Beginning With Baby

So a few hours after their supposed wedding, a “married” Jackson sat on the sill of his open third-story bedroom window, sipping from a mug of hot coffee and watching the sun go down.

Instead of visiting the justice of the peace, Phoebe, Rex and Jackson had driven to the local open-air mall and gone their separate ways. She and the stroller had disappeared into one of those girlie shops selling bath and shower stuff.

He’d found a bench shaded from the broiling August sun. The coastal town of Strawberry Bay, situated in the central part of California, sweltered this time of year, like most of the rest of the state. Though he’d been dog tired—these were his customary sleeping hours—there’d been a breathlessness to the afternoon that had made him edgy.

With the sun now setting, his foreboding hadn’t completely dissipated. There was an ominous cast to the sky, and Jackson shrugged, trying to dislodge the uneasy feeling. He should be content now. With Phoebe and Rex’s situation taken care of, he could return to his familiar, isolated existence.

His involvement in their lives was no longer required.

And their involvement in his. He needn’t feel anything toward either one of them any longer.

From the corner of his eye, movement caught his attention. He held his breath. Great. Phoebe was at her window. There was more fluttering movement, and he could see one shoulder and an arm. He guessed she’d settled on the sill like he had, with her back against the side of the window opening.

Then, as he watched, a leg emerged from the window, and her small bare foot braced against the gently pitched second-story roof. The hem of a long pink dress fluttered about her calf.