She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. There is no Heaven for your mother. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. ” “It is within yours—if anybody’s,” he answered. The delay was only momentary. 1. Then, naturally, I went on talking. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. .
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