“Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun.
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