Our voices blended together in perfect unity as we both echoed the familiar words: “As long as there is life, there is hope.”
28
That’s Amore
July sweated its way into August, and before long, our Galveston summer prepared to roll itself back out to sea. Mama put together a beautiful tea for the neighborhood ladies to welcome Phoebe Burton to Galveston on the first Saturday of the month. Meeting the woman in person put a whole new spin on things. In every way she was her son’s opposite. Quiet, unassuming, polite . . . I could find no flaws in her.
Of course, there was that one little thing about her being Presbyterian. Rosa hadn’t taken that news lying down. Me? Well, I couldn’t help but chuckle. The Lord, in his own unique way, continued to expand our horizons.
The changes in my parents and siblings were undeniable, as was evidenced by our first annual family photo day on the third Thursday in August. Mama entered the living room dressed in a denim skirt and blouse ensemble that tied in nicely with her new cowboy boots. She offered a smile before sitting next to me on the sofa.
“Why did Joey pick the hottest day of the year to take family photos?” she asked as she checked her appearance in her compact.
“I think he’s just anxious to get a photo with Norah in it,” I said. “Do you blame him?” He’d had her name tattooed on his arm, for Pete’s sake. The two rarely spent any time apart.
A smile teased the edges of Mama’s lips. “I have it on good authority we’ll need to hire a real photographer soon.”
“Oh?”
One of her finely plucked eyebrows elevated slightly. “Well, he can’t very well take the pictures at his own wedding, can he?”
I gasped at this news. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and whispered, “I’ve seen the ring,” then put her finger to her lips.
“B-but they’ve only been dating for several weeks.”
“Honey, when it’s the right one, you know it. You could date six weeks or six months or six years, but eventually you would end up at the altar.” She gave me one of those “you get my real meaning, right?” winks, and I smiled. I got it. And yes, I knew D.J. Neeley was the one. But we weren’t in a huge hurry, for sure. No, we were having far too much fun getting to know each other. And each other’s families.
Still, I had to wonder how many weddings Club Wed would see in the next few months. Bubba and Jenna were pretty much inseparable these days. Every time I looked into my best friend’s eyes, I saw wedding rings floating around in there. And then there was the upcoming Patti-Lou bridal extravaganza, way up in Montana-land. Sadly, I would not be able to attend. And, of course, the medieval wedding. I’d already been making plans for our happy bride and groom.
“Just look what God has done,” I whispered, looking around. In two months’ time, everything had changed. And the Lord was all to blame. Every good and perfect thing that had happened in my life lately came from his hand. I’d never been more grateful, or more aware of his presence in my life. Sometimes I wondered what I’d ever done to deserve such goodness.
Several minutes later, the living room filled with the whole Rossi clan. I had to laugh when I saw my family members in their cowboy gear. Pop even brought a lasso just for fun. And the boots! I chuckled as I thought about how the Lord had provided boots for one and all, and even paid me back for them. Mr. Oldenburg’s check had arrived soon after he received the Lanciotti’s, along with an emotional thank-you letter. It took some doing for me not to fret over the ex-Mrs. Oldenburg. I’d been praying for her instead. Unfortunately, I always found myself humming “All My Exes Live in Texas” as I prayed. Hopefully I’d be able to let go of the song in time.
“Hey, look at us,” Armando said, gazing around the room with a grin on his face. “We’re the Beverly Hillbillies.”
“More like the Thrillbillies, what with all the drama in our family over the past few months,” Joey said.
We all got a good laugh at that one. Still, looking around the room at all of the denim, button-up shirts, and hats, I had to admit Armando was right. The Rossis had morphed into the Beverly Hillbillies. The twenty-first century version anyway. With Precious cradled in my lap, I concluded I must be Elly May. And Rosa, with her hair curled up in a knot on the back of her head, could almost pass for Granny, if you factored in a few extra pounds. Nick looked a bit like Jethro Bodine today, and Pop . . . well, in his current getup, he could almost pass for Jed. My family was every bit as nutty as the original TV cast, but just as lovable too. Perhaps even more so. My heart swelled with joy as I realized just how much I adored every person in the room.
