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CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT-EPILOGUE-THE FUTURE
“Dammit, why can’t I ever find that blessed bunny!”
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“My ass is getting sore, Thorin. Are we almost there?” Imara shifted from side to side on the bench and put her hands on her low back as she arched and stretched away the searing pain.
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“Are you sure I look alright Sofia? I’m not sure about this color on me.” As Imara straightened her skirt, she shook her head in frustration. “Ugh! I need some new clothes. Everything I have is rubbish. I look like a little girl.”
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“And I have loved you oh so long, delighting in your company, hmm, hmm.” After dinner, Thorin and Imara sat on the front porch and relaxed to the sounds of Thorin’s clumsy guitar playing and the serenade of the frogs at the pond on the Logan’s farm across the road. Thorin strummed along and sang the words that he could still remember as Imara sat on the edge of the porch and swayed to the sounds of summertime. “I like that tune, it’s real pretty. Can you play it one m
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“Mmm,” hummed Imara while she stretched out her arms in the morning sunlight as it passed through her room. “Oh, I wonder what time he’s coming.”
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As the orange and pink sun slid down behind the corn field on the Logan’s farm, Imara thought about the way she felt when Ben touched her. Her fingertips still tingled with the thrill of his skin on hers and she pressed them to her lips as she smiled. It was like he opened the windows of all the stale lonely places in her heart and she ached for another taste of it.
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“I don’t like this, Thorin. It don’t feel right.” Shaw sat on the bench with his arms crossed as Thorin drove the wagon down to the Logan’s farm.
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“Imara, my dear, would you mind terribly answering the door for me? I’m afraid Shaw might pull another card if I leave,” said Teddy as he and Shaw played cards at the kitchen table.
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“Do you think he’s alright, Thorin? I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him. I just knew we should have taken him in.” Imara stood on the porch with her arms crossed searching the darkness for signs of the wolf.
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