Firefly Summer

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “You had a c-section.”

  Skye nodded. “They told me when I woke up that the doctor had to do it this way because it was an emergency, and he had to think of saving a life and not whether I could still wear my bikinis.”

  “I’m sure you’re thankful that the doctor was able to save Pansie’s life.”

  She looked at Sessa with eyes that matched her daughter’s. “No, Mrs. C. Not Pansie’s. Mine.”

  Oh.

  “The doctor told me I shouldn’t try and have her, because I might not live to see her born. I told that doctor what to do with his advice.” She gave Sessa a sideways look. “Can you imagine the world without my Pansie-girl in it?”

  “No,” she said softly.

  “Me, either.”

  Sessa waited to see if Skye would offer more, but she did not. Instead, the girl buttoned her nightgown and retrieved the jar. Without a word or a backward glance, Skye made her way to where the fireflies were still dancing among the shrubs.

  Her first attempt at catching the flickering creatures was pitiful. “Honey, you need a net,” she called. “Just wait there, and I’ll get you one.”

  She rose and took the flashlight, then went around the house and into the garage to climb the ladder into the storage space over the rafters. There, next to Ross’s fishing poles and tackle, was his net. She grabbed it and returned to the yard.

  “All right.” She handed the net over to Skye. “Now try.”

  Skye proved to be a quick study. Before long, she was easily catching the bugs and depositing them into Ross’s old jar. Sessa made her way back to her rocking chair, where she offered encouragement as the girl laughed and swiped at the dancing critters with the net.

  Finally Skye tired of the project and set the net aside. As she walked back toward the rockers, Ross’s jar glowed golden in the moonlight and illuminated her far off smile.

  She settled back on the rocker. In that moment, she was a child, not Pansie’s mother. A barely-grown young woman with her whole life ahead of her.

  Or at least that’s what Sessa saw.

  But looks were so very deceiving.

  For this young woman had already given birth. Had chosen to save her daughter’s life at the risk of losing her own. Had given her baby to someone who could offer what she could not.

  Had sacrificed.

  “We were going to do that together someday, Ross and me,” she said softly. “He was going to teach Pansie how to catch lightning in a jar. It was important to him that she know.”

  She shouldn’t be surprised that her son had known he would be father and did not share that news with her. Somehow, however, she was. “And she will,” Sessa said. “When she’s older.”

  That seemed to satisfy Skye, for a moment later she stood. “There’s something else I have to do. But I want you to do it with me.”

  “All right.” Sessa rose, their quiet conversation steadying her somehow. She felt a camaraderie with Skye that she hadn’t earlier. “What’s that?”

  “Come with me.”

  Skye turned away from the house to walk toward the barn. When she reached the fence at the paddock, she handed the jar to Sessa and then hitched up her nightgown, climbed over, and retrieved the jar.

  The girl walked to the barn door and stood in the glow of the security light. “What are you doing?” Sessa called, but Skye ignored her to disappear inside. A moment later, the light went off and the paddock was plunged into darkness.

  “Skye?”

  She returned to the paddock, though all Sessa could see was the glowing jar and a glimpse of night gown and pale arms and legs. Then Skye began to turn in slow circles. With each turn, the jar appeared, then disappeared. And Sessa realized Skye was singing.

  “Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder where you are. Up above the sky …”

  The twirling stopped. Then, in a rush of airborne gold, the fireflies flew from the jar.

  “Good-bye, Ross Chambers.” Skye’s whisper barely carried to Sessa’s ears. “I loved you.”

  How long they stood there—Sessa leaning against the fence and Skye standing with the empty jar in her arms—it was hard to say. Time seemed to slow to a stop, and even the stars overhead ceased to exist. There was nothing but one woman, one girl, and an empty jar.

  And a fragile peace that Sessa hadn’t felt in over two years.

  Finally Skye found her way back to Sessa and handed her the jar. They returned to the chairs again, but Skye seemed uninterested in sitting. Instead, she watched the fireflies and held both palms against her belly.

