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Ben Toverman slept late that morning and then shuffled down the stairs, still sore from his encounter with the torture board. The breeze had completely disappeared as we began a period of the doldrums where the trade winds shifted and then diminished to almost nothing. We cranked up the ceiling fans and moved the lawn furniture (who no longer seemed to have a secret life, or at least were wise enough to just sit still in the heat) to the shadiest spot we could find.
Tired from yesterday's exertions and regretting the times we cursed the trade winds when they woke us in the middle of night, we stayed on the porch all day long, reading, writing, and making plans for the one remaining week at the Pink House.
While slow dancing on the deck late that afternoon, I bet Kathy she couldn't stay awake long enough to see the moon come up. She took the bet. We sat out and watched the stars, which were glorious in the cloudless sky, and counted the meteors. Kathy missed a few of them because she was dozing, but always did the, "No, I'm awake," deal when I called her name. Around midnight, the waning moon rose in the eastern sky, just behind Great Hill, which forms the left-hand shore of South Sound. We watched it just until we were sure it was okay, then we closed the doors and fell fast asleep.