D.J. arrived at the last moment, looking a bit winded. The sawdust in his hair reminded me of our first meeting. These days I wouldn’t recognize him without it. Nor would I change a thing about him. I loved his deep twangy voice and his smokin’ baby blues. I adored his tall, handsome looks and the amble in his step. Best of all, I loved him. Loved the goodness shining out of his eyes. Loved the way he credited the Lord for every good thing in our relationship. Loved the fact that his family had fallen head-over-heels for mine, and vice versa.
My heartthrob cowboy settled in next to me on the sofa, and Joey did a head count. Realizing all parties were accounted for, he adjusted his camera one last time and joined us for the first photo. Then the second. Then the third. By the time we got to the seventh or eighth, we’d taken to doing some funny poses, including a great one of the whole family line dancing together. I could hardly wait to see that one in print. Likely Mama would enlarge it and hang it on the entry room wall.
Not that I minded. No, this boot-scootin’ family photo had been my idea, and a good one, if I did say so myself. Still, I had to wonder what the photographs would look like after the next wedding. Could I talk the guys into dressing up as knights in shining armor? Looking around at the smiles on their faces, I could almost imagine it.
We’d just finished the last of the photos when the doorbell rang. Precious started yapping, which sent Guido into his rendition of “Amazing Grace.” Thank goodness we’d finally had his wings clipped, otherwise he might’ve taken flight across the room.
I sprinted to the door, and when I opened it, I couldn’t help but gasp. Earline and Dwayne Neeley stood there, fully decked out in motorcycle gear. Behind them in the driveway stood the most gorgeous Harley Davidson I’d ever seen. Shiny red and black, it glistened in the sunlight, putting off a glare that nearly blinded me.
“Y-you bought a motorcycle?” I stepped out onto the veranda, stunned.
“Mm-hmm.” Earline giggled. “Isn’t she a beauty?”
“We’ve been wanting to buy one for years,” Dwayne Sr. said. “Don’t know why we didn’t do it sooner. It’s been great for both of us.” He tipped Earline backward and gave her a passionate kiss.
Whoa, you two! Watch the PDA!
I kept my focus on the bike. The big, beautiful, shiny bike. I could hardly picture D.J.’s parents on the back of it, but apparently they’d ridden it here from Splendora.
“Take a look at this.” They both turned around at the same time, revealing the emblem SHADE TREE BIKERS—HITTING THE TRAIL FOR JESUS on their backs.
“Wow.” I hardly knew what to say. “So where are you headed?”
“State park on the west end of the island,” Dwayne Sr. explained. “We’re camping out tonight. Not sure what tomorrow holds. We’re gonna take this one day at a time.”
“Good idea.” Not just for their beach trip, but for their lives.
“I’ve got a pretty good idea the Lord is calling us into the motorcycle ministry,” Earline said. “We’re praying about it, of course. But you never know what new roads he has for you unless you open yourself up to the possibilities.”
“Well, amen to that!” I gave her a huge hug, realizing she meant those words as much for me as for herself.
Within seconds, the whole family joined us on the veranda. Nick’s boys took one look at that bike and started running t
oward the driveway.
“Don’t touch it, boys,” Nick called out.
“Nah, let ’em touch,” Dwayne Sr. said with a crooked grin. “No harm in that.”
After several more minutes of the Rossis and Neeleys oohing and aahing over the Harley, I saw Dakota approaching from across the street. The kid’s eyes widened when he saw the bike. For a minute I thought he might try to climb aboard. Instead, he turned to Frankie and Deany-boy. “You guys wanna shoot some hoops?”
They shrugged and Frankie said, “Sure,” then they disappeared around the side of the house.
As I watched them, my heart practically sang. Oh, what progress could be made with time.
Mama ushered us back inside, extending the photo invitation to our guests. “We’ve got to take one more picture with everyone in it.”
“Dressed like this?” Earline pointed to her leather jacket.
“Oh, trust me, you’ll fit right in.”
