Firefly Summer

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “Oh,” she said as her gaze flitted between Sessa and Trey. “I, um … oh.”

  Her bejeweled fingers went to her lips where she hid what was unmistakably a smile. “Well, I didn’t expect you two really were—”

  She shook her head and moved out of Trey’s line of sight, then waved in front of her face as if she were in dire need of a cool breeze. “So I’m just going to get on out of here and leave you two to whatever you were doing … oh!” She ducked so Trey could see her again. “Hey, Doctor Brown. You still working on my friend’s barn?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said. “I’ve got to get that barn ready for the Arabians.”

  “I’m leasing the space to him for his horses,” Sessa hurried to add. “And the pasture too.”

  “Well,” she said just a little too sweetly. “I guess that means you two will be seeing a lot of each other.”

  Trey leaned forward, speaking directly to Coco. “That’s my intention. I’d like to see a lot more of Sessa.”

  Oh.

  Sessa’s heart pounded. He wanted more. More than a first date.

  And she wanted it too. Wanted to know him more. Wanted that connection, deeper than friendship from the very beginning. Wanted someone to stand beside her.

  And she wanted it to be him.

  Coco seemed to see the realization dawn on Sessa, because one of her perfectly plucked brows rose. “Well, good for you,” she said to the doctor. “But I’m going to warn you that if you intend on seeing more of Sessa, then you’re probably going to be seeing a lot more of Sugar Pine.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “We love Sessa, and we don’t cotton to anyone who mistreats her.”

  “All right,” Sessa said, mortified. “Good-bye, Coco.” She pressed the button to raise the window. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

  She dared a sideways glance at Trey and found him looking straight ahead. His shoulders began to shake, and a moment later he began to laugh.

  “Trey?”

  He faced her. “I’m sorry, Sessa.” He swiped at his eyes. “It’s been a very long time since I got busted for parking with a girl.”

  “Well, guess what, buddy? This is a first for me. More than halfway to fifty, and someone is finally going to tattle to my mother that I was parking.”

  This made him laugh again, and she joined him. Finally she reached for her purse. “It’s been fun … memorable, actually, but I really should go.”

  Trey got out and trotted around the front of the truck to open her door and help her climb down. Instead of backing up to let her pass, he remained standing between her and her empty car.

  Moonlight slanted across his face, taking years off his age and causing her heart to do a flip-flop.

  “You know,” he said slowly, “I was just thinking. Your friend Coco, she’s not going to keep her mouth shut about catching us doing what looked a lot like kissing.”

  “But wasn’t,” she amended.

  “But wasn’t.” He leaned toward her. “So, since the whole town is going to think I kissed you right here in the parking lot of the Blue Plate Lunchateria …”

  “Yes?”

  “I might as well …” He was close now. Very close. Sessa’s breath caught as her hands clamped in his shirt at his waist.

  “Yes?”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her back and gently drew her to him.

  And then he kissed her.

  It had been a long time since she’d kissed a man, but Sessa was pretty sure kissing had never been like this before. After eons, or moments, Trey stepped back to hold her at arm’s length.

  She leaned against the truck—held on tight lest she topple—and did the one thing she could do. Smile.

  “I meant it when I told your friend that I want to see more of you.” He leaned against the door frame and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Are you scared of all this?”

  Yes. “No,” she managed.

  His lips turned up in the beginnings of a grin. “Well that makes one of us. I’m scared to death.”

  She leaned forward and rested her cheek on his shoulder then wrapped her arms around him. Contentment filled her. “Good night,” she told him. “I had a great time.”

  “Let me follow you home. Just to make sure you get inside all right and nothing happens.”

  Sessa shook her head and ducked under his arm to attempt her retreat. “This is Sugar Pine, Texas. Nothing ever happens here, so don’t worry. I’ll get home just fine.”

  “I care that you’re safe, Sessa, so would you at least call me when you’re home?”

