Whoa. The room was so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop.
“We were taken to Arkansas when we first arrived in ‘79,” he explained. “From there, many of us headed west to Texas. Most of us were well educated and familiar with American ways. We knew of Texas, of course, through the television show Dallas.”
“Who shot J.R.?” Mr. Pappas said. “Loved that show.”
“Did we ever really figure out who shot J.R?” Mrs. Pappas asked. “I mean, I know they said it was Kristin, but was it really? I always suspected Sue Ellen.”
“Mama, that’s irrelevant.” Darian rolled his eyes then turned his attention to Grandpa Nguyen. “What happened next?”
“We were bussed to Houston, and that’s where we first came to know about Galveston Island. We were told there were jobs here. My wife and I, along with our son, were among the first Vietnamese citizens in Galveston in 1979.”
“And you were welcomed with open arms, no doubt,” Mrs. Pappas offered a comforting smile. “Galvestonians are so kind.”
“Hardly.” Grandpa Nguyen shook his head and I saw a hint of tears in his eyes. “After all my training as a doctor in our own country, I was turned away from even the most menial of jobs. So, I did the one thing that made sense. I’d been raised a fisherman’s son, so I headed out to sea. Used what little money I had to buy a boat, and started my own fishing company.”
“He grew it into the largest deep sea fishing company on the island,” Ling’s father said with a smile. “Quite a feat.”
“And raised the smartest boy on the island,” Grandpa Nguyen added. He turned to give his son an admiring look. “I never regretting coming to Texas. Well, after the first couple years, anyway. My son—and his wife and daughter—have had a life of opportunity we would never have known otherwise.”
“I feel the same way about my children,” Mr. Pappas said. “My parents moved from Greece when I was just a boy. Babbas always said it was because of me. He wanted me to have a shot at a better life.”
“Isn’t that what all of us want?” Mrs. Nguyen asked. “In the end? Don’t we all just want our children to have more—better—happier—than we did?”
In that moment, pride swelled up within me. My parents, along with my Aunt and Uncle, had risked everything to leave their lives in Italy to come to America. They’d done so, so that we, their children, could have all we could wish for, and more.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat that rose as I thought this through. It would not be swallowed.
Mr. Pappas wrapped his wife in his arms. “Ah, but it’s been a happy life for us, too, my darling girl. Not just the kids and future grandkids.”
“And us, too.” Mr. Nguyen swept his sweetheart in his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead.
In that moment, I did the only thing that made sense. I made a beeline for my hubby. The minute his arms enclosed around me, I realized the truth: We all had more—better—happier lives because of those who’d gone before us. And I would never take it for granted again.
CHAPTER NINE
Love and Mercy
On Friday afternoon, Brock Benson, sitcom star and long-time friend of the Pappas and Rossi families, arrived on the island with his wife and kids. They settled in at the Tremont hotel and then met up with us at sunset at the Pappas home. We greeted them with the usual gusto, then turned our attention to the real guests of honor, the bride and groom.
Ling looked particularly beautiful this evening, dressed in an off-white chartreuse sundress. She’d pulled her hair up, and her makeup job was impeccable. Darian matched her in style, his cream-colored button-up shirt just right with his Bermuda shorts. Yep. Dressed for a wedding rehearsal on the beach. Perfection!
As everyone gathered for drinks on the patio, I did my typical wedding coordinator-thing. I placed last minute calls to the vendors, checked in to see how Scarlet was coming with the cake, looked over the weather report for tomorrow evening’s event, asked Ling about last-minute changes to the program, then flew into gear, welcoming the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and the three pastors, who seemed now to be the best of friends.
“Bella, you were right.” Ling pointed to the tidy deck, everything standing aright. “You can’t see any remains of the storm. Everything came together perfectly.”
“And it will tomorrow, too. Just wait and see how great this deck is going to look covered in tables and chairs, dressed to the nines. I’ve got all my ducks in a row, girl. You won’t be disappointed.”
