It Had To Be You

by Janice Thompson

  I shrugged. “Hmm. I think my only trip was in fifth grade. So, maybe nineteen years?”

  “Do you remember the Mediterranean at all?”

  “Vaguely.”

  Francesca’s eyes took on a dreamy look. “Well, most never forget it. The water is ice blue. And the colors of the buildings along the shoreline are magnificent in comparison. There’s nothing like it.”

  I sighed, knowing she was right but not willing to concede. “The Gulf of Mexico might not be the Mediterranean,” I said, “but if you take a boat out a few miles, the water gets bluer as you go. And where the gulf merges with the Caribbean … well, you’ve never seen waters that color. Indigo. And warm as sunshine, even in December.”

  “Humph.” She went back to examining her nails.

  Laz slipped his arm around Rosa’s waist and gave her a kiss in her hair. I happened to catch a glimpse of Sal just a few feet away, taking this in. His jawline was tight, but he said nothing. That’s right, mister. You’d better keep your thoughts to yourself.

  D.J. arrived at 12:30, just as we set up the food on a couple of the carefully chosen picnic tables. Mama and Rosa had prepared meatball sandwiches along with some pasta salad. Yum. We drank sweet tea with our meal, and I smiled as I watched Deanna react to it.

  “Whoa!” She held up the glass, a stunned look on her face.

  “Yeah, I know.” I laughed. “D.J.’s mama calls that glucose tea. Don’t drink it if you have a blood sugar problem.”

  “I might if I drink this whole glass.” Deanna grinned, then took another swig. “We sure don’t drink it like this in Napoli.”

  We enjoyed a wonderful lunch together, but I found myself distracted, wondering what D.J. wanted to talk to me about. After we ate, I gave him one of those “let’s sneak away from the crowd” looks, and he responded by rising from the table and stretching. He winked, then spoke to anyone who might be listening. “I’d like to see the water before I have to go back.”

  “Good idea,” I echoed, grabbing him by the hand. “See you guys later.”

  And we were off to the sand, where I pulled off my shoes and ran my toes along the edge of the cold water. Then I stopped and turned to face the mighty Gulf of Mexico, breathing in the salty air. D.J. came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, leaning his head against mine. We stood frozen in time and space, just staring. The waves pulled in and out, doing their usual thing. I found myself caught up in the rhythm of it all, thinking about how much our lives were like that—ins and outs, goods and bads. Thankfully, more good than bad.

  After a few moments, D.J. broke the silence. “I have something to tell you,” he said. “Something I hope you’re going to like.”

  “Oh?” I turned to face him, and the wind whipped a loose hair into my face.

  D.J. brushed it aside, his fingertips lingering against my cheek. “You know I have a lot of friends in the construction business.”

  “Sure.” I gazed at him, more curious than ever.

  “Well, one of them—a guy named John—told me a couple of months ago about this old house in town, just a few blocks from your parents.”

  This certainly got my attention. “Yeah?”

  “Bella, when I say old, I mean old. It survived the hurricane of 1900.”

  “Hmm.” I hated to speculate. I’d seen several of those older homes, and they rarely impressed me. Well, except the ones that had been overhauled.

  “Anyway, it’s been vacant ever since Hurricane Ike hit. The owners abandoned it, and the county took it over once back taxes became an issue. So I found out that I could get it for a song.”

  “Really? You think it’s right for us?”

  “I don’t think I’d let my dog live there right now, to be honest,” he said. “I won’t lie to you, Bella. It’s really bad. And not terribly big. But the lot is huge, so it has lots of possibilities.”

  “Hmm.” Another long pause on my end must’ve clued him in to my discomfort.

  “I want to take you by to see it,” he said, “but I’m afraid it’ll scare you off. When I look at it …” He smiled. “Well, when I look at it, I see it completely renovated. I see hardwood floors and ten-foot ceilings. I see a modern kitchen and a new stairway. I see huge windows and a wide veranda where we can hang a porch swing like your parents have.”

  “Mmm. Sounds yummy. What else?”

