Swinging On A Star

by Janice Thompson

  “Might sound strange, but I don’t get out much,” Brock said. “When I’m filming a movie, it’s a fourteen-hour day usually. I get up, get ready, film, and then get ready for the next day.”

  “So …” Rob tossed the basketball his way. “Let’s see if you’ve lost your touch. As I recall, you used to be quite a player.”

  Brock hesitantly dribbled the ball, then lifted off to send it flying. It hit the rim and toppled off, eventually bouncing against the driveway.

  Rob snagged it and shrugged. “No problem. It’s like riding a bike. It’ll come back to you … with practice.” He tossed the ball Brock’s way, and this time he aimed and hit dead-on.

  “There you go.” Rob nodded. “You just needed to start over. Take a second shot.”

  Whoa. Exactly what the Lord had been speaking to my heart regarding Brock Benson. He needed to start over. Take a second shot.

  Minutes later, the guys were really going strong. I watched them, mesmerized. What was it about guys, anyway? Why was everything a competition with them?

  After about ten minutes of letting them burn off some steam, I sent Rob and Brock to their rooms with costumes in hand and instructions to try them on. Rob appeared minutes later, still a little sweaty from playing basketball but looking quite dashing in his doublet and breeches. The jacket was designed in royal colors—rich purples and blues. I’d never seen such exquisite brocade.

  He’d chosen black breeches, the perfect complement. And the boots! I hadn’t expected them to make such a difference, but they really topped off the ensemble. Of course, the velvet Venetian hat wasn’t too shabby either. No, he looked like he’d come straight from the castle, for sure. I could only imagine the look on Marian’s face when she laid eyes on him for the first time.

  I reached to straighten the twisted collar on his cream-colored shirt, then stepped back for a final look. “You’re going to be the king of the castle Saturday night, Rob.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then I caught a glimpse of Brock in his medieval attire. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of him in that dark blue tapestry doublet.

  “Can you help me with this, Bella?” He pointed to the laces, and I drew near to fasten them. Be still my heart! Once I got everything in place, I reached to fuss with the ruffled sleeve of his cream-colored shirt. “Hang on a second, Brock. You’ve got this tucked inside itself.”

  “Take your time.” He looked at me with unusual tenderness pouring out of his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. No, I don’t think I’d better take my time. Just the opposite, in fact.

  Rob took another look in the mirror and nodded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m done. Can I change now? I’m still sweaty. Don’t want to get it all wet.”

  “Of course.”

  He disappeared into the other room, leaving Brock and me standing … well, a little too close. I reached for a box of safety pins and turned to anything and everything to make me look busy.

  He drew nearer than ever, so close I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck. Startled, I looked up. He gazed at me with those beautiful eyes, and I turned my head, determined to focus on other things.

  “Sorry … I, um, have a lot of work to do.”

  “Go right ahead.” After a bit of a pause—and perhaps sensing my discomfort—Brock shifted gears. “So, how did you and Marian meet, anyway?”

  “Oh, Marian heard about Club Wed from her friend Shar-lene. Sharlene was my very first customer after I took over the venue.”

  “Really? What sort of wedding did she have?”

  “It was a Boot-Scootin’ bridal extravaganza.” I giggled, remembering what a night it had been. “And I think Sharlene was pretty happy with the way things turned out, because she recommended us to Marian. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “So, thanks to a woman named Sharlene, we now know each other.” He stood near once again. The smell of his cologne wafted over me, making me a little nervous.

  “I … I guess you could say that.”

  He took his finger and traced my cheek, which caused me to flinch.

  “Do you believe in karma, Bella?”

  “Karma?” Um, no. “What brings that up?”

  Brock slipped his arm around my waist, drawing me close. “Sometimes I think I must’ve done something really great in a previous life to have things so good now. And when I meet a girl like you …” He took his fingertip and brushed it along my hairline, sending a shiver down my spine. “Well, let’s just say I’m even more convinced.”