“Ooo, duck!” Her grandfather licked his lips as he passed by. “That’s what we left off of tomorrow night’s menu. Duck. What good is a Vietnamese wedding without duck, I ask you?”
“We’re having duck tonight, Grandpa.” Ling slipped her arm through his. “Back at our house after the rehearsal. Remember? Ma’s been cooking all day. And she’s so excited everyone’s coming to our place to celebrate.”
“Oh, right. That’s why I have duck on the brain. I’ve been smelling it all day.” He laughed and then headed to the fetch another glass of lemonade.
At exactly 7:12 p.m. we began the procession toward the beach. Pastor Lindsey opened in prayer. I gathered the troops and talked them through the order of service, and then we were off and running. No, we didn’t have chairs set up yet. And no, the canopy hadn’t arrived. All of that would take place tomorrow, early afternoon. But we had the most important thing. Well, the most important thing after the happy couple.
We had a sunset.
A beautiful, glorious, can’t-believe-it’s-really-this-exquisite sunset. Luscious shades of pinks and golds hovered over the warm waters of the Gulf, beckoning us to stare up, up, upward. . .to drink it in. I found my gaze fixed on the round golden ball, that lucky old sun, as it began its evening descent into the western sky. As it slipped deeper and deeper beyond the horizon, the colors of the horizon morphed in steady successive waves, causing all to gasp in wonder.
D.J. slipped his arm around my waist. “Every minute, something new.”
“Every minute, something new,” I echoed. “And all of it beautiful.”
Wasn’t that just how life was, after all? Ever changing, and yet—if we looked close enough—always beautiful. Always new. Fresh. Hopeful. Even the hardest moments, the ones where the sunlight seemed to be slipping away, held rare snatches of beauty. Funny, how all of that came into perspective right now, under the evening sky.
“I just knew it.” Ling sighed as she stared at the ever-changing colors. “Perfection.”
Mrs. Nguyen swatted at a fly. “Well, not quite perfection. . .but close.”
“Don’t worry, everyone. D.J. is just about to light the citronella torches and we’ll get this show on the road.”
And that’s exactly what we did. My honey set up a few Tiki torches and lit them, which sent the critters on their way. Then, with the soft sand beneath our toes, the warmth of the now-fading sun on our skin, and the cool, balmy breezes from the Gulf of Mexico, we began our run-through of the ceremony.
You could’ve heard a pin drop as the pastors each took their turns, leading the bride and groom through their various rituals. In a particularly endearing moment, as I watched the Greek orthodox priest lead Ling and Darian in the circle of the rings, I felt a knot in my throat. I thought about D.J., about the moment we’d first said our I do’s. Though the setting was completely different—our event taking place at Club Wed—the feelings were just the same.
We’d merged hearts.
We’d merged lives.
We’d merged families.
And that’s just what God was doing here, too.
I looked around, my gaze falling on Mrs. Pappas and Mrs. Nguyen, who stood arm-in-arm, watching their children rehearse for their upcoming nuptials. I shifted my focus to Mr. Pappas, who stood like any proud papa would, chest puffed out, tears in his eyes. From there, I settled my gaze on our police chief, the usually stern Mr. Nguyen. Nothing stern in that face this evening. No, nothing but pure joy and contentment.
To
morrow we’d do all of this for real, of course. Or, rather, they would do it for real. I would just be here to make sure all of our ducks were in a row, as I’d said.
Ducks.
My gaze shifted to Grandpa Nguyen. I thought about the rehearsal dinner yet to come and all of the yummy foods to be served there. Just as quickly, my thoughts gravitated to the elderly man’s story about coming to America, about starting over.
That’s just what Ling and Darian were doing tomorrow night.
That’s what we all did when we married and started our own families.
We started over, but we took pieces of our past with us—our parents, our grandparents, and all of those who’d lived their lives to the best of their ability so that we could have it all.
And my, oh my. . .how much we owed them for the sacrifice.
When this wedding came to its rightful end, I would have a heart-to-heart with Mama. And Papa. And Aunt Rosa. And Uncle Laz. I would thank them for loving me enough to give me everything I’d ever needed and more.
