Fools Rush In

by Janice Thompson

  “Oh, but Rosa . . .” I reached over to embrace her. “You’re valuable to God, regardless. It doesn’t matter what you look like or even what talents you have. He cherishes you. You’re beautiful in his sight.”

  At these words, her eyes brimmed over. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Bella, but that’s too much to imagine.” She and Mama continued their work filling the jars. We shared a little more small talk, but I could tell our real heart-to-heart had ended.

  This bothered me for the rest of the day. Had she really not figured out that God found her valuable simply because she was his child? What could I do to convince her?

  24

  I’d Cry like a Baby

  On Wednesday afternoon, I decided to call Jenna. I hadn’t really talked to her since the wedding and needed to see where things stood with the whole Bubba-David scenario. I walked out onto the veranda and settled into a wicker chair to make the call.

  When Jenna answered, I almost didn’t recognize her voice. She sounded like she’d been crying. Ironically, that didn’t stop her from giving the usual spiel.

  “Want to share a pizza with a friend but can’t settle on the topping?” Jenna sniffled. “You’re keen on pepperoni, he’s got his heart set on Canadian bacon?” Her voice cracked, and I felt sure tears weren’t far off. “Why not try our Simpatico special,” she choked out, “a large hand-tossed pizza, split down the middle with your choice of toppings on either side. Now you can both be happy . . .” She dissolved into tears, then tried again. “Now you can both . . . be . . . happy . . . for just $14.95.”

  “Jenna, are you okay?”

  “Oh, Bella! Is that you?” A sob erupted from her end of the line. “Can you come over here? I need you.”

  Heavens! Could the week possibly get any stranger?

  I arrived at the shop minutes later with Precious tucked into my purse. I’d neglected my poor little doggie of late and owed her a trip to town. Of course, I’d lectured her all the way over to be on her best behavior. Hopefully she would comply.

  As I walked into the restaurant, I realized the reason Jenna had asked me to come. David—her sorry-to-see-you-go boyfriend—sat at the counter, a washed-out look on his face. I drew near with fear and trembling. Hadn’t I been through enough this week already? Did I have to watch the unraveling of my friend’s relationship with her boyfriend? Why this? Why now?

  “David.” I took the seat next to him and offered a practiced smile.

  He turned my way with the saddest look on his face. “Oh, hey Bella. How are you?”

  “Good.” I started to add, “And you?” but stopped myself short, afraid I wouldn’t like the answer.

  Jenna turned to me with a pleading look in her eyes. “I told him I couldn’t help it, Bella,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall so hard for Bubba, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “Bubba.” David repeated the name, a look of disbelief on his face. “Who has a name like Bubba?”

  “Someone who’s kind and generous and wonderful.” Jenna leaned her elbows onto the counter and sighed. “Oh, David, I think you’ll really like him. He’s a great guy. And you two have so much in common.”

  He quirked a brow, as if to ask the obvious. “Like what?”

  “Well . . .” Her eyes brightened. “You both like to fish.”

  “Keep going.”

  “And . . . well, you both care about me!”

  I’d have to remember to talk to Jenna later about proper protocol for ditching a boyfriend. Her current approach left something to be desired.

  With my pup dozing in my purse, we spent the next half hour sharing a Simpatico special and convincing David he would be better off single than with someone whose heart just wasn’t in it. Though he seemed heartbroken, I had a feeling he’d bounce back pretty quickly. He didn’t seem the sort to wallow in his grief. At least not for long.

  As I left the restaurant, my cell phone rang. I recognized Patti-Lou’s number at once and smiled. She always knew just what to say to cheer me up. I answered with a boisterous “Hey, girl,” ready to shift out of depression mode.

  “Hi, Bella.” She sighed.

  Oh no. Not you too. “Patti? What happened?”

  After a brief pause, she explained. “It’s Bob Billings. He’s never going to call. He was just toying with my emotions. He doesn’t care about me. Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever will.”

  “Hold that thought. I’m coming right over.”

  I hung up the phone and started to pray. If I’d known the day was going to end up centered around broken relationships, I would’ve prepped myself. Packed a box of chocolates, maybe, or at least some tissues.

