By Jeff Hampton
It had been another long, loud, dirty day on the offshore rig, and things were quieting down when Mel, Carl and Bart went out on the deck after dinner to watch the sun set over Mustang Island. Looking out across the expanse of water, Mel noticed a glow coming from the shore.
“What’s that?” he asked, being new to the rig and the Texas gulf coast.
“That’s Port A — Port Aransas,” said Bart. “They put on a party at Christmas, even more so since Hurricane Harvey a couple of years ago.”
“Wow . . . wish we could go over there and check it out,” Mel said.
“Well, actually we could, seeing how we’re taking a holiday break tomorrow,” said Carl.
So the three roughnecks climbed down into the rubber dinghy and pointed its bow toward the island. The water was calm and thirty minutes later they pulled the boat onto the beach. Following the glow of the lights and eventually the sound of music, they walked up the beach and turned into the town where they found the streets near the piers teeming with people.
Mel, the youngest of the three, wanted to hit one of the bars, but Carl and Bart were older and knew better; they’d need to keep their wits for the boat trip back to the rig, especially if the wind and waves kicked up. Bart pointed to the Dream Bean coffee shop and suggested they go there instead.
“I’ve got a hankering for a cup of coffee and a slice of pie,” he said.
Walking inside, the bells clanged on the door and alerted Shelly and Allie they had new customers. The shop, like the street outside, was busy with holiday revelers, and Shelly called to the newcomers from behind the counter, “Find a seat anywhere guys, I’ll be right with you.” They did and a few minutes later she was at their table to take their orders.
“Three coffees and slices of your best pie,” Bart said.
“What brings you to town?” Shelly asked as she scribbled the order.
Carl explained they’d seen the town’s lights from the rig and they came ashore to see what the hubbub was about.
“From way out there? That’s definitely a first. Gonna spend the night?” she asked.
“No ma’am, we’ll go back in a while,” said Carl. “Just wanted to come and check things out. I saw the lights from the rig last year and was impressed that you have them again.”
“Yep, it’s sort of become a tradition since Harvey,” Shelly said. “It’s our way of letting folks know we’re still here. I’ll tell Sam the message has been received.”
“Who’s Sam . . . the owner here?” Mel asked.
“No, this is my shop,” Shelly said. “Sam is one of our locals. Sort of like you, he drifted onto the island one day, but in his case he never left. He heads up the Pier Association. The lights were his idea.”
While Shelly was getting the order ready, her husband Dave was next door at the Sea Garden outdoor concert venue gathering more supplies. He was digging through the cabinet on the deck of the Cassie, the beached shrimp boat at the entrance of the Garden, when he heard whispers and then a muffled groan. Realizing the noise was coming from the boat’s pilot house, he tiptoed over and jerked the door open quickly, hoping to startle whoever was hiding inside. But he was the one who was startled when he looked in to see a young couple seated on the floor, the woman hunched over in some sort of distress.
“What . . . ” Dave started to ask but was interrupted by the young man.
“Please, sir, my wife is in labor. We came in here to get out of the chill, and now we don’t know what to do.”
Dave didn’t know either, but he motioned for the two to remain calm, and he hurried back to the Dream Bean.
“Is there a doctor or nurse here?” he shouted as he burst through the door.
The room went quiet, and he repeated, “We need a doctor or nurse next door!”
Shelly rushed to Dave, “What’s happened?”
He pulled her behind the counter and explained. Shelly went to the sink and started washing up.
“Do you know what to do?” Dave asked.
“Not exactly, but somebody’s got to do something. Call 911,” she said as she dried her hands and grabbed a stack of clean bar towels, “and boil water in a clean pot and bring it over.”
Shelly stepped out the door and across the lawn to the Cassie. Finding the couple on the floor of the pilot house, she kneeled down to check out the situation. A moment later Dave returned with the water and one of the roughnecks behind him.
Seeing the puzzled look on Shelly’s face, Mel explained, “I was an EMT before I was a roughneck. I’ve done this a few times.”
