Swinging On A Star

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Swinging On A Star Page 21

by Janice Thompson


  I made my way inside with fear and trembling taking hold. Would my family ever let me live this down? Likely they would get a lot of mileage out of this story. Thankfully, the Splendora sisters gave me the courage I needed to step through the front door and face my parents head-on.

  As soon as I stepped through the door, Pop grabbed me and hollered, “My little prodigal!” I groaned, then he hugged me and whispered in my ear, “It’s okay, Bella Bambina. I still love you. You’re my little ex-con, but I promise not to treat you any different from the others.” When I groaned again, he said, “Besides, you’re not the first one in our family to get arrested.”

  “True.” I’d forgotten that my brother Armando had done a little time in the slammer for unpaid traffic tickets. And then there was that incident with Rosa. Once, on a trip back to Texas from Napoli, she’d been held in police custody for hours. Turned out she was a dead ringer for a murder suspect back in Italy.

  No, I wasn’t the first Rossi who’d spent time behind bars. But I hoped I’d be the last.

  I turned to Mama, who greeted me with a horrified look on her face. “Bella, you spent the night in jail for accosting a police officer?”

  “Accosting a police officer?” I repeated, dumbfounded. “Is that what they said?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you realize what they were charging you with?” Pop asked.

  I shook my head. “This whole thing is just a fog now. I figured they charged me with stupidity for not recognizing a police officer when I saw one.”

  “No!” My mother paled. “They said you actually attacked that officer!”

  “Really?” I thought about it. “I guess I did touch him with my index finger. If that’s considered an attack. But I guess the real culprit was Brock. He took a couple of swings at the officer. But I know for a fact he thought the guy was the paparazzi.”

  Pop laughed. “Well, thank God it’s behind us now.”

  “Not really.” I plopped into a chair and sighed. “I’ve ruined Marian’s wedding day.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” Joey said as he entered the room. “Don’t you know—it’s part of the show, for someone always ends up in the stockades at a Renaissance wedding.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure! You were just playing along. Tell them it was part of the act, that you wanted to add to their special day.”

  I laughed at that one. “Okay. But I’ll tell you the truth, it wasn’t much fun.”

  Joey reached over and gave me a hug. “Yes, but think of all the stories you now have to tell your children and grandchildren.” “No doubt they’ll reenact the story of their mom’s big night in the slammer.”

  “I’m sure your kids will run around shouting, ‘Unhand her, you infidel!’” Joey chuckled, and I joined in.

  “True.” I turned to Earline, who’d been in the kitchen with Rosa. She rushed my way and swept me into the folds of her ample bosom.

  “I’m so sorry to put you through all of this,” I whispered.

  “Oh, my baby girl!” She slipped an arm over my shoulders, and her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t think a thing about it. It was a misunderstanding. And from everything I’ve heard, you handled yourself like a champ.”

  “Except that one part where I shoved a police officer.”

  “Well, there was that.” She paused and gazed into my eyes with such love that I felt inclined to give her another hug. She gave my hand a squeeze. “I wrote a beautiful letter on your behalf, Bella.”

  “Oh, I know, and I’m so grateful!” I sighed. “The judge told me all about it. But I still can’t believe you drove down here the day after a storm to get that letter to him. In the night, no less.”

  “Rain, snow, sleet, or hail …” Earline paused a moment, perhaps trying to decide how to end the little poem. “The love of a mother-in-law never fails.”

  Did she just say “mother-in-law”?

  I reached to hug her once again, energized by her words. I whispered, “Thank you for letting your son date an ex-con.”

  Earline laughed. “You know, I never thought I’d hear someone say those words, but they’re not as frightening as one might imagine, especially under the circumstances.” She gave me a pensive look. “Honey, you spent the night in jail for a crime you didn’t really commit.”

  “Technically I did commit a crime. I touched that police officer with the tip of my finger.”