  Five minutes later I marched into the flower shop, ready to do business. I could hardly believe Patti-Lou’s appearance. She’d pulled her bleach blonde hair back into a messy ponytail and wore no makeup. Her T-shirt looked wrinkled. Very suspicious.

  “What did that man do to you?”

  “What didn’t he do, you mean?” Patti-Lou dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes. “He hasn’t called, Bella. Not once. I gave him my number, but . . .”

  “Is that all?” I groaned. “Patti, it’s only been a few days. His daughter just got married. It’s likely he’s off on vacation or sitting somewhere with a fishing pole in his hand. Don’t give up the ship.”

  I pushed aside my own concerns about why D.J. hadn’t called me since the night of the wedding and focused on my friend. She went on to talk about her pitiful love life, and I came back with my usual, “Finché c’è vita c’è speranza.”

  “Where there is life, there is hope,” she responded with sadness in her voice. “I know, Bella. But it looks like I’ve been putting my hope in the wrong things. I need to figure out what God wants for me, not what I want for myself, and that’s going to take some time.”

  “I understand. Trust me.”

  She paused, then looked over at me with tears in her eyes. “That’s why . . . that’s why I’m retiring.”

  “You . . . you’re what?” A thousand questions went through my mind at once. “Why?”

  Patti-Lou paced the store as she spoke. “I can’t do it anymore. I’ve put together my last wedding bouquet. I’ve pinned on my last corsage. I’ve decorated my last centerpiece.” A sob erupted, startling me. “I—can’t—do—this—any—more. Period.”

  Well, that I understood. Still, I had to do something, and quick. I couldn’t lose Patti-Lou. Not now, when I needed her so desperately. And she clearly needed me as well.

  “But, you can’t retire. You’re far too young for that. And you have to make a living. How will you do that if you give up the shop? Be logical.”

  “I’m moving to Montana to live with my sister.”

  “Montana?” I practically squealed the word. “Are you kidding? You’re moving from the balmy Gulf of Mexico to the frozen tundra?”

  I dove into a lengthy explanation of the winters in Montana, but Patti didn’t seem to hear a word. “It couldn’t be any colder up there than it is right here, right now.” She sniffled. “Every man I fall for has a heart made of ice.”

  I spent the next ten minutes convincing her to use this trip to Montana as a vacation, nothing more. “You’ll feel so much better after you’ve had some time away,” I explained. “Then, when you come back, you’ll see things in a whole new light.”

  As the conversation drew to a close, I did something I rarely did these days. I offered to pray with her. Out loud. Hand to hand. Heart to heart. I dove in, ready to do business with the Almighty. My passionate words being lifted up to the throne room surprised even me. Where had they come from?

  As we ended our prayer time, Patti-Lou promised to call me once she settled in at her sister’s house. I gave her a few details about the upcoming medieval wedding just to tempt her. We’d need flowers, after all. Lots of them. Surely she could see what an important role she played in the lives of young couples in love. That should be enough to keep her on the island for years to come. Once she g
ot this grieving spell behind her, anyway.

  I drove home in a stupor. When I reached the house, only one thing sounded appealing—tossing myself onto my bed for some one-on-one time with God. Having my little heart-to-heart chat with Patti-Lou had opened up a can of worms. I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the crazy, chaotic events that had worn me down over the past few days.

  Hmm. Maybe I’d better make a list of all the things I’d been trying to handle on my own, things that would be better off in God’s hands. I started with my love life and went from there. Before long, I’d scribbled down twenty-three things and had somehow veered from the original topic.

  Glancing down at what I’d written, I wondered if maybe the things on my list were really important enough to bother God with. Sure, he wanted me to stop trying to control every facet of my life. And he longed for me to give him my anxieties. However, he probably didn’t care that my brothers left the toilet seat up or that my father mowed the lawn in his running shorts. I scratched through the last few things on the list and focused on the big stuff at the top. Clearing the air, spiritually speaking, was always a good thing, especially on days like today when clouds loomed overhead.

