Date: Sat, 6 Feb 2016 12:26:30 -0500
From: Paul Knoke <paulkdoctor@gmail.com>
Subject: INSTALLMENT FORTY-TWO of  "THE FATHER CONTRACT"

The Father Contract
  By Arthur J. Arrington
  Edited Paul K. Scott

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saga up and running!

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Plans

PJ led Billy across the field and sought out the Essex Academy players to
shake hands. At each encounter, he introduced Billy as "my little brother."

"Man, you played a nice game," said the middle linebacker who'd given PJ a
plentiful share of hard tackles. They exchanged respectful grins.

"Great game," the opposing quarterback told him. "Who's that young kid who
caught that last pass? Boy, that was spectacular!"

"That's my buddy Brian," answered PJ. "He's one of my best friends."

"And who was the kid who threw it to him? Geez! What an arm!"

"Another one of our subs," PJ told him, smiling. "Believe it or not, he's
the same kid who intercepted you on the play right before that!"

"Aw-w, no!" The quarterback stared at him in dismay. "You're kiddin'!"

PJ shook his head. "Don't feel bad. He's a good player. He an' Brian are
roommates. They live across the hall from me. They both work really hard in
practice, so we weren't all that surprised."

"I wish I could pass like that," the Essex boy admitted. "I wish I could
pas like your regular quarterback, too. Tell him I said that he played
great."

"I sure will," PJ promised, "because he's my roommate!"

While they were talking, the Essex straight-ahead kicker came over. "This
is my brother Billy," PJ repeated after they'd shaken hands.

"Hi Billy!" The kicker leaned down to offer his hand. "My name's Jeff. I
met your older brother when he played against us in baseball and hit a
grand slam!"

Billy looked up at PJ in surprise. "You never told me you hit a grand slam,
PJ!"

Jeff laughed. "Well, he did. You shoulda' seen it! Nobody on our team is
ever going to forget it, that's for sure." He turned to PJ. "The pitcher
you hit that off of, Stewart, lives down the hall from me. I know he hasn't
forgotten. I'll tell him I saw you."

"Tell him I still appreciate what he told me after the game," PJ
said. "Stewart's a good guy."

"Who do you play next?" Jeff wanted to know.

"Barton next week. An' then Franklyn Prep week after that."

"We beat Barton," Jeff said, "so you should win that game. That Franklyn
team is tough, though. They killed us last week. They play really
rough. One of our best running backs got injured in that game. I don't
think he'll be able to play for the rest of the season."

"A friend of mine named Travis goes to that school," PJ told him. "He
warned me that they're pretty good this year."

"Didn't meet anybody named Travis. But yeah, they had some good players
transfer into their school or somethin'. I hope you guys beat them. You're
gonna play baseball again this year, aren't you?"

"I hope so, Jeff."

"PJ's the best baseball player we got!" Billy interjected. "He's Jack
Canon's son."

"I'm not really his son," PJ quickly corrected, his stomach knotting. Billy
would have to say that!

Jeff regarded him curiously. "Maybe not, but I've heard about you knowin'
Jack Canon." He paused awkwardly, apparently waiting to see if PJ would
volunteer anything interesting about Jack, but when PJ remained silent, he
continued, "It's so fucking awesome that you know . . . Oops!"

Face turning bright-red, Jeff clapped a hand to his mouth before saying,
"Shit! I didn't mean to talk like that in front of your little brother,
PJ. God! I'm sorry."

But with a nine-year-old's typical reaction to forbidden words, Billy was
already in a giggling fit. "It's okay," PJ assured Jeff. "He hears stuff
like that at his school all the time. It's no big deal." After exchanging a
grin with Billy, Jeff continued, "I was just tryin' to say, it's so cool
you know Jack Canon. He an' the Red Sox are really doin' great! They're
gonna win the Series. Hey, has he ever come to visit you?

PJ's stomach remained clenched in tension. Jack. They always wanted to know
about Jack. An' here was just the question he didn't want to think about or
answer.

Billy was looking from one older boy to the other, and when PJ continued to
hesitate, he spoke right up, declaring proudly, "Jack comes to see PJ all
the time. An' I know him too! He gave me an autographed baseball card!"

