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Meg raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? See whom?”
He pursed his lips together, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he could tell her. “I mean a specific sort of doctor who specializes in this sort of thing.”
Her other eyebrow shot up. “You mean… a psychiatrist?”
He nodded. “I know it might sound desperate. It’s only… I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want anyone to think I’m crazy….”
“A psychiatrist would be the one to say that, though, wouldn’t he?”
“Possibly,” Charlie shrugged. “I think I’m sane enough to stay out of an institution. I hope I am anyway. But I’ve been reading, and some of the techniques these doctors have come up with might help me. Have you read anything by Freud? Or Jung?”
She had heard of Freud but not that other person. “I don’t know much about psychia
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Ghosts of Southampton Hate
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A few moments later, they heard a distinct throat clearing at the end of the hallway and realized Jonathan was waiting for them. Pulling themselves apart, Meg brushed the tear streaks from her face, and Charlie looped his arm through hers and led her down the hall, as if they were walking to the firing squad instead of a group of alleged friends.Once they reached the end of the hallway where Jonathan stood, the liegeman whispered sharply, “Your sister is about to have a conniption thinking you’ve snuck off somewhere.”“We are just slow walkers,” Charlie assured him, amused.“I’ll let you explain yourself to her. She assumed you were right behind her.”“We were. Right behind her—far, far behind her.” Charlie looked at Meg, a twinkle in his eyes.“I believe you will need the ring back if you’re to give her the ring in front of everyone,” Jonathan reminded them.
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