  I took a giant step backwards, my mind reeling. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I could hardly think of where to begin. I finally managed a few words. “Brock, you’re a nice guy.”

  At once his expression shifted. “Gee, thanks.”

  As he came close once again, I took another step back. “And I’m sure you’ve got a thousand girls who would fall all over themselves to get to you.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll admit there are a few out there who’ve tried, but there’s something about you, Bella … You’re different.” “Brock.” I exhaled. Loudly. “Look. Here’s the thing. I love D.J. Neeley, and D.J. Neeley loves me. I’m flattered that you’re attracted to me, but that’s about it.”

  His smile faded. “Ah. I see.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. I think you’re attracted to me—at least in part—because you see the love of God in me. And in my family. We’re … well, we love each other and we love him. And that’s pretty irresistible.”

  Brock stepped backwards, folding his arms at his chest. “What do you mean?”

  “Tell me what’s going on in your heart, Brock. In the deep places.”

  “The deep places?”

  “I saw the look in your eyes that day on the Strand. You have a story. Beyond the Hollywood hype, I mean.”

  Brock grew silent, but I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. When he finally spoke, his words stunned me. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “Meaning, it’s not a woman?”

  “Oh, it’s a woman all right. Just not what you’re thinking.” He paused a moment and then said, “It’s my mom.”

  Okay, he was right. That wasn’t what I was thinking … at all. “Your mom? What do you mean?”

  He exhaled loudly, and I could read the “I don’t really want to talk about this, but you’re going to make me do it anyway” look in his eyes.

  “What, Brock? We’ve been through a lot together over the past couple of days. You can be honest with me.”

  “Look.” He turned to me with a hint of accusation in his eyes. “You’re not going to get this. You’ve got parents who love you and the picture-perfect family. You’re right about all of that.”

  I wanted to laugh at his assessment but held it inside when I saw the serious look on his face. Instead, I said quietly, “I never said they were perfect … just that you’d fallen in love with us.”

  “What’s not to love? You Rossis are like something from a Norman Rockwell painting. I never knew what that was like. My dad left when I was two.” Brock shifted his gaze to the floor. “And my mom …” He began to pace the room. “She wasn’t around much either.”

  “Meaning … ”

  “Meaning she worked. Mostly nights.”

  I paused to think about that. Poor guy. Sounded like he’d missed the idyllic upbringing I’d enjoyed. Suddenly my heart grew heavy for him. “So, were you a latchkey kid?” I asked. “You stayed with a sitter?”

  “No, you’re not getting this, Bella. My mom worked nights … with men.”

  “Ooohhh.” Yikes. After a moment’s pause, I worked up the courage to ask a couple of questions. “How old were you when you found out?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe eight or nine? I just remember the first time she brought a guy home.” He shook his head. “Anyway, let’s just say I was ready to get out of there by the time I was in my teens.”

  “Do you have a relationship wit
h her now?”

  Another sharp exhale from Brock clued me in. “She’s contacted me several times over the past four or five years. Ever since I won that first Academy Award. She wants money. She always wants money.”

  “W-what did you do?”

  “I sent some the first time. And the second. It didn’t take me long to figure out what she was doing with it. She’s been drinking for years. When I talk to her on the phone, it’s obvious. Most of the time, she can’t even remember we’ve talked.” Brock shook his head. “So, this happy family of yours … it’s a little surreal to me.”

  Instead of giving a quick response, I chewed on his words awhile. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. I’m pretty much an open book.”

  “Have you forgiven your mom?”

  “Forgiven her?” He turned to me with a hardened expression. “Forgive her for dragging me from apartment to apartment, school to school? Forgive her for leaving me alone late into the night while she was off doing whatever it was she did?”

  “I’m not saying you should condone her actions. Just wondering if it’s possible for you to release her so that God can heal your heart.”

  “God?” Brock shook his head again. “I should’ve known it would come down to that.”