  “I see a big living room where our families can get together and an even bigger dining room with one of those huge tables like y’all have in your dining room. I see a large master bedroom where we can …” His face turned red. “Turn in after a long day.”

  “Mm-hmm. I like what you see.” Reaching up, I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Unfortunately, you probably won’t have the same view of things if I actually take you to see the place.”

  “Ah.” I paused, deep in thought. “How do we move forward if I don’t see it?”

  “Well, I had this idea.” He offered up a crooked grin. “I was thinking maybe you wouldn’t see it at all. Until it’s done, I mean.”

  “W-what?” I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You want to buy a house and not let me see it until it’s done?”

  “Right. That’s exactly what I want to do. And I want you to trust me.”

  “I do trust you, but …” Shaking my head, I tried to make sense of this. “Are you really serious?”

  “Never more so.”

  “Aren’t you going to be busy doing the work on Rosa and Laz’s suite?” I asked him.

  “I’ll contract it out, mostly,” he said. “Probably oversee it. That’s part of what it’s like to be your own boss. You don’t always do the grunt work.”

  “Right, but still, you’re going to be plenty busy with that.”

  “And several other projects too, if things go well,” he said. “Getting this business up and running means dedicating a lot of time to a lot of different jobs. But one of the benefits is knowing how to renovate an old home, which is what I’m itching to do for the two of us.”

  “So, how will you have time to work on a house that we would need to live in by February?”

  He shrugged. “When you want something bad enough, you make it happen.”

  “Mmm.” I slipped my arms around his waist, convinced he was right. I’d wanted D.J. Neeley, and—with a lot of help from above—had made it happen. Okay, so I’d had very little to do with it. Our happily ever after was all the Lord’s doing, not my own. Still, I knew how to fight for something I wanted.

  Obviously, so did D.J. From the look on his face, I could tell he wanted this house—and bad.

  I reached for my shoes and slid them back on, feeling the grainy sand underneath my feet. I turned back to my sweetie. “I’ll make you a deal. If you pray about this and feel like it’s really a God-idea, then go for it. Your house is my house. I completely trust you.”

  He grinned. “And think of the stories we’ll have to tell our kids one day about how Daddy wouldn’t let Mommy see her house until it was finished.”

  I couldn’t help but smile as he talked about our children yet to come. What would it be like to have children with D.J.? Would they turn out like Frankie and Deany-boy—rotten to the core but loveable when the situation called for it? Or would I one day have a beautiful, doe-eyed daughter with frilly pink dresses and bows in her hair?

  Looking at D.J., I suddenly realized the house didn’t matter. Sure, we needed a place to live, but who cared if it was an older, renovated house or a new one? As long as we were close to the people we loved, any house he built would be a home.

  11

  Don’t Fence Me In

  I spent Wednesday afternoon tying up loose ends at the wedding facility. Time to check and double-check everything. Candelabras. Tablecloths. Silverware. Serving dishes. I certainly had my work cut out for me. Armando had always accused me of being obsessive-compulsive, and I couldn’t deny it. Still, there were some advantages to being a list maker. You could check thin
gs off one at a time. And that’s what I spent the afternoon doing.

  At 3:00 I received a visit from Aunt Rosa, who looked a little flustered. She sat across from me, fanning herself.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “Bella, remember how I asked you to drop off Laz’s ring at the jeweler last week to be sized?”

  “Sure.” I nodded. “I did that. Dropped it off, just like you asked.”

  “Right.” She fanned herself again. “Well, I picked it up today and they sized it wrong. Laz wears a nine. They sized it an eleven.”

  “Oh no.” I slapped myself in the head, realizing what must’ve happened. “Rosa, I’m so sorry. D.J. wears an eleven. I must’ve gotten confused when I filled out the paperwork. Can they fix it?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “I can pick it up tomorrow. But talk about cutting it close!”

  “I’m so sorry.” I gave her my best pout, and she grinned.

  “Who could be angry with you, Bella Bambina? I love you, my girl.”

  “I love you too.” I stood and gave her a hug.

  As she left the room, I shook my head, perplexed by how many things I’d gotten confused about lately. First the bridesmaids’ dresses, now the rings? Man! I’d better start paying attention.