"Cool!" The Essex boy held out a fist for Billy to tap. "It was nice to
meet you, Billy." He turned to PJ. "Hey, I'm really glad I got a chance to
talk to you. I'll look for ya' in baseball. Good luck in your next games."

They shook hands again and PJ led Billy back across the field.

"I wish I'd seen your grand slam," Billy said.

PJ gave his little buddy a quick hug around his shoulders. "I wish you had,
too, Billy. I sure could've used somebody cheering for me at that game."

The young boy took hold of PJ's arm, stopping him in the center of the
field. He looked up at his older friend solemnly. "PJ, my dad says that he
thinks you get real lonely sometimes. Is that true?"

PJ smiled sadly. "I guess so . . . Sometimes."

"Well you shouldn't!" Billy shook PJ's arm. "I'm your friend and I always
will be. I think about you a lot and I cheer for you even when I'm not
there. So don't be lonesome anymore."

"OK Billy. Thanks." PJ hugged him around the shoulders a second time and
they continued over to the Gordonsville stands.

They found their friends standing by Bill and the other fathers, who were
all talking with Coach Lewis. "Hi, PJ." Bill gave the boy a slap on the
shoulder pads. "It's nice to see you walking without a limp for a change."

"Nice game, PJ." Coach Lewis put an arm around him.

"Coach Lewis was just telling us that you've talked Jack into giving a
little speech at the Father-Son Dinner," Bill continued.

PJ's stomach clenched again. "Uh .  .  . Oh, yeah. That's right," He said
it a little hesitantly.

"Jack's a great guy," Bill told the coach, turning back to him. "He went to
one of your baseball games with me last spring and you should have seen
him. He's really good with the kids. He's supposed to be a terrific
speaker, too. I'm looking forward to hearing him talk. Boy, I hope he and
the Red Sox win the Series. What do you think, PJ? Will they do it?"

"They'll do it!" PJ said with confidence. The men all chuckled.

Coach Lewis smiled down at him. "No aches and pains in that hip today,
right, PJ?"

Not daring to admit the truth, PJ smiled back. "No, it's OK today,
Coach. I'm sore lots of other places, though. That defense could tackle!"

The young coach laughed. "Their defense was pretty good," he agreed. "You
go up and get a good soaking in that shower. You'll be OK tomorrow."

As PJ turned to leave, the man standing with Phil beckoned him over. PJ
went to him with Billy tagging along right behind him.

"This is my dad, PJ!" Phil proudly announced.

PJ politely shook hands. "It's nice to meet you, Sir. And this is Billy."
He brought the young boy forward. "Billy is kinda a little brother to all
of us."

"Hello, Billy." Phil's dad gave the boy a friendly grin. Then he turned to
PJ again. "I'm Mr. Gilbert, PJ. Phil has told me a great deal about
you. And so has Bill. I want you to know how very grateful I am for all
you've done for my son."

Embarrassed, PJ blushed and looked down. "Phil is . . . well, he's just a
really great kid. I haven't done anything special. I mean. . . . Phil's
been a really good friend to me. Erik and I both like him a lot."

The man shook his head. He put his hand under PJ's chin and raised it. "I
know how much you've done for him," he said gently, looking into PJ's
face. "And I'm very grateful. Phil's very, very lucky to have such friends
as you and Erik and Brian."

"And Billy!" Phil added.

"Yes, and Billy, too." His father smiled at the younger boy. "I know things
are not too easy for you sometimes, PJ," he went on, "but if there's
anything I can do, don't ever be afraid to ask. I'd like to help any way I
can, okay?"

PJ nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

By this time most of the team had gone to the locker room. But Erik was
waving to get PJ's attention.

Phil ran over to Mr. Thatcher when he, his dad, PJ, and Billy joined the
rest. "Can Billy stay over on Saturday night for the World Series game if
there is one?"

"Oh, yeah! Can I, Dad?" Billy eagerly asked.

But his father was shaking his head regretfully. "I wish you could. But
Saturday and Sunday we go to your grandma's for her birthday, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Billy said, looking dejected. "Sorry, fellas. It
means I'll have to miss Sunday practice, too." Then he looked up
happily. "But we can still do a practice Saturday, can't we, Dad? There'll
be time before we have to leave."

"Sure." Fondly his father ruffled his son's hair. "We won't leave until
later in the afternoon."