  After spending some time in prayer, the phone rang. I groaned, hoping it wasn’t someone else needing relationship advice. To my surprise, I saw D.J.’s number. Well, it’s about time you called, mister. Just see if you can pretend I don’t exist and then call me up after four days.

  Wanting to play hard to get, I waited until the fourth ring to answer. Then, I tried to sound nonchalant with my opening. “Hello?”

  “Bella, I’m so sorry.”

  At the sound of his deep, hypnotic voice, I melted like a block of ice in the sun.

  D.J. rushed to get his message out, his words tumbling so fast I could hardly make sense of them. “The morning after the wedding, I got a call from my boss that his brother’s house in Brenham had a serious mold problem. He said he’d pay me triple my hourly wage if I’d go up there and take care of it. I had to remove the Sheetrock in three rooms and replace it, then texture and paint.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, so I left in a hurry, and I know you probably won’t believe this, but I left my cell phone at my condo.”

  A wave of relief as mighty as the gulf swept over me. He hadn’t forgotten about me!

  “I couldn’t remember your cell number, so when I got there, I looked up the wedding facility’s number and used the house phone to call you there. You didn’t answer. I left a, uh . . .” He chuckled. “Well, a long message. I was hoping you’d listen to it before someone else in the family heard it.”

  “You called the wedding facility?” I slapped myself in the head. “I haven’t checked my voice mail since the day of the wedding.” I could hardly wait to listen to the message. What had he said? I giggled, thinking about how I planned to march over there the minute I finished this call to find out.

  “I have to tell you something.” He paused, and fear wriggled its way around me like a sweater on a hot day.

  “W-what?”

  “I need you to know that I’m crazy about you.”

  “You . . . you are?”

  “I am. It’s killing me to be away. I have to see you.” He explained that he’d just arrived home and needed to shower first, then the tone of his voice softened almost to a whisper. “I want to stand in the gazebo and kiss you under the stars. I want to two-step with you across the dance floor. I want to watch your mother paint on Bubba’s eyebrows and listen to your aunt and uncle fight over Dean Martin and Tony Bennett.”

  “It’s Frank Sinatra,” I corrected him. “They argue over Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra.”

  “Okay, whatever. Whoever.” D.J. laughed. “In case you haven’t figured this out, I’m dying to see you. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Tonight?” I forced back the chuckle that tried to escape and put on my most serious voice. “Well, I don’t know if I’m available. I’ll have to have my people call your people, and we’ll see if it can be arranged.”

  “Ah. Speaking of your people and my people . . .” He explained a plan to get our two families together on Saturday for a Fourth of July celebration. I agreed, on one condition.

  “No matter what happens—no matter what crazy schemes my family cooks up—you will look at me as an individual. Don’t judge me because of my kooky family.”

  “Kooky family?” He seemed surprised by my words. “Bella, I love your family. And they’re no crazier than mine, trust me.”

  “Really?”

  “Mmm, yeah. And wait till you see them all together in Splendora. I guarantee you, it’s going to be a day for the history books.”

  We spent the next few minutes whispering words of endearment in both directions. If his phone message was anything like this, I could hardly wait to hear it.

  When the call ended, I felt giddy. Lighthearted. Serene. And though I had my doubts about the merging of our two families on Neeley turf, I knew one thing—this Fourth of July would indeed be a day for the history books.

  25

  Return to Me

  The Rossi family has always been particularly fond of the Fourth of July. As immigrated Americans, the older Rossis enjoyed celebrating this one in style. So when we received the invitation to take the Rossi clan to Splendora on Independence Day, I wondered if Mama and Rosa would play along or if they would insist on sticking with the status quo.

  Earline’s invitation left little wiggle room. Bring the whole clan, kids and all, she said. She even went so far as to invite the dog. I could almost see Precious in Splendora now, barking at people’s heels and digging up Earline’s azaleas.

