Firefly Summer

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “I’m going,” Sessa said with a strength she hadn’t felt since the wind was knocked out of her yesterday.

  “Well, you can’t go get her like that! Look at you. You’re covered in dust.” She reached over to prove her point by shaking sawdust out of Sessa’s hair. “Get inside and make yourself presentable, and then we’ll go together.”

  “Coco, I need to do this by myself.”

  “I understand,” her friend said. “But you’re still going to get yourself cleaned up. Now hurry up. What time did you say you had to be there?”

  “Twelve-thirty.”

  Coco grabbed her by the shoulders and marched her out of the workshop and into the sunshine. “Go. I’ll close up shop here.”

  Sessa took one step and then returned to envelope Coco in a hug. “Thank you,” she said as tears threatened. “It’s just until Ross comes back.” Both of them knew the unlikeliness of Ross Chambers returning to Sugar Pine with the maturity and intention to raise a child.

  “Of course it is.” Coco’s reply held all the enthusiasm of a true friend who shared both your hope and your reality.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Chambers, but she’s going to need a change.”

  “All right.” Numb, Sessa accepted the soggy blanket-wrapped bundle.

  The girl, still a kid herself, blinked back tears and tugged at the hem of her neon green tank top. Her skin was pale as Mama’s porcelain teacups, and she wore her chestnut hair in a messy bun. Her lower lip trembled slightly as she seemed to have to work up to a smile.

  This was one brave girl. Scared, but brave.

  “She’s three weeks old today. I named her Pansie Skye.”

  Sessa tried not to tremble, not to allow the emotions to well up, as she held her only grandchild. “Oh,” she managed.

  “Yeah, it was Ross’s idea. He said since my name’s Skye, and we made her in the …”

  Skye’s voice trailed off.

  Sessa focused on the baby, and images of Ross began to form. Dark hair, dark eyes, these were the first Sessa noticed yesterday. In her mind, her son’s tiny fingers latched around her own as the baby’s did. Eyes of deepest mahogany peered up from beneath the garish oversized pink and yellow lace bonnet she knew would cover inky black hair.

  “… and so, thanks to the lady who runs the home where I stayed while I was pregnant, I’ve got a plan now. I’m gonna get my GED out there, and then I’ll get a good job and send her a bus ticket so we can be together.”

  Sessa opened her mouth to point out the impossibility of sending a bus ticket for an infant and then thought better of it. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got a quite a plan for things now.”

  “I do, and I promise I’ll come back for her just as soon as I can.” She smiled at Sessa and pointed to the Greyhound behind her. “It’s too bad things didn’t work out between me and Ross.” She shrugged. “Oh well, I gotta jet.”

  “Jet?” Sessa repeated, still numb. The newborn began to whimper, her lip a defiant curl and dark lashes held tight against rounded cheeks.

  “Yeah, jet.” Skye placed on the floor beside Sessa a blue striped bag stained with fat blotches of brown. “See ya, Pansie-poo.” She touched the brim of the baby’s bonnet and whirled around to dance up the steps of the bus. “Mama’ll be back real soon. You’ll see.”

  The Greyhound roared away in a cloud of smoke and diesel fumes, and it was all Sessa could do not to chase the roaring silver monster down Barton Street and demand that Skye end the cruel joke and take her child back.

  When a pair of questionable characters pressed near enough to smell, the baby began to howl in earnest. “Hang on, honey.” Sessa gathered up the bag and bounced the baby in her arms.

  Inside the less than sanitary ladies’ restroom, she set the baby on the changing table and placed the bag beside her. How long had it been since she changed a wiggling child?

  A lifetime ago.

  Keeping one hand on the now-screaming infant, Sessa popped open the snap and peered inside the bag. A single diaper and a formula-filled bottle of questionable vintage lay atop a stack of four wadded, stained sleepers and a wrapped package of saltine crackers.

  There was nothing in the way of hygiene products beyond a sample-sized container of powder and a single wet wipe in a plastic bag. A second plastic bag held an envelope with the name Pansie Skye Chambers scribbled in a childish hand. The author had turned the dot over the ‘I’ into a flower and had colored it in with a bright pink marker, even adding green leaves on either side.

