Nope.
My eyes widened as Laz grabbed Rosa, tipped her backwards, and planted a passionate kiss on her lips—one for the record books.
Okay then.
Precious chose that moment to start one of her leaping up and down episodes. Either she didn’t like the idea that Laz had his hands—er, his lips—on Rosa, or she was just plain jealous that someone else was getting attention and she was not. At any rate, I scooped her into my arms and touched my finger to her nose, cautioning her to be still. “Leave them alone,” I whispered. “Not everything is about you!”
Rosa came up smiling and looking a little woozy.
“Does that answer your question?” Laz gave her a knowing look.
“Yes.” She grinned. “But I wouldn’t mind a little more convincing.”
He tipped her back and kissed her again. This time when she came up, she started laughing. Three minutes later, she was still laughing. In fact, tears were pouring down her face. Before long we all had the giggles.
When things finally calmed down, Rosa looked at Laz and smiled. “I was pretty sure that day in the kitchen, but I just needed a little reassuring. You know how women are.”
“Yes, I know how women are.” He shook his head and sighed. “And I know how men are too. We’re slow to admit what we’re feeling. Will you ever forgive me for waiting so long?”
“Of course. If you’ll forgive me for all of the mean things I’ve said to you over the years.” She gave him a sheepish look. “Can we just start with today and go from there?” Rosa gave him a little kiss on his cheek, and he flushed.
“Of course.”
“And …” She released a long, slow breath. “Can I just tell you one more thing, to get it off my chest?”
“Sure, Rosa. Anything.”
She gripped his hand and gazed up into his eyes. “I’ve loved you since I was twelve years old. That means I’ve loved you over fifty years.”
“Wow.” I whispered the word, knowing how difficult this must be for her to confess.
“I’m a coward and a fool,” Laz said, holding her close. “Otherwise I would’ve told you how much I cared for you years ago. I think the older I get, the more stubborn I get. But that’s not the only reason. I’ve been a little worried about something.”
“Oh?” she said, looking somewhat nervous.
“Rosa, you have to admit, we’re as different as night and day.”
“We are,” she whispered.
“If I say it’s black, you’re going to say it’s white. If I say it tastes good, you’re going to say it tastes bad. If I say it’s gravy, you’re going to call it sauce.”
“Oh no!” She put her hand up. “I’d never say that.”
“Still. We have a history of arguing just for the sake of arguing.”
“It’s how we communicate.” Rosa gave him a kiss on each cheek. “And I’m pretty sure we have quite a few arguments ahead. Being different isn’t a bad thing.”
I felt compelled to interject something. “Rosa’s right, Laz,” I said. “Being different is a good thing. Take D.J. and me. We’re as different as night and day, but it works for us. Life would be pretty boring if everyone was the same.”
“True.” Laz slipped his arm around Rosa’s waist and held her tight.
I turned to Rosa, dying to ask the next question. “So, are you going to take the gig on the Food Network?”
She paused a moment, then shook her head. “Don’t think so.”
“Really?” I could hardly believe it. “You’d give it all up for love?”
“Oh, Bella …” Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached to take Laz’s hand in hers. “Don’t you see? I wouldn’t be giving up anything. To have the love of a good man … well, it beats every other joy life could offer. I’ve waited over fifty years for this. Fifty years.”
I smiled as she stressed the words. Truly, she had waited. She’d never married, never known a honeymoon night. Probably never even been kissed until that day in the kitchen.
And now … I looked across the room at Laz, who beamed like a Cheshire cat. I wanted to sing his praises from rafter to rafter. Wanted to run and tell the others that Rosa was staying put and we wouldn’t all starve after all. Wanted to call Brock Benson in Hollywood and let him know I’d just witnessed one of the greatest love scenes of all time, one that even the best actors in Hollywood could never emulate. Unrequited love was now … requited. And I’d witnessed it firsthand.