  Thankfully, my parents were thrilled. So were Rosa and Laz, who had resorted to silent glares as their only form of communication. Nick agreed to come along with Marcella and the boys. Joey asked if he could bring a date—Norah, the woman who’d so recently put a spring in his step. And Armando . . . well, Armando, in his usual whipped-by-every wind style, had headed back to Houston for the day, likely to stir up more trouble with his ex-girlfriend. Sophia opted to come with us, but I could read the sadness in her eyes. Surely she wouldn’t ask to bring Tony along.

  On the morning of the Fourth of July, the whole Rossi family packed up goodies for the day ahead. Rosa had baked, of course. Enough to feed a small army. And Marcella, always the creative one, had come up with a beautiful red, white, and blue corsage to offer D.J.’s mother as a thank-you for having us. Using one of the leftover Texas-themed bandanas from the wedding, I created a little sash for Precious to wear. She didn’t take to it but finally stopped trying to chew it off. Laz left the CD player running so that Guido could get his daily dose of “Taming the Tongue.”

  We’d just finished loading everyone into the vehicles when Aunt Rosa’s voice rang out. “Wait, Cosmo! I’ve left something behind.” She scrambled out with Uncle Laz on her heels.

  Sophia looked at me, bug-eyed. “You don’t think she’s going to wear that costume again, do you?”

  I shuddered at the thought of it. Not everyone dressed like the Statue of Liberty on the Fourth of July, but Rosa found it a necessity. Sure enough, minutes later she appeared on the veranda, completely decked out head to toe as Lady Liberty. And Uncle Laz . . . well, not to be outdone, he showed up behind her wearing his Uncle Sam getup. They shot daggers at each other with their eyes, then headed to the car. Before we knew it, we were ready to roll.

  It took three cars to get the entire Rossi clan to the Neeley home. My sister and I chatted all the way, talking about life, love, and new fashion styles. We arrived at 11:00, just as the temperature gauge in the Lexus registered 102 degrees. I couldn’t imagine grilling hot dogs and hamburgers in this heat. Might not need a grill after all. Just toss ’em on the pavement and let the sun do all the work.

  As we pulled into the driveway, my gaze shifted to the mob of people scattered about. In lawn chairs. In hammocks. Under a newly constructed tent. On the front porch. T
hey filled every square inch of space, eating watermelon, drinking lemonade and tea, and gathering like flies around Bubba’s smoker. There were several tables set up as well, and many of the guests played dominoes. Chickenfoot, perhaps?

  And the children! I’d never seen so many. Whose kids were these? D.J. had said they were inviting family and a few friends. Who had this many friends?

  From across the lawn, a large dog that looked more like a horse than a hound came bounding our way. The monster put both feet up on the window of our car, and Earline called out, “Get down, Bruiser.”

  Rosa let out a little cry. “They’ve sicced the dogs on us!” she hollered. “Everyone freeze!”

  We did just that, until D.J. snagged the hound and held him at bay. I did my best to calm Precious down, but she insisted on baring her teeth at the beast. We climbed from our cars, and I prayed the day would go well. Oh, if only we could make up for the other night! I fanned myself and prayed for a miracle.

  After getting the dog calmed down, D.J. headed my way with a grin. I melted into his arms—“melted” being the key word, what with the temperature being so high. As he held me close, I gazed up into his gorgeous baby blues and whispered, “I’m so glad to see you.”

  He responded with a kiss on the forehead. “Not as glad as I am to see you,” he whispered in my ear.

  In spite of any past problems, Earline welcomed us with open arms. She took one look at Aunt Rosa in her Statue of Liberty costume, and her eyes misted over. “Oh, thank you for the reminder,” she said, brushing away a tear. “Lady Liberty always makes me cry. Why, all I have to do is see a photograph and I’m a blubbering mess.”

  “Me too!” Rosa gave her an admiring look, and I realized they’d just crossed an invisible line into true sisterhood, one that defied all geographical limitations. The Statue of Liberty didn’t care if you hailed from Galveston or Splendora. She didn’t care if you’d come by ship from foreign shores. Her flaming torch welcomed one and all to a land free from persecution and shame.

  I guess I had a lot to learn from Lady Liberty. I could barely get my head wrapped around the cultural differences between D.J.’s family and mine. Surely the walls would come down—in time.