  “I will.” She pondered the idea of actually having someone in her life who cared that she was safe. Someone besides Mama or her friends, that was.

  Trey followed her around the front of the truck and waited while she climbed into her car. She rolled down the window. “Trey, I’ve got a confession to make.”

  He leaned down to rest his elbows on the car door. “What’s that?”

  “I’m terrified, too.”

  Trey once again cradled her cheek with his palm, although he made no move to kiss her. Probably just as well, since the eyes of Sugar Pine were on them out here in the open.

  “Then we’ll be terrified together. I’ve got meetings tomorrow and plans for Saturday, but I want to see you as soon as I can.”

  “Oh?” Somehow she was right back to junior high. Right back to those days when the mere attention of a cute boy would cause her to be a tongue-tied and blushing mess.

  He lifted his hand to press a tendril of hair behind her ear. “How about you and me and Pansie have a cookout on Sunday afternoon?”

  She smiled. “Yes, I would like that.”

  “So would I.” He warmed to the topic. “I saw you’ve got a decent grill out there in the shed. I’ll bring what I need to get it working again.”

  “Daddy would like that,” she said. “What do you want me to cook?”

  “Oh, Sessa.” He caressed her name. “I am going to do the cooking, so don’t you worry about anything.” He shrugged. “Unless you want to make a pie. I understand you’re in that book club where everyone makes pies, so you’ve probably got a favorite recipe, don’t you?”

  “Pie,” came out as an embarrassing squeak. “Sure. Yes. Pie.”

  Shut up, Sessa. You’re embarrassing yourself.

  “All right.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek that matched the one he had given her at the Fish Camp. “Good night, Sessa Lee Chambers.”

  She thought about his kisses all the way home to Firefly Lane. In between ignoring texts from Coco. However, when the headlights reflected a person sitting on her front porch, all other thoughts fled. She would know that auburn hair and upturned nose anywhere.

  Skye.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sessa gathered up her purse and stepped out of the car, moving deliberately toward Skye. Though her heart beat a furious rhythm, she refused to show it.

  “Skye,” she said when she reached the porch. “I didn’t expect you’d be here.” Not once the bus had departed that afternoon. How long had the girl sat out here?

  Pansie’s mother looked older by more than just the two years that had passed since Sessa last saw her. Her hair was still long, still swept up in that style the kids called a messy bun, but while it had been a garish color before, she looked much more natural chestnut brown now.

  Even in the moonlight she could see that Pansie’s mother bore a healthy glow that she hadn’t had when she left Sugar Pine. Still thin, at least the girl appeared to be eating better. Or perhaps just more regularly.

  “I know I asked you to pick me up at the bus station, but I caught a ride from Houston, so I didn’t ride the bus. At least not that last part of the trip.”

  She rose and nodded to a green military-issue backpack. The sides and front had been decorated with what appeared to be multi-colored paint pens, and several key chains of differing types were affixed to every zipper.

  “I
hope you don’t mind, but I don’t really have anywhere to crash tonight.”

  “Where did you crash the last time you were here?” she snapped before thinking better of it. Her emotions were so close to the surface that her politeness filter was malfunctioning. “Never mind.” She brushed past Skye to open the door. “Come on in.”

  Skye followed her inside timidly, her big brown eyes darting around the room until they came to rest again on Sessa. Looking for Pansie? Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  “Pansie’s not here tonight,” she said.

  “Oh.” Skye shrugged. “I hoped she would be.”

  “She’s with …” Sessa paused. No, she wouldn’t tell this stranger where to find Pansie. Selfish or not. “So, are you hungry?”

  “I could eat.” Skye remained by the door clutching her backpack. “But really, don’t worry. I’ve got some Twinkies in my bag, and some beef jerky too. Protein is important.”

  “Yes, it is.” Sessa nodded toward the kitchen. “Just leave your bag right there and come with me. I think I’ve still got enough ham to make a sandwich. There might be pie left, too.”