  Carefully, Sessa slid the envelope into her purse and regarded the baby with a frown. “All right, Miss Pansie.” She picked at the ribbon holding the bonnet on the squirming baby, “let’s see what’s under this ugly hat.”

  For a moment, the baby stopped crying to look up at her through wide brown eyes. As the yellow ribbons fell away and the hideous bonnet came off, a head full of dark curls stole Sessa’s breath.

  “Oh my, you’re beautiful. A precious miracle.”

  For a moment, in the dingy restroom of the downtown bus station, Sessa felt the presence of God in the form of a tiny, smelly child. Her eyes clouded with unshed tears, and her heart thumped wildly.

  “How could I have ever considered missing this blessing?”

  Unimpressed, the blessing opened soft pink lips to resume screaming.

  Improvising, Sessa managed to clean the baby and change her into the least dirty outfit of the lot. Somewhere along the way, the baby stopped crying, although Sessa’s ears still rang as she tossed the bag into the trash.

  Only then did she realize that without a car seat, she had no way to transport this precious bundle. She thought of calling Coco, but she wasn’t ready to share this child with anyone just yet, even her best friend.

  As she stood in front of the bus station considering her options, Jim Bob Winston drove by in the only cab in Sugar Pine. A product of a different era when cab drivers were a bit more necessary in this town, everyone suspected Jim Bob kept the Sugar Pine Cab Company going because otherwise he’d have no excuse to get out of the house and away from Vonnette’s lengthy honey-do list.

  “Thank you, Lord,” she said as she waved the elderly man down and walked over to the now-open window of the dark green vintage Chevy sedan. “You wouldn’t happen to have a car seat, would you?”

  Jim Bob eyed Pansie for a second then returned his attention to Sessa. “I keep one in the trunk just in case. Why?”

  “I need to make a Walmart run,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could manage. “But first I need to borrow a car seat.”

  “Why don’t I just take you?” Jim Bob climbed out of the cab and headed for the trunk. “I don’t mind, and it looks like you’ve got your hands full already. Not having to drive is one less thing, that’s what I always say.”

  In fact he did always say that, so much so that Vonnette had the phrase embroidered on his dark green cap, on the matching vest he wore when he was on duty, and on the business cards he handed out.

  Jim Bob set up the car seat like a pro, leaving her to make a mental note to ask him to set up the one she’d be buying for her car. “Climb aboard,” he said with a grand sweep of his arm. “My chariot is your chariot.”

  Sessa climbed in and, with only a little help from Jim Bob, managed to situate Pansie in the car seat. As soon as the cab set off, the little darling fell fast asleep.

  “Just leave her be,” Jim Bob said as he pulled into a parking space at Walmart. “I’ll keep an eye on her while you go get what you need.”

  Somehow Sessa managed a trip to Walmart for supplies and the ride home without deciding that she’d lost her mind. Ignoring the priority envelope readied for mailing on her kitchen counter, she carried the still-sleeping baby through the kitchen and into the small bedroom next to hers while Jim Bob unloaded a portable crib, a car seat, and a stroller along with a half-dozen bags full of diapers, formula, and baby items. Looking over the receipt, she knew her bank account would be screaming as loud as her
new granddaughter.

  “Expect Vonnette’ll be here soon as she hears what you’ve got,” Jim Bob said as he took it upon himself to pull the portable crib out of the box and fit it together.

  “I expect she will,” Sessa called from the kitchen. “But do me a favor and let me tell her. I’m going to need a little bit of time with Pansie before I’m ready to talk about how I got her and who she belongs to.”

  Jim Bob came into the kitchen, breaking down the big box as he walked. “Pansie is it?” At Sessa’s nod, he reached down to tickle her chin. “Looks just like Ross.”

  Their eyes met over the squirming child. “Yes,” she said slowly. “She does.”

  A moment of understanding passed between them, and Sessa knew her father’s best friend would have taken the secret of a baby’s arrival at the Chambers home to his grave. “Thank you, Jim Bob,” she said. “I’ll call Vonnette tomorrow. And I promise to leave out the part where you drove us home.”