They tagged along behind us, joining in the fray as Joey snapped one last photo. Afterward Rosa invited us into the kitchen for thick slices of homemade cheesecake with raspberry topping. Laz followed on her heels, even offering to help fetch the plates and forks. As I reached for plates and silverware, I was pretty sure I caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She offered him a shy smile in response.
As soon as they’d finished slicing up the cheesecake, he turned to her. “I, um . . . I’m working on a new menu for the restaurant. I wondered if . . .”
“What?” My aunt glanced up at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear in her eyes.
“Just wondered if you might want to help me, is all.” He gazed at her with what could only be described as tenderness—the Lazarro Rossi version, anyway. I wanted to dance a little jig. Wanted to kiss my uncle on the forehead and thank him for finally seeing the light. Wanted to take each of them by the hand and walk them into the sunset. Instead, I joined the others at the table and left the two to their own devices.
Mama’s eyes glistened as she made an announcement. “Cosmo and I are dying to go to Europe next spring.” After a pause, she added, “We’ve been planning it for ages but didn’t feel comfortable leaving until after Bella got the wedding facility running smoothly.” Her face beamed as she looked my way. “And things are going so well, I’m ready to book our flight right now.”
Earline crooned, “Oh, honey! I’ve wanted to see Italy all of my life.” She giggled. “Couldn’t you just see the two of us at the Coliseum? And the Vatican? And Tuscany! I hear tell it’s beautiful up there.”
“Oh, it is,” Mama agreed. “I spent my childhood in Italy, you know.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me.” Earline’s face had a dreamy-eyed expression. “All of my life I’ve dreamed of floating down a canal in one of those little boat thingies.”
She sighed, and Mama gave her a pensive look. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go to Europe? You two must come with us.” She grabbed Earline’s hand and gave it an excited squeeze.
“Do you really think so?” Earline asked, looking stunned. “You’d be okay with us taggin’ along?”
“Okay?” Mama clasped her hands together. “Why, I think it’s a perfectly wonderful idea. Don’t you, Cosmo?” After an affirmative reaction from my father, she turned back to Earline. “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to teach you Italian before we go. You’d be a natural.”
“I would?” Earline chuckled. “Well, go figure.”
Mama began to explain—in Italian—just what made the language so beautiful. Within seconds she’d transported me all the way from Texas to Napoli. Hmm. Maybe I should go on this vacation with them. Or, better yet . . . I looked at D.J. out of the corner of my eye, and an idea took hold. Maybe one day we could honeymoon in Italy.
Hey, a girl could dream, couldn’t she?
Mama and Earline began to talk about some spa in the south of Italy that my mother had read about online. “It’s in an indoor cave,” my mother explained. “And you won’t believe how wonderful it sounds.” She listed the spa’s amenities—a Turkish bath, a Jacuzzi, and massage therapy.
Earline practically drooled. “Oh, honey, that sounds divine. A real honest-to-goodness spa. The closest I’ve come in Splendora is Cut Loose, where I get my hair done. Well, that and the Fancy Fingers nail salon in Porter. They’ve hired a new eyebrow plucker, you know.”
“Ah.” Mama nodded. “Girl, you’re long overdue. There’s nothing like a good facial at a deluxe spa to put a new spin on things. And speaking of facials, Bella, have you ever seen my skin look better?” Mama pointed to the areas around her eyes and hands. “When I think of all that money I spent on expensive creams, it makes me cringe. All I needed was udder cream. Amazing.”
“Amazing,” Earline and I echoed in tandem.
I had to admit, she did look better. In fact, we all did. Something about meeting the Neeleys had put a healthy glow on every face.
The women dove into an extensive conversation about beauty products, and the men went back into the living room to talk about motorcycles. Another knock at the door interrupted our chatter. No one budged, so I finally offered to answer it. I opened the door to the mailman, who held an Express Mail envelope in his hand. I took it, thanked him, and headed back to the kitchen.
Mama looked up from the conversation and pursed her lips. “What is it, Bella?”
“Something for Laz.”
