After a quick “Hey, Terrell,” she looked the other way.
Earline happened by with a tray filled with cookies. “Ice cream will be done in a jiffy, ladies. But for now, have a couple of Rosa’s homemade fig cookies.”
“Made with figs from Uncle Laz’s tree in our backyard,” I threw in.
Twila turned up her nose at them. “Honey, you know I’m watchin’ my waistline.” After a second’s pause, she reached to snag two cookies and added, “And it’s gettin’ easier to see every day.”
The women laughed, and Terrell whispered, “Have another one, honey. Might just slow you down enough I can finally catch you.”
Twila turned all shades of red and nearly choked on her cookie. After Terrell left, she whispered, “Heavens. That man’s been after me for the past four years.”
“Not interested?” I asked, nibbling on a cookie.
Again her face flushed pink. “Oh, more than interested. Just like to play hard to get.” She fanned herself with a cookie. “A girl’s gotta be careful, you know. Don’t want to jump into something ’less the Lord gives me the go-ahead.”
“At least Terrell’s a good guy,” Jolene said with a sigh. “Remember Cotter Puckett, that fellow who fancied marrying me and moving me off to Cut ’n Shoot, away from my friends and my church?”
“I remember that fellow,” Bonnie Sue said, fanning herself. “His engine was runnin’ but nobody appeared to be driving.”
“He was a sure sight better than that Frank Peavey fellow who chased me around,” Jolene said. “He told me I was the only one for him, but I caught him making eyes at Glenda Jamison up at the Sack ’n Save.”
“Speaking of Glenda Jamison . . .” Bonnie Sue’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think it’s a shame, all those women having surgery to make themselves bigger?”
“Heavens, yes.” Twila fanned herself once again. “Now me, I just did it the natural way.” When we all turned to her, she smiled and said, “Coconut cream pie.”
The women all had a good laugh at that, then dove into a conversation about men these days—how so few of them were what they called
bona fide
. I turned my attention to locating D.J. and finally caught a glimpse of him in the side yard, playing with the kids. One of the little girls squealed with delight as he pushed her in the tire swing. He happened to look my way and gave a little wave. My heart fluttered.
“Oh no, look there.” Jolene sighed. “Just look at that boy. He’s got it bad for you, Bella.”
At her words, I felt as if a hundred butterflies had been let loose in my stomach. I could hardly stand the joy as I watched him from across the lawn.
“He’s bona fide,” Bonnie Sue said with an affirming nod. “No doubt about it.”
Oh, D.J. Neeley. You’re bona fide, all right.
All of the women chimed in their agreement, including my mother. I gazed at her, curious. Did she really think D.J. Neeley was God’s ideal for her daughter? Better even than Tony? From the look in her eyes . . . yes.
Several minutes later, Earline informed us that the peach ice cream was done. She dished up hearty bowls of the stuff, and I took a hesitant bite, not knowing what to expect. D.J. joined me just as a dollop plopped off my spoon and onto my blouse. I scooped it up with the spoon and ate it, then licked my lips. “This stuff is delicious.”
“I think you were made for country living, Bella.” He winked.
“Ya think?”
“Yep. And Precious too.” He pointed at the dog, who’d taken a spot on the porch, curled up next to Bruiser.
“Uh-oh.” I giggled. “Looks like she’s got a crush.”
“She’s not the only one.” He slipped his arm over my shoulders and drew me near, planting a little kiss on my nose. Just as quickly he stepped back and put his hands up. “I know, I know. No PDA.”
“Oh, but this is different,” I argued, leaning in close. “We’re in the country now. You can kiss me all you want in the country.”
“Better watch what you’re saying, Bella.” He set aside my bowl of ice cream and kissed me on each cheek, then tenderly on the lips. I slipped my arms around his neck and leaned my head against his for a moment. Then, after a small child whizzed past us with a water balloon in her hand, we shifted gears. We grabbed our bowls of nearly melted peach ice cream and retreated to the porch swing.
We sat alone at first but were eventually joined by a passel of children I didn’t know while the last of the ice cream was consumed. Pretty soon D.J.’s parents joined us on the porch, followed by most of my family. As the afternoon sun tilted farther and farther to the west, casting an orange glow over the Rossi and Neeley clans, we enjoyed some family time together, swatting flies and talking about how fast the summer was flying by. Before long, the last bits of daylight crept over the horizon, and evening shadows wrapped us in their embrace.
