Firefly Summer Page 5

  Ross.

  “Why was he there?”

  Tom’s voice broke through the memories.

  Shaken, sweating through his shirt, Trey looked up from the floor. “What?”

  “Why was he there? What did you have in your safe that he wanted?”

  He shook his head. Pried his fingers off the armrest. They ached. “Cash.”

  Tom nodded slowly. “He was robbing you.”

  He hesitated. Memories swirled. Had Ross really been after the money? “I thought so. He had to be.”

  Hadn’t he?

  His eyes closed as he searched through the images of that night. The glint of light off of Ross’s weapon. Reaching for something to protect himself. Anything. Coming up with the sterling silver scalpel his late parents had given him when he’d graduated med school.

  He shook his head, an attempt to shake out of the fragmented reality—the memories overlaying what he saw even now in the therapist’s office. “Everything happened so fast.”

  Tom stood up, startling Trey, whose gaze followed him to a sideboard and small fridge in one corner of the room. He retrieved a bottle of water and handed it to Trey.

  He gulped it. The shock of cold coursed down his gut.

  “We can come back to that night.” Tom returned to his chair. “How well did you know Ross?”

  Not well enough. “I mentored him through a program for homeless young adults at Star of Hope Mission.”

  Trey had suspected Ross was using. Hard to ignore the physical signs. He’d hoped to draw Ross out of the lifestyle. Help him live up to his potential. He’d been a brilliant kid.

  Trey’d been blindsided when evidence had been released during the trial that implicated Ross as a dealer.

  How could he have misjudged someone so completely?

  “Was he a regular visitor to your home?”

  Trey blinked, trying to find his footing in the conversation again. “He’d been over a few times.” Mostly they’d gone out to Trey’s barn, on his ranch just outside the city limits. They’d shared a love of horses that transcended the differences in their circumstances.

  In all that time, Ross had never mentioned his mama. But the prosecutor had mentioned her often during the trial, along with Ross’s baby girl. A mother and a daughter who would go on without Ross in their lives.

  “You lost someone you counted as a friend.”

  Trey wanted to deny it, deny the connection in the face of Ross’s final betrayal, but he couldn’t. “Not as much as his mama lost. She lost her son.”

  Tom’s eyes saw too much. Trey shifted in the chair as the other man scrutinized him. “You lost a lot.”

  Trey shook his head.

  “You lost your license. Your fiancée.”

  He and Vikki had been done before that night, but Trey didn’t correct the other man.

  “You lost your reputation. Your position.”

  “He lost his life!” Trey’s words burst from him, and he shoved up from the chair. Emotion swamped him, making it hard to think, to breathe. He pushed both hands through his hair. “All those things—they don’t matter.”

  When his pride had been stripped bare in prison, in those darkest days, he’d found what did matter. Only when he’d had nothing left.

  “And performing surgery?”

  Trey whirled to face the therapist, heart pounding, hands still gripping his hair. An ugly surge of emotion had words boiling on the back of his tongue, but he swallowed them. One visit, and the man had pinpointed Trey’s pain.

  Before, he’d lived for surgery. Thought he’d been born to it. That moment when he located the patient’s problem, when he’d used the tools of his trade to heal, it had always delivered a flare of triumph. He’d won. He’d saved lives.

  Until Ross. Until he’d used his superpower to kill.

  Tom watched him patiently.

  “You don’t pull any punches.”

  The doctor nodded. “Can’t help you if I do.”

  Trey let his hands drag down his face. How he wished he could wipe away the past three years. Go back in time and drive around the block instead of going home.

  “Think about that moment when you picked up the knife this morning.”

  He didn’t want to, but his mind followed Tom’s words back to the operating theater. Santini’s expectations. The watchful nurses.

  “What did you feel? Fear? Or guilt?”

  Nausea rose and Trey forced his eyes open. Forced a breath into his lungs. Out.

  He shrugged. “It’s all mixed up together.”