PJ had been debating whether or not to ask Mr. Thatcher if he wanted to
drive to Boston on Saturday or Sunday, but now he crossed the possibility
off his list. It would have to be one of the Upper School seniors.

"See you guys Saturday," Billy said as he and his dad left them at the
Field House. The Top Floor Gang all waved to him.

PJ felt pretty sore from the game, meaning he was more than ready for a
long, hot shower. Deliberately, he prolonged it as much as possible so he'd
be one of the last boys to get dressed. Erik, Phil, and Brian had been
excitedly talking about going to dinner with their dads, and he was certain
that Erik, and very likely the others as well, would invite him to tag
along. PJ didn't want that. When Jack had taken him to dinner at the Inn,
PJ would have resented anyone else coming along with them. He'd wanted Jack
all to himself! He knew his friends would feel the same way. Besides, he
told himself, if I do go there'll be endless questions about Jack. What
does Jack say in his e-mails? You think they'll' win tonite in Atlanta? You
think he'll win Series MVP? When's he comin' to see you play? Is he comin'
for the next game an' Homecoming too?

PJ dreaded facing any of that. He was so sick of inventing all the lies and
excuses. He didn't want to do it anymore!

"Except soon I won't have to," he muttered to himself, burying the words
beneath the sound of the water, covering his mouth with his hands. He had
his plan! The tickets--Jack had summoned him!

"No way.The darkness is coming."

It was the other PJ, the one from the mirror, trying to invade his
head. Impatiently, he pushed the thought away, staring straight ahead as a
shiver of both excitement and foreboding ran through him. The Sox were
going to lose Game Five tonight in Atlanta! It was a certainty! And somehow
Jack had known. Of course he had! Jack knew everything. Just like he
understood everything, too.

I know that better than anyone, PJ thought. It was all a test. And Jack was
waiting for him. The Red Sox must be return to Fenway Park to win the
Series, and Jack needed his Little Champ to be there with him to break the
Curse! There would be a Game Six. PJ had to make his plan work.

Cautiously, he peered out from the steam into the locker room. There was no
sign of Erik, Phil, or Brian. He got dressed and hurried over to the Dining
Hall, noting as he ate supper by himself that his friends were nowhere to
be seen. Definitely out for dinner with their fathers, he thought.

But on the walk back to his House, in the dark, shuffling through the
drifts of leaves on the sidewalk, PJ couldn't help feeling lonely and a bit
fearful. His plan required the cooperation of an upperclassman. He would
have to go into the Upper School Quad, enter an Upper School house. What if
the big kids were like those teens in Allentown? Or worse, what if they
teased and mocked him? Upon reaching his House, PJ nerved himself for the
ordeal while he ran upstairs to his room, pocketed the World Series
tickets, and came back down again, taking care to be unobserved when he
slipped out the front door.

Carl, the Upper School senior who'd helped him with a ride the previous
spring, had graduated, but a fair number of the current year's upper
classmen had cars, and PJ had one prospect in mind whose acquaintance he'd
already made. Seth Dalrymple was a nationally-ranked freestyle sprinter as
well as a star receiver on the Varsity football team. PJ saw him all the
time at swim practice, had chatted with him as often as a twelve-year-old
might be expected to talk to a seventeen-year-old, and Seth had always
seemed friendly. It was well known that he had a car. Plus rumors hinted at
frequent off-campus adventures. PJ figured that if anyone would be up for a
Boston road trip, Seth would be the one to ask.

The Upper School complex had its own quadrangle on the far side of the
Admin building. PJ trotted through the darkness, his heart beating rapidly
in nervousness and fear. Now that the time had come, he was realizing just
how fragile his plan was. What if Seth tuned him down? Was there anyone
else he could ask? Could he trust anyone else? Could he trust Seth?

In the Upper School Quad he glanced around uncertainly at the houses with
their lighted windows. They looked almost alike. He though he knew which
one was Seth's, but what if he was wrong? The big kids didn't like any
little kids trespassing onto their turf. Warily he opened the front door of
the house he thought might be the right one and stepped inside. Although
the colors and smells were different, the entrance hall had the same layout
as his own House. The big common room was off to the left. Inside, a
half-dozen older boys were lounging around, watching TV. PJ tiptoed in
shyly and waited to be noticed.