D.J. and I backed out of the room and gave them the privacy they needed, the time to whisper the words they’d been denying all these years. I wouldn’t spoil that moment, no matter how badly I wanted to shout to all within hearing distance.
D.J. took me in his arms and gave me the cutest smile. “Sometimes life surprises you,” he whispered.
Yes. No doubt about that.
We made our way out onto the front porch and took a seat on the swing. After a few moments of blissful silence, D.J. squeezed my hand.
“So what comes next, Bella? A pirate wedding? A shootout at the O.K. Corral? A planetarium extravaganza featuring the sun, moon, and stars?”
“I’m open to all of those ideas, but I have the strangest feeling I’ll be planning an impromptu wedding of a different sort. No doubt it’ll be filled with lots of Italian food and the very happy croonings of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra.”
Oh no! Even as I spoke the words, it occurred to me—Laz and Rosa had never resolved their ongoing conflict of who was the better singer. Would their relationship come unraveled over this one question?
Nah. From what I’d witnessed in the living room, their hearts—and their lips—were safely joined. And what God had joined together … well, even Ol’ Blue Eyes and Dino couldn’t put asunder.
38
I Wish You Love
Less than twenty-four hours after their kiss-a-thon, Laz and Rosa announced their engagement to the family. Less than twenty-four hours after that, we had the whole thing planned out. They wanted the 1940s swing package, complete with a live swing band. Wow, was that ever going to be a fun one to coordinate!
But, December? Could I really get it done that quickly? It was already October, after all. Still, as Rosa was quick to tell me, when you’d waited fifty years for the man of your dreams, there was no point in waiting longer than necessary for the wedding night. She’d blushed at that revelation.
I spent the second Friday in October making plans for their big day. The menu? Italian food, of course. Though we’d argued against it, Laz and Rosa insisted they would prepare the food themselves. The locale? The wedding facility, naturally. But it would be transformed into a 1940s wonderland. I knew it would take a lot of work to pull off, but I figured that after all I’d been through, I was up for the task. Seemed the longer I worked at Club Wed, the more secure I felt.
Well, unless you counted that incident with the police. But I’d almost put all of that behind me. In fact, I’d done one better. I’d actually gotten in contact with my cellmate, Linda, and met her children. They would be coming to dinner one day soon. After that … who knew!
With the busyness of the wedding behind me, I was finally free to relax. Take it easy. Late afternoon I headed up to my room to take a nap before dinner.
Tucked under the covers, I reached down and patted Precious, who rolled over on her back for a tummy tickle. This raised that age-old question, the one that often plagued me in the night. What happened to one’s dog when one got married if, say, that dog was accustomed to snuggling under the covers at night? I sighed as I looked at the naughty little Yorkie-Poo. She might be a handful, but she was my handful. And if D.J. loved me, he had to love the dog, right?
I reached out to rub her little belly, and she made that contented sound I loved so much. See? She was a good girl!
Just then a knock sounded at the door, and Precious came flying off the bed, growling at the back of her throat, ready to save me from harm. If you could call a chat with my younger sister harm.
<
br /> Sophia rolled her eyes as she came in the room. “You’ve got to do something about that dog, Bella.”
I picked up Precious and nuzzled her against my cheek as I sighed. “Yeah. I know.”
Maybe tomorrow.
Or the day after that.
Sophia came in and stretched out on the bed, then let out a dramatic sigh.
“What is it, honey?” I asked.
“Laz and Rosa are getting married.”
“Right.”
“That’s just weird. I wonder which bedroom they’re going to move into.”
I hadn’t thought about that, to be quite honest. Things were moving so quickly, likely they hadn’t either. “Good question,” I said. “I wonder if they’re going to stay here at all, or if they’ll get their own place.”
Sophia sat straight up at this revelation. “No way! You don’t think they’d really do that, do you?”
“Maybe. They’re going to be honeymooners, you know.”
She shuddered. “That’s another thing. Can you picture … I mean, can you imagine … ?” She giggled, and I laughed in response.
