It Had To Be You (16 page)

The Lord, of course.

I spent Thursday morning doing just that. The Lord alone knew how to solve this conundrum with my aunt and uncle. I had tried … to no avail. Rosa and Laz had spent last night in strained silence. Sal had made a hasty departure for the Tremont after his battle with my uncle and hadn’t been seen or heard from since. I had to wonder if he’d skipped town.

No, I realized as I heard the sound of Guido’s voice ringing out across the Rossi household, Sal would never have left the island without his precious bird. His precious, unruly bird.

And so I spent Thursday morning pleading with the Lord to somehow take this mess and mold it into something usable. I couldn’t picture Rosa coming down the aisle with a scowl on her face, swinging pots and pans. And I certainly couldn’t picture Laz standing in front of the crowd with despair written all over him. Perhaps, with a little persuasion, I could talk them through this. Not until after I showered, though. I needed the hot water running over my head to calm my troubled thoughts.

An hour later—showered, dressed, and made up—I sucked in a deep breath and headed for the stairs. Mama passed me, coming up as I went down.

“Have you seen Rosa and Laz this morning?” I asked.

She nodded and sighed. “Yes. Rosa’s in the kitchen. Laz is trying to talk to her.”

“Good! Is he making headway?”

Mama grunted, then continued up the stairs.

Alrighty then.

I made my way down the stairs and entered the foyer, hearing voices in the distance. At least they weren’t shouting. That had to be a good sign. I stopped short of the entrance to the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt if they were in the middle of something—say, reconciliation.

Laz’s voice caught my attention. “Rosa, listen to me. Rosa. Please.”

Silence from her end.

“Rosa, you know that Sal does not speak for me. I am a grown man. I speak for myself. And I love you, Rosa. I am a blessed man now that you have agreed to be my wife.”

“Humph.”

I sighed, wishing she would play along.
Come on, Rosa.
You’ve already spent years fighting with this man. Don’t make him fight for you now.
I heard the sounds of pots and pans again. Surely she wasn’t thinking of using them as weapons. Right?

All of my wedding plans—every bit of work—slipped right through my fingers as I listened to the two of them go at it. He tried to convince her to listen to reason. She slammed things around, making more than a little noise.

Rosa, what is your problem? This isn’t Uncle Laz’s doing!
Listen to him!

Thankfully, my cell phone rang, distracting me from the conversation inside the kitchen. I answered the call, thrilled to hear D.J.’s voice.

“Things any better on the home front today?” he asked.

“Nope. Worse.” I made my way into the living room and plopped down on the sofa.

D.J. sighed, and I could almost envision the look on his face. “What’s going to happen next?”

“I have no idea. But the world has gone crazy.”

“More so than usual?” he asked.

“Yes.” I lowered my voice, not wanting to be overheard. “I saw Uncle Laz swinging a baseball bat out in his garden this morning. Watched him from my bedroom window.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“He doesn’t play baseball. I think he’s practicing taking a swing at Sal. If Sal ever shows up again, that is. And you’re not going to believe this …”

“Try me.”

“He ripped up all of the tomatoes in his garden. Threw them all over the place. I’ve never seen such a mess.”

This got a gasp and a “You’ve got to be kidding!” from D.J. But I wasn’t kidding. Oh no. The backyard was awash in Romas, their red juice now turning putrid and drawing flies.

Pop—who had finally talked Laz into calming down—was fit to be tied.

“So, is the wedding up in the air?”

I contemplated my answer, finally coming up with, “Yeah. That’s the understatement of the year.”

“I thought this would blow over.”

“Me too.” My emotions suddenly got the better of me. Not wanting to be seen or heard by any of the others in my household, I walked out to the veranda and took a seat on the swing. Maybe if I sat, I could think clearly. Make sense of all this. Instead, I found a lump growing in my throat, and before long, I was crying like a baby. For a while, I couldn’t manage a word. When I finally did, “W-what’s happening to my family?” were the only words that made sense.

“This can’t last forever, Bella. It’s going to pass. So take a deep breath.”

“I’m doing my best.” I tried to catch my breath to tell the rest of the story. “Oh, but it gets worse. Emilio isn’t speaking to Laz. And vice versa.”