As the colors of the sky faded to gray, Earline said, “Bubba, you ready for your solo?”
He groaned and said, “Mama, do I hafta?”
“Well, a’course. It just wouldn’t be the Fourth of July without hearing you sing.”
After a deep sigh, he rose from his chair and moments later began to sing. The words that flowed forth took my breath away. I’d heard “I’m Proud to Be an American” dozens of times at patriotic events, of course, but never like this. Bubba’s rendition had us all in tears by the end of the song. After the last stanza, he took his seat, and a quiet “Wow” rose up from the crowd.
Mama, being Mama, apparently had one of her brilliant-beyond-brilliant ideas. “Bubba, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but I’m a sponsor at Galveston’s Grand Opera.”
“Oh?” I noticed the hesitancy in his voice, like he knew what was coming.
“The opera is holding open auditions for
The Marriage of Figaro
in a few weeks. You’ve got to audition. You have the most beautiful voice.”
“But I only sing country-western songs,” he said. “Don’t know nothin’ about opera.”
“For now. But your pitch and tone are excellent, and I feel sure you could be trained to sing opera.” I could hear the intensity in her voice as she said, “Besides, it’s a comedy, so you would have so much fun doing it. Would you . . . would you at least promise to pray about it?”
After a moment’s pause, he responded, “Well, sure. I guess it won’t hurt to pray.”
“Never does,” Earline said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Never does.”
After that, we all grew silent. I pondered Bubba singing on the stage at the historic opera house. Though I never would have considered it until now, I had to admit the idea held considerable appeal. Hopefully to Bubba as well.
Dwayne Sr. finally announced the time had come for fireworks, and the crowd shifted back to the lawn, where we watched the men at work.
“Boys and their toys,” Earline whispered in my ear. She slipped an arm over my shoulder as we watched them together. I leaned against her, and a feeling of warmth settled in my heart—one that had nothing to do with the weather—until the first loud boom rang out. Earline must’ve felt my shudder, because she looked at me and laughed. “Scared of the fireworks?”
“A little.” Mostly, though, I just worried that someone might get hurt. I watched as the older kids played with sparklers. Round and round the sizzling, crackling lights spun, dancing against the night sky. The smaller children put their fingers in their ears as the firecrackers began to pop in rapid succession.
When Earline released me from her embrace, I settled into a lawn chair between my mother and my aunt, who’d finally changed out of her costume and into a skirt and blouse. I couldn’t help but notice Laz as he kept a watchful eye on Rosa, particularly when there were other men around. The strangest curiosity rose up inside me as I observed him. One minute he acted like he couldn’t stand her, the next he guarded her like the Secret Service.
Hmm. I wonder.
A bottle rocket blazed across the sky, interrupting my ponderings. It provided just the right splattering of light to watch as my man—my bona fide man—lit another one and pointed it heavenward. Pride tingled through me—the good kind, not the bad. Leaning back against the lawn chair, I closed my eyes to dream a little dream about D.J. Neeley.
Before long, the words to a country song found their way to my lips. And funnier still, against the sound of laughter, fireworks, and sparklers, I was pretty sure I heard the angels chiming in.
Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime
The two weeks after the Fourth of July passed like a whirlwind. D.J. and I settled into a comfortable but happy routine, one that gave us plenty of time together in the evenings after a hard day’s work. He loved Aunt Rosa’s cooking, sure, but he enjoyed spending time with the entire Rossi family even more. Go figure. Before long, he became a permanent fixture around our dinner table. With each passing day, my heart grew all that much more attached to his. Unlike my relationship with Tony, I didn’t even have to try. No, the feelings I had for D.J. Neeley were bigger than anything I could’ve conjured up. Only the Lord could have done something this remarkable.
Those same two weeks brought other changes to the household. Uncle Lazarro and Aunt Rosa actually held a couple of civil conversations with each other. In fact, I was pretty sure I caught Rosa blushing when Laz looked at her once. As for 26 the others . . . Nick and Marcella headed off on vacation to the Texas Hill Country with the boys, Sophia informed me she’d given up on her infatuation with Tony DeLuca, and Armando moved back to Houston because he’d fallen for his ex’s cousin. Bada-bing, bada-boom. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Not that I wanted things to stay the same. Oh, no. I’d almost grown accustomed to the shifting of sands, the turning of the hands on the clock. In fact, I rather liked the fact that I seemed to have passed from one stage of my life to another. What was it Earline had said the day of the wedding? “Trust God for a new season.” And that Scripture passage she’d given me—the one from Song of Solomon—ran through my mind each morning as a new day appeared. “The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come.”