  He folded the remains of the port-a-crib box under his arm and grinned. “I’d be much obliged if you’d do that, Sessa.” He paused at the door, and Sessa scooted around to open it. Again their eyes met. “You’re a good woman, Sessa. Your daddy would have been proud.”

  Jim Bob left her with those words hanging in the empty space between them. Proud of taking this child in to her home? Yes.

  Proud of how close she came to letting the problem ride away on a Greyhound bus? Likely not.

  But that was Daddy. He always did have strong opinions. Always did what was right.

  Pansie let out a wail. “All right, you.” Sessa hurried to see how much she remembered about making a bottle and feeding a baby. Only when she’d settled in the rocker and started it in motion with the hungry infant in her arms did she allow that she might be able to do this.

  Emphasis on might.

  The bottle soothed the child once again into a peaceful slumber, and despite the bone-deep fatigue settling around her, Sessa couldn’t bear to put the baby down. Instead, she lit a lamp, eased into her favorite chair by the window, and stared down into the face of heaven.

  Her phone buzzed with a text from Coco. Well???

  Sessa managed to type one-handed, She’s perfect but I’m already exhausted.

  If you need me, just say the word.

  Tomorrow. Sessa set her phone aside. She’d tell Mama tomorrow, too.

  “Now what?” she whispered as the quiet settled in around her.

  Now you raise your granddaughter, came the soft reply, not from a friend’s text but from the Friend she counted on above all.

  Raise her, she did. The first week with a newborn in the house was a blur. Nothing beyond baby care and the occasional shower stolen during Pansie’s naptime seemed to get accomplished. Had Mama and Coco not arrived every day to each take a shift, she would have died of exhaustion before the end of the first week.

  The priority mailer with the signed contracts inside lay on the counter near the door, resting in the same spot she’d put it on the day she went to pick up her granddaughter. Restoring the horses would have to wait.

  On a few occasions, Sessa thought about mailing it. More times than that, she’d prayed over the paperwork as she made formula or washed bottles. Once she took Pansie out to the studio while she put the finishing touches on the reproduction lion and prancing horse and called for the delivery truck. When the dust caused Pansie to sneeze, Sessa made short work of calling the delivery truck to cancel and heading for the house.

  She spent part of an afternoon crunching numbers with Pansie in her lap and another hour generating sketches while the baby napped. Mostly though, Sessa just played grandmother, or mother, or whatever the combination of the two could be termed. Mama chipped in to change diapers, do endless loads of pink laundry and, of all things, bake pies. What a newborn needed with pies in the house escaped Sessa, but the stolen moments she and her mother spent over custard pie and coffee while the baby napped were priceless.

  “Did you mail that envelope?” Mama would always manage to ask.

  “Not yet,” was always the answer Sessa gave.

  Conversations with Coco went in a similar fashion. The difference with Coco Smith-Sutton was that more than once, Sessa had to grab the envelope out of her hand to keep her from taking it to the post office herself. And bless her heart, Coco did everything else that needed doing, often anticipating Sessa’s needs before Sessa did.

  At the end of the second week, she gave in and mailed the signed contracts. She’d worked too hard to give up this chance.

  Until Ross came for his daughter, she would somehow manage handle the operations of Chambers Restoration, and Mama and Coco would help with Pansie as needed.

  This season of mothering this precious baby girl would eventually end. This Sessa knew with as much certainty as she knew her own name. Until then she would rely on faith and prayer and revel in the soft lacy pink things and the scent of freshly scrubbed baby skin and glossy dark curls.

  Later that evening, with the baby bathed, dressed in a newly washed yellow sleeper and safely tucked into her father’s hand-me-down crib that had replaced the portable crib, Sessa took a moment to ponder the events of the day. She’d sent her mother home early, eager for a rare evening alone in the house.

  “Lord, how will I manage until Ross comes to claim her?” She paused to touch the newly framed photo of Pansie that held a prominent spot on the mantel. “Worse, how will I manage when he does?”

