Once Upon a Moonlight Night (The Bella Novella Collection Book 1)

by Janice Thompson

  “Polar opposites.” I chuckled. “Funny choice of words, all things considered.” I gave a little shiver as we stepped out into the crisp, cool air.

  Justine laughed. “Must’ve been a Freudian slip.”

  I paused before leading her to the gazebo area. “It’s great to marry someone who’s your opposite. That’s exactly what happened with D.J. and me. We’re from two completely different worlds. He’s a good old Texas boy, through and through. Handsome cowboy material. Me? I’m from a large, loud, obnoxious Italian family. The Rossis hail from New Jersey, by the way.”

  “Really? You don’t have a Jersey accent.”

  “Well, I’ve been here since childhood. But I’d never even worn a pair of cowboy—er, cowgirl—boots until a few years ago. And I’d never had chicken fried steak until I met D.J.’s mama. For that matter, I’d never been in a double-wide until that day, either. Our families are different, our customs are different. Our strategies are different. But our hearts—and our outlooks—are the same. We’re truly one flesh.”

  “One flesh?” She looked at me as if those words made no sense at all.

  “Yeah, you know. . . ‘the two shall become one.’ One flesh.”

  “Ah, got it. Harold and I call that One-derland.” A laugh followed on her end. “Get it? One-derland? We always said that would be our wedding theme: Winter One-derland.” She smiled, then just as quickly, the smile faded.

  “It’s perfect.” I spoke tenderly. “Especially in light of what your parents have been through.”

  “Really?” She turned my way and I noticed tears in her eyes. “Because I’ve been thinking it’s, well, ironic. In fact, I almost changed the whole theme when my dad walked out on my mom. I questioned whether or not marriages worked any more. Whether people stayed together.”

  “I don’t want to give a pat answer to that. Even the best of marriages have their struggles. But people can stay together. . .if both parties are grounded and keep God at the center of the relationship.”

  She looked my way, her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, take D.J. and me, for instance. Like I said, we’re polar opposites, but we make it work. That would never have happened if we leaned on our own strength. There are times when he probably wants to throttle me. . .and vice-versa. Maybe even recently. But if we give Jesus his rightful place—in our hearts and our marriage—then our chances of survival go way, way up.”

  “Hmm.”

  I took a few steps toward the gazebo and realized I’d forgotten to flip the switch to turn on the lights. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I sprinted toward the reception hall, went straight to the light switch, and pressed the button to turn the gazebo area into a twinkling wonderland.

  Wonderland. One-derland. Ha.

  I raced back outside and found Justine turning in circles, arms outstretched. “Oh, Bella!” she crooned. “It’s amazing. Gorgeous! Just what I’d hoped for!”

  “Glad you like it. Just wait till you see it fully decorated with the snow piled up all around. It’ll be breathtaking.” I hoped.

  She paused, her gaze landing on the nativity, which Pop had set up in the side yard. She took a few slow steps toward it, and I wished I could read her thoughts. Coming to a stop right in front of it, Justine released a slow sigh. “This is beautiful, too, Bella.”

  “Thank you. It’s been in our family for years.”

  “Reminds me of one my grandmother used to have. She passed away when I was little, but I’ll never forget staring at it, wishing I could get inside and play the role of Mary. The nativity almost seems. . .real.”

  “It is real,” I said.

  She gave me a curious look. “You trying to tell me those characters come to life at night and dance around in your yard or something?”

  “No.” I laughed. “But the story is real, which is probably why seeing the display brings on such strong feelings.”

  A comfortable silence grew between us as we both stared at the baby Jesus in the manger. After a moment, I worked up the courage to share my heart.

  “Justine, you’re so interested in the heavens. . .in what comes down from the heavens, I mean. Rain. Snow. Sleet. Hail.”

  “Right.”

  “What you’re looking at in that nativity scene is, by far, the most amazing gift ever to come down from heaven to earth. That’s why it touches your heart.”

  She looked my way, her gaze narrowing. “What do you mean?”

