Firefly Summer

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  He grasped her elbow and led her on. “It was, but then the camp floated away after Hurricane Ike. That’s the bad news. The good news is someone’s tugboat landed where the camp used to be. Bill—that’s my buddy—figured he’d make the best of it, so he called a bunch of us to come out and make a bonfire of the thing so he could clear the land.”

  “What does that have to do with losing a bet and ending up with this?”

  “Once we all got out here, Charlie Dorne—he studied engineering before he decided to become a surgeon—got the bright idea of floating the tug instead of burning it. Bill, he bet Charlie the tug would sink and figured firewood was the best way to go.”

  Sessa laughed. “I see.”

  Trey shared her laughter and then returned to his story. “There was much debate on this, as you can imagine. Charlie said give floating it a try, and if it didn’t hold water, he’d pay to have the boat removed from the fish camp. If it floated, Bill Smith had to turn it into the most expensive restaurant in three counties.”

  “Why a restaurant?”

  “Bill’s cooking can’t be beat. We always thought it was a real waste that he was operating instead of cooking. That’s why we loved coming out to the fishing camp. It was the food, not the fish, that got us here.”

  “I see.”

  Trey nodded toward the bobbing vessel. “It floated just fine. The rest is history.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Fish Camp, of course.”

  “Of course,” she said dryly.

  Trey led her across the gangplank that bridged the gap between land and vessel. “Hey.” He waved to someone inside before glancing back down at Sessa. “Ready for an adventure?”

  “Too late to ask that,” she quipped. “It’s been an adventure ever since you first walked up my driveway, Trey Brown.”

  More than just an adventure. If she were truthful, she had to admit she felt a connection with him that went deeper than mere friendship, and that scared her to death.

  The idea occurred to her that she and Trey were on what felt very much like a first date. A good first date. And that scared her even more.

  But she also liked it very much.

  Again his smile dazzled her. “I feel the same, Sessa Chambers.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “Oh, I probably should have warned you.”

  Sessa stopped short and peered up at him. “About what?”

  “It’s catfish night.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oh, but she was beautiful. Those eyes looking up at him. That smile that said she was up for whatever fun the evening would bring.

  “This is Texas. Lots of places have catfish nights, Trey. What’s there to be warned about?”

  He chuckled. “No spoilers. Surprise is half the fun.”

  She gave him a wary look. “I’m not sure I want to know what the other half is.”

  He pressed his hand to the small of her back and led her toward the open door. “That would be spending the evening with me.”

  He’d thought to bring Sessa Chambers to the Fish Camp as a distraction from his nerves as he faced Milo Rossi. Showing up alone would never convince Rossi that they’d met by coincidence. He owed the man an in-person thanks, and he was determined to deliver it.

  He hadn’t expected to be so caught up in Sessa that he could almost forget his reason for coming. She was so vibrant.

  But Rossi was late. According to Charlie, Rossi still had the same table, and he always arrived right at seven. It was ten after, and there was no Rossi in sight as Trey guided Sessa through the maze of mismatched tables and chairs to a small two-seater in the corner. A cardboard square with Brown scribbled in Sharpie was propped against the saltshaker.

  She gazed around, taking in the atmosphere, a small smile playing about her lips.

  “There are no menus,” she said when she caught him watching her.

  “There are never menus on catfish night.”

  There were never menus, ever. Fish Camp didn’t work that way. You ate what was put in front of you, and what was put in front of you was always amazing.

  The waiter set a fisherman’s tackle box in the middle of the table between them.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Miniature catfish pate eggrolls, or as the chef calls them, Bait a la Bill.” He opened the tackle box with a flourish to reveal the first course. “Enjoy your appetizer. Oh, and save room for dessert. We’ve got catfish truffles tonight.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not even close.”

  Sessa laughed and reached for an egg roll. “These look amazing.” She popped one in her mouth.

  And so do you, he wanted to say.