  As she headed down the hall for one last check on Pansie, the sentiment was quickly replaced with another familiar verse from the fourth chapter of Philippians, one she’d called upon on many occasions in the almost fifteen years since Ben’s death, often in response to Ross’s subsequent troubles.

  “My God will provide for all my needs through His great riches,” she said under her breath as she placed a hand on the infant’s back to feel it rise and fall. “Bless this child and the children who gave her life, Father.”

  Pansie stirred a bit and made a puckering motion with her lips. A soft whimper escaped like a sigh while the baby’s tiny fingers curled into a fist. At that moment, Sessa knew this was a temporary arrangement, one meant to be savored but not lingered upon.

  Wandering into the kitchen, Sessa drew near to the window.

  Her gaze landed on a glass jar she’d brought in, an almost antique made filmy by a layer of dust. Ross’s empty lightning jar. She smiled. How many summer evenings had she and Ben spent on the back porch watching their little son toddle around trying collect lightning in a jar from among the collection of glowing insects buzzing about?

  “Someday you’ll do the same thing, Pansie Chambers,” she whispered as she touched the jar and wiped away a finger’s width of dust. “Someday you and your daddy will collect lightning in a jar.”

  She looked up at that topmost shelf, at the red cowboy hat still sitting there. When the time was right and Pansie was older, maybe she’d take her to a rodeo. Or better yet, teach her to ride.

  Peace settled about the nursery like a soft pink blanket, interrupted by the ringing of the phone she’d left in the kitchen. Sessa closed the door and hurried to locate the phone atop a stack of freshly laundered crib sheets.

  “Hello,” she said as she checked the clock on the oven. Half past ten. Late to have phone calls. She should have checked to see who was calling before she answered.

  Her heart jumped. It could be Ross.

  “Mrs. Sessa Lee Chambers?”

  The voice sounded clipped, official. Her heart sunk.

  A call from her prodigal would have made the day perfect. A call from a stranger only served to irritate. “Yes,” she said, “this is Sessa Chambers.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s about your son, Ross Benjamin Chambers. I am correct in understanding he is your son?”

  Sessa huffed in disgust. So much for the perfect day. “So what is it this time? Drunk and disorderly, breaking and entering, possession with intent to sell?”

 
; “No, ma’am.” The caller paused. “He’s been murdered.”

  Words and phrases chased her thoughts, failing to capture them. Stabbed. Ranch outside Houston. Drugs. Cash. Man in custody. Did she want to be notified of the trial?

  “Trial,” she echoed. “No. Please no. Just …” She pressed back a sob. “Just tell me where my son is now and how I can bring him home.”

  Another flurry of words, of explanations she chose not to grasp and details she hoped to forget. She hung up the phone knowing two things: she would bury her son next to his dad, and she never wanted to set eyes on the face of the man who robbed Pansie of her father.

  Chapter Three

  Exactly two years later

  April meeting of the Pies, Books & Jesus Book Club

  Location: Bonnie Sue Tucker’s home

  Pies: two peach and two pecan, brought by Carly Chance

  Book title: AND THE LADIES OF THE CLUB by Helen Hooven Santmyer

  Sessa heard her cell phone buzz from the depths of her purse. Much as she wanted to ignore the call, it could be Pansie’s babysitter. Now that her granddaughter was solidly in the middle of the terrible twos, anything was possible.

  She glanced at the number. Not one she recognized but local to Houston, which was less than an hour away from Sugar Pine.

  Before she could say hello, a deep voice said, “Sessa Lee Chambers?”

  Her heart sunk. “It is.”

  “This is Roger Hart with the Houston Chronicle, and what with the new events associated with your son’s death and the subsequent trial I hoped to—”

  Sessa ended the call and threw the phone back into her purse. Coco gave her an are-you-okay look from across the room. She nodded, though she wasn’t.

  A meeting of the Pies, Books & Jesus Book Club was the last place a girl could expect some privacy. And right now that was exactly what she needed.

  “Pass the whipped cream and sprinkles, please, Sue Ellen?”

  “That’s ice cream and pecans, hon,” the owner of the town diner said as she studied Sessa. “Is something wrong?”