"Aw-w, shit! What's this?" one of the boys said when he caught sight of
him. "You lost, kid? Watch out!" he called to the others. "We got a refugee
here from the baby school!"

"Shut up," another boy told him. "That's not one of the babies. It's
PJ. What's up, PJ?"  He came striding over.

PJ didn't know this upperclassman, though the older boy obviously knew who
he was. "I'm looking for Seth," he answered.

"Seth's in his room" the big kid said. "Come on. I'll take you upstairs."

They mounted the steps to the second floor, where PJ's guide stuck his head
into the door of a room. "Hey, Super Stud!" he called out. "That kid from
the Middle School, PJ, is here to see you."

The door opened wider and Seth, a mature teen with white-blonde hair and
strikingly handsome features looked out. "Hi, PJ," he said in
surprise. "Come on in." The other boy left them and went back downstairs as
PJ stepped into the room, Seth waved him over to a chair. "What's up?" he
asked.

PJ looked around. The room was larger than the one he and Erik shared. It
had a double bed, but only one desk. Rock posters of various kinds were
thumb-tacked to the walls. The whole place was littered with clothes,
magazines, CD's, and books. Now that it had come down to it, PJ felt
awkward about how to get started. He wished he'd rehearsed more before
coming. He took a deep breath. "Seth, you've got a car, right?"

The older boy's eyes narrowed. "Your point?"

"How would you like to go to Boston and see a World Series game?"
 Seth grunted. "PJ," he explained patiently, "there probably won't be any
more games. The Sox have the Series in the bag. They win tonight and it's
over! "

PJ nodded. "But if they don't an' there is a Game Six, how would you like
to see it?"

With a shrug, Seth answered, "That'd be Saturday. I got a football game
Saturday."

Oh, shit! PJ reddened in embarrassment because he felt extremely
stupid. He'd forgotten all about that! The Varsity played their games on
Saturday, so of course Seth would have to be there. Dumb! Dumb! Now what?
Seth must think I'm an idiot!

But instead of the expected jibe, Seth merely gave PJ a shrewd
look. "You've got tickets, right?"

"Yeah."

The older boy held out a hand. "Let's see."

PJ had a moment of panic. His tickets. The were his last connection to
Jack! But even though Seth was Upper School, he was a teammate. PJ wanted
to trust him, so he got the packet of tickets from his pocket, and passed
them over.

"Wow . . ." Seth raised his eyebrows. "Collectors' items, if nothing else."
After flipping through the stack, the blonde boy looked up. "So if these
last games are played, you wanna ride to Boston, huh?"

PJ met his eyes. "Yeah."

"Uh-huh, well . . . Seth shook his head. "Saturday's out, PJ. I got a game
an' my bet is, you won't find anyone else with a car who'll go 'cause this
Essex game is a big one, plus it's a party weekend . . ."

Momentarily, Seth's face lit up in a smile. He held a hand out for PJ to
slap. "Hey, I heard about your football game today, Kiddo. Word is you an'
your roomie have that Middle School team on a roll!" His smile turned
sardonic. "We could sure use some talent like that on the Varsity. Geez!
Some a' the losers we got . . ."

"Yeah," PJ replied, smiling back, although he wasn't really paying
attention. "Seth, what about Sunday? Can you give me a ride Sunday?"

The teenager considered it. "Yeah. Sure. I wouldn't mind seeing a Game
Seven if they played one. Why not?"

"I wanna go even if there's no game." PJ leaned forward. "I gotta see
someone."

"Jack Canon, right?" Seth grinned at him. "Come on. Everyone knows you're
friends with him. That's how you got the tickets, right?"

PJ didn't answer. After a pause, Seth shrugged and said, "Okay. What the
hell. I'll take you. If there's no game, there's some girls in Cambridge I
can call up. But that's a four-five hour trip each way. Who pays for the
gas?"  "I'll give you fifty bucks."

"Make it a hundred," Seth quickly countered.

One hundred dollars was PJ's current stash and he didn't intend to give it
all up. He kept his eyes on Seth. "Sixty-five."

"Eighty."

PJ made no response to that. The two stared at each other until Seth
conceded, "Make it seventy-five an' it's a deal!"

They shook on it. Seth handed the Sunday Game Seven tickets back to PJ but
held on to the others, "I keep these."