“Why?”

“It’s c-c-complicated!” A couple of tears worked their way down my cheek. “The way things are going, my parents are going to end up not speaking!”

“Your parents? Never. They’re the most solid couple I know, next to my own parents.” I could tell from the stunned sound of his voice that D.J. thought I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to compose myself. Surely I could get through this, and once I did, D.J. would make sense of it. Tell me what to do. Give me a plan of action.

“Even Bertina and Bianca had a quarrel this morning before they left for town,” I said at last. “Something about shoes. Shoes! Can you believe it?”

“Um, no. Not really.”

“Deanna says they never argue. Never. And it’s all my fault!”

“Their argument over shoes?”

“No, I’m just saying I should have protected Rosa. That’s what started all of this. If I hadn’t been standing there when Sal and Laz had their argument yesterday, none of this would have happened.”

“Say what?” D.J. said. “You’re blaming yourself for this?”

“Sort of.” I sniffled.

“I’m having a hard time figuring out how any of this could be your fault, Bella. And by the way, you blame yourself for things a lot. Things that have nothing to do with you.”

“I—I do?”

“Yep. This is more observation than criticism, by the way. Don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’re always so quick to admit fault, even when you’re not at fault.”

“My generous nature?” I tried.

“Sounds more like false guilt to me,” D.J. said. “But you’ve got to let go of that, Bella. First of all, it’s not exactly honest to take credit—or blame—for something that’s not your fault. And I can absolutely assure you, you just happened to be standing in the right place at the right time last night. If you hadn’t been in front of that door, Rosa probably would’ve stormed inside. Then we might’ve seen bloodshed. Your presence probably kept things from being worse than they already were.”

“I guess.” I sighed. “All I know is everyone in this household has gone nuts. Rosa’s flipping out—and who can blame her? She turns on Laz, who turns on Sal, who involves Emilio. Before you know it, Emilio is insulted, thinking somehow everyone hates Francesca.”

D.J. cleared his throat. “Well, let’s face it, no one is very fond of her.”

“It’s not for lack of trying,” I said. “We’ve all tried … but she makes it so difficult. One minute she’s as sweet as sugar, the next she’s as abrasive as sandpaper. I can’t figure her out.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to,” he said. “Maybe she’s this way on purpose. I think she’s probably afraid of being vulnerable. Maybe she’s been hurt in the past.”

Another sigh escaped. How dare D.J. say something that nice about Francesca right now, when I was mad at her?

Why am I mad at her again, Lord? Ah yes, because she’s
practically perfect in every way.

Shame washed over me at that revelation. Honestly, I couldn’t think of one reason to dislike Francesca. Being beautiful didn’t exactly prohibit you from leading a normal, healthy life.

D.J. interrupted my thoughts. “So, why are Bianca and Bertina fighting? And why are your parents going to end up not speaking?”

“They’re not. I mean, I don’t know if they are. I just know that Mama had a meltdown when she heard what Sal said. It just confirmed something she’d already voiced to me earlier.”

“And what is that?”

I exhaled, unsure of how to proceed. “She’s got this idea in her head that Pop sees his brother’s pretty young wife and wishes he had one for himself,” I finally said.

“Are you kidding me? Your mom is smarter than that.”

“I know. It makes no sense. I’ve never known Mama to be insecure. But the world has tilted off its axis, and my mama is going right along with it. And me … I feel like I’m about to fall off. There’s nothing left to hang on to.”

“There is,” D.J. said. “God hasn’t fallen off his throne just because the Rossis have declared war on one another.”

“I know, but he’s been pretty silent so far.”

D.J. paused, and his voice took on a deeper tone as he finally spoke once again. “What did your father have to say about all of this?”

“He flipped. The minute he heard my mother’s accusation, he went storming out of the house. Drove down to the restaurant, where he found Bianca and Bertina having lunch. They made up, by the way. Bianca and Bertina, I mean. Looks like they settled their shoe issue.”

“That’s good. So, your father talked to them?”

“Yes. From what Deanna told me, he went a little crazy, saying all sorts of nutty things. Bianca tried to calm him down, but Bertina lit into him.”

