The Gingerbread Boy by Lori Lapekes Page A

remembered the ride to Daniel’s house. A late night for her usually meant turning in by ten-thirty. She sneaked a look at her wristwatch.
    “I can’t believe it,” she said, “it’s already five-thirty.”
    “I’ve got an idea,” Daniel said, eyes brightening. “I know of a little café that’s open all night, we can go there and watch the sunrise. What do you say?”
    Catherine folded her arms coyly. “Hmm, let me mull this over.” But there was nothing to mull over. Watching a sunrise with Daniel in a cozy little café was an intriguing thought. But she couldn’t let him know that. Not yet. She didn’t want to seem gushy.
    She guarded her voice. “That’s not a bad idea, I suppose.”
    Just then a tremendous noise filled the air. Catherine gasped as a large, dark shape swooped side-ways through the open doorway, then settled with a screech on Daniel’s shoulder.
    “Yoo-Hoo, you twit!” Daniel exclaimed, transferring a great bird to his arm. He looked at Catherine’s wide-open eyes. “Say you’re sorry, my great feathered fiend.”
    The pounding of Catherine’s heart subsided as the huge blue and yellow bird cocked its head at her. “You are an epitome.” It squawked.
    “Of what?” Daniel asked.
    “Of charm and grace.”
    Slowly, Catherine allowed her frozen face muscles to lift into a smile. “A Macaw,” she sputtered. “He’s beautiful!”
    Daniel grinned. “I’ve had Yoo-Hoo since he was only a few weeks old. His mother’s name was Yah-Hoo. His father’s name was Boo-Hoo.”
    “You had him in South America?” Catherine asked, laughing as she pulled her legs up under the blankets and wrapped her arms around them.
    He nodded. “I was terrified by those birds as a kid. They usually flew in pairs, screaming, and you could hear them a mile away. I had nightmares that they were spirits coming to get me, and I’d run out of the house in the middle of the night. My father decided the only way to face my fear was to get one of the birds and tame him.”
    “So who watches him when you’re on tour?”
    “My mother takes him in if it’s too long of a road trip. Other times, he comes along. He’s like a spoiled little mascot.”
    Catherine laughed, then lowered her eyes. Daniel’s mother sounded as interesting as her son. It’d be a while before she could explain her relationship with Hazel to Daniel, though. She thought of Hazel’s many warnings of ‘Think, girl, think,’ or ‘Men are vipers, Catherine, vipers!’ and the thought of disappointing her was worrisome. Catherine knew Hazel thought of her much like a daughter now, as she had no children of her own. Catherine’s own promiscuous mother certainly hadn’t been much of a parent to her. Or for that matter, the father whom she’d rarely met. She owed Hazel so much. How could she explain this peaceful, surreal emotion that now enveloped her? It was almost magical in Daniel’s presence. Could Hazel ever understand that? Had she ever felt anything like that?
    Catherine tried not to let the thoughts disturb her, but they prodded at the edges of her mind nonetheless. She would have to be cautious. She’d try to guard her feelings for a while.
    She and Daniel spent the rest of the morning in a little café Catherine had never known of, a tiny building north of campus sitting on the bank of the Looking Glass River. They sat next to a large window watching the darkness outside dissipate from jet black, to a watery blue, and finally to a burst of transparent yellow over the treetops. As dawn brightened, Catherine felt the invigorating pull of a new day and realized, with some trepidation, that she couldn’t have been happier.

 
    Chapter Five
     
    Years before, when Catherine first saw Mrs. Vanhoofstryver step through the veterinary clinic’s door, a stab of fear had pierced her heart. The atmosphere in the waiting area instantly hushed. People stiffened in their chairs, and pulled their pets closer to them. Even the animals