Page 36 of Where It All Began
She dashed off before anyone could stop her.
Phoebe found John flipping burgers on the grill, surrounded by a loose circle of friends. She paused just long enough to take in the view, a vision of masculine sex appeal in faded denim and comfortable plaid. This might be her last look at him if her parents found out about her scheming, and she was determined to make it count. She may be an adult, but her father wouldn’t hesitate to throw her in the trunk of the family car and drive her all the way home, lecturing her on common decency. Master’s degree be damned.
“John, I need you.”
The look he leveled on her said far more than words. She knew exactly what he thought she wanted. And given the way her pulse leapt, he wasn’t off base. But there were more urgent conversations to have. She slapped him in the shoulder and then turned to make sure her family hadn’t witnessed the exchanged. “Now is not the time for that!” she hissed.
He leaned in, keeping his voice low. “Word of warning, don’t start conversations with ‘John, I need you,’ unless that’s exactly what you mean.”
She flushed scarlet and began again, this time through gritted teeth. “I need you to pretend to be married.”
“Married?”
She didn’t even give him a chance to hand over the tongs. Phoebe was already dragging him back into the crowd. She had a farmer. Now, she needed a wife. Someone close to John’s age…Perfect.
Elvira was restocking the coolers with ice and drinks along the side of the house. Phoebe hauled John with her.
“I wish to hell Coke would have just left well enough alone,” Elvira muttered, dumping a six-pack of New Coke into the cooler.
“El, I’ve got a huge favor to ask. I need you to be married to John and living here.”
Elvira looked up from the beverages. “For how long?”
“That’s your first question?” John asked. “How aboutwhy?”
But Phoebe was busy building a family. “Hang on. You guys need a kid or two…”
“Phoebe!” John didn’t sound amused.
“Stay!” she ordered and took off again.
Then she spotted the boy. He was skinny and squinty and wore glasses bigger than his own face. His parents were heaping brownies and mac and cheese on his plate. “There you go, Billy,” his mother said cheerfully as she ladled another scoop on to the already dangerous peak of pasta.
“Excuse me,” Phoebe cut in. “Do you mind if I borrow your son for a minute?”
“You’re not going to do any weird mind experiments on him are you?” His father, rocking a sleeveless turtleneck and bellbottoms, laid a protective hand on Billy’s shoulder.
“No, of course not. But I am going to ask him to pretend to be someone else’s kid for a little while.” She winced, waiting for the no that any parent in their right mind would give.
“Oh, that’s fine. He does that on his own sometimes,” the mother announced. She had the kind of friendly, vacant expression that reminded Phoebe of a happy-go-lucky coma patient. “Billy, you go with this nice lady and pretend someone else is your mom, okay?”
Phoebe felt a twinge of guilt and hoped she wasn’t scarring the poor kid for life.
“Billy, there’s chocolate cake in this for you if you pretend John’s your dad and Elvira’s your mom.”
The kid nodded solemnly and then let out an ear-piercing scream.
“Oh, my God! Are you okay? Did you get stung by a bee?”
He shook his head. “Sometimes the screams just hafta come out,” he announced.
Well, it was too late to find a non-screamer now, Phoebe thought.
“Do you still want cake?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. One wife, one kid. I think we need another kid. What do you think?”