  Tom folded his hands. “I can teach you exercises to help alleviate the fear. We can deal with anxiety. But the guilt … it has to be worked through. You’ve got to be able to forgive yourself.”

  “How can I, when I stole a little girl’s daddy? Do you think Ross’s mama can ever forgive what I’ve done?”

  “Maybe you should ask her.”

  Reeling, Trey fell back into the chair he’d vacated earlier. “You think I should talk to Ross’s family?”

  If he dared, would they even let him apologize? He could imagine several scenarios, and none of them ended happily. He didn’t even know what Ross’s mama looked like.

  Every day of the trial, he’d scoured the courtroom, looking for the mama that the prosecutor kept bringing up, but no sobbing, heartbroken woman had been present.

  She hadn’t attended, not one day of the weeks-long ordeal.

  Would that have changed things for him, facing down her recrimination?

  Could Tom be right that apologizing might bring him some closure?

  Several protests formed in his mind. Each of them died a swift death before he could speak them aloud.

  “I see you’re thinking about it,” Tom said.

  “I am.”

  He leaned forward. “What do you really want, Trey?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got your license to practice back, correct?” At Trey’s nod, he continued. “I think the question you need to answer, whether or not you make your apologies to the boy’s family, is what you plan to do with that license. What you plan to do with your life.”

  Chapter Six

  “If I’m going to meet a man, he’s either going to have to quilt or sing, because the only two places I ever go are Quilt Guild and church choir. Besides the book club, that is.”

  At her mother’s words, Sessa looked up from her remains of the Blue Plate Lunchateria’s Texas version of California Cobb salad. Where had that come from?

  “Well, I guess he could tap dance, but I don’t see how that would be attractive at all.” Mama peered over the gold rims of her designer glasses, her face a mask of innocence as her fuchsia nails tapped the tabletop next to her best friend Vonnette. “What? I’ve been alone ten years, you know. Maybe it’s time.”

  Bonnie Sue alone? Hardly.

  Sessa shook her head and took a healthy sip of iced tea. Between her mother’s friends at church and book club and Sew Busy fabric shop, Sessa practically had to schedule a meeting with her a week in advance just to see her alone.

  She formed her words carefully. Perhaps it was time for Mama to step out from beneath her share of the duties and pursue the social life she’d lost with Dad’s passing. “You know Doctor Easley has had a thing for you for years.”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “That old coot? What in the world would we have in common?”

  The fact that the good doctor was nearly five years younger than Mama seemed irrelevant. Compared to her vibrant, blonde, soon-to-be-seventy tap-dancing mother, every man over the age of fifty seemed old.

  Most days she made Sessa feel old.

  “You know, we should find you someone nice, Sessa.” Mama demurely placed her napkin over her unfinished slice of apple pie and slid her a sideways glance. “I was just telling Vonnette that I felt like the Lord was calling me to pray for a man for you.”

  “I had a man. When God wants me to have another one, He’ll tell me Him
self.”

  Mama looked nonplussed, but then she usually did. “Well, maybe He is telling you—through me.”

  “Listen to your mama, Sessa, honey,” Vonnette said. “Just because you’ve had a bad ride or two, that doesn’t mean you need to climb off the horse.”

  Sessa shook her head. “I have no idea what you mean, Vonnette, but I have a good idea that if the Lord wanted to speak to me, He would do it Himself.”

  Vonette reached across the table to press her hand atop Sessa’s. “Bless your heart.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well,” Mama said, “it is no secret that when you were dating, you had more than your share of unfortunate experiences.”

  “Unfortunate?” Vonnette cackled so loud that half the diner turned to look. “Bonnie Sue, do you remember the time you and I had to go fetch her from the police station after she went out with that English teacher from the high school?”

  “He seemed so nice,” Sessa said. “I didn’t know he’d set fire to his last girlfriend’s car. You should have seen his expression when she showed up at the restaurant and threw a drink in his face. I’d have called the cops for her if she hadn’t.”

  Mama giggled. “And you were brought in for questioning.”

