Firefly Summer

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “Around here, I’m just Trey.”

  A curt nod and he continued. “All right, Trey. Like I said, I appreciate you telling me the truth. You have my word that what you’ve told me will stay between us.”

  That Jared—practically a stranger—so easily accepted him, humbled Trey. It had been a long time since he’d felt like he belonged anywhere, like his life had meaning among others. He felt good. Very good.

  No doubt people would figure out his identity sooner or later, but Trey wanted it to be on their own and not through idle gossip.

  Jared’s phone buzzed, and he lifted it to his ear. “Carly? Is it time?” His eyes cut toward Trey, and then he nodded. “Be right there, honey.”

  “Baby coming?” Trey asked.

  “Could be.” He stretched out his hand to give Trey a firm handshake. “Look, you stay on the right side of Sessa Chambers, and you’ll stay on the right side of me and the rest of Sugar Pine.”

  “I’ll try.” He released his grip and took a step back as Jared turned the key and the truck’s engine roared to life. “And if it makes you feel any better, babies have been delivered at home since the beginning of time. I’m sure your midwife will alert the hospital if she feels like your wife needs any kind of specialized care.”

  “I guess.” Jared paused, his expression no longer confident. “Say, I wonder if you might be willing to give me a number where I can reach you?” He paused. “Just in case.”

  Trey caught his meaning, but hesitated, remembering his failed attempt in the OR. “Sure,” he finally said. He rattled off his cell number.

  Again, he reached out to clasp Trey’s hand. “Thanks, man.”

  Trey shrugged off the thanks. “Go on home. Sounds like you’ve got a son or daughter waiting to see you real soon. Just one, right?”

  The younger man’s eyes widened. “Definitely just one. That much we insisted on knowing.”

  Long after the father-to-be had left, Trey was still thinking about their conversation. Thinking of the admission that Sugar Pine was better without Ross Chambers. Thinking of the news that Ross had harmed Sessa. That the little girl Sessa was raising might have had that kind of man as a father—the kind that might have hurt her.

  He set another shingle in place and drove a nail deep into it with a single slam of the hammer. Men who hit women were beyond scum. He finished off that nail and put another in place. Still, God put Trey on earth to be a healer, not a killer.

  He’d never get used to the idea he’d been both. Not as long as he lived.

  How long he worked at shingling the roof, Trey couldn’t say. He’d gotten lost in the rhythmic effort of placing a shingle and nailing it down, then moving on to the next. Unlike surgery, this work was almost soothing. Mechanical. Easy on the brain.

  When his phone buzzed in his pocket, Trey nearly dropped the hammer. He glanced at the caller ID. Dr. Santini.

  It rang twice more before he decided to answer it.

  “How’re you feeling, pal?” the surgeon asked him. “Haven’t seen you around, and I figured maybe the flu still had you down.”

  “I don’t have the flu.”

  “Well, that’s good news.” Santini paused. “Look, I’ve got a couple of questions for you. Got a minute?”

  “Sure.” Trey set the hammer down and situated himself in a spot where the roof had been reinforced. “What’s up?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “it’s about what happened in the OR a couple weeks ago. Were you really sick or …?”

  “Or was I having trouble operating?”

  “Yeah.”

  The truth had been his friend all day. Might as well continue with that line of response on this go-around, though he knew all too well there could be negative consequences. “I can’t hold a knife without spilling my guts.”

  “I see.” He paused. “So when you say you can’t, do you mean you couldn’t that day in the OR, or you still can’t?”

  Trey thought a minute. “I couldn’t, that’s certain. But now? I haven’t tried.”

  “Want to try?”

  “What?” Trey shifted positions. “Are you asking if I want to come back and operate with you?”

  “Not asking if you wanted to. Asking if you will. And before you answer, you ought to know that there’s been talk. I just figured I’d give you a chance to shut them all up before it gets to the chief, and he starts believing it.”

  “The chief told me to take a couple of weeks before I came back full time.” Trey knew the excuse, though true, was a poor one. “When?” The word slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.

  “Needs to be soon, pal. Real soon.”

  Trey let out a long breath as he considered his options. Santini was obviously wrapping a warning and a chance to redeem himself into one package. To pass on the opportunity was foolish.

  “Week after next?” he offered.

  “Friday,” Santini countered.

  “I’m in the middle of something.” He swiped at the perspiration on his forehead. “Can’t guarantee I’ll finish it by then. A week from Friday’s doable, though.”

  Or at least he prayed it would be.

  “Deal,” he said. “I’ll schedule the OR. You just show up and keep the contents of your breakfast where they belong, got it?”

  He grimaced at the reminder. “Got it.”

  “And there’s one other thing.”

  Trey braced himself for whatever else his friend might ask. After this favor, he knew he’d owe Santini big time.

  “It’s about Victoria Rossi.”

  Great. Had there been talk about her, too? “What about her?”

  It took Santini a minute to respond. “She and I, well … we’ve been seeing each other. Not that we’re letting anyone at the hospital know yet. But … well, it is getting serious fast.”

