampered rich girl was studying psychology
.
What a joke.

All too soon that pointed fingernail was pecking at her shoulder again.

“You don’t know how to have fun, Sealey. I really think you hate men. That’s what everyone is saying.”

Catherine rolled over. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You never go out. You’re studying in a man’s field, you never wear make-up…”

“That’s not true.” Catherine glared. “And veterinary medicine is not a man’s field, not anymore. Most men interested in medicine want to be doctors because there’s more money in it. Only a third of our whole class are men!” She then sighed, trying to control her anger. “And so what if I don’t wear much make-up? Maybe I’d like people to see the real me, not a make-up smeared mug.”

Beth eyed her coldly, her arms still crossed. “So prove it, Sealey. I challenge you. Go with Penny and me to Harper’s tonight
.
They’ve got a great band out there and you’ll get the chance to meet
real
men, not guys who play doctor with puppies and kittens.”

“Yeah,” said Penny, strolling into the room. “Real men like that lead singer of the band playing there. Now
he’s
worth skipping homework assignments for.”

Beth turned abruptly toward the bob-haired redhead. “Remember, I saw him first.”

Catherine shook her head. “Forget it. Don’t waste your time. You’d have to knock me out and carry me over your shoulder to get me into a bar.”