“No. I can’t. I have a hard enough time imagining my own honeymoon night, let alone someone else’s, especially Laz and Rosa.”
“Me too.” She rolled over onto her stomach and stared at her nails. “I guess I’m not ever getting married.”
“Oh?”
“I hardly ever hear from Brock anymore. He’s only called me once since he left—and that was to ask my opinion about decorating that new after-school facility of his. He’s too busy saving the world to remember that I exist. So I’m destined to remain alone for the rest of my mortal life. Maybe I’ll become a nun.”
“But you’re not Catholic.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Maybe I could get a job on a cruise ship and sail the world. Put things behind me.”
“Don’t you get seasick?”
“Yeah.” Another sigh.
“I think it’s admirable that Brock’s starting the after-school facility. Don’t you?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m just being selfish, I guess.” A sigh erupted. “It sounds like a great place, and I’m sure the kids are great too. But he’s so busy that he doesn’t have time to call me anymore, and that stinks.”
“What about Tony?” I asked.
“What about him?”
“Does he call?”
Sophia shrugged. “Yeah. We’re going to the movies tonight. He’s a great guy.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Still, I have to wonder if I’ll ever get married.”
“Oh, I have a feeling you will. So don’t join the convent just yet. And I wouldn’t plan that cruise anytime soon either. I think you just need to take a deep breath and remember that God’s got your love life under control. No worries. He wants you to have your happily ever after.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
We both giggled at that one.
Sophia stretched out on the bed once again, looking a little dreamy-eyed. Even her voice took on a faraway sound. “It is fun to think about getting married, isn’t it? If I ever do, I’d like to have a traditional ceremony. Nothing too frilly. Maybe have the ceremony at the church, then have a small reception at the wedding facility. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you thought about your wedding day?”
“Have I thought about it?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Only since I was seven! Where were you?”
“Falling in love with all the wrong guys.”
I laughed. “Well, I’ve definitely given this some thought. Would you like to see the pictures I cut out of bridal magazines and the fabric samples I started collecting when I was thirteen?”
“Maybe later.” Sophia grinned.
“To answer your question, I’ve spent as much time thinking about the wedding as I have thinking about love itself.”
“What do you mean?”
I did my best to explain. “From the time I was a little girl, I’ve thought about what it would be like to fall in love. And we have plenty of examples in our family. Just look around you. We’re surrounded by love on every side.”
“I guess you’re right.” Sophia nodded. “Never thought about that before.”
“Take Mama and Pop. They have that ‘I’ll rub your back with mentholated ointment, you rub mine’ kind of love. Steady. Sure. The kind that says it’s okay to let your guard down and just be yourself.”
“I never thought about that before, but you’re right.” Sophia paused a moment, and I could tell she was thinking. “I love that kind of love. It’s so comfortable. So easy.”
“Yes, but we also have the ‘I’m too scared to tell you how I feel’ version with Rosa and Laz. It’s basically the same thing, only in reverse. They’ve been as uncomfortable as Mom and Pop have been comfortable, if that makes sense.”
“What would you call Nick and Marcella’s brand of love?” Sophia asked.
“Hmm. They have the tempestuous ‘Did you pay the light bill today?’ kind of love. It’s just as real as the other versions. Maybe more real.” I grinned.
“So what about you?” Sophia gazed at me with a hopeful look in her eye. “What’s it like for you and D.J.?”
“Oh …” I paused, trying to figure out how to explain it. “Well, we’re not at the light-bill stage yet. That’s for sure. It’s still so fresh. I have the butterfly kind of love. When he comes into the room, my heart starts working overtime. But the longer we’re together—and I realize it’s only been a few months—the more it’s turning into that comfortable sort of love.”
We sat without saying a word for a few minutes. Likely Sophia’s thoughts were running as deep as my own. We’d both known love all our lives. I couldn’t recall a time when I’d ever been without it, in fact. And I thanked God for it in all its varieties. The brother-sister kind. The mother-daughter kind. The guy-girl kind. I loved love. Period.
