Train Me Daddy

Plus, if the overall scenario was not bad enough, things were about to get a lot more complicated.

Thinking back, she had not considered listening to Kurt’s advice when Jefferson had driven past calling her a ‘slut’. Her instinct had been to keep the males out of the matter, thinking that if she asked Kurt to stick up for her it might only make matters worse. Someone could get hurt or end up in prison and she feared such a scenario as a result of a problem that was following her around.

Hindsight caused her to change her mind when she saw Jefferson’s jeep in her rear-view mirror. Sticking together when presented with uncertain and perilous circumstances, as Kurt had suggested, was not such a bad idea after all. What had she been thinking speeding off like that? Now she was being tailed by a closet psychopath and leading him right to her parent’s place. It would surely have been better to hide behind Kurt’s exquisitely toned shoulders than her poor old dad, who she could not imagine saying ‘boo’ to a goose, but it was too late to do anything about that now. They were heading to Portland, if the embittered jester was not planning to knock her off the road before they got there.

The truth was that he already had her home address, so leading him there was not revealing any secrets. Knowing what his intentions were, however, was a completely different question. At worse he had something violent in mind, at best the same kind of pestering via phone calls and such that she had put up with in the past. Or maybe something in between.

Likely enough she would soon find out.

The kilometres between the two of them and Portland were eaten away, though very slowly to her own mind, meaning that Jefferson and her family might be due for some kind of showdown. Any idea of speeding away from him was quickly dismissed; Darlene was not comfortable with fast driving and considered that to be a sure-fire way of getting in an accident. Somehow the right blend of wit and resilience needed to be achieved although, as far as she was aware, there is no manual for dealing with obsessed individuals.

Her parents’ drive came into view and Jefferson was still tailing her, showing no sign of turning off for an alternative destination.

Determined not to let him any closer to her house than she had to, Darlene employed the handbrake as soon as she was on the drive, so as to make sure his jeep could not follow her up to the house. It did not look like that was his intention, however, as rather than hang around challenging her to move or getting out of the car, Jefferson drove on by.

Something told her that was not the end of it and, even as she then put the car into gear and sped up to the garage with the hope of getting inside as quickly as possible, Darlene was aware the menace had proceeded to pull up just a short distance up the road.

Indeed, the swine did not even give her enough time to get to the front door. No sooner had she stepped out of the car when she heard his jeep door slamming shut and turned to see that he was heading up to the house on foot.

This was unbearable. She would have to burst into the house and tell her parents, without giving them heart attacks, that her unhinged ex-boyfriend was pursuing her up the drive and needed to be dealt with somehow.

But then things became even more imminent because her dad then emerged from the front to greet her. No doubt he was curious as to how Earl was doing but, before even being able to get past ‘Hello, Darlene…’ her dad was interrupted by the rudest and most absurd performance that had ever been witnessed about that quiet family home.

‘Mr Furse,’ came Jefferson’s whiny voice, though at a volume as if he was addressing an audience, ‘it is my duty to inform you that your daughter is a slut.’

‘What’s this?’ Clive Furse asked, a frown on his brow as his ears sought to adjust to the peculiar spectacle being performed across his lawn. Darlene open-mouthed and desperate for the right words to say that might bring this nightmare to an end.

‘I said she is a whore,’ Jefferson went on, ‘I declare I have seen her with a man. She is a strumpet; she is a sinner and she brings disgrace

upon your family name.’

Oh, please say this isn’t happening, Darlene thought to herself, having no idea which way to turn for help.

For a good half an hour, Kurt had been kicking himself for not thinking more firmly on his feet and protecting his girl there and then. He spent far too long delaying his chase because he did not wish to alarm his dad that there was anything serious going on which, potentially, there was. Then, when he finally set out he managed to hit every red light on the way out of town.

Uncertainty breeds doubt and along the way he found himself asking all kinds of desperate questions as to whether Darlene was in trouble. Perhaps she had been chased off the road already and he had driven on by because, when clarity descended, he felt sure that this fruitcake Jefferson would have found a way to follow her. There is only one main freeway leading from Pacific City to Portland after all, so the guy would not have to be Einstein to relocate the girl he had called a ‘slut’.

They both had a head start on him, but Kurt was the type to put the pedal to the metal and, providing nothing had forced Darlene into making an alternative plan, he was determined to reach the Furse’s residence.

Maybe I should have bought a Porsche after all, he caught himself thinking, but fortunately he found that his vehicle served him well.

It must have been about a mile from the Furse’s house when he caught sight of a familiar looking jeep and – if he wasn’t very much mistaken – a silver Fiesta it appeared to be tailing. Unless it was a very uncanny coincidence, that was his girlfriend’s inherited company car being tailed by a foul-mouthed religious extremist with whom he had a bone to pick.

Kurt guessed a little what the swine must have been up to and held back a tad in order to assess what was his best move. If possible, he would have liked to ensure the gentle Furse family avoided any unhappy drama. That was not achievable, however, and Kurt arrived on the scene in time to hear Jefferson spouting out his self-righteous insults in the direction of Clive and his daughter.

A week or so earlier, Kurt had been considering a means by which to sneak up to Darlene’s bedroom window and it was a peculiar twist of fate that such preparation would return to benefit him now. Had he approached via the drive then Jefferson would have seen him and had plenty of room to flee, but seafarer’s legs don’t often make for sprinter’s legs and he did not want that.

Instead he took advantage of the line of finely pruned fir trees that Clive had been so kind to love and nurture to three times the height of a man. So, it was that he was able to approach a shouting and preaching Jefferson without being seen, until at the last minute when he came out of the shadows and challenged him.

‘What’s all this then?’ he asked, giving Jefferson the time to turn around and face him before planting a fist on the side of his temple.

Jefferson went down like a sack of spuds, immediately trying to get back up, but then falling straight down again as if the brain had taken a few seconds to realize how hard it had been shaken. Kurt had seen boxers knocked out in such a way before; trying to get back up and then falling down again. It was unclear whether Jefferson wanted to get back up to fight him or to run away, though it might just have been the panic at being hit that took him a while to decide to lie still and let the effects wear off.

Kurt felt slightly sorry for him then, in knowing he was the better built of the two – but not that much. Had he been prone to violence he could have hurt the man a lot worse and probably gotten away with it, considering Jefferson had been pursuing a young lady for over fifty kilometres.

Understandably then there was something like chaos on the Furse’s front lawn. Beatrice and even one of the neighbors both ran out to find out what was going on and everyone seemed to have a dozen questions each, that were being directed at no one in particular because it was not obvious who might have all the answers.

Most perturbed was Mr Clive Furse himself (unless you count Jefferson who remained sprawled on the ground), who was trying to take in his daughter’s assurances, deal with questions from Beatrice over what had happened, as well as figuring out why Kurt was there.