  “That little baby in the manger—He’s more than some fictional Christmas story. It’s a true story about how much God loves us. He sent his son to the world as a babe in a manger, and all because He loves us so much.”

  “So, that stuff you were saying about keeping God in the center. . .?” She shifted her position, gazing at the baby once again.

  “First, you give him the center place in your heart, then your marriage. From there, just watch and see what he does.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t really know much about all of that, to be honest. But I wish I had your faith, Bella.”

  “Nah, you don’t need mine,” I countered. “Your own will do just fine. And if you’ve got a little time, how about a cup of coffee. We can talk about how you can start that journey in your own heart before your wedding day. What do you say?”

  “I say. . .” She looked at the baby Jesus, then back at me. “I say sure. Might as well add God to the equation. As you said, He’s the one who created all of this in the first place.” She gestured to the skies, bright and clear.

  “And He’s the one who created the girl who loves it all so much,” I added and then gave her a wink. “Your fascination with his creation is a gift, you know.”

  “You think?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “I don’t think. I know.”

  A lovely smile tipped up the edges of her lips. “Well, in that case, I’d say we have a lot to talk about.” She looped her arm through mine and we headed indoors, gabbing all the way. I ushered up a silent prayer that God would give me the right words to share. What better gift could I offer this lovely bride at Christmastime, after all, than the gift of a loving Savior?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Look Out, Sunshine!

  Why wish upon a star when you can pray to the one who created it?

  Author Unknown

  The next few days buzzed by. Anticipation built in the Rossi household as we awaited the Friday late-morning return of Rosa and Laz. Armando drove to the airport to fetch them and we all gathered at Parma Johns at eleven-thirty to welcome them back to the island in style. Pop was so excited, he made a large sign that read, “Please don’t leave us again!” Mama didn’t care much for the sign, but went about her business as usual.

  Nick worked in the kitchen, prepping pizzas and pastas and we all waited for the moment when Rosa and Laz would walk through the door.

  Thankfully, we didn’t have long to wait. At 11:38 the doors of Parma Johns swung wide and my aunt and uncle stepped through. I honestly thought Pop was going to faint. He rushed them, sign in hand, gushing in Italian.

  “Thank God you’re home!” My father passed the sign off to my mother, opened his arms and swept Rosa in for a warm hug and several kisses into her hair. “We nearly starved.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Cosmo,” Mama laid the sign down on a nearby table and stepped into the spot beside him. “You’ve put on five pounds at least since Rosa left and you know it.”

  This garnered a curious look from my aunt. “How is this? You’ve gained weight, Cosmo?”

  “I’ll admit Imelda’s cooking has vastly improved in the last week or so,” Pop said, “But that first week. . .” He shivered and then took my aunt by the hand. “Rosa, you wouldn’t believe what she did. She tried to serve us frozen lasagna. From a store. Frozen lasagna.”

  “Imelda?” Aunt Rosa looked Mama’s way. “Is this true?”

  “Only partially,” Mama took several steps toward her. “It wasn’t frozen when I served it. I
cooked it.”

  “She warmed it in the oven,” Pop said. “In a baking dish. As if we couldn’t tell.” This garnered a huge laugh from everyone in attendance. Well, all but Mama. And me.

  Rosa quirked a brow.

  “But the point is, I did my best.” Mama gave Rosa a warm hug. “And we survived.”

  “It sounds as if your cooking skills have come a long way in the past couple weeks if Cosmo has gained five pounds,” Rosa said “Such good news. Maybe we can link arms in the kitchen from now on? Two sisters, creating tasty meals together.”

  “Hmm. Well, we have a lot to talk about. Come, sit, Rosa, and tell us all about your trip. Don’t let Cosmo’s exaggeration keep you from taking a load off. I know you’re exhausted.”

  My aunt yawned. “Can’t believe we made it in one piece. We had a seven-hour layover in New York. Feel like I haven’t slept in days. You know how it is when you’re traveling. You get road-weary.”

  “Sky-weary,” Laz said, and then laughed.

  “But you’re here now, and I’m so glad.” I wrapped her in a warm embrace. “We missed you so much.”