Most of all, I had to say, I loved the one who’d created love. None of it would make any sense without him. And he’d done a pretty good job of creating the universe, so he must understand the workings of my heart.
And Sophia’s. I offered up a silent prayer that God would show her what to do about the whole Brock-Tony thing. I wanted my sister to experience the kind of love I’d found with D.J. The real deal.
The silence held us in its grip for a moment longer, but the sound of music playing downstairs broke the spell.
“What is that?” I asked. The melody was faint but familiar. Sophia’s brow wrinkled as she listened. “I don’t know. I can’t make it out.”
“Let’s find out.” I rose from the bed and walked out into the hallway. I could hear the strains of a familiar song wafting up the stairwell. Only when I got to the halfway point on the stairs did I realize what it was: “Someday My Prince Will Come,” the theme song from Cinderella. Weird. Either Rosa had completely changed her taste in music, or …
I never had a chance to finish pondering the what-ifs. As I landed on the bottom step, I was greeted by D.J., who was dressed in a tuxedo complete with tails.
“W-what in the world are you doing?” My heart did a little flip-flop. “Are we headed back to the opera?”
“Nope.” He extended his hand and, with a twinkle in his eye, made an announcement. “Madam, your carriage awaits.”
39
Our Love Is Here to Stay
I stared at D.J., completely confused. By now everyone was gathered in the foyer. Mama took one look at my sweetie’s getup and gasped. I’d never seen her in such a state.
I wasn’t doing much better myself. For some reason, everything went to sepia tone when I saw D.J. dressed like that. It was kind of like one of those moments when you think you’re dreaming but you’re not sure. If I could’ve pinched myself, I would have, but that would have required thinking clearly. Completely out of the question at the moment.
Rosa turned her sights to the front
window, a stunned look on her face. “Why are those horses in front of our house? And what’s that man doing in such a funny costume?”
Horses? Costume?
Everyone rushed to the window, and I got lost in the crowd. D.J. took me by the hand and led me out onto the veranda, where I caught a glimpse of the Cinderella carriage Marian had ridden in to her wedding. Under the setting sun, the twinkling lights looked prettier than ever.
“W-w-what have you done?” My heart was now thumping out of control, and I was having a little trouble breathing. Maybe this was what hyperventilating felt like—I couldn’t be sure.
He gave me a boyish grin. “I just thought you might like to go for a ride. If you don’t already have plans, I mean.”
“Looking like this?” I gestured to my jeans and T-shirt. “If I had known …”
“If you had known, then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. But if you want to change into that gown you were wearing at the wedding, I’d be happy to wait.”
“Really?”
When he nodded, I didn’t hesitate. I raced back inside and bounded up the stairs with Sophia on my heels. We didn’t have time to do much with my hair and makeup, though my sister took a stab at both. I focused on changing into princess attire, the whole thing feeling rather surreal. What in the world did D.J. have up his sleeve?
Five minutes later I sprinted in unladylike fashion down the stairs in the same dress I’d worn to the wedding.
D.J. met me at the bottom with extended hand. “Come ride with me, Bella Bambina. I want to spend some alone time with you.”
“O-okay.”
Moments later, with my entire family looking on—and likely with Dakota taking pictures from his roof—I climbed aboard the Cinderella carriage. The driver, an older fellow with white hair and an upturned moustache, tipped his hat at me and smiled. I grinned when I saw his coachman’s attire. Very fairy-tale-like. Just my cup of tea.
He offered me his hand and helped me aboard. Then D.J. climbed in behind me. We settled onto the leather bench seat next to each other, grasping hands. Sweet. The feelings that washed over me reminded me of the conversation I’d just had with Sophia about love. Dwayne Neeley Jr. was a gift straight from heaven, one I was truly thankful for. And when I held his hand … when I looked into his eyes … I was that little girl all over again, dreaming of what it would one day be like when my prince came and swept me away.
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