Shelly stood up and let Mel trade places with her. He took the young woman’s wrist to check her pulse and felt her temperature with the back of his hand on her forehead while looking around at the surroundings. “This’ll do fine,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ve got it from here.”
Relieved, Shelly backed out of the pilot house and stepped down on the ground where Dave and the other two roughnecks were standing. Realizing how dark it was, Dave went to the bar and switched on the string lights hanging across the Sea Garden. It didn’t take long for the lights to attract more people until the Sea Garden, like the Dream Bean, was stirring with business.
“Looks like we better get back to work,” Shelly said to Dave.
Back inside the Cassie, Mel gently coached the young woman, who pushed and cried while her husband squeezed her hand. With an ambulance and its crew from the fire station standing by, she gave birth to a baby boy. The news flowed through the crowded Sea Garden, raising applause, cheers and toasts. A hat was passed to take up a collection for the new family.
After the delivery, the local EMTs checked out mother and child and found both to be in fine shape with no apparent complications, thanks to the good work of Mel. They offered to take the family to the hospital in Corpus Christi, but the new parents were hesitant.
“I have plenty of room in my apartment at the hotel,” said Sam, who had just come on the scene after roaming the piers. “It’s as new and clean as any hospital room you’ll find. You can stay there just for the night or longer if you wish. No charge.”
While the outdoor holiday party continued, the EMTs drove the new family and Sam down the beach to his apartment and got them settled into his guest room.
Back at the Sea Garden, Shelly, Dave and Allie were serving the folks outdoors when Bart and Carl, who somehow had acquired a guitar, stepped up on the stage and led the crowd in Christmas carols – not the jingly-jangly songs about Santa, snowmen and sleigh rides that push the real meaning of Christmas out of the spotlight, but the warm old church songs of birth, life, hope and salvation.
Close to midnight, Bart and Carl closed their impromptu set with a soft rendition of “Silent Night,” and then Bart, hoarse from the damp air, offered a “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight,” and the crowd quietly dispersed.
While Dave, Allie and Sam – who got a ride back in the ambulance – cleaned up and closed down the Dream Bean and Sea Garden for the holiday, Shelly served the roughnecks the coffee and pie they’d ordered hours earlier. Shelly suggested they stay for the night, and when they declined, she made sure they had to-go cups of hot coffee, a boxed pie, and extra sandwiches and cookies to take back with them. She and Dave walked them back to their boat, talking about the night’s unexpected events as they went.
“You jumped right in and took charge,” Carl said to Shelly. “You must have children of your own.”
“No, not yet,” she said. “Dave and I are still newlyweds. Still getting to know each other I suppose. Do you men have families?”
Mel and Carl shook their heads.
“I do, but I can’t remember the last time I was home,” Bart said softly. “It’s ironic; I jumped into the oil business to support them, and now I can’t get away long enough to be with them. We’re off tomorrow, of course, but we’ll be back to work the next day.”
The conversation waned as they approached the dinghy, and Shelly and Dave stood on the sand as the three men waded with the boat out to a floatable depth, climbed aboard and started the motor. After they watched the bow of the boat rise up over the foamy breakers and fade into the night, Dave and Shelly turned back toward town. Walking silently, Dave squeezed Shelly’s hand and pulled her close.
“What’s that for?” Shelly asked.
“I’m thinking it’s time to give Port A its first new island-born resident since the hurricane.”
Shelly stopped walking and turned to face Dave. The soft glow from the lights at the piers revealed a tear trailing down her cheek.
“Hearing you say that might just be the greatest Christmas gift ever,” she said.
“No, not the greatest,” said Dave. “That happened a couple of thousand years ago.”
Shelly didn’t argue the point. She knew it was true. “Well then, it’s the greatest gift we could give each other.”
Adapted from “Back to Aransas,” the forthcoming third and final installment of the novel series set in Port Aransas, Texas. The previous books are “Aransas Morning” and “Aransas Evening.”