And while I was at it—my gaze now shifted to D.J.—I’d thank my sweetheart for giving me a life filled with colorful sunsets and real happily ever afters. And I might. . .just might. . .go ahead and tell him that we had another little happily ever after of our own on the way, while I was at it.
CHAPTER TEN
Surf’s Up
If weddings had a script, Ling and Darian’s would’ve followed it to the letter.
Saturday afternoon, under warm but not-too-hot skies, the Stages Events team arrived and set up 150 white wooden chairs in carefully strategized rows on the sand, leaving a wide aisle in the middle. D.J. and his construction crew brought in the gorgeous canopy that had been built just for today, then Gabi Spencer, our resident fabric expert, draped it in chiffon. Cassia dressed the whole thing up with a variety of gorgeous flowers, hand picked for this special night.
The events team ran a heavy cloth runner down the center aisle for the bride and her party to walk down. They lined it with large conch shells to keep the wind from picking it up and blowing it away.
By two in the afternoon, most of the key pieces were in place, including all of the tables in the reception area and their corresponding chairs. Next came the gorgeous ivory tablecloths. Then, the team worked in meticulous order bringing in every lovely centerpiece and table setting. I’d rarely seen anything as perfect. Ling would adore all of this.
Ling! I headed inside to make sure Darian had headed to the Nguyen home for the first part of the Vietnamese ceremony—the reception of his bride. Sure enough, he and the groomsmen were on their way to lay claim to the future Mrs. Pappas.
Me? I needed to stay put and keep working.
After making sure everything was in place in the reception area, I put Cassia to work at the ceremony site, helping me with the Tiki torches along the center aisle. When we finished, she stepped back, looked the area over and flashed a smile.
“Can you believe this is all coming together?” She looked my way, joy in her expression. “Thanks to you.”
“Nah. I just do what I love.”
“Well, it shows in every single detail. We can’t thank you enough for making my little brother’s wedding day so spectacular.” She paused and then chuckled. “Oh, and thanks for ushering in the hurricane. Ling told me that was your doing, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Puh-leeze. It’s what I do. Bella Neeley, wedding coordinator and weather girl.”
“Speaking of weather, we’ve got the perfect temperatures today, haven’t we?”
We did, indeed. I just hoped the moderate temperatures would stick around. No surprise storms tonight, please and thank you.
By three o’clock, a second crew from Stages arrived with plants. They set large potted palms along the edge of the ceremony site to frame out the area, then shifted their attention to the Pappas’s back porch, where they placed the rest of the potted plants. Afterwards, I signed off on their work and headed up to the house to change into my wedding attire. In just a couple of hours the guests would arrive and the ceremony would begin. I could hardly wait.
Even from my spot on the back deck I could smell the food. I could almost picture the folks inside the Pappas kitchen, cooking their hearts out. No caterers for this special night, now that everyone was working together.
The bride and her team arrived just as I changed into my dress. Ling wore an amazing Asian gown, unlike anything I’d ever seen. Very colorful and traditional. Darian ushered her inside the Pappas home and loudly proclaimed that he had laid claim to her. From the expression on the bride’s face, she was lost in a state of near-marital bliss.
Only, they weren’t officially married yet. We had to get these two formally hitched. But first, I had to help the bride out of one ceremonial dress and into another.
I ushered her upstairs to change into her off the shoulder sweetheart wedding gown, crafted out of soft chiffon. The perfect dress for a summer beach wedding. Gabi had really outdone herself this time.
Then Cassia helped Ling with a casual up-do, one that would last the duration of the evening and withstand the gulf breezes, and then Mrs. Nguyen pinned on the veil—that gorgeous, sentimental veil, once worn by Ling’s grandmother.
Guests started arriving at 6:45. My parents arrived early, bringing all of my children. God bless them. What would I do without Mama and Papa?
About that same time, Scarlet arrived with the cake. I gasped as I watched her set it onto the stand on the cake table. “Oh, Scarlet! You did it!”