  At 4:45 D.J. showed up. I watched from my office window as his Dodge 4x4 pulled up in the driveway of Club Wed and thought back on that first day I’d seen him. Nothing much had changed. He still drew my eye and caused me to lose my breath. A couple of things were different now, though. Now—as I watched him amble up the drive with those pointed cowboy boots leading the way—I knew he was mine. Knew I’d spend forever with him.

  Hmm. My mind reeled backward in time, not to the day we’d met, but to our conversation about the house. I knew he probably wanted to talk more about it. Hopefully things would slow down long enough to do that after Rosa and Laz’s wedding. In the meantime, I needed to put all thoughts of home renovation out of my mind and focus on the upcoming wedding. Just three days! Saturday was going to be glorious—perfect in every way. The reception hall at Club Wed was coming along nicely, and with the addition of the swing band, we would have the party of the century!

  D.J. and I walked arm in arm to my house next door, our conversation easy. Oh, how I loved this guy. I loved the way his eyes lit up when he got excited about something. I loved the way he prayed with me when things got tough. And I especially loved the fact that he loved not just me but my family as well. Anyone who could fall in love with the Rossi clan was all right in my book.

  I paused on the veranda and gazed into his eyes. “Have I told you today how much I adore you?”

  “Hmm, let me think.” After a second’s pause, he said, “Nope,” with that long Texas drawl of his.

  “Well then, I’m long overdue. I love you, Dwayne Neeley Jr. And I can’t wait till Rosa and Laz’s big day is behind me so I can give our wedding my undivided attention. It’s going to be so wonderful, merging our two families together. Can you even imagine?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s going to be glorious.”

  He held me close and kissed me. Waves of joy—stronger than the pull of the gulf—washed over me. What had I ever done to deserve this guy? I whispered up a prayer of thanks, opening my eyes only when I heard D.J. speak.

  “Bella, I’m crazy about you. Whenever I think about where I’d be without you …” He paused, and his eyes filled with tears. “Well, I can’t imagine it. Being with you has been the best decision of my life, next to choosing to walk with the Lord. And I thank him every day for you. Every minute of every day. I honestly believe he brought us together, and he’s going to keep us going for years and years to come.”

  Now who had tears in her eyes? I brushed them away and kissed him soundly, then lingered in his arms a minute or two.

  “When we’re Rosa and Laz’s age, we’ll have been married thirty-plus years,” D.J. said.

  “Crazy.” I shook my head. “But at least we’ll have spent those years together, instead of bickering like they did!”

  “No kidding. Thank goodness those days are behind them now. People spend entirely too much time not getting along when they could be doing this.” D.J. kissed the tip of my nose. “And this.” He kissed each cheek. “And this.” He gave me a passionate kiss on the lips I wouldn’t soon forget, then released his hold on me. He opened the front door, and we stepped inside the foyer. As we passed my father’s office, D.J. put a finger to his lips and leaned close to the door to listen to something.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Maybe I spoke too soon. Sounds like someone’s arguing,” he whispered.

  I strained to hear where the voices were coming from. Sure enough, it sounded like two grown men going at it. Not physically fighting, but sparring with their words. No doubt about that.

  I leaned against the office door, trying to make sense of the conversation inside. Was Pop on the phone with someone, maybe?

  Nope. It became abundantly clear within seconds what I was hearing … and whom. Sal and Laz. Fighting.

  Sal’s words came through all too clear. “I can’t let you marry that woman, Lazarro.”

  “And why not?” My uncle’s voice trembled with anger.

  “Look at her. She’s …”

  My jaw dropped open. So did D.J.’s. I could see the anger in his eyes.

  “She’s what, Sallie?” Laz’s voice again, this time shaking more than ever.

  “Old. And not … well, there’s no nice way to say it, Lazarro. She’s not pretty. There’s no amount of makeup to do the trick with someone as plain as Rosa. Her figure is … well, you have eyes. Surely you can see. She has no figure. Nothing to capture a man’s imagination. And at this age, you need something to capture the imagination. Am I right or am I wrong?” A nervous laugh followed, but I didn’t feel like laughing right now. Oh no. I felt like taking someone’s head off.