  “Well, yes. But it wasn’t much of a crime. Still, you know what it’s like to be locked away from those you love. Likely you’ll have more sympathy for people behind bars.” She reached for my hand, a delighted look on her face. “Oh, I know! You could start a prison ministry!”

  “W-what?”

  “Sure! Up in Dayton there’s a women’s prison. Now that you’ve done time, you could minister to the women who are incarcerated for real. You’ve walked a mile in their shoes.” She grinned. “Well, maybe not a mile. More like a few yards. Or at least a small city block.” Earline chuckled.

  “I guess I have.”

  “I’m a firm believer that the Lord allows us to walk through certain valleys so that we can better relate to others who are going through the same. So don’t be surprised if he puts you to work in some way you don’t expect.”

  “Um, okay.”

  I thought about Earline’s words as I showered. Pondered them as I scrubbed my hair for the umpteenth time. Toyed with them as I conditioned and eventually toweled dry. Was the Lord asking me to take my experience and run with it? Use what I’d learned to help others?

  My mind reeled backwards to the three women I’d spent the night with. They were just average, ordinary women whose lives had spun out of control. Sure, they’d made some poor choices. But in the end, weren’t they just women like me? Didn’t God look down on them with the same love, the same devotion? And didn’t he want someone to reach out to them with a hand of love?

  “Lord, show me what to do, and I’m there. Just be specific, Father, because I have a tendency to … well, you know what I have a tendency to do. I jump in with both feet before I’m really sure about what I’m doing.”

  The next few minutes were spent getting dressed for the day and putting on makeup. I could hear the voices of the others downstairs raised in laughter. Whenever the Rossis and the Neeleys got together, everyone had a blast. Add the trio of sisters to the mix, and watch out! Likely they’d be partying all day.

  Not that I had time to party. No, I had far more important things on my plate. Glancing in the mirror, I double-checked my makeup. There were no telltale signs of lack of sleep, except for the dark rings under my eyes. I could remedy those with a little more makeup. I scrambled around in my makeup bag for some corrective cream, then dabbed it over the dark spots.

  “There. Not bad at all.” As I gave myself one final glance, I heard a knock at my door. I opened it to find Sophia.

  “Aunt Rosa sent me up to get you. She made a special breakfast to welcome you home.” A bit of an edge crept into her voice at the word welcome. “So, welcome home, I guess,” she continued, her features a little too tight.

  “Thanks.” I sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for her to do the same. Oddly, she did not. “What’s up, Sophia?”

  “I’m just upset, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  “You can do no wrong, that’s why. You spend the night in jail, and everyone welcomes you back with open arms.”

  “Of course. We’re family. And besides, I didn’t really do anything to warrant going to jail. It was just a misunderstanding.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Only, this is what it always comes down to. Life is so easy for you. It’s Bella this and Bella that. Bella gets the wedding facility. Bella gets the handsome cowboy. Bella gets the Hollywood hottie.”

  “Hang on just a second there, Sis.” I shook my head. “For your information, I don’t want a Hollywood hottie. I’ve got everything I need in D.J.” I wanted to g
ive her a piece of my mind, to tell her that she was completely out of line. Still, after a night of almost no sleep, I figured it would be safer not to overreact. No telling what I might say or do.

  Sophia crossed her arms at her chest. “Look, I know D.J. is great. He adores you, no doubt about it. But I’ve seen the way Brock looks at you, Bella. He thinks you hung the moon. He won’t even …” She dabbed at her eyes, the first sign that she was about to blow. “He won’t look my way for more than a second when you’re around.”

  “I didn’t do anything to cause that, Sophia, and you know it.”

  “I know.” She dropped down into a chair. “That’s the part that makes me so angry. You’re just so …” She grunted. “Just so perfect. And everyone knows it.”

  “Perfect? Oh, that’s priceless. You didn’t see me when I came in from my night in jail, but pretty much everyone else did. My hair was matted and my face was covered in dried drool. Very lovely.”

  “Doesn’t matter. No one ever sees your flaws. Only you. Everyone else finds you completely wonderful.”

  “Everyone but you.” I drew near and looked into her eyes.