  Exactly how Victoria Rossi worked. Pick her man and stop at nothing until he was hers. He’d been in too deep with her before he realized what happened. Not that he had complained at the time.

  “Go on,” Trey said.

  “Since you and she were, well, you had a thing once upon a time, I wanted to tell you myself before you heard it somewhere else.”

  “I see.”

  Let Santini hitch a ride on Vikki’s fast track to chief. Trey certainly wasn’t interested in either the job or the woman who could deliver it. Helping people was his true calling, and part of him had known it all along.

  His phone buzzed letting him know someone was trying to call him. A peek at the phone told him that someone was Jared Chance.

  “I really need to grab this other call.”

  “All right, Trey. See you a week from Friday. I’ll email you the records and the scans so you’ll be familiar with the patient.”

  “Yeah, great.” He switched to the incoming call. “Brown here. What’s up, Jared?”

  “It’s Carly.” The cold-as-ice soldier sounded scared to death. “Something’s wrong, and the midwife isn’t here. Said she’d be here soon, but she just called, and she’s having car trouble. There’s blood and Carly’s hurting and … look, Doc. Could you just come over? I’m not that far from Sessa’s place. If I try to take her to the hospital myself, I’m afraid I’ll kill us both trying to drive and take care of her.”

  He wanted to say no. Wanted to tell Jared to call 911 instead.

  But remembering the young man’s kindness—and the oath Trey’d taken as a physician—he couldn’t do it.

  “Text me your address.” He scrambled down from the roof and fumbled for his keys with his free hand. His heart pounded as his gut did a flip-flop. Could he even do this? “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Did you hear that Sessa’s cowboy delivered Jared’s son last night? It’s the truth. Can you feature it? He was a doctor all along and didn’t say a word about it.”

  News of the cowboy’s heroic efforts had circulated around Sugar Pine faster than a hot knife through butter. The topic certainly hadn’t veered from
this subject since she arrived at the Blue Plate to meet Mama and Vonnette for lunch.

  As Vonnette offered her opinion, Sessa gave passing thought to the idea that since the doctor’s secret had been revealed, he might be less inclined to stick around. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  Mama was still chattering, but Sessa had already tuned her out. Her phone buzzed with a text. From Skye.

  Can you pick me up at the bus station when I get there?

  The breath went out of her. No. Not yet.

  Not ever.

  A moment of panicked breathing, and then she thought of Coco’s reminder that nothing would happen that God did not allow. And they wouldn’t go through it alone.

  It still hurt to type an answer.

  When? She pressed send and then waited. And waited. When? she texted again.

  “I swear, I knew there was something special about that man when he walked in here and sat down on that stool over there.” Her mother gestured to the stool where Trey had made his debut in Sugar Pine. “And I said then what I’ll say now: the Lord meant him for my daughter.”

  “Mama.” Sessa tossed her phone into her purse and slid out of the booth. “I’ve got to go.”

  “We’re not done talking.”

  “We are for now.” She left a ten dollar bill on the table to cover her meal and hurried to the car, where she once again checked for a response to her text. Nothing.

  With hands shaking, she drove to the bus station and parked across the street. Memories of the last time she’d met Skye at this place arose. Good memories, though at the time she hadn’t been so certain.

  “May it once again be so,” she whispered as she turned off the engine, tossed her keys in her purse, and crossed the street.

  A few minutes later, she returned to climb into the car and slam the door. No busses were expected this afternoon or evening. None had arrived this morning. The next bus was not expected until two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.

  Irritation chased away her relief. The fact that Skye wasn’t here today didn’t mean she wasn’t coming tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next week.

  Sessa drove straight from the bus terminal to the church where Pansie attended Mother’s Day Out and let herself into the children’s building to tiptoe down the hall to Pansie’s classroom. She found the children napping and their teacher, Miss Erin, watching over them from her rocker near the door.

  Spying Sessa, she pressed her finger to her lips and slipped out of the room and into the hall. “Are you picking Pansie up early?”

  “Well, I had thought to but …” She glanced at the sleeping angel through the door’s long window. “I guess I’ll let her sleep. You’ll be sure no one but me or Mama ever picks her up unless I call and say so, won’t you? I mean, that’s the rule, isn’t it?”

  “Well, of course,” Erin said. “It’s our policy to release our children only to people on the list.”

  “Okay, good.” She returned to her car and drove home, peace slowly descending. Worrying about what would happen never solved anything.

  It did give her something to think about, though. Even if that something wasn’t what she ought to be thinking about.

  Fix your hearts on what is true and honorable, what is right …

  Sessa pondered this all the way home. She’d half-expected to find Trey’s truck parked there, though he was likely catching up on the sleep he’d missed while delivering the Chance baby last night.

  Pausing to toss her purse on the kitchen table, Sessa stepped back outside and headed for the workshop to pick up where she’d left off that morning. She needed an outlet for her nervous energy. Her first set of horses for the Smithsonian project would be delivered next week, and she still had a few items to complete before those arrived.

  If she allowed it, she would worry about how to keep up the pace that would be required once the horses arrived. Better to keep busy. Surely someone would answer the ad soon, though she’d had no inquiries.