“Why?”

“No idea. I guess she just voiced what every woman in the house was already thinking—that an older man with a pretty young wife posed a threat to the whole makeup of our family.”

D.J. sighed. “This is better than a soap opera, Bella. Or worse, depending on how you look at it.”

“Well, things are just going to get worse if we don’t do something. Emilio is really hot. And Laz is ready to take someone’s head off. And here’s the worst part of all—this is ruining everyone’s testimony. Completely ruining it!”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve waited for months for Sal to arrive so we could show him how Christians live. How they act. How the salvation experience transforms lives. All in the hopes that he would see the love of the Lord in us—and in that goofy bird—and find it irresistible. So far, all he’s seen is a bunch of maniacs ready to kill one other. There’s nothing irresistible about that.”

“But technically, he started all of this with what he said to Laz about Rosa, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” I groaned. “And I’m so mad at him for saying all of that stuff about Rosa not being pretty. He has no idea what pretty is—or isn’t—because he’s never experienced the love of the Lord. Until God touches his heart, he’s going to see things only as the world sees them. He’s not going to get it.”

“You’re a smart girl, Bella Rossi,” D.J. said. “You’re spot-on about all of this.”

“This is one time I don’t want to be right. I just want someone to tell me how to fix this.” Leaning my head back against the swing, I closed my eyes and tried to will it all away.

“Unfortunately, this one’s pretty big. Fortunately, we serve a really big God. But he’s only going to move if you take your hands off and let him.”

I released a slow, steady breath, trying to calm my nerves. At that moment, Bianca and Bertina pulled up in Mama’s car.

“I have to go, D.J. Can I call you later?”

“Of course. And Bella … I love you.”

“I love you too.”

My sigh lingered in the air as I rose from the porch swing and approached my aunts, who walked alongside a giddy Rocco and Deanna, who were both in a dreamy-eyed state. At least the whole world hadn’t gone crazy. These two were so in love, they couldn’t see beyond it to the chaos.

“How are things?” Aunt Bianca asked as she climbed the stairs to the veranda. “Any better?”

I shook my head. “No, things are terrible.” I brushed away the tears that now stung my eyes. “Everything seems … hopeless.”

“Oh, never hopeless, Bella,” Deanna said with a wink. Rocco slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close, kissing the tip of her nose. “Sometimes life surprises you.”

“Well, I could stand to be surprised right about now.” I had that same feeling I once had in sixth grade when my teacher announced she was giving a pop quiz on Edgar Allan Poe. I felt doomed.

Instead of going inside, the ladies and Rocco joined me on the veranda, where I poured out my heart about anything and everything related to the wedding. On and on I went, telling them about my fears and frustrations.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked when I finally slowed down. “The band will be here in a few minutes to practice for the reception. They wanted Rosa and Laz around to hear them rehearse so they can put their stamp of approval on the songs for Saturday night. How can they pull things together when the bride and groom aren’t even speaking?”

“That is a problem,” Bianca said.

“What if things don’t get better?” I asked. “What if Rosa and Laz really decide to call off …” My words drifted off, too painful to even speak aloud.

“They won’t. They will get married.” Bianca turned to face me. “You know that old theater expression, ‘The show must go on’?”

“Sure.”

“This show will go on, Bella. They will work this out. We just have to trust the Lord to do it in his time and his way.”

“I sure hope he remembers that we’ve got a wedding the day after tomorrow. And a rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.”

“He remembers.”

Bianca began to explain—in Italian, with great passion— how the true lovers of the world loved deeply and argued deeply. How, in the end, they always made up deeply. Oh, I hoped she was right!

For whatever reason, my gaze shifted to Deanna and Rocco, who’d slipped off into a world of their own once again. As they stared into each other’s eyes, one thing became abundantly clear. Love really could win out in the end, especially if I factored the Lord into things.

Somehow that lit a spark of hope inside me. Maybe, just maybe, he would come through in a mighty way where Rosa and Laz were concerned.

A shattering of glass inside the house roused me to attention, and I realized Rosa and Laz were at it again. I whispered up a prayer that God would intervene. Bring down the walls of Jericho. Part the Red Sea.