Chapter 3

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When I woke next morning, there was Abram propped on one elbow, looking at me. “You’re a beauty,” he said. “Don’t suppose anyone ever told you, but they should have.” Here he ran a hand through my yellow hair. “Angels have curls like this, and your eyes are the color of the sky.” He then kissed me and from there we set to more of his lovemaking, after which he said, “Merry Christmas, Roy. You are the finest gift a man could receive.”