Well, I had driven to Puerto de Santa Maria with Susanna and dropped her off at the market. It was overcast, but I didn’t give it much thought. Susanna waved to me and I waved back; my heart thumped at the smile she gave me and, to tell you the truth, I wiped away a tear. I loved her so much. Anyway, I drove off for the waterfront to check the schedule for the ferry to Cadiz. After checking the schedule, I decided to sit on the seawall and watch an aircraft carrier – the Kennedy, as I recall – while it made its slow way to the Naval base at Rota. I spent about twenty minutes gazing out to sea and eating shrimp before it began to rain. I looked at my watch – 15:00 hours – and ran to the car. I had never left Susanna at this particular church and had not made note of its location. I was fairly familiar with some of Puerto, but not this part. I drove around for maybe fifteen minutes before I finally found the church and Susanna. She was dripping wet, and angry. As I told you before, Susanna died of pneumonia just a few weeks after that trip to Puerto. I should have made sure I knew how to find that church again. I’ve always wondered if my failure to do so contributed to Susanna’s death.