Red - Jack Ketchum [49]
But Peg was seething. Furious not only with her father but with her mother too. She’d sat there stunned during her mother’s tirade, not believing what she was hearing. Enough’s enough? Finally? Now? She’s leaving him now? Just because Brian’s shown himself to be the sick little fuck he is? When what’s been going on out in the barn has been going on for years? Why wasn’t it going too far when he nightly raped and finally knocked up his own fucking daughter? Why wasn’t enough enough then?
You’re taking me with you? Over my dead body.
Screw her mother too. Darleen excepted, they could all go to hell.
She went to the door, opened it but then damn near closed it again. She was furious all right. But she wasn’t quite prepared for this much.
“Miss Raton?”
~ * ~
The look on Peg’s face told her all she needed to know. That she was right. She saw fear and confusion and plenty of it. Even anger. She pitied the girl — she truly did — but this needed to be done. Her parents needed to know, if they didn’t already. And if they did know, Genevieve was certain she could help.
She managed a smile.
“Hi, Peg. Going to let me in?”
“This…this really isn’t the time…”
“Sure it is. Come on, Peg, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help.”
“You can’t help, Miss Raton.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just…do.”
This wasn’t going well. She couldn’t very well force her way in.
“You’d be surprised,” she said. “I know counselors, doctors, all kinds of people.”
“I said this isn’t the time, Miss Raton!”
She was thinking, family spat? Maybe the girl was right. Maybe this wasn’t the time. But she was here now. She couldn’t see herself leaving and then coming back if and when it was more convenient. But she was stumped for a good answer.
Then the father stepped out from behind her — Christopher Cleek — looking genial enough and smiling.
“Where’s your manners, Peggy?” he said. “Please, come on in.”
She stepped inside and he offered her his hand. The hand felt slightly clammy though the grip was firm. There was a scent coming off him, though. Some kind of chemical smell. Like old booze — but it wasn’t that. She couldn’t place it.
He steered her into the living room.
“How are you, Miss Raton? Geometry, right? I remember you from Parents’ Night. Good to see you again. Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Cup of coffee? Soft drink?”
He directed her to the plush velvet chair. She sat facing the two of them on the couch.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said.
She wasn’t fine. Not exactly. But it wasn’t anything a cup of coffee was going to fix either. She’d never done anything remotely like this before — gone to the parents’ house on some student’s behalf. She was confident in the classroom. Here she felt shy, out of place and just a little scared. But mostly what she felt was determination. To get this out into the open finally. It was what somebody — anybody — should have done for Dorothy.
“May I talk to you and your wife privately, Mr. Cleek?”
“Call me Chris, Miss Raton, please. And you are?”
“Genevieve.”
“Genevieve. Beautiful name. You’re French Canadian?”
She smiled. “My dad was Louisiana cajun, Mr…Chris. He fell in love with a girl from Ottawa.”
“He followed his heart.”
“Yes, he did.”
“That’s good. We should all do that. She’s not feeling too well, Genevieve. My wife I mean. She’s having herself a nap. This is about Peg, I gather?”
“Yes.”
“Then she should hear it, don’t you think? My boy too. No secrets in this family. Brian? Come on in, son.”
She’d seen him leaning halfway in and halfway out of the room against the doorframe. Lurking was the word that came to her. A tall thin boy she vaguely remembered seeing around school but had never met.
Time to gird your loins, woman, she thought. Time to get on with it.
“I’ve observed some…distressing behavior lately, Mr. Cleek.”
“Chris.”
“Chris. Peggy’s not looking well. She’s had to rush off to use the ladies’ restroom several times during class. Her studies