Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(96)

“Some people,” she said, shaking her head. She let go of a little laugh. “Let’s put it this way. It’s just better for everyone if they’re removed from the gene pool.”

Her voice had taken on an angry edge. Henry stared at the hard lines of her profile, her words sinking in.

“That’s eugenics, Cat,” he said.

She shrugged slowly. “I prefer to think of it as Darwinism.”

“Darwinism is organic. It’s natural selection.” She didn’t turn to look at him, just kept her eyes on the churning water. “Eugenics is something else. It’s someone making a decision, usually a very bad one, about who should procreate or not. It’s the stuff of Nazis and mad scientists trying to create a superrace. It’s state-sanctioned sterilization of the poor, the mentally ill, the criminal. It’s dark, Cat. It’s wrong.”

She turned her gaze up at the sky. He didn’t think she was going to answer him.

Then, “Sometimes nature doesn’t know what’s good for it. It needs a little help. There are a couple of us who feel this way, Henry. A couple of our half siblings.”

He stared at the hard lines of her profile, the determined set of her jaw. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“So—what?” he asked finally. “You’re trying to figure out which of his children are monsters? And then you’re—killing them?”

She shook her head. “I never said that.”

“Look,” he said turning to her. He took her by the shoulders and stared right into her eyes. They were black pools, cold and swirling. “You can drop this, whatever it is you’re doing. Just walk away. Start right here, right now. Be a part of our family, build a life of your own. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. It’s all right in front of you.”

She smiled, put a hand to his cheek. For a moment, her face softened.

“See, Henry? You are one of the good ones. We won’t see each other again, okay? You’re free. You know the truth about our father, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve made your choices and they’re the right ones. Enjoy your life.”

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. He reached for her hand, but her fingers slipped through his. Henry watched as she walked away, got in her car, and drove off.

He broke down right there on the pier, years of pain and sadness finally reaching a brutal crescendo. He wept great heaving sobs for Alice, his strange, unhappy mother, for the dark inheritance of his psychotic father, for his wife who deserved better, for his son who had to carry forward his ugly legacy.

For Cat, his sister, who’d let it all turn her into a monster.

After a while, West came up behind him, put a hand on his back. Henry pulled himself together, quieted. The night and the water and the salt air swirled around him.

“Let’s get you home, son,” said West. “Time to go home.”





39


Hannah





June 2018


They made their way down the path, holding hands and pressing into each other, like Hansel and Gretel in the haunted woods. The rain tapped against the leaves, sluicing down the path in front of them. A distant flash of lightning, then thunder again low and faraway. The scent of wet forest debris filled Hannah’s sinuses. It was an aroma she used to find oddly comforting.

She held the knife, feeling the weight of it. Cricket had the flashlight, the beam bouncing on the path in front of them. They passed the gazebo where Hannah and Bruce had had their stolen moments a few hours earlier and it seemed like a week had passed.

“Do you think this is because of Libby?” asked Cricket, her voice small. “Like it’s payback?”

“Why would it have anything to do with her?” asked Hannah. She was shivering, from cold, from fear.

Cricket’s eyes were wide, her skin so pale it almost looked blue. Her pretty blond hair hung in heavy wet ringlets. They kept slipping in the wet, holding on to each other for support.

“I mean maybe Trina is connected to her somehow? Like this is revenge for what we did?”

“We didn’t do anything,” said Hannah firmly. But it wasn’t true. They’d effectively—if not exactly—covered for Mickey. They’d encouraged Libby to wash, took her home. They’d sided with Mickey, even though on some level, even then, both of them knew—or suspected—that Mickey wasn’t always an honest guy. It was a thing that she’d carried with her, had never forgotten.

“If anybody did anything, it was Mickey,” she said. That was true, too. “Why should we be taking the blame for his actions?”

“Because we helped,” said Cricket, her voice coming up an octave. “Maybe she’s right—we’re his handmaidens.”

“No,” said Hannah, clinging to her friend. “We still don’t know the truth of what happened.”

“Don’t we?” asked Cricket. This was a complete reversal from their earlier conversation. Cricket was always the denier when it came to what happened to Libby. But Hannah wasn’t going to look at this right now. She couldn’t. They had to stay strong, solid, if they were going to fight. And they were.

Cricket tried to pull her to a stop, but Hannah didn’t let her, kept her friend moving. The cabin; it had to be around the bend.