Chapter 145

“Oh geese,” Sia groaned, holding onto her waist, grinning and fetching the basket of apple cider and transferring them into the barns.

She caught sight of a brown woolly shirt tucked at the corner. Dirt and cobweb had infested on it so badly that the brown coveted to dark brown.

She surged close now, laid hold of the cloth; and breathed uneasily.

The cloth was familiar as the sky that caked up there. He had always worn it during work hours.

It was her late husband’s cloths she was done wailing even when she knew there was no stopping her as far as her late husband was concern.

She sniffed, brought the clothes to her nostrils, shut her eyes and shook her head in a momentary imagination as she recalled the cloth vividly.

It was the same cloth he wore when he made his last love to her- she had suspected his violent volcanic love making and wondered if actually he knew he was not going to return to her thighs; her once cold thighs that he had dominated and made warm; her broken hear