  “Well, here’s the deal. It does come down to that. It always comes down to that. If he spoke the world into existence, don’t you think he can fix whatever pain you’re feeling?”

  Brock shook his head. “Listen, I’m sure this stuff is the norm in Texas. And maybe in the forty-eight other states. But in Hollywood”—he spoke the word as if Hollywood somehow qualified as its own state—“let’s just say you’d be a minority and leave it at that.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. But I know God wants to reach you, whether you’re on Galveston Island or walking down the red carpet in Hollywood, California.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  Shaking my head, I fought to think of what to say. “Brock, I’m going to answer the question you asked earlier.”

  “What question?”

  “You asked me if I believed in karma. The answer is no. I don’t. Want to know why?”

  “No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

  I tried not to let his words sting. This was too important.“People who believe in karma have the idea that their actions in some former life have somehow brought about the good or bad situations they’re now going through, right?”

  He shrugged. “That’s the short version. There’s a little more to it than that.”

  “The Bible teaches the opposite of that. We’re given only one life. One. And what we do with it is so important. But even with that, my ultimate destiny isn’t based on how good or how bad I am. It’s about accepting what Jesus did on the cross. That changes absolutely everything.”

  Brock sighed. “See, there you go—”

  I cut him off. “I don’t believe in karma because doing so would mean I’m totally responsible … for everything. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to play God in my own life. I’m too busy just trying to be human.”

  And right now, staring into Brock Benson’s pain-filled eyes, I felt more human than I had in a very long time.

  17

  That Lucky Old Sun

  On Tuesday morning, Sophia awoke in a foul mood. I understood her angst, really. After all, the guys were leaving on their yachting trip today. Still, she went a little overboard with the drama as they loaded up my SUV. I’d never heard so much heaving and sighing.

  Not that I really had time to think about Sophia’s woes. My mind was still troubled from the conversation I’d had with Brock yesterday. How would we get past this awkwardness?

  Minutes later, Rob was ready to leave. However, we couldn’t find Brock. I walked through the various rooms of the house, hunting for him. Finally I heard his voice coming from the kitchen. I stepped inside and saw him standing next to Rosa, who was looking at a piece of paper.

  “It’s all about inflection,” he said. “Inflection is everything.”

  “Inflection?” She looked at him, her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean your phrases have to have some highs and lows. Otherwise you come across sounding monotone. Here, let’s run that line again. And this time, emphasize the words food and passion.”

  She began to read the words from the paper she held in her hand. “I’ve been cooking most of my life, and food is my passion.”

  “Better,” Brock said with a smile. “But I think you’ve got more in you. Think about when you were a young woman. You loved to cook?”

  “Oh yes!” Her eyes sparkled. “And people in my village came from all around to taste my food.”

  “No doubt!” He smiled again. “That’s the enthusiasm you need as you deliver the line, Rosa. Tap into those feelings you had as a young woman, when people would show up at your family’s restaurant to eat something you cooked. Let that feeling drive your words. People will sense it and really believe you. That’s what you want, right? For people to believe you?”

  “Of course!” She delivered the line once more, this time sounding like a consummate pro. When she finished, Brock yelled, “Bellissimo!” then gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I think you’re the best, Rosa. And I hope this gig on the Food Network opens lots of new doors for you. If anyone deserves that, you do.”

  Rosa gave him a hug and whispered, “Thank you.”

  See, Lord? He has a good heart. Can’t you take that and build on it?

  I knew, of course, that he could. I just wasn’t sure if he needed my help doing it.

  As we climbed into my vehicle, I tried to keep the conversation light. Still, as I caught a glimpse of Brock’s eyes in the rearview mirror, I felt the tension reappear. Rob went on and on about their plans, particularly the part about the deep-sea fishing they planned to do, but I was only half listening. My heart ached for Brock. More than anything, I wanted him to understand God’s love. But I knew he wouldn’t listen to me now. He’d completely shut me down yesterday.