  “Oh …” She savored a second eggroll. “Your friend is an incredible chef. Tell Bill I’m glad the boat floated.”

  “You can tell him yourself.” He cast a glance at the empty table. Sure enough, Rossi’s table was set for two and still empty at half past.

  There was still hope his plan would succeed. Trey returned his attention to Sessa. Even if he couldn’t talk to Rossi, he would still have spent the evening with Sessa Chambers.

  And that was a whole other kind of success.

  She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “What do you think they’ll bring next?”

  If the food he’d spied on the tables they’d passed was any indication, the next dish was some sort of catfish tacos served in a brown paper bag emblazoned with a picture of Fish Camp’s infamous tugboat. At least they looked like tacos, though with Bill, who knew?

  Trey opened his mouth to tell her that when a commotion outside the door stalled the words. He spied the waiter who’d served the egg rolls weaving his way through the tables in their direction.

  “The boss needs you, sir. Says it’s an emergency.” He looked at Sessa, then back at Trey. “You’ll need to come alone.”

  Emergency? It had to be medical if Bill was calling for him. Adrenaline surged. His pulse thundered in his head.

  “Go on,” Sessa said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Would he be? He smiled wanly. “I won’t be long.”

  Trey rose to follow the waiter through the door. Bill met him just outside. Trey hadn’t seen his friend since before the indictment, and his breath froze in his chest.

  And then Bill took one look at him and wrapped him in his beefy arms. “You look good, Brown, but we’re going to have to catch up later.” He stepped back and clasped his hand on Trey’s shoulder. “Come with me.” He motioned toward the parking lot where there was some kind of commotion surrounding a limo on the far side. “I would’ve tried the Heimlich, but I don’t know at his age … Besides I did pediatrics.”

  A wail rose from the back of the limo, and Trey broke into a sprint. He found a man face-down on the carpet between the seats and a woman leaning over him. “I told him those hard candies weren’t good for him. We hit a bump, and he swallowed it whole, and now it’s stuck!”

  A younger man, presumably the driver, paced outside the door. “I didn’t know! I drove as slow as I could even though they were fussing because traffic made us late. Oh man, oh man.”

  Pressing past the driver, Trey climbed in.

  “Give him room,” Bill called after him. “He’s a doctor.”

  The woman scrambled to move out of the way, and allowed Trey to roll the man over. He froze.

  “Mr. Rossi.”

  He looked at the woman. He hadn’t recognized her in her hysteria. The woman who might have been his mother-in-law. Bill gestured for the driver to remove her from the limo.

  “Brown.” Trey jolted at the sound of Bill saying his name. He handed Trey a medical bag. “I gave up the license but kept the tools. Now save the patient.”

  Trey opened it to find a first aid kit that more resembled the doctor bag he used to carry when he was practicing general medicine. He did a quick assessment of Milo and determined his airway was blocked. Because of the older man’s health, the Heimlich ma
neuver wasn’t an option. There was only one way to dislodge the obstruction.

  To cut.

  He looked at Bill, hands suddenly shaking, his gut roiling. “What’s the ETA on the ambulance?”

  “Seven to nine minutes per security.” He held the text up to show Trey. “Local guys coming first and Life Flight will meet them up by the highway.”

  Seven to nine minutes. An eternity when a man wasn’t breathing.

  Trey used an antiseptic wet wipe on his hands and reached for the scalpel. He nearly dropped it with his trembling hand. Deliberately returning the knife to its resting spot, he paused to lay his hands on Milo Rossi.

  His gut lurched. His hands shook.

  The old familiar adrenalin kicked in. His mind was set on his work, and his hands moved without a tremble. When the trach tube had been secured and the patient took a breath, Trey finally exhaled as well.

  Only after the procedure was complete did he truly realize he’d done it. He’d operated. A basic procedure that a first year intern could do in his sleep, but an operation all the same.

  “EMTs are here,” Bill said as he clasped his hand on Trey’s shoulder. “I had them lay off the siren and lights. No need to get the other diners upset.”

