"But it's cruel to have them believe
she is coming on the plane," I said.
"When they see it's just me, they'll
hate me. . . . They'll think I'm
responsible, that she died because
I didn't appreciate her." And Auntie
Lindo looked satisfied and sad at
the same time, as if this were true
and I had finally realized it. She sat
down for an hour, and when she
stood up she handed me a
two-page letter. She had tears in
her eyes. . . . "Thank you," I
whispered.
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