  Skye followed to sit at the table in the spot Sessa indicated. She watched the girl while she made the sandwich.

  What did she want? Sessa’s mind whirled. There was only one good answer. Pansie.

  But the girl that Sessa saw—only nineteen or twenty—appeared ethereal, as if she might be an apparition. As if she might disappear if Sessa blinked long enough.

  It took Sessa, Mama, and a whole legion of friends to give Pansie the care she needed. What did Skye think she could do for Pansie if she took her away?

  Sessa shut down that thought before she could get a good upset boiling. She didn’t know for sure that Skye wanted to take Pansie.

  She needed to handle this whole situation carefully.

  “Sweet tea?” She set the plate in front of Skye.

  “Sure. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  Sessa poured two glasses and brought them to the table, then sat across from Skye.

  The girl bit into the sandwich as if she hadn’t had a decent meal in far too long.

  “What brings you to Sugar Pine?”

  Skye paused to take a sip of sweet tea and then met Sessa’s gaze. “My daughter, of course.”

  To visit her or take her? she wanted to say. “About that,” Sessa said instead. “This is the only home Pansie has ever known. I can’t imagine it would be good for her to be removed from what’s familiar.” She paused, allowing the words to come. “So I thought maybe you and I could arrange some sort of formal agreement. Something legal and binding. For Pansie’s peace of mind, of course.”

  “Mrs. Chambers.” Skye set her tea glass down. “I know I’ve got a lot to learn. But I seriously doubt a two-year-old is worried about peace of mind. Maybe you’re the one concerned about that. Am I wrong?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “You aren’t.”

  Skye nodded. “Look, I love that you love my Pansie-girl. You’ve taken good care of her. Much better than I could have. But I’m her mama.”

  The statement swept through Sessa with the power of a cyclone, shaking her down to her foundations, but Skye seemed not to notice. She stuffed her mouth, humming with appreciation.

  Then she looked up again. “A child needs her mama, don’t you think?”

  Sessa struggled for words, struggled to breathe. There was a part of her that couldn’t deny Skye’s simple statement. But …

  “I think that depends on the mama,” Sessa said.

  Skye’s plate clanked as her hand knocked against the table. There was no mistaking the hurt in her eyes or the tremble of her lips. And that didn’t make Sessa feel quite right either.

  “And the child,” she added. “Pansie is a very strong-willed little girl. She likes her routines. Change isn’t easy for her.”

  Skye shrugged, now looking back down at the plate.

  The girl yawned, and Sessa’s maternal instincts kicked in. Along with her desire to end this conversation. What passed for healthy in the moonlight now looked more like exhaustion. “Where have you been all these years, Skye?”

  “Around,” she said. “You know, getting my head straight and stuff.”

  What exactly did that mean? “So is it straight now? Your head, I mean.”

  “Sure.”

  “So you’ve got a plan? You know where you’re going and how you’ll take care of Pansie?”

  “Well, kind of.” Another yawn. “See, I know she’s got to love the same things I do, so I thought maybe the beach.”

  “So you’d go live in Galveston?”

  Not too far. This is doable. She kept her attention on Skye even as she thought of what was good. What was right. What was best for that precious little girl.

  She shook her head. “I was thinking Florida. Maybe back to California.”

  Not with my Pansie, she longed to scream. “Well, not tonight,” she said instead. “It’s getting late. Why don’t I get you settled in the guest room, and we can talk more about this tomorrow?” She paused. “After Pansie gets home.”

  Skye rose. “Good idea. I could use some sleep in a real bed. That bus isn’t the best for sleeping. Too loud and bumpy.”

  Sessa showed her into the guest room and then closed the door behind her. Resting her head on the door, she lifted the only prayer she could manage at the moment: Lord, help Pansie and me. But help Skye, too.