  Trey leaned against the wall and watched the EMTs load Milo on the stretcher and hook him up to the gear that would monitor him until he reached the hospital. His attention turned to Mrs. Rossi, who offered a trembling smile.

  “I know you,” she said. “You’re the Brown boy. Victoria’s doctor friend.”

  Not anymore.

  He tried to match her smile but failed miserably as he climbed to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She pushed away the offer of assistance from the driver and moved toward him. “Thank you. You saved my husband.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “Your husband saved me. Twice.”

  “Trey?”

  He turned to follow the weak sound of his name and saw that Vikki’s father was extending a hand in his direction. Trey grasped that hand and found his grip still strong. Out of habit, he checked the older man’s pulse. Also strong.

  “You’re going to be fine, sir.”

  “They’ve called in the chopper to get him to Turner Memorial,” the EMT said. “He must be a VIP. Are you his doctor?”

  “Not anymore,” Trey said. “That would be Dr. Santini.”

  Milo Rossi shook his head. “You,” came out on a rush of breath.

  Trey gathered the older man’s hand in his. “You’ll be in good hands with Santini, sir.” He paused. “And so will Vikki. And sir,” he said slowly. “Meeting you here tonight was no coincidence. I hoped you’d be here, because I wanted to look you in the eye and thank you for what you did to get me out of jail. I didn’t want to meet like this, though.”

  Rossi managed the beginnings of a smile and held tight to Trey’s hand.

  “Sir,” the EMT said. “We need to get him loaded up.”

  “We’ll let Dr. Santini know he’s headed that way.” The EMT paused to look over his shoulder. “That was some mighty fine work, Doc. You saved that man’s life. You sure you don’t want to ride in the chopper with him?”

  Trey shook his head. “I’m sure.”

  A few minutes later, the medical helicopter took off with Milo Rossi on board. His wife drove off in the limo. Trey leaned back against the glass and watched. Bill, however, watched him.

  “That was some nice cutting,” he said. “Very nice cutting.” Before Trey could protest, Bill continued. “Charlie told me. We’ve all been praying. Your hands were solid.”

  All Trey could do was let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

  “So if that’s the only reason you’re thinking of leaving medicine—”

  “It’s not.”

  He was surprised to find it was true. He’d thought everything would be settled once he could hold a scalpel again, but he didn’t feel settled.

  “Yeah, okay.” Bill wrapped an arm around him. “You all right?”

  “Not really,” Trey admitted. “But I will be.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a crooked grin. “I saw who you came in with. You’re going to be just fine.”

  “She’s just a friend.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Rather than return directly to the table, he found his way to the men’s room and stayed out of Sessa’s line of sight. He stood over the sink and splashed cold water on his face, thankful he was alone.

  Lifting his eyes to the mirror, he searched his face for signs that something was different. That he’d somehow become a doctor again. Instead, he found the same face that met him every morning.

  The same man he always had been, and yet a new man altogether. A man whose hands were steady.

  He reached for his phone and dialed Santini, half-expecting he would reach voice mail. Instead, the man answered. Trey could hear road noise in the background.

  “Brown! I’m heading to Turner Memorial now. Sounds like tomorrow’s surgery is off, but I’d rather make that decision after I’ve seen the patient. Are you in transit?” Santini asked.

  “I’m not coming.”

  “I see.” He paused. “You do understand what this means.”

  He knew quite well what the consequences would be, and he was fine with them. “Good-bye, Santini.”

  Trey squared his shoulders and walked away from the man in the mirror to join Sessa at the table. “You were gone a long time. I thought you’d left without me.” She paused and seemed to be studying him. Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset. “I’m kidding. Is everything all right?”

  “Everything is perfect.” He leaned across the table and kissed her on the cheek. Then he sat across from her. “Better than perfect.”

  “Trey,” she said slowly, “what happened?”

  He thought of several evasive responses and then decided to tell her the full story.

