The house is spread through a garden and patches of terrace, the deck wraps halfway around it. A white canopy covers the deck of the master bedroom on the second floor, a breezeway connects the library to the house, stone steps meander to a private guest room set apart, hidden among the shade of trees. Near the garage is the red shed with plum doors. All as she has told him. Then he sees the rose garden and the perfect spot for the zinc roof she spoke of in Egypt.

“Why do you want a zinc roof?”
“I’d like to sit under it in the rain. It could take me away whenever.”

Turner walks in the garden, looks through the windows, reminds himself that he is there for surf and turf. Until now, their romance could have been excused by being thrown together in their travels; but this is a step, with intent, from each of them. That’s why she had not called to invite him, did not want a discussion. She gave him the chance to pass the invitation without having to come up with an excuse.

She carries a lunch basket in one hand and a cotton sheet in the other. The sky blinks with rain.

Turner has just finished nailing a plank of zinc to four wooden posts. Sweat drips down his nose, the back of his shirt sticks to his skin. He puts away the tools and scraps of wood and zinc, is about to go in the house when Sara pleads with the voice of a muse.

“I don’t care how dirty you are, stay with me.”

He laughs and sits with her on a sheet the color of strawberry milk. A web of silver tinkles over them, sliding off the new roof. Her world is a different world.

i have always wanted a zinc roof

Do not know why. Well, not true. I like the sound of rain. I love the sound of pounding rain. I am wild about rain on a zinc | metal roof. And drizzle, downpours, anything rain.

We are rehabbing the shed in the backyard, but it doesn’t need a roof. Maybe I can plan, like Sara, for a spot somewhere in the yard to put up a shelter. Why not? A place to run to and hear the rain. I did it in the novel. =)