  Sessa cringed at the memory. “It wasn’t funny.”

  “Well it is now,” Vonnette countered. “After all, they let you go once your mama and I went down and vouched for you.” She shook her head. “Oh, but what about the time you went out with Coco’s cousin? The astronaut from Clear Lake?”

  “And he brought his helmet,” Mama supplied.

  “Into the restaurant,” Vonnette managed as she fell into gales of laughter.

  “That wasn’t as bad as the time you set me up with Ray.” She gave her mother a pointed look. “Do you remember Ray, Mama?”

  Her mother offered a distressed look. “In my defense, I had no idea he was so much older than you. His mother and I were college roommates, so I just assumed her son would be, well …”

  “Younger?” Sessa supplied. “I was willing to ignore the twelve-year age gap, but when he took out his teeth in the restaurant, that was too much.”

  “You’ve had some doozies of dates, Sessa Lee,” Vonnette said. “No wonder you gave up dating.”

  “Can you blame me? I cannot recall a single pleasant date,” she said. “It may take me awhile to get the message, but even a slow learner like me eventually figures out that if God wanted me to date, He’d make the experience a little more fun.”

  She’d been slow to learn, this was true. But she’d finally realized that the anticipation of a date with Mr. Right wasn’t worth the pain of yet another disappointment when her date turned out to be Mr. All Wrong.

  “A few bad dates is no reason to up and quit.”

  “More than a few, Mama. I’m the queen of bad dates.” She shook her head. “Well, no thank you. This queen abdicated a long time ago, and I am perfectly happy.”

  Mama pursed her lips. “You don’t throw out all the apples just because one goes bad.” She paused. “You know, I’ve had the strangest feeling all morning like the Good Lord was going to bring someone real soon for you.”

  “She sure has,” Vonnette said. “She told me first thing this morning that she just knew today was the day.”

  “Today’s the day,” Sessa echoed with more than a little sarcasm. “Whatever you say. Name it and claim it.”

  “I do resent your tone, Sessa,” Mama snapped. “You might be grown, but you weren’t raised to disrespect, and I am certainly not going to sit here and—”

  The bell on the Lunchateria’s front door jangled, signaling another diner had joined their midst. “Well, well,” Mama said. “Would you look at that?”

  “What?”

  Sessa swiveled to follow her mother’s gaze in time to see a golden-haired cowboy with broad shoulders slide onto a stool at the lunch counter. Their eyes met, and something clicked in her mind. A jolt of recognition shot through her; she knew him from somewhere. As soon as the absurd thought occurred, she dismissed it.

  “It’s him,” her mother whispered. “The man God sent you. I just know it.”

  The stranger offered a curt nod before removing his Lone Star Feed cap and placing it in his lap. While the man was undeniably easy on the eyes, he hardly looked like he was some sort of heavenly messenger.

  That didn’t stop her hands from trembling.

  “I’m telling you, it’s him,” Mama said a bit louder.

  “All right, Mother.” She turned to face her mama once more. “That’s enough.”

  “But, I was just telling Vonnette …” Mama reached for her tube of Pink Passion lipstick. “Well, never mind what I told Vonnette. Let’s get back to what we were talking about before your gentleman came in.”

  “Mama!”

  Again she feigned innocence as she flipped open her silver compact mirror. “What I was saying is if you don’t want to be embarrassed at the PB & J meeting tomorrow night, you might want to get some advice on your pie crust skills from someone who knows how to make them. I could try to teach you to make pie crust again, but that didn’t work out so well last time, did it?”

  The PB & J.

  Sessa groaned. She’d completely forgotten the ladies from the Pies, Books, and Jesus book club would be meeting at her house this month. Not only had it slipped her mind that it was her turn to host the event, she hadn’t yet finished the novel the group would be discussing.

  And she hadn’t even begun to attempt the pies.

  With a pair of prancing reproduction carousel horses due to be finished and shipped out to the Detroit Museum on Friday and the house a wreck from her granddaughter’s newest obsession of hiding Tupperware in the oddest places, Sessa would likely spend half the night working to catch up and clean up. The other half of the night would be spent reading.