He's gonna try an' sell those, PJ thought. But at least they had a definite
deal for Sunday, so he let it go.

"We'll meet at noon in the Dining Hall," Seth told him. "Eat an' then
leave. Listen! You got someone who can cover for you?"

PJ nodded. "Yeah. My roommate. He's done it before."

"Oh?" Seth grinned at him. "Didn't know you were an off-campus adventurer,
Hot-Shot. You've kept it quiet. Sunday outings are a bit tricky 'cause it's
a school night. They check more. But even if we got busted it'll be
okay. I'll get grounded, but my old man won't ever let 'em throw me out of
school. An' you, they wouldn't do anything to. Like they'd kick out a kid
who could buy or sell the place with pocket money. Not a chance!"

PJ reddened again at this reference to his money, something he always
hated. Yet he knew that Seth wasn't trying to be mean or unfriendly, plus
they already had a deal, so he ignored the remark.

The two of them shook hands once more before PJ went down the stairs and
back out into the dark evening. He felt a lot less panicky now about
getting to see Jack. He had a definite plan set in motion. For it to
succeed, the Red Sox had to lose Game Five, and he felt guilty about that,
but the Series had to come back to Boston if he was going to find Jack. It
would be better anyway if they could win the Series at Fenway Park rather
than Atlanta. And once he could see Jack and talk with him, everything
would be all right. Jack would make it all right. PJ was sure of it!

Coming into the hallway of his House, he found his three friends and their
father's talking with Mr. Williamson. "PJ!" Erik called, "where you been?
We were looking all over for you!"

"We went out for a pizza!" Phil told him excitedly.

PJ concocted a quick lie. "I had to go to the Library to check some stuff
for class."

Mr. Williamson peered closely at him, put an arm around his shoulders, and
PJ leaned comfortably against the housemaster's side.

"I'm sorry we missed you, PJ," Bill said, "but I'm very relieved to see
that all your injuries seem to have gotten better."

"We're gonna need him at one-hundred-percent for that Championship game,"
Erik told him.

The housemaster gave PJ a little hug and said, "It certainly looks as
though Homecoming is going to be exciting this year. PJ, you look a little
tired tonight. Are you feeling all right?"

The boy smiled up at him. "I'm Okay."

Bill and the other fathers all said their goodbyes. "I'll see you fellows
at the game next week," Bill promised.

After they'd gone, Erik asked Mr. Williamson, "Can we watch the Red Sox
game tonight?"

"If your homework is done, you can see the first part," Mr. Williamson
said. "But I want all of you in bed by ten. No later. You've had a long
day."

"But if the Sox win this could be the last game," Erik protested.

"Ten," Mr. Williamson firmly repeated.

PJ joined the rest of the boys in a race upstairs to finish their
classwork. He waited until Erik was concentrating on math problems before
slipping quietly out to go downstairs again. On his way back from the Upper
School Quad, he'd been thinking about the Red Sox, and Jack, and things
working out, about the importance of friendship. And it had come to him
that he had another plan he should set into motion, a plan he'd long been
mulling over in his mind. He tapped on the Williamson's' door. When the
housemaster opened it he asked, "Mr. Williamson, can I talk to you?"

"Of course, PJ." The elderly man led him into the living room, where they
sat down opposite each other.

"Mr. Williamson, you know Billy."

The housemaster smiled. "Yes, I know Billy."

"Well, he wants to come to Gordonsville."

"There's no reason why he couldn't, PJ. Provided he could do the work. He'd
have to take an examination to show that, but if he did well enough, he
could be admitted."

"It's not that," PJ said, shaking his head. "It's the money. . . ." He
explained about Billy's father and now he had said he couldn't afford the
tuition.

Mr. Williamson pursed his lips. "Well," he said at last, "there are
scholarships Billy could try for."

PJ nodded. "I know. Maybe he could do well enough to get one, I don't
know. But if he can't, I want to fix it so I pay his tuition. But it's got
to be set so that it looks like a scholarship."

This idea appeared to catch the housemaster by surprise. "You could do
that, PJ?"

"Yes, Sir. Walter . . ., that is, my lawyer could do it for me. He will if
I tell him to."

There was silence for a moment. Mr. Williamson seemed to be searching for
the right words.