  “Missed you too. It’s true, what they say. . .there’s no place like home.” She gestured out of the window. “If we are home, I mean. It’s kind of hard to tell to be honest. What’s up with these thick gray skies? And it’s really cold out. Has it been this way the whole time?”

  “No, the temperatures really took a dip overnight.” Even as I spoke the words, I found myself confused. Hadn’t Justine said her wedding day would be in the 60s?

  “Well, it’s colder than I expected.” Rosa gave a little shiver.

  “Yeah.” I glanced toward the window. “Hope it clears by tomorrow. We’ve got that big wedding. The bride insists we’re going to have clear skies and the prettiest starry night ever.”

  “Hmm.” Rosa didn’t seem convinced. To be honest, I wasn’t, either. Hopefully Justine’s predictions would come true and this icky cloud covering would dissipate. Quickly. My thoughts shifted to the events team I’d left at Club Wed. Those folks from Stages Set Design had their work cut out for them, decorating the gazebo area in this icky weather.

  “The clouds were so thick, I worried that the pilot wouldn’t be able to bring the plane in for a landing.” Rosa pulled her coat a bit tighter and eased her way down onto a chair, one arthritic joint at a time.

  “I just kept thinking about my sweet Guido.” Laz’s eyes flooded over. “How is my boy?”

  “Oh, he’s fine.” Mama dismissed any concerns with the wave of a hand.

  “We had to take him to the vet while you were away,” I said. “But he’s going to be okay, I promise.”

  “The vet?” Laz and Rosa spoke in unison.

  “What’s wrong with Guido?” Laz asked.

  “The vet says he had a case of S.A.D.,” I explained. “But don’t worry, it’s not life-threatening. And seeing you and Aunt Rosa again should be just the thing to cure him.”

  “S.A.D. How very odd.” Rosa shrugged. “Well, I’m glad to hear he’s going to be alright. We talked about him a lot on our flight. . .what a blessing he’s been.”

  Sounded like they missed the bird almost as much as the people. Oh well, who could blame them?

  “Speaking of the plane, have any of you seen the new-fangled planes?” Laz asked. “The Food Network made sure we were bumped up to first class, coming and going.”

  Rosa’s eyes lit up. “Bella, it’s a whole different world up there, especially on the bigger planes.”

  “Remember what I said before I left?” Laz asked. “About the pods? It’s all true.”

  “Yes, they’re the cutest little things,” Rosa added. She went on to describe the seating on their plane, gushing about their level of comfort, thanks to The Food Network.

  Before long, Nick delivered hot pizzas to the table. We sat for what felt like minutes—but when I glanced down at my watch, it was nearly two o’clock. Ack! I had to get back to the wedding facility. . .and quick.

  I hated to bother Rosa, knowing she was so exhausted, but she’d promised to help with the star-shaped pastas and other foods for Justine’s wedding and we needed to get that ball rolling. As we stood to leave I took a few steps in her direction. “Rosa, I hate to bother you, but. . .”

  “I know, I know, Bella.” My aunt put her hand on my arm. “I put together a plan during my seven-hour layover. Take a look.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. On the side she’d mapped out a true-to-Rosa plan for the foods she planned to make.

  I swept my aunt into my arms and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You. Are. My. Hero.”

  “What am I. . .chopped liver?” Pop asked. “Didn’t I hang the Christmas lights? Didn’t I mow the lawn?”

  “It’s December, Cosmo,” Mama said. “The grass was already low.”

  “I mowed it anyway.” Pop said. “Because that’s the kind of fella I am. Thoughtful.”

  “You’re my hero, too, Pop. You all are.” In that moment, my heart swelled with family pride. “I couldn’t do any of this without you guys. You work so hard to make my dreams at Club Wed come true.”

  “They are our dreams too, Bella,” Mama said. “But you work the hardest of all.”

  “Too hard.” These words came from D.J. “But I know you love what you do, so I’m not complaining. I like to see you happy.”