  Lord, I blew it. I got in the way, didn’t I?

  D.J.’s words flitted through my mind. What was it he had said? The seeds have been planted, Bella. God will take care of the rest. Maybe the Lord would do just that over the next four days. I needed that time to focus on my bride-to-be and her big day.

  We had no sooner backed out of the driveway than I saw Tony’s car in the street. He ambled our way, and I gasped. “Brock, hide!”

  Brock reached for the newspaper Rob had tossed in the backseat and opened it, covering his face. Tony rapped on Sophia’s window, and she pushed the button to roll it down.

  “Hey, Tony.” She kept her voice steady.

  “Hey, Sophia. Where are you going? I was hoping I could talk you into going to Moody Gardens today. They’ve got that new butterfly display, and I know you like that.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet.” She paused. “But I have plans. We’re taking Vinny and his best friend Rob to the pier. They’re leaving on a yachting trip for a few days.”

  A look of sheer relief passed over Tony’s face when he heard that “Vinny” was leaving. He squinted as he peered through the open window. Glancing back, I realized Brock had the newspaper up and was hiding his face.

  “Hey, Vinny. Good to see you again.” Tony gave an abrupt nod.

  “You too, man.” Brock brought the paper down, revealing only his eyebrows.

  “Well, have a nice trip.” Tony looked longingly into Sophia’s eyes, but she rolled up the window so quickly he never had time to say anything else.

  As we pulled away, Rob piped up. “Seems like a great guy, Sophia. And it looks like he’s really hung up on you.”

  “You think?” She shrugged. “Maybe. But we’re just friends.”

  Just friends, my eye. Before Brock had showed up, Sophia and Tony’s affections for each other were clear to everyone in the Rossi family. Now, suddenly, she’d forgotten Tony even existed? W
as my little sister really so easily swayed by a handsome actor with a mansion in Malibu?

  Obviously.

  Tony remained the topic of conversation as we made the trip to the marina, where the guys were set to meet up with the other groomsmen and board the luxury yacht belonging to Rob’s dad. Growing up in Galveston, I’d seen a lot of yachts, but this one was impressive. The Marquis 55 LS stood tall and wide with sleek curves and ultramodern styling. The sleek white paint glistened under the morning sun.

  “Whoa.” I squinted against the glare the boat gave off. “She’s a beauty.”

  “Thanks.” Rob nodded in my direction. “My dad’s sure proud of her. And I’m a little on the proud side too. Did you see what we named her?”

  I squinted against the sunlight, smiling as I read the words Maid Marian on the side.

  “Awesome. Hey, speaking of Marian, is she coming to see you guys off?”

  “No.” Rob chuckled. “She’s having her final fitting for her wedding dress, and the last time I talked to her, things weren’t going so well.”

  “Oh no! I’ll call her soon, I promise.”

  “That would be great, Bella.” He gave me a smile. “And in case I haven’t already said it ten or twenty times, I think you’ve done a great job with all of this. You’ve made my bride’s dreams come true. No small task, considering the sort of event we had in mind. But you’ve done everything and more.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me, Rob.” I looked back at the words Maid Marian on the boat, suddenly struck by something. “So, if she’s Maid Marian, does that make you Robin Hood?”

  Brock snorted as he passed by with a suitcase in his hand. “He’s Robin Hood, all right. Always stealing from the rich to give to the poor.”

  “Hey, I don’t steal.” Rob shrugged, then turned my way. “I’m involved with a couple of missions groups through my church—one in Nicaragua and the other in Ecuador. The kids in that part of the world are …” He shook his head. “Well, they struggle. We’ll just leave it at that.” He gestured to the boat. “Now, me … I’ve never struggled a day in my life. Grew up a spoiled rich kid. Went to work for my dad at seventeen. I’ve done pretty well for myself. So I balance things out by giving—as much as my heart tells me to give.”