CHAPTER 29
Piper kicked off the sheet with her foot and sat up. Her favorite old T-shirt—the one with CELEBRATE FREEDOM across the top, READ A BANNED BOOK across the bottom, and listed in between, all of the offending books—everything from TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD to THE GREAT GATSBY—was soaking wet. “What the heck?” she muttered, pushing her damp hair off her forehead.
“What’s the matter?” Nat asked sleepily.
“I don’t know. I’m just so damn hot.”
Nat rolled onto his side, opened his eyes, and looked at her. “Do you have a fever?”
“It sure feels like it. I just want to rip my clothes off!”
“Well, feel free,” he said. “I won’t mind.”
“Very funny,” she said in a voice that wasn’t amused. She went to the bathroom and then padded quietly downstairs with Chloe trailing hopefully behind her. “It’s too early for breakfast, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said matter-of-factly, pushing the door open to let her out, but when the big golden came back in, wagging her tail expectantly, Piper looked at the clock, realized it was almost five, and relented. “Okay,” she said, “but you’re going to be hungry later.”
As she measured kibble into the dog bowl, she heard a distant rumble of thunder. She set down the food and went back outside to stand on the porch. A breeze was picking up and the dawning sky was an ominous gray.
The cool air felt good on her flushed skin so she sat down. A moment later, she heard a soft cry and stood up to let Chloe out. “Stay here,” she said and the big golden flopped down next to her. Piper was glad Chloe wasn’t afraid of storms. Willow—the old Lab they’d had growing up—had been terrified of thunder and had always tried to hide under the bed. Unfortunately, only her head and shoulders fit, leaving her whole hind end sticking out . . . but she thought she was safely hidden!
Piper leaned back and watched a circle of leaves swirling in the dark sky as the thunder rumbled closer and lightning flashed every few seconds. She heard Nat close the upstairs windows, and moments later, saw him peering through the screen. “Still hot?”
“I’m better out here,” she said.
“Want some coffee?”
“Sure,” she said. “Is Elias awake?”
He shook his head. “Sound asleep.”
Piper nodded. Elias had always been a sound sleeper, even when he was a baby—fireworks, thunderstorms, loud music—if he fell asleep, that was it. He was out!
A few minutes later, Nat appeared carrying two mugs and sat down next to her. “Maybe you’re hot because it’s your time. . . .” he said.
“My time?” she said, looking up—just the way he said it raised her hackles.
“Yeah, you know.” He paused. “Change of life.”
“You mean menopause?” she asked, the prickliness in her voice growing sharper. Why do men have such a hard time saying words like menstruation or menopause? Men is actually in these words!
“Yes, that,” Nat said nonchalantly, sipping his coffee. “You haven’t gone through it yet, have you? You must be due. . . .”
Piper frowned. Yes, it was true that she hadn’t “gone through” menopause . . . and yes, it was indeed possible that was the reason she was so damn hot—in fact, right this very minute, she could feel her temperature rising like a thermometer left out in the sun, but who was he to suggest it? What did he know about it . . . really?
Nat felt her eyes on him and looked up. “What?” he asked innocently.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Well, even your mood has been a little bit . . .”
She waited but he seemed to have trouble finding the right word. “A little . . . ?”
He swallowed. “Not your usual cheerful self, I guess.”
“Really?”
“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he said defensively. “I’m just throwing it out there because you seemed upset that you were . . . well, hot . . .”
She nodded, affirming she understood, but she still had trouble wrapping her mind around his observation that she was moody. Had he actually begun to use the word bitchy or was that just her imagination?
“You are in your late fifties,” he ventured, “and your sisters were all younger than tha . . .” He looked up and saw the venom in her eyes, and realized his error. “You know what? I’m going to let you figure this one out. You certainly know your body better than I do . . . although I do know it pretty well,” he added with a sheepish grin. “And I love it . . . too . . . but I think I’m going to take my coffee,” he said, getting up, “and wait for this storm to pass inside.”
After he’d gone, Piper looked at the sky and wondered whether he was right. Maybe she was going through menopause. She certainly was due—her sisters had all been in their early fifties . . . and they couldn’t believe she hadn’t gone through it yet.
Suddenly, the sky grew black and the wind whipped around the house, sending a pile of beach chairs clattering across the porch. The oak trees her father had planted swayed violently, sending a whirlwind of leaves swirling into the dark sky, but then, just as quickly as it had come, the wind ceased, and an ethereal light filled the yard.