"In fact," PJ went on, "in fact, I thought it might be nice to maybe fix up
two or three scholarships. They could be for kids who are already students
here but, like, something happens to their parents or something and they
have to leave school because they can't afford it anymore. The scholarships
would be so they wouldn't have to leave." He sat very still, watching
Mr. Williamson carefully.

His housemaster regarded him thoughtfully. He cleared his throat. "That
would be extremely generous, PJ."

"I wouldn't want anyone to know about it. That's important." PJ continued
to stare at the man, who gave him a drawn-out nod.

"I think I can safely say that that wouldn't be a problem. And I'm sure
that your offer will be very acceptable to the Board of Governors."
Mr. Williamson cleared his throat again. "Why don't we do it this way? I'll
talk to the headmaster. Without anyone else knowing about your part in
this, of course. He and I will invite Billy's parents to let him take the
tests this spring. We can admit him regardless of how he does. The tests
will just help us decide what level to place him at. But we can tell his
parents that he qualified for a scholarship. In the meantime, perhaps you
would ask your lawyer to get in touch with me and I'll introduce him to our
school attorney and they can work out the financial details."

PJ smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Williamson."

The man got up, and PJ stood up with him. "Is everything else all right,
PJ?"

"Everything's fine, Sir."

The housemaster reached to give him a hug. "You're a fine boy, PJ," he said
fondly.

PJ surprised him by jumping up and hugging him back tightly. Mr. Williamson
patted his back before putting him down. "You'd better get ready for the
baseball game, PJ. Let's hope Mr. Canon and his team can beat that curse of
the . . . what is it again?"

"The Curse of the Bambino," PJ told him, smiling.

"That's the one." Mr. Williamson escorted him to the door.

Upstairs, Erik was still working on his math. "Gee, where'd you go to?" he
asked without looking up. "The potty? I thought maybe you'd fallen in."

PJ just grinned at him.  The Top Floor Gang jammed together into a crowded
Common Room that evening, joining the rest of the House watching Game Five
of the World Series. Although the first half of the game was exciting, most
of the boys, and not just the football players, were so tired after a busy
week that they couldn't stay awake. Phil fell asleep with his head in PJ's
lap. Erik and Brian were both leaning together, eyes closed, while curled
on the floor. PJ's own eyes kept closing too, but anxiety about the game's
outcome kept him alert enough to see Jack make a good defensive play in
right field, and later drive in two runs. When Mr. Williamson chased them
all upstairs at quarter-to-ten, Boston was leading 4-2. PJ's thoughts were
in turmoil. The Sox just had to win the Series. He wanted that more than
anything. Yet if they won it in Atlanta, he might never see Jack again!
Please bring the Series back to Boston, he prayed, even if it means the
gotta lose this one!

He went to bed with his headphones on and Walkman tuned to the game, but
sleep claimed him almost immediately. Much later, he had no idea when, he
came half-awake to find that the headphones had slipped off onto his
pillow. He put them on again and heard:

		". . . Atlanta has refused to go away quietly. They keep
coming back. Now the Series goes back to Boston, but the Red Sox need only
one more win to take it. Can the Braves win two games in Fenway Park?"

		"Ordinarily, I'd say no," another voice said. "But this is
Atlanta, with their great pitching staff. And it's the Red Sox. Not since
1918 . . ."

		"But the Sox have Jack Canon," the first voice interrupted.

		There was a brief pause before the other voice said
thoughtfully, "Maybe not even Jack Canon can break the Curse . . ."

The import of the words finally penetrated PJ's sleep-drugged mind. The Red
Sox had lost Game Five! The Series was coming back to Fenway! The tickets!
They really were a message. Jack had called for him. Jack had known all
along. Of course he had. Jack knew everything!

"I'm coming, Jack! I'm coming!"

PJ whispered those words as got out of bed. After opening his closet door
so he could see his Jack Canon poster in the glow of his night light, he
slipped back again under his covers, and lay awake, staring at the image of
his hero.

Billy wants to be on a team with me an' Erik. In his mind, he was talking
to Jack. I'm gonna make that happen. An' I got your message. I'm
comin'. I'll never stop believin'!

All the plans were in motion. PJ felt pretty darned good about the way
things had turned out! His eyes closed.

* * *

CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT FORTY-TWO
Editor Paul Scott's e-mail address: paulkdoctor@gmail.com