  “Sweetheart,” Sessa said. “Don’t you have people you need to contact? Family?” At the shake of Skye’s head, she continued. “Surely there’s someone. A parent? A grandparent?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “But there has to be someone,” Sessa gently insisted.

  Their eyes met across the distance between them, a distance that had more to do with life than space. “Just you,” she said. “And Pansie.”

  “Oh.” Before tonight, this admission might have felt like a burden to Sessa. But now it felt like a gift.

  She shrugged and turned her attention to the stars dotting the wide Texas sky. “It’s okay. I mean, I’ve decided it is.”

  “But surely there is someone who—”

  “No,” she said. “There isn’t.”

  “Okay.” Sessa paused to let the sound of the night birds fall between them. “What’s your last name, Skye?”

  “Chambers. Or at least that’s what I tell people. But are you asking what it was before I met Ross?”

  “Yes.”

  She began to worry with a button on her nightgown as a lock of dark hair fell forward, obscuring her face. “I don’t know. Not really. I mean I was given a name but …”

  Silence. Then a shuddering sob. Enough of this line of questioning, Sessa decided. The topic could be revisited another time.

  “Skye,” she said softly, resisting the urge to gather the woman-child into her arms. “Do you know about Jesus?”

  She nodded. “He and I are friends. I wish I’d met Him sooner though, instead of when I was in that place waiting to have Pansie.” She paused. “They were nice there. It was a home for girls like me. It was where I belonged then.”

  “Where do you belong now?”

  Enough time passed that Sessa figured she wouldn’t get an answer. Then Skye turned to face her. “That’s what I need to figure out. For Pansie and for Ross.”

  “Honey.” Sessa wrapped the girl in an embrace. “Figure it out for you. Everything else will fall in line once you do that.”

  “For someday.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiled. “You can’t figure something out on your own time, right? I mean, it would be great if there were instant answers. But there usually aren’t. Sometimes, yeah. But mostly you have to live for the somedays.”

  “Live for the somedays.” She gave Skye a squeeze. Such wisdom from one so young. “I like that. And I think I’m going to try and figure out how to live for the somedays, too.”

  Skye nodded against Sessa’s shoulder and then pulled away. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything. But mostly for loving Ross. And loving Pansie.”

  She turned toward the house and disappeared inside before Sessa realized that once again, the girl’s concern had been for others and not herself. For the ones she loved.

  Indeed, she might learn a thing or two from this young woman.

  This time when she tried to sleep, Sessa found she had no trouble. It seemed as if she blinked, and she was dreaming about fireflies. The next moment the sun was shining through the curtains. She rose and gathered her robe around her.

  Pancakes would be good. Bacon, too.

  Skye needed to put some weight on. Needed a healthy breakfast. Then together they would go and get Pansie. How she would explain who this woman-child was to the two-year-old was a thought for later. For now, she would see that Skye knew there w
as someone else who cared about her, too.

  She padded down the hall to find Skye’s door still shut. She knocked and when Skye didn’t answer, decided to start breakfast. Perhaps the smell of bacon cooking would awaken her. It always worked with Ross.

  However, once the bacon was made and the pancakes were cooked and warming in the oven, there still was no sign of Skye. Worried, Sessa grabbed a slice of bacon and chewed on it as she headed back down the hall.

  “Wake up, honey.” She tapped the door twice and then opened it slowly. “Come have some breakfast and then we will go and fetch …”

  The bed was made and all traces of Skye were gone. Even her backpack was nowhere to be seen.

  Sessa scrambled out the door and down the hall. No sign of her in the paddock or barn. She snatched up the flashlight and net from the spot where they’d been left overnight and deposited them in the garage, then went back inside, leaving the jar beside the rockers.

  Where could she have gone?

  Sessa went back down the hall to get dressed. If Skye’d gone into town, she might have deduced that Pansie was with Mama. The idea that her mother might have a stranger on her doorstep looking for Pansie caused Sessa to find her phone and dial Mama’s number.

