Epilogue
“If I have ever seen magic, it has been in Africa.” —John Hemingway
Three years later
Thorne woke just before dawn. With a gentle kiss upon Eden’s brow, he slipped out of their king-size bed and padded softly down the hall. He wore light pajama pants, and the slightly humid air warmed him as he opened a door down the hall.
An elaborately carved crib was in one corner. The screened windows were open to allow a light breeze to drift through the room. He smiled at the tiny child as she stirred in her crib. He reached into the crib and picked up the baby, holding her to his chest. She had soft blonde curls like her mother, yet her eyes were blue like his. He nuzzled the crown of her hair, breathing in her scent and feeling the perfect weight of her in his arms. Above her, hanging
