Then she spent a fitful night, sleeping little and dreaming during the moments when she did. Thus, she greeted her moving day with weariness. What would her life be like living a solitary existence in a log cabin? She’d grown up in a four-story apartment house where sounds from other families seeped through thin walls and floors. Smells of cooking cabbage, frying fish, or roasting chicken foretold what neighbors were eating that day. There’d been no secrets in the Gallagher building. Twin tears crept down her cheeks. Wishing her parents were still with her was futile. Reality had to be acknowledged. She was alone now. A yawn made her yearn for one more hour of sleep. She’d been awakened several times by the mournful howls of a wolf. Real or imaginary, she did not know. Yet the animal’s forlorn cry of longing pulled at her soul. During her periods of wakefulness, she’d thought of Boone and his kisses and the warmth of his embrace. She’d grown so heated thinking about him, she had to kick off some of her covers.