  “You’re up early,” her mother said.

  “Not so early,” Sessa countered as calmly as she could manage. “How’s our Pansie-girl?”

  The use of Skye’s pet name for the child wasn’t deliberate, but it made her all the more worried about where the girl had gone.

  “She’s being a sleepyhead this morning. I haven’t heard a peep out of her.”

  Oh no.

  “Mama,” Sessa managed, “please go in and check on her.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. She’s just—”

  “Please,” she snapped. She forced herself to sound reasonable. “It’s necessary.”

  “All right.”

  Sessa gripped the phone and forced herself to breathe. Skye couldn’t have taken her. She wouldn’t have.

  And yet she had every right to.

  “Oh, look at you, you sweet little princess. Are you playing with your toys and being quiet?”

  At the sweet sound of Pansie’s reply, Sessa sank to the floor and allowed the tears to fall. Thank You, Jesus.

  “Are you satisfied? She’s fine.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Sessa, what’s going on?”

  She closed her eyes and swiped at her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her robe. “Nothing. I just had this awful feeling that …” That what? She’d not cause worry when it didn’t need to be. “Never mind. I’ll be over to get her soon as I can.”

  “Don’t hurry, sweetheart. Vonnette wanted me to bring her out to play with her grandson. He’s not in town much, and you know how Pansie likes to play with Seth.”

  “Yes, all right. Just let me know when you’re done, and I’ll come get her.”

  “I’ll bring her home. You go on and get some work done while you’ve got the free time.” Mama paused. “Unless you’ve got plans to go out again with that cowboy.”

  So she’d heard. Irritation swelled, but there was also a part of Sessa that secretly thrilled that she had something good in her life to be gossiped about.

  “Don’t bother to try and explain why you didn’t tell me you were having a fling with that man. I know how you hate to admit it when your mama is right.”

  A fling? “Really, Mama, it’s not what you think.”

  “It is exactly what I think,” she said. “Sugar Pine is a small town, Sessa Lee Chambers, and if you don’t want your business being discussed, then do not conduct your business—or in this case, your kissing—in a public place like the parking lot of the Blue Plate.”

  “Bye, Mama.”

  “We will talk about this later,” was Mama’s parting shot before she hung up.

  Sessa sent several texts to Skye that went unanswered, then tossed her phone on the bed and went back into the room where Skye had slept to see if she’d left any clue. Finding nothing, Sessa dressed and retrieved her phone to stick it in her back pocket.

  Pansie had been down to her last pair of clean shorts when Sessa packed her up for the trip to Mama’s. She needed to throw a load of Pansie’s clothes into the washer before she logged on for the meeting with the Smithsonian curator. Two steps into the little girl’s room, she spied the folded note on Pansie’s pillow.

  For Mama’s Pansie-girl.

  As with the note that had been tucked into Pansie’s diaper bag, the “I” in the girl’s name had a heart drawn over it. Just beneath the words was a child-like drawing of a jar with tiny yellow lightning bugs escaping.

  Below the jar was something more: For someday.

  Sessa thought to open the note, then decided against it.

  No doubt Skye would be back someday. Maybe sooner than Sessa was ready for. But her interactions with the young woman over the last twenty-four hours had settled something inside Sessa.

  Skye was so much more than she’d expected.

  With a soft sigh, she reached up to slip the piece of paper under the old red cowboy hat. It wasn’t someday yet.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The first week of June in Texas meant heat coming up in waves off the concrete and blowing in warm blasts across the field. Today, however, the late afternoon clouds hung low and looked as if they were about to spit rain.

  If Trey thought they’d be grilling, he probably ought to think again.

  The sound of a car door jolted Sessa from her job sweeping off the back porch. When Trey ambled around the corner with a bag of charcoal slung over one shoulder, she hurried out to meet him.