  “That’s the problem.” She sniffled. “I agree with all of them. You are completely wonderful.”

  “And completely flawed, like everyone else in the world.” I paused, then released a sigh. “Look, Sophia, I don’t have a clue why some things come easily for me. But I know that God has only given me the things he thinks I should carry. That wedding facility … it’s the joy of my life. I wake up in the morning thinking about it and go to bed thinking about it.”

  “Oh, I’m not jealous of that.”

  “You’re not? Then what?”

  “It’s the guys, Bella. That’s what it comes down to. You’re going to end up with your happily ever after, and I’m …” She began to cry in earnest now. “I’m going to end up an old maid.”

  “Sophia, you’re only twenty-three.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The handwriting is on the wall.”

  “What about Tony?”

  Her eyes lit up, if only for a second. “What about him?”

  “He’s been hanging around here ever since I broke up with him.”

  “Yeah, but don’t you see? Even Tony is your leftovers. Your hand-me-down.”

  I laughed at that one. “Sophia, he’s a great guy, and not a hand-me-down. He’s the fella who’s been waiting in the wings, hoping you’d come to your senses about Brock Benson.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. But you’ve been a little … preoccupied.”

  “Seriously preoccupied.” She sighed. “But who can blame me? The lights of Hollywood were shining in my eyes! I saw Brock as a potential boyfriend, but it was a little silly, I guess. He’s not going to date a Texas wildflower when he can have a Hollywood rose.”

  “Oh, I’m not so sure that’s an accurate comparison. You’re the prettiest girl I know, Sophia. Your hair is amazing. You’ve got the best figure on the block. And your skin is absolutely divine. I’d kill for skin like that.”

  “Pepto Bismol facial peel,” she said.

  I sighed. “Sophia, I think you’re missing my point. I’m trying to tell you that I have plenty of reasons to be jealous of you too. You’re gorgeous inside and out.”

  “Really? You think so?” A hopeful look crossed her face.

  “Yes.” I grinned. “And if you don’t believe me, ask Tony.”

  A shy smile lit her face. “I do think Tony’s a great guy. But I guess I’m just easily distracted by things of beauty. And we have to admit, Brock Benson is definitely a thing of beauty!”

  “Amen, Sister!”

  We had a good laugh, followed by a warm embrace. I had been anticipating having this conversation for some time now and was grateful to have it behind me. Maybe now we could move forward in our sisterly relationship, growing closer than ever before. I hoped so, anyway.

  Once we’d made up, I practically sprinted down the stairs, anxious to have breakfast with my family and then get this ball rolling. So many thoughts went through my mind at once. Jail. The women I’d met. The conversation I’d just had with Sophia. The rings under my eyes. The chat in the car with Brock. The wedding.

  The wedding! Could I really pull this off?

  When I reached the kitchen, D.J. approached and swept me into his arms. “Mmm, you smell good. A lot better than before.”

  “Yeah, the jailhouse stench is gone, replaced with almond soap and honeysuckle conditioner.” I grinned. “Thought it might be more appropriate.” I looked at him with a sigh. “D.J., I don’t know how to thank you for coming to fetch me out of prison.”

  “Technically it was jail. And not really the big jail, just a holding cell.” He shrugged. “Nothing to brag about.”

  “Yeah, I guess. But I can’t believe you’re still talking to me, let alone dating me.”

  He put a finger over my lips. “You’re my girl, Bella Rossi, plain and simple.”

  “Okay then.” I gazed into his eyes, the butterflies now in a dancing frenzy in my stomach. “D.J., I don’t know if I’ve said this enough, but you are truly my knight in shining armor.”

  “And you,” he whispered as he kissed the tip of my nose, “Bella, you are the love of my life.”

  30

  Let’s Face the Music and Dance

  I started the afternoon with a phone call to Marian, who’d spent the night at the rented condo with her ladies-in-waiting.

  Somehow I had to get her to forget about my arrest and focus on her big day. She answered the phone with a lilt to her voice.