  “For your information, I like what I see.” Laz’s voice came through loud and clear. “And my imagination works overtime when I look at Rosa. She’s captured me, heart and soul.”

  You go, Laz!

  “C’mon, Lazarro. Think big. You deserve someone special. You’ve waited a long time since your wife died—God rest her soul.” I could hear the staged sympathy in Sal’s voice, but he wasn’t fooling me. Hopefully, he wasn’t fooling Laz either.

  Oooh! I wanted to swing wide the door and take Sal down. How dare he say such horrible things about Rosa? Beautiful, sweet, precious Rosa! And how dare he bring Laz’s deceased wife into this? What a low blow!

  At this point, I heard Guido holler out, “Wise guy!” followed by a string of curse words. So much for a life change. Something about being in the presence of his owner apparently brought out the worst in the old bird—Guido, not Sal. Though Sal didn’t appear to be doing very well either.

  The ornery parrot continued to curse, then gave a rousing rendition of “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” one of his favorite tunes. I took a step toward the door, reaching for the knob. D.J. shook his head and put a finger to his lips again, obviously sensing my desire to stop this in its tracks.

  Thankfully, I heard my uncle’s voice again. “How dare you speak to me like this! And in my own home!” Laz went into a detailed explanation of how much he loved Rosa, how he didn’t give a whit about her personal appearance—good, bad, or otherwise. On and on he went, singing her praises, focusing on the beauty in her heart, in her character. Then he shifted gears and went into a dissertation about her cooking skills and her stint—however short—with the Food Network.

  If all of this was meant to impress Sal, it didn’t work. He countered with a doozy. “Don’t you want a wife who’s young? Someone like Francesca? Your brother found someone young and pretty. Surely you can too. You’ve just been looking in the wrong places, old man. But there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

  Okay, those were most assuredly fighting words. I’d just rolled up my sleeves to do battle when Rosa
appeared, a look of concern on her face. “What’s going on in there?” she whispered. “They’re going to stir up everyone in the neighborhood.”

  D.J.—God bless him—took my aunt by the arm and guided her back into the hallway toward the kitchen, chatting about the dinner menu. I followed along on their heels, determined to get my whipped-up emotions under control before she realized I was ready to blow. What happened between Laz and Sal would stay between Laz and Sal. Rosa would never know.

  Or so I thought.

  Sal’s booming voice rang out across the house just before we entered the kitchen: “Il bene del matrimonio dura tre die—il male dura fino a la morte.”

  I’d have to give D.J. the interpretation later: “The good marriage lasts three days—and the bad lasts till death.”

  I got Sal’s meaning. He went on to say something about Emilio feeling the same way about the situation, and that was all she wrote for Laz. I’d never heard him this angry before. I actually feared he might do Sal mortal harm. I could almost see the headlines now: Former Mob Boss Murdered When Local Man Snaps. Crazed Parrot Serves as Witness.

  I looked into my aunt’s wide eyes, sickened by the fact that she’d heard this. So much for protecting her feelings. She clamped a hand over her mouth, and tears rose to cover her lashes. I didn’t know which I wanted to do first—punch Sal’s lights out or throw my arms around her and tell her she’d somehow misunderstood.

  Hmm. Punching his lights out sounded like the more logical choice. Of course, the Lord frowned on such things. Turn the other cheek and all that. Still, even the Almighty knew when to take action. Right?

  At this point, Laz came storming out of the office with Sal on his heels. I knew they hadn’t seen us. I’d done a pretty good job of keeping Rosa in the hallway, out of sight. But we were still very much within hearing distance, much to my chagrin.

  “Laz, just think about it!” Sal implored. “You’ve got a lot of good years left in you. Do you really want to spend them with a woman who looks like that?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, immediately praying Rosa hadn’t heard. But I knew better. Still, a little prayer never hurt. As I turned toward her, my heart dropped to my toes. Her mouth rounded into a perfect “O” shape, and her big brown eyes filled with tears again. I rushed her way and slipped an arm over her shoulder.