  She plugged her phone into the speakers she kept in the workshop and programmed it to play her current favorite version of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. When the music filled the space, she reached for the planer to smooth out a piece of wood that would become an ear for the prancing horse waiting for her on the table.

  “I’m fixing my heart, Lord, and I’m depending on you to fix the rest.”

  “I need to remember that.”

  Sessa jumped, and the planer clattered to the floor. Trey reached it before she did. “Sorry about that.”

  She accepted the planer with a shaking hand and returned it to its place on the table. She silenced the concerto. “It’s fine. I guess the music was louder than I thought.” She crossed her arms over her midsection. What in the world he was doing here? Apparently he wasn’t going to offer up the information, and she wasn’t comfortable enough with him to just ask.

  Instead, she said, “So the whole town is talking about how you delivered Jared and Carly’s baby.”

  How do you feel about that? hung in the space between them.

  “I just filled in for the midwife. Apparently she had car trouble.”

  “And the birth was breech. You saved their lives, Trey.”

  He ducked his head as if uncomfortable. “It’s what any doctor would have done.” Trey lifted his gaze. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  Trey leaned against the workbench and seemed to be studying the toes of his boots. “So I’ve got a business proposition for you. Hear me out and then think about it before you answer, okay?”

  She rested her hip against the other end of the workbench facing him. “Okay.”

  “As you know, I’ve been doing a little work on your barn.”

  “A little?” She shook her head. Even with being interrupted, he’d cleared most of the old shingles from the barn roof.

  “I believe you agreed to hear me out,” he said in a teasing tone.

  Sessa grinned. “Sorry. Go on.”

  “Okay, so there’s more work to be done, but basically you’ve got a sound structure, and with some repairs to the fencing and some clearing work, you’ll have a good pasture. Whoever built it did a good job.”

  That would have been Daddy’s father. She kept that close to her heart and allowed another smile.

  “I’d like to board my horses in your barn and rent out your pasture. I’d pay a good monthly rate, of course.”

  His words were so out of left field that she had to play them over in her head again. Sessa straightened her spine. “You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  He nodded, but couldn’t quite hide the flare of disappointment in his eyes. “I understand.”

  “No.” She walked around to stand in front of him, hands on her hips. “You don’t understand. I’ve waited a long time for horses to return to that barn. I’d love nothing better than for my granddaughter to someday look out her bedroom window and see horses grazing in that pasture.”

  “So you’ll rent out the space to me?”

  “Absolutely not. I will not have you paying for what I am freely offering.”

  “I’m going to insist on paying you, Sessa.” He glanced around the workshop. “I know you’re probably doing just fine with your work here, but maybe you could set the money aside to put Pansie through college.”

  “I’d like to see that girl go to college, but I’ll not send her on money that wasn’t properly earned. However …”

  She gave it a thought.

  “However?” he prompted.

  “However, I do have a counter proposal.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You’ve been maintaining the barn. I have no doubt that with your horses in it, maintenance will continue. That’s payment enough for me.”

  “Agreed. Now, for my counter to your counter.”

  “But we agreed.”

  “We agreed on the barn.” He moved around her to stand at the window that looked out over the pasture. “But there’s the matter of wh
ere the horses will graze. I estimate a day or two’s work will bring that pasture to what it needs to be. That’s not enough payment.”

  He turned to face her. “So here’s my counter-counter-proposal. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you used that advertisement for an employee for Chambers Restoration as my reason for being in Sugar Pine.” He shrugged. “I used it, too. However, we both know I didn’t respond to that ad.” He paused. “So I’m responding to it now. I’ll graze my horses in exchange for whatever job you advertised for.”

  “So you’ll give up medicine for a full time job stripping paint, sanding, and carving carousel animals? Because that’s what this job entails. I don’t think so.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand to silence him.

  “The Lord will provide. In the meantime, I’ll be fine. And I’m not going to change my mind about this, so don’t try. Take it or leave it.”

  Trey once again looked as if he meant to argue. Then, apparently, he thought better of it. Instead, he reached his hand across the distance as if offering to shake on the deal. “I’ll take it.” He didn’t shake her hand. Instead, he retrieved the planer. “But seeing as you don’t have anyone working for you yet, I figure I’ll act as stand in until you hire someone—as long as you’ll give me time to finish the barn, too.” He set the planer down on the steel surface between them then looked up, his expression challenging her to argue.

  She mustered a smile. “All right, then.” She pushed the planer aside and handed him a detail knife. Slipping the ash handle into his open palm, Sessa wrapped Trey’s fingers around the knife and then reached for the piece she’d been working on yesterday. “I’ve seen your work on my barn. Let’s see how you do making this piece look like that one.”

  Trey stared at the knife in his palm and tried to listen as Sessa explained what he was to do with it. Something about making one piece of wood look like the other. Make a flat piece of poplar look like the ears on a prancer. Or was it a stander?

  She’d somehow rattled off the definition of both types of carousel horses without the explanation of either sticking in his brain. What she showed him seemed simple enough. Just a few shaves of the knife against the wood, and then he would use the planer and finish the work. Simple enough even for a novice like him.