  “Happy. . .and fulfilled,” I explained, and then yawned. “Okay, tired, but fulfilled.”

  We headed back to the Rossi home. After I checked on the set design folks next door at Club Wed I headed back to the house. I found the menfolk clustered around the television in the living room watching some sort of documentary and the ladies gathered in the kitchen while the children played outdoors under cloudy skies. As we worked together—Mama gleaning all she could from Rosa, who told us amazing stories as she worked—a ruckus sounded from upstairs.

  “The boys are at it again,” Mama said. “Sounds like they’re fighting.”

  Laz walked into the kitchen a few moments later. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the heavenly host had descended upon us with trumpet blasts and peals of thunder.”

  “Sounds like they brought the full orchestra,” Rosa said as another crash sounded.

  “That’s no heavenly choir,” D.J. said as he entered the kitchen. “That’s the boys fighting over their electronics.”

  “Good to see things are getting back to normal around here.” Pop sat on one of the barstools and watched as Mama and Rosa worked side-by-side cooking.

  “Probably wouldn’t hurt you to learn a thing or two about cooking, Cosmo.” Laz tossed my father an apron. For a moment, Pop stared at the thing, as if trying to figure out what to do with it.

  “It’s called an apron. You wear it to keep your clothes from getting dirty while you’re cooking,” Rosa explained.

  “Well, I know that, but I’m a man.”

  “And your point is?” Rosa placed her hands on her hips. “Your brother wears an apron.” She gestured to Uncle Laz.

  “Well. . .that’s different,” Pop countered.

  “How so?” Rosa asked. “And what about Nick? Doesn’t he do all of the cooking at Parma Johns? Or, most of it, anyway? He wears an apron every day of his life.”

  “Well, yes,” Pop said. “But I’m not cut out for it.”

  “Fine. Have it your way. But the rest of us are going to bond over a batch of homemade pasta. And after that, I’m starting my gravy for tonight’s supper.” Rosa went back to work, her skill evident in all she did.

  From upstairs another crash sounded, followed by kids’ voices raised in disharmony. This was followed by the twins’ crying from their Pack-and-Play in the living room. Off in the distance the strains of a familiar Dean Martin song played.

  DJ’s parents arrived at six and we all sat down for a family dinner at the table filled with some of the yummiest looking food I’d ever seen. Before long, everyone was laughing and smiling once again.

  Well
, all but me. As I pondered the dreary skies, as I thought about the sudden drop in temperatures, I couldn’t help but think that a storm was blowing in. . .and it might just prove to be our undoing.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  White Christmas

  “A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.”

  ― Carl Reiner

  On Friday night, after the wedding rehearsal, I tumbled into bed, completely exhausted. I needed a good night’s sleep so that I would be fresh as a daisy in the morning.

  I had the strangest dreams all night, complete with the weirdest noises: cracking branches. Howling winds.

  I awoke to discover the power had gone out in the night. The block on my bedside table was black. Something else seemed off, too. A glare from the window beckoned. So strange. I rose from the bed, careful not to wake D.J. and tiptoed to the window. As I pulled back the curtain, I couldn’t help but gasp.

  “W-what?”

  The front yard was blanketed in white. Snow.

  Okay, so I must still be asleep. I was dreaming all of this. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Sure enough, white snow. Everywhere. Snow on the roofs. Snow on the mailboxes. Snow. . .everywhere.

  “D.J.!”

  My hubby sat straight up in the bed and stared at me, eyes wide. “What happened?”

  “D.J., come here.”

  He bounded my way and I pointed out of the window.

  “What in the world?” He wiped at the window to get rid of the condensation, then stared out, his eyes narrowing to slits from the glare. “Is that. . .” He swiped at his eyes and stammered, “That’s. . .that’s. . .that’s. . .”

  “Right? I know!”

  A sense of wonder flooded over me as I looked out at the glistening white snow. In all of my years on Galveston Island, I couldn’t remember a morning like this one. Sure, we’d seen frost a few times, but snow? Real, sparkling white crystals dancing across the skies and collecting on the ground below in solid patches? No way!