  “Hey beautiful.” Trey wrapped his free arm around her and then paused to give her a hug.

  “Hey yourself.” She hugged him back. “Can I help?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got this under control. You just go do what you usually do on Sunday afternoon.”

  “That could be anything from nap to read a book to clean house.” She shrugged. “I’d rather see what you’re up to out here.”

  “Suit yourself. But don’t blame me if I put you to work.”

  The next thing she knew, Trey had her handing him the things he needed for scrubbing the grill and then sent her inside to chop onions for the meal that he refused to disclose. Of course, she had to go and check her makeup after completing her task, such was the strength of the onions he chose.

  “Gwammy’s been crying,” Pansie said when Sessa went in to fetch her after her nap.

  Sessa hugged her close. Although she felt slightly more settled after Skye’s brief appearance in their lives, today she couldn’t resist holding her granddaughter for just a moment too long.

  “Not crying, sweetheart,” she said. “Grammy’s been helping Dr. Brown make dinner. Would you like to help, too?”

  She ran to the kitchen as fast as her chubby legs could carry her and headed straight for the lower cabinet where Pansie’s own cooking tools were kept. She found her favorite wooden spoon and a child-sized pot. “Okay, Gwammy. Let’s cook.”

  Sessa ushered Pansie out onto the porch where she could see the clouds were gathering tighter, closer, darker. “Let’s go see what Dr. Brown is doing.”

  She hurried into the back yard with Pansie beating a rhythm with her spoon and pot. By the time they reached the shed, their arrival had been well announced.

  Trey’s smile gleamed, but the rest of him was covered in soot. “Who do we have here?”

  “You need a bath, mister,” Pansie said.

  “Yes, I do. But maybe I’ll just dance around in the rain until the dirt falls off.”

  Pansie gave Sessa a can-he-do-that look.

  “And why don’t you call me Uncle Trey?”

  “We came to help,” Sessa said. “Put us to work.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. What do you think of putting the grill over there under the covered porch? I think we’re far enough f
rom the house to cook safely.” When Sessa nodded, he maneuvered the now-gleaming grill into place.

  “Now what?” Sessa said.

  “Well, I guess if you’ve got the pie ready, then there’s really nothing else to do but sit there and look pretty while I work.”

  She laughed at his joke and tried not to let her horror show. In all the drama with Skye and then her call with the Smithsonian, she had forgotten the pie.

  Now what? She could tell him the truth, but … she wanted to impress him.

  “Pansie, sweetheart. Why don’t you come inside with Grammy while I check on the pie?”

  “Gwammy, you don’t make pie.”

  She picked up Pansie, heat rising in her cheeks, and then turned her attention to Trey. “Silly girl. She’s always teasing. Come on, Pansie.”

  Hurrying inside, Sessa set her granddaughter down and hurried to the kitchen to see if she had anything she could defrost that might be passed off as homemade. Failing that, she picked up the phone and called Coco.

  “Is Skye back?” was the first thing Coco said.

  “What? No. I haven’t heard anything from her. Actually, it’s about Trey.”

  “Well of course it is. Before you tell me whatever it is you called to tell me, you could start by telling me what that man’s intentions are.”

  “His intentions?” Sessa echoed. “Right now his intention is to grill something—who knows what—and then have pie that I baked.”

  Coco laughed. “But you don’t bake pie, honey.”

  “I know! But he thinks I do, and I forgot to tell him I don’t.” She paused. “Okay, it’s not that I forgot. I just, well, I let him think I can bake pies, okay. I figured I’d have time to either learn or buy one from the diner, but then when the thing happened with Skye—”

  “Still no word?”

  Coco was the only person she’d told about her overnight visitor. And even then, she’d kept the entirety of the tale to herself, only mentioning how they had a nice visit and then she woke up to find Pansie’s mama gone.

  “Right,” Sessa said. “Not a word.”

  “Well, we can thank the Lord for that, I suppose.” She paused. “Now about this pie. What are you going to do?”