I woke up the next morning when a sunbeam found its way through my curtains and shone right on my face. I’d collapsed into bed without even bothering to change into pajamas. Apparently, I’d slept hard because when I rolled over, I felt my cheek land in a wet spot made from my drool. I couldn’t even care. I was just so glad to be done with The Shadow.
When I had washed my face and slapped a baseball cap on over my wild hair, I stepped out onto my stoop and saw what I had hoped to see. Everything was back to normal: people were working in the garden by the farmhouse; children were chasing each other around the yurts; Mr. Wilson was peeling off flakes of hay for the goats. I stretched and strolled toward the farmhouse. A cup of coffee with Mrs. Wilson sounded just about perfect right then.