My uncle turned his attention from Rosa and took the letter from me. I watched as he examined the return address. Suddenly his eyes lit with recognition. “This has to be from Sal. It’s from Atlantic City.” He opened the envelope and smiled as he read the letter. “Looks like Sal is doing better. He’s asking about Guido.”
“Time to send the little prodigal home?” I asked.
Laz shook his head. “No, not just yet. Sal still has a long road ahead of him but should be home by the fall. We’ll figure out a way to get Guido back then. But that’s a good thing because I need the extra time. I’ve got to figure out a way to get Guido’s feathers to grow back. And he’s only halfway through the Old Testament CDs. He won’t hear a full-out salvation message till he hits the New Testament.”
“You’ve got to get him through the gospel of John if you’re going to stand half a chance,” Earline said.
They lit into a conversation about the best salvation Scriptures, then put together a focused plan of action. If they had their way, Guido would be able to pray the sinner’s prayer within a month. I still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d made so much progress already. And it seemed to be rubbing off. Even my dog was in better spirits these days.
The room filled with fun-loving conversation once again, and I celebrated the fact that the Lord had truly done a work in our two families. They were more than getting along—they’d become one.
Suddenly D.J.’s face lit up, and he rose to his feet. “Oh, Laz, I keep forgetting to tell you something.” When my uncle looked his way, he said, “I’ve come up with a name for the barbecue pizza.”
“Oh, wow.” I gazed at D.J. in surprise. In all the madness, I’d nearly forgotten.
“You found the right Dean Martin song?” my uncle asked, drawing near.
“I think so.” An embarrassed look crossed my handsome deejay’s face. After a moment’s pause, he said, “Bamboozled.”
“What?” we all said in unison.
“What does bamboozled have to do with barbecue pizza?” Laz asked.
D.J. shrugged. “Well, here’s my take on it . . .” He gave me a shy glance. “The idea occurred to me when I realized I’d been bamboozled. From the day I first met you and your family, I’ve been . . . changed. You’ve knocked me off my feet. All of you.”
“In a good way, I hope,” I said.
“In a very good way.” He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “But that feeling you get when life throws something unexpected at you—that’s the same feeling I got when I heard about the barbecue pizza.
It’s different. Not what I was expecting. And when people eat it, they’ll be—”
“Bamboozled!” Uncle Laz clasped his hands together at his chest as if in prayer. “I love it!”
“Yeah.” D.J. looked over at him with a shy smile. “Really?”
“I think it’s perfect,” Laz said. “Now, to come up with the perfect pitch.” He headed off to the other side of the kitchen, where he and Rosa began to jot down ideas for a phone message to entice customers.
I gazed at D.J. with new admiration. “Wow. That was pretty clever. And I can’t believe you remembered.”
“Remembered? Are you kidding? I’ve spent hours on the Web. I could name any song Dean Martin ever sang. Try me.”
We spent the next ten minutes doing just that. I was finally convinced he’d memorized Dean’s entire repertoire, so we shifted gears. He gave me that now-familiar “come hither” look, and I quirked a brow. “Come with me?” he whispered.
“Sure.” I followed him through the crowd of people to the back door.
Once outside, he led me to the back of the house, where we sat together on a bench near my uncle’s garden. The landscape looked a bit dried out and barren. Still, it was quiet.
D.J. gave me a gentle kiss on the end of my nose. “I just needed to get out of there for a minute,” he admitted. “I want you to myself. Is that selfish?”
“No way.”
He slipped his arm around my shoulder, and I gave him a tender kiss.
“So, I have a favor to ask.” I reached up with the tip of my index finger and traced D.J.’s cheek, loving the feel of the stubble under my fingertip.
“A favor?” His brow wrinkled. “What? You want me to come up with a tofu pizza? Something with a quirky name?”
“Nah.” I laughed.
“What? You don’t think I can do it?” He gave me a playful frown. “I think we’ve already established that I’m a jack-of-all-trades. So if you need me to take over your family’s restaurant or help Marcella at the flower shop or maybe learn how to make coffees, I’m your guy.”
Fools Rush In Page 27