  At least that half would be fun.

  “Why don’t I let Pansie spend the night with me? I’m sure you’ll have your hands full tonight getting ready. You’ve probably still got some reading to do.” Her mother returned the lipstick and compact to her purse and reached across the table to place a hand on Sessa’s arm. “And speaking of my great-granddaughter, honey, isn’t it about time to pick Pansie up from Mother’s Day Out?”

  Sessa jerked her wrist up to check her watch. Ten minutes lay between her and a late fee. She’d never been late before, but she’d cut it close more than once.

  “I’ll go get that precious darling,” Mama said as she slid out of the booth and straightened her matching fuchsia slacks and top. “You can get the check.”

  “So much for saving five bucks. Bye, Vonette.” She chuckled as she rose to follow her mother.

  While Sessa stopped at the cash register, Mama departed the Lunchateria with a regal wave and a promise to come by later for a change of clothes for Pansie. She watched her mother walk toward her car and marveled at the gene pool that had gone dry between Mama’s generation and hers. Somewhere between Betty Crocker and Susie Homemaker, Sessa had become Bob the Builder, adept at woodworking and home repair and lousy at baking pies and scrubbing floors.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the cowboy dousing ketchup over a plate of meatloaf and potatoes, the muscles in his arm rippling beneath the faded denim of his shirt. If he were heaven sent, maybe cholesterol and fat grams really didn’t count in eternity. At least this man ate like they didn’t.

  “Hey, Sessa. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” Sue Ellen Benson brushed past her with a tray balanced on her shoulder. The tall brunette wore red today, a color that complemented her dark skin and made her look more like a fashion model than the owner of a small town Texas diner.

  “Me too,” she said with a grin.

  Of all the ladies in the PB & J club, Sue Ellen was one of her favorites. Only Coco had been her friend longer.

  Sessa and Sue Ellen had gone from childhood friends to new brides together. While Sue Ell
en stood poised to celebrate twenty-five years of wedded bliss this summer, Sessa would mark seventeen years of widowhood next winter.

  She watched her friend match wits with a pair of mechanics from the bus barn before turning to navigate the aisle back in her direction. Funny how their situations had drawn them closer instead of apart. While Sessa envied Sue Ellen’s close relationship with her husband, she also gave thanks that she had the opportunity to learn how to spend time alone r—at least until Pansie had arrived in her life.

  Carly Chance, Sue Ellen’s second-in-command, hurried to the cash register as quickly as she could, given the fact she was nine months pregnant. “Can’t wait for tomorrow night,” she said as she touched her expanded belly. “I just loved that book. I got so involved in reading that I almost forgot I’m carrying around two extra people here.”

  “Now that is the mark of a good book.” Sessa handed Carly the check along with a ten-dollar bill then waved away the change. She leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “Don’t tell my mother, but I’m looking forward to finishing the book tonight.”

  Her friend chuckled. “Pansie keeping you busy?”

  “Pansie and the Detroit Museum.” She shouldered her purse. “And remember that contract for the Smithsonian’s traveling exhibit of carousels that fell through?”

  Sue Ellen nodded. “Two years ago, right?” Her hand went to her chest. “That just about broke my heart when the project got put on hold.”

  “Well, I got an email this morning saying the funds have been released, and the project is back on. They’ll be announcing their choice before the end of the month.” Anticipation and hope rose as she said the words, but on their heels came a wave of worry and the niggling feeling that she would be passed over.

  Carly’s smile widened. “How can you stand it?”

  “I’ll be too busy to think about it,” she said, though she knew that wasn’t true at all. The Smithsonian contract was a huge deal.

  Two years ago, she’d come so close to landing it, only to find the project had been placed on hold. At the time she thought it must be God’s way of allowing her time to raise her granddaughter without the complications of fulfilling the biggest restoration job of her career. No way could she could have done both.