I was contented—I don’t know how else to put it—and I grew more contented as the days went by. Father Jackson called every day and I was civil to him, but I kept telling him that I wasn’t ready to leave yet, that I had many more things to do.

I did ask one favor of him. I lied and said I was having trouble sleeping and asked if he could get something to help me. Despite the period of calm, suicide was still in the back of my mind. I felt I would have to go through with it if things turned for the worse again. For the moment however, I would just keep the medicine on hand.

“You should go to a doctor and get a prescription,” Father Jackson said.

“Call your brother and ask him to write one.”

“He won’t do it. You’re not his patient.”

“Please, Peter, isn’t there someone you know? I just need a few, just until we get back East. I’ll go to our family doctor then, if I’m still having trouble sleeping.”

“There’s a pharmacist in town who might give me something.”

“Oh, Peter, ask him. Just a dozen or so tablets, or a few more if you can manage it.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But I don’t like it.”

I determined that if and when I did use the pills, I’d leave a note stating that I had brought them from Scarsdale. I certainly didn’t want to get Father Jackson and his pharmacist friend into trouble.

25

Chapter Twenty-­Five

A couple of days later a notice came ordering Duff to appear in Ashland Juvenile Court on the following Monday. Having heard nothing for so long, I had been hoping the authorities were going to drop the charges. Now I began to wonder if I shouldn’t call the lawyer Father Jackson had mentioned.

“Why call him?” Duff asked. “Why not the lawyer Mrs. Reddy told you about—Oliver Matson?”

“Impossible.”

“Why? I know you don’t like Mrs. Reddy, but that doesn’t mean the lawyer isn’t any good. I am sure Mrs. Reddy likes me, so wouldn’t she want me to have the best possible legal help?”

He was probably right, I thought, insofar as Mrs. Reddy and her friends wouldn’t want him to be sent to some juvenile institution if he was of value to them in their ceremonies. Therefore Matson might be a better bet for us than Father Jackson’s man. It didn’t occur to me that I might be opening a door again, incurring a debt that might be hard to pay.