It’s an old, familiar secret that any good lover knows: to make a person value something, taking it away.
The corn was something different at night. If animals used it as cover during the day, all sorts of nocturnal critters were doing the same thing at night. She’d rather not run into a coyote or badger. But the danger excited her.
She’d been an older mother, almost forty—her pregnancies had been classified as “geriatric”—which was why the children were only twelve and a half months apart, there hadn’t been time to waste.