  Sleep proved impossible, so Sessa slipped out the back door. Her nervous energy could be applied to getting some work done in the workshop. She would have to run the ad for help again, too. This time she’d branch out and look for help in other cities, Houston maybe. Surely somewhere there was a decent woodworker looking for a new job.

  Though the evening had been warm, the night air felt less so, and the stars twinkled beneath a slender fingernail of crescent moon that called her to sit beneath it. Bypassing the workshop, she followed the path around the side of the building to where a pair of rockers used to sit beneath the pecan tree when Daddy was alive. The winter after he died, she’d put the rockers in the shed and never brought them out again.

  Life wasn’t the same. It never would be. And yet avoiding the issues—her lingering grief—hadn’t solved anything with Ross. And avoiding Skye wasn’t going to make her go away.

  She’d spent so long avoiding, she didn’t know if she had the guts to start facing things again. But maybe it was time to try.

  Sessa found the flashlight just inside the garage door and used it to follow the path out to the shed. A few minutes and two trips later, she had the pair of rocking chairs back where they belonged. She sat down.

  Leaning back against wood that could use a coat of fresh paint, Sessa closed her eyes and inhaled the earthy night air until she felt her taut nerves begin to relax. The structure was dark and quiet now, but she couldn’t wait for Trey’s Arabians to take up residence in her barn.

  Trey.

  Her eyes flew open at the reminder of the doctor. Of the kiss. She’d forgotten to call him, but she’d have to make it up to him tomorrow.

  A flicker of light over near the edge of the house caught her attention. And then another. And another.

  Fireflies. Sessa smiled.

  Lightning in a jar.

  As if drawn by those same flickers of light, Skye stepped out of the back door with something in her hand. Ross’s jar.

  Her white nightgown whipped around pale coltish legs as a warm breeze kicked up. She picked her way down the path barefoot, her hair hanging down below her shoulders in soft chestnut waves.

  If she were not the mother of Sessa’s granddaughter, she might have thought Skye to be a sleepwalker. Or a teenager slipping away from her parents for a night of fun.

  She spied Sessa and waved. Sessa returned the wave, albeit weakly. The last thing she needed was to have her peace shattered by this girl.

  Whatever is true, whatever is noble …

  For the first time, it occu
rred to Sessa that it might not just be her peace that had been shattered. Perhaps Skye’s had been as well.

  She patted the rocker next to her. “Come and sit with me,” she said, not because she wanted to share this time with Skye, but because she had a deep sense of knowing—a feeling beyond logical understanding—that Skye was supposed to spend this time with her.

  The girl sat down and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear revealing her profile. A profile Pansie shared. Oh. How could a child look so much like one parent and yet from another angle look exactly like the other?

  The object of her thoughts turned toward Sessa, her arms cradling the jar. “I saw the fireflies from the window, and I remembered how Ross used to tell me that he had this jar on the shelf in his room to catch them in. He called it—”

  “Lightning in a jar,” Sessa supplied.

  “Yes, that’s it.” She looked down at the jar. “That was a good memory for him. He loved that about you, that you would help him catch those fireflies.”

  “Oh, that’s not completely true.” Her soft chuckle rumbled across the field. “Ross did all the catching. I just cheered him on.”

  Skye grinned. “That makes sense. I couldn’t imagine him letting someone else do anything for him.”

  The statement gave her pause. “You know my son well.” She shook her head. “You knew him well.” It was still hard to fathom she would never see him again.

  Skye’s fingers, with their neon chipped nail polish, traced the top of the jar. “It’s still hard to believe he’s gone, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” Sessa said. “Sometimes I think I should call him, or that he should call me. And then I remember.”

  “I see the scar,” she said softly. “Every day I see it, and then I remember.”

  Sessa reached over to touch Skye’s arm. “What scar, sweetheart?”

  She set the jar on the ground beside her, swiveled in her chair to face Sessa, and then unceremoniously unbuttoned her nightgown to show her stomach. “There.” She pointed to a thin sliver of a scar extending downward from just below her navel.