She fussed with it for a moment, then looked my way. “It took some doing, but I think I’ve crafted a four-tiered wonder that no one—Greek, Vietnamese or otherwise—will ever forget.”
“Indeed.”
I touched up my lipstick, then headed to the beach to make sure everything was falling into place for our incoming guests. They oohed and aahed over the setup, then I pointed out the water station, where many opted for bottles of water. Several of the ladies in heels took us up on our offer of wedding-themed flip-flops and many of the guys kicked their shoes off altogether.
At exactly 7:15, just as the sky began to pink up, I walked back to the house to get the happy bride. I found her surrounded by the women in her life—her mother, future mother-in-law, and Cassia, her soon-to-be sister-in-law. They were praying together.
Praying.
Not fighting.
Not bickering.
Just praying. In a variety of languages, to boot.
I stood back and took it all in, realizing that I was witnessing a true miracle. God, in his infinite wisdom, had merged hearts, lives and cultures, and nothing would ever be the same.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fun, Fun, Fun
The next two hours flew by. Ling and Darian’s wedding by the sea was breathtaking, from start to finish. And, with the exception of a few flies and mosquitoes, we saw no uninvited guests. Beach-goers kept their distance, giving the wedding party their privacy.
My heart was so caught up in the lovely ceremony—especially the blessings by the various pastors—that it all seemed to fly by in a blink. By the time they said their I do’s, I’d pretty much slipped out of wedding coordinator mode and assumed the role of guest.
Until Pastor Lindsey announced they were man and wife.
At this point I kicked into gear once again, eventually directing the guests to the reception area at the back of the Pappas home.
All of my concerns melted like butter as I watched the Pappas family serve up the evening meal. The combination of foods seemed to merge together in perfect union. In fact, most of the guests went back for seconds. And thirds.
When the moment came to cut the cake, I wondered how Ling and Darian would manage. Turned out, they had the perfect plan. They cut that sucker straight down the middle, half of the slice on the Greek side, half on the Vietnamese. I couldn’t help but chuckle as they celebrated its yumminess.
Yes, this evening was certainly coming together smoothly. I
had a feeling guests would be talking about this wedding for years to come.
After Ling and Darian left in their limousine, I approached D.J. We needed to have an important discussion and I couldn’t think of a better time or place. I caught him nibbling on a slice of the Vietnamese wedding cake. He shoved the last bite in his mouth and then licked his fingers, a delirious look on his face.
“What did Scarlet put in this cake, anyway?” He grabbed and napkin and wiped his hands. “I could eat it all day.”
“Not sure, but it was great. She really outdid herself. The Greek side was pretty yummy too.”
“Everything was perfect, Bella.” He pulled me close and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “I don’t mind saying it.”
“Saying what?”
“That you were right and I was wrong.”
“Oh?” I laughed and then gazed up into his eyes. “Would you mind saying that again, just so I can make sure I didn’t misunderstand you?”
“You. Were. Right.” My hubby gave me a tender kiss. “And I was wrong. This whole wedding on the beach thing was pretty amazing. And you couldn’t have asked for better weather. It’s almost as if. . .” He pointed to the sky. “There were greater forces at work.”
“You think?”
“I know. But you were right to trust that God had it all worked out. And I’m pretty sure this wedding brought two families together in a way like I haven’t seen since, well, since we got married.”
“I heard Mrs. Nguyen asking for Mrs. Pappas’s tzatziki sauce recipe,” I said. “If that’s any indicator.”
“And I heard our police chief formally apologize to Mr. Pappas for supposedly harming his wife that day on The Strand. He said he felt like a fool for even suspecting such a thing.” D.J. paused. “I have a feeling they’re all going to be the best of friends.”
“Will wonders never cease?” I couldn’t help but smile as the words crossed my lips. Wonders definitely hadn’t ceased in my life, and it was time to share one of them with the man I loved.
That Lucky Old Sun (The Bella Novella Collection Book 4) Page 6