  “… And so while I knew he would be here, I had no idea I would meet him that way. Or be called on to operate when I haven’t been able to manage it since I left prison.”

  She looked pensive.

  “What?” Then it hit him. “You think I used you as an excuse to be here so I could run into Mr. Rossi.”

  “You did,” she said slowly.

  He let out a long breath, his adrenaline slowly draining. “I almost came alone. But I wanted you with me. Not as a cover story but because I enjoy your company, Sessa. So yes, I had two purposes for being here tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand. Will you forgive me?”

  Her expression softened. “Yes, but please be honest, Trey. That’s important to me.”

  “And to me.”

  He ducked his head, and when he dared another look, she wore a wry smile. “You’re forgiven for everything except one.”

  “What’s that?” he said warily.

  “Not warning me about catfish night.”

  “If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have come.”

  “I might have.”

  He grinned at her, the last of the tension sliding off his shoulders. He nodded to the platter in the center of the table. “Pass the tacos, please. Oh, and prepare to meet Bill. Just keep one thing in mind.”

  “What’s that?” She pressed her palm into the spot where he’d just kissed her.

  “Don’t believe a word he says about me.” Trey upped his grin. “Unless it’s a compliment. In that case, just assume he’s understating the facts.”

  Trey pulled the truck to a stop next to her car in the parking lot of the diner. Sessa shifted to face him. “Thank you for an interesting evening.”

  His smile warmed places long cold. “You survived catfish night.”

  And a first date that was the opposite of a disaster.

  “Happily,” she said with a grin. “Bill’s great. Now that I’ve met him, I can see why the restaurant is such a success. I’m still not so sure about his idea for artichoke night. I’m thinking I’ll pass. Although I think he may be on to something
with cookie night.”

  “I thought so, too,” Trey said. “Until he started talking about shrimp gumbo cookies. I’m not sure I want to be the first to try those.”

  Sessa joined him in laughter and then grew silent. “Look, I may be wrong, but I feel like you’ve survived something more than catfish night.” She reached across the seats to touch his sleeve.

  His eyes were steady and filled with affection as he watched her. “Thanks for … being there. Supporting me.”

  “Hey, it earned me a kiss on the cheek.”

  Trey’s expression went slack. “I did kiss you on the cheek, didn’t I?”

  She nodded. “Did you forget? I mean, I know I’m not the most memorable woman around, but hey …”

  “You’re wrong.” His expression turned serious. “You are the most memorable woman I know. However …” He shook his head. “I kissed you. Right there in front of everyone.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I guess I kind of got carried away. I wasn’t thinking, and it just happened.”

  “Don’t say it like you’re sorry,” she teased. “Let a girl have her pride.”

  “Oh.” He swung his gaze to collide with hers. “I never said I was sorry. I only meant to say I’m sorry I didn’t do it right.”

  “Okay, now I’m confused. What do you mean by that?”

  “Sessa,” he said softly. “You’re not the kind of woman who deserves a quick kiss on the cheek over a plate of catfish tacos.”

  She wasn’t? His words sent a thrill straight up her spine.

  “Hey.” She batted his arm playfully. “Do not besmirch the tacos. They were amazing.”

  “Yes, they were. But you …” He leaned toward her, and she smelled the subtle scent of soap and woodsy after shave. “You, Sessa Lee Chambers, are …”

  Another few inches closer. Now she could almost feel him touching her, and her breath caught.

  He cupped her cheek with his work-roughened palm. “Amazing,” was a soft whisper against her ear.

  Tap tap tap. “Sessa Lee Chambers, is that you parking in that truck with that boy? You keep that up, and your mama’s going to find out.”

  Sessa jumped back, flustered. “Coco!”

  She leaned against the seat and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly before pressing the button to lower the window. As the glass slid down, Coco’s face came into focus. The grin she wore quickly turned to something between surprise and embarrassment as she must’ve registered Sessa’s irritation.