I truly felt like singing now. The Lord had unlocked the key to my cage—symbolically speaking—and with wings unclipped, I soared free. I spread them wide and flew to places I’d never gone before. My heart, now no longer bound by fears and frustrations, was finally ready to love. Finally ready to move forward.
God had done such a work—not just in my heart but at the wedding facility as well. Club Wed saw an influx of customers after the Boot-Scootin’ extravaganza. Turned out Sharlene and Cody had done more than sing the wedding facility’s praises. After returning from their honeymoon, they actually sent a handful of new clients my way. Between that and our latest ad in the
Houston Chronicle
, I began to see a steady climb in business. With my nerves now behind me, I settled into my position as manager, paying particular attention to the upcoming medieval wedding. I dreamed of ladies-in-waiting and knights in shining armor. Funny how each dream morphed into one about D.J.
On a Thursday afternoon in mid-July, I arrived home exhausted from the heat and a hard day’s work. The steady stream of calls and visits from new customers kept me hopping, and I ached to crawl in bed for a nap before dinner. Convinced no one would care, I decided to do just that. Less than ten minutes after falling asleep, however, my cell phone rang. Groaning, I grabbed it to check the number. A 406 area code? Where in the world was that?
I answered tentatively, wondering if perhaps word about the wedding facility had spread that far. I recognized Patti-Lou’s voice at once.
“Bella? Can you hear me?”
“Barely.” I did my best not to yawn, though everything within me longed to.
Her voice cut in and out. “I’m at . . . sister’s . . . mountains . . . reception . . . bad.”
“Um, okay.” I forced myself awake and tried to play along. “When are you coming home?” Surely by now she’d had her Montana adventure and was ready to hit the beach again.
“Oh, Bella! I met . . . man . . . handsome cowboy . . . married.”
“W-wait!” I couldn’t stand this! What did she just say? “You met a man?”
“Yes.”
“A married man?” Surely not. I forced my sleepy brain to engage, wondering if I might be dreaming this. I’d had stranger dreams in recent weeks, no doubt about that.
“I’m . . . married.”
“You’re married?” I could hardly believe it.
“
Getting
married.” She giggled.
“B-but, you’ve only been there two weeks. How could you . . . ?”
“Such . . . God-thing.”
I sighed, then made up my mind not to ask another question. She proceeded to tell me—in fragmented sentences—about the man of her dreams. How she’d flown all the way to Montana to meet him. How their eyes had met across a crowded room, just like in the old song “Some Enchanted Evening.” How he played the drums at her sister’s church. How he owned a strip mall in Missoula and had the perfect space for her new flower shop once they returned from their honeymoon cruise to Alaska.
I listened closely, not wanting to miss any more than necessary. At the first lull in the conversation, I asked, “But, what about the shop here?”
“That’s why . . . calling,” she said. “Want to give your family . . . dibs.”
“Wait. Dibs? As in first dibs? You want us to buy the flower shop?”
“Yes.” She went on to explain that it was the perfect solution. That Galveston needed the florist business to continue.
“I’ll talk to my parents about it,” I promised. “But I have no idea what they’ll say.”
When I ended the call, I leaned back against the headboard, enthralled.
Patti-Lou’s found someone. She’s getting married.
And she’s living . . . in Montana.
My mind could hardly take it in. I would miss her terribly. And, man! Losing the florist shop. What a blow to the business. Would my family really be interested in taking it over?
I leaned my head back against the pile of plush pillows, determined to sleep a few more minutes before approaching Mama with the idea. After a while, I finally gave up. Might as well get this over with.
As I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I heard someone singing. Sounded like a worship song of some sort. Kicking off the covers, I padded barefoot to Uncle Lazarro’s bedroom door and knocked. After giving it a minute, I realized he must be gone, so I inched the door open. I found Guido in his cage, warbling a pitchy song. The minute he laid eyes on me, he shifted gears and spouted, “May the words of my mouth be acceptable. May the words of my mouth be acceptable.” Over and over again he repeated the same verse.