  “Bella!”

  “Hey, girl! Are you ready for the big day?”

  “Oh, am I ever!” She dove into a lengthy conversation about all of the fun she and the girls had had after the rehearsal dinner, but I stopped her.

  “Listen, about last night …” I swallowed hard, ready to make the appropriate apologies.

  “Oh, Bella, Rob told me.”

  “He—he did?”

  “Yes. And I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well. You should have told me! I felt a little bad going ahead with the rehearsal dinner and the party without you there, but … the show must go on!”

  “Y-yes. The show must go on!”

  “It did make me a little sad that Brock decided not to come, but I guess I understand it. He didn’t want to be seen out in public with the paparazzi on his trail.”

  “Ah.” I stopped with just that one word.

  We ended the call on a happy note. I’d have to remember to thank Rob later. He hadn’t lied, that much was for sure—I hadn’t been feeling well last night. Oh, but today I felt wonderful!

  By early afternoon I had the castle area completely prepped and ready. Pop helped me put on the tablecloths and chair covers. Unlike more traditional weddings, the guests would actually be seated at their tables during the ceremony, while the wedding party took the stage at the front of the room. I’d carefully selected the tablecloths and chair covers in soft shades of yellow and green, based on Marian’s request. Everything had an outdoorsy feel about it.

  At 4:15 Marcella arrived with the bridal bouquets. I gasped as I laid eyes on the arrangements. She’d worked wonders with the Texas wildflowers, bundling them into rustic-looking bunches for the bridesmaids to carry. And the wreaths! I’d known all along the bride and her ladies-in-waiting would wear flower wreaths in their hair, but I had no idea they’d turn out this beautiful.

  “Look, Bella. What do you think?” Marcella put one atop her head, and I gasped again. She’d chosen sweetheart roses and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath.

  “They’re gorgeous.”

  “Oh, just wait till you see the archways and the centerpieces. They’re still in my van.”

  I started to let her go but then stopped her. “Marcella, thank you for writing that letter.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “You’re welcome. It was an easy letter to write.”

  “You know, I haven’t told you this yet, b
ut I think you’re doing a fabulous job with the flower shop. It’s just the right fit.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She flashed an embarrassed smile. “Though I’m not sure the timing was the best. I’m still dealing with a little morning sickness.” She rubbed her tummy. “But the work is a nice distraction. And I’m having the time of my life.”

  I grinned at her. “You are a creative soul, honey. And you married into just the right family. We need you.”

  She gazed at me with sisterly love. “No, Bella, I need you … all of you.” Turning back to the matter at hand, she said, “Now, where do we begin?”

  “Let’s start with the centerpieces for the tables,” I said. “Pop and I already have the cloths on, and the tables are looking a little bare. I don’t want anyone to come in early and find them that way.”

  “Right. I’ll be right back.” Marcella scurried outside, and I realized I still had some work to do myself. Time to get dressed! I raced across the yard, hoping I wouldn’t interrupt anything of importance at the house. Thankfully, I was able to sneak up the stairs without being noticed.

  I ran into my room and grabbed the dress Mama and I had picked out weeks before at a costume shop on the mainland. The beautiful gown was an authentic medieval-style dress. I’d chosen a soft pink, hoping it would complement my skin tone. The rose-colored bodice was made of crushed velvet. I loved the crisscross ties that laced through the decorative button at the front. But my favorite part, by far, was the sleeves. They were chiffon and draped in a bell style. My only complaint? I couldn’t wear my boots. Bummer.

  Glancing down at my feet, I rethought the proposition. Who would see my feet, anyway? I made a quick decision to slide them on. Ah. Much better.

  With every hair and boot in place, I darted back down the stairs and across the lawn. I arrived at the back of the wedding facility in less than a minute, a world record.

  Stepping back, I looked over the castle with its beautiful faux river. Exquisite, inside and out. Truly, with the exception of the round tables and their accompanying chairs, I felt like I’d stepped back in time several hundred years.

 

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