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said.
“Good. I’m too old to be assigned homework.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Then she said, more gently, “How’s the boy?”
The boy.
But from Aunt Beth, it sounded affectionate, not dismissive.
“He’s okay.”
“Is he?”
I looked toward Caleb’s closed bedroom door.
“He’s getting there.”
“He always was a good kid.”
Tears sprang to my eyes.
“Yes. He is.”
“I still have that continue reading …
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