Fools Rush In (18 page)
“Has to be a mistake. Let me check the imprint on the bottom.” We leaned in closer and read the word Lanciotti aloud. “They’re the real thing all right.” D.J. put the boots on a chair, and we all stared at them as if they’d grown horns.
“So now what?” I asked.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” Joey said as he passed by. “You could sell them and make a lot of money. That’s what I’d do.”
I had to admit, the idea had flitted through my mind, if only briefly. I could earn enough off one pair of boots to pay the Visa bill, and then some. Still, if these boots were the real thing—if they were worth thousands of dollars—I could no more sell them than Aunt Rosa could give up cooking. My gut told me I needed to contact the owner to let her know of the dilemma. Surely she would rejoice at the news. And even though I’d be losing a bundle of money, my conscience would be eased. I’d sleep better. Hopefully.
As we pondered this startling news, a string of curse words rang out from the kitchen. D.J. looked that direction, a stunned look on his face. “What in the world?”
“Wasn’t me!” Nick stuck his head through the window and groaned. “And if you want the truth, I’m getting sick and tired of taking the blame for Guido’s sins.” My brother went off on a tangent, talking about Uncle Laz’s attempts to lead the ornery parrot down the straight and narrow.
When Nick’s conversation lapsed, D.J. looked my way, confusion in his eyes. Clearly he’d missed a few key points, so I decided to fill him in.
“Uncle Laz ordered anointing oil from the televangelist Phillip Pockets.”
“Brother Pickpocket?” D.J. took our laughter in stride as he added, “That’s what Pastor Higley calls him. He’s warned everyone in the congregation to stay as far away from that guy as possible. Honestly, anyone who would scam others in the name of Christianity . . .” D.J. dove into a lengthy dissertation about the evils of leading the flock astray.
“Well, I can’t judge the man,” Laz said, “but his oil didn’t exactly have the desired effect, so I’m writing a letter of complaint to the monks in Shreveport.”
“Wait. What happened?” D.J. shook his head, clearly confused.
“I anointed Guido beak to claw, but he, um . . .” Uncle Laz’s cheeks reddened.
“Turns out the parrot is allergic to the perfume in the oil,” I explained.
“Yikes.” A look of compassion came over D.J.’s face. “Do I even want to know what happened next?”
“I had to call the vet.” Laz sighed. “Poor little guy was dropping feathers all over the place.”
“He’s on an antihistamine now, so that helps,” I explained. “But it’ll be a long time before Guido forgives us for what we’ve done to him. And with him missing so many feathers, he’s a bit odd-looking.”
My uncle shrugged. “I just can’t give up on him,” he said. “To do so would be to give up on Sal, and I’ll never do that. Not till he comes to know the Lord.” His eyes filled with tears.
“I think you’re amazing.” D.J. nodded in my uncle’s direction. “It’s admirable to hear you’re going to such efforts to lead someone to the Lord. I think we all have a lot to learn from you.”
A holy hush fell over our little group as we pondered his words. In spite of Laz’s unique attempts, his heart was in the right place.
“I just hope Guido’s feathers grow back before I have to ship him home to Sal.” Laz rose to his bootless feet and made his way back to the kitchen. “Otherwise he’s liable to send someone to Galveston to pluck a few of my feathers. So keep those prayers coming!” My uncle disappeared into the back.
D.J. turned my way with a smile. “Sounds like I’ve missed a lot over the past couple of days.” He reached to brush a loose hair from my face, and I smiled at his touch. His hand lingered a moment, and he gazed into my eyes. In that moment, everything else faded away. Oh, I vaguely heard “Pennies from Heaven” playing in the background and heard the voices of the customers. But all I saw—all I ever wanted to see from this point forward—was the love pouring from D.J.’s eyes. Startled by this revelation, I froze in my tracks.
D.J.’s hand cupped my cheek, and he leaned in to kiss the tip of my nose.
“I saw that,” Joey said as he passed by again. “Watch yourselves, kiddos. No PDA.”
“PDA?” D.J.’s brow wrinkled as he asked, “What’s that?”
“Public displays of affection,” I explained. “In our family, there’s no PDA till you’re married. Or at least engaged.” Almost immediately I realized what I’d said. I wanted to slap a hand over my mouth for speaking the word aloud. Hopefully D.J. wouldn’t see that as some sort of signal that he needed to drop to one knee and offer me a ring. From the look in his eyes, he might be willing to do so at any time.
“So, um . . . let’s go back to talking about the bird before I get myself in trouble with your brothers. Tell me more about Guido.”
“Well, he’s loopier now more than ever since he’s been drugged,” I said. “Flying into things and acting even more peculiar than before, if that’s possible. That’s why he’s here today. Laz wanted to keep a close eye on him.”
“Poor Guido.”
“Yeah. Even Rosa’s sympathetic to the cause. I caught her talking to him. And she prays over him too, you know.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s funny.” I leaned in to whisper the rest. “This is the first time I’ve actually seen Laz and Rosa work together on a project. Neither will admit it to the other, but they’re both on the same team on this one. They’ll figure it out soon enough. And who knows . . . maybe Guido will give up his evil ways.”
“Turn over a new feather?” D.J. laughed.
I shrugged. “Maybe. Stranger things have happened.”
“Yes, stranger things have happened.” The light in his eyes made up for the sudden silence. I had a feeling the boy was thinking about how we’d first met. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?” I allowed my mind to roll forward to tomorrow. “Hadn’t thought about it. I’ve been so consumed with this wedding.”
“It’ll do you good to take some time off. My mom’s invited me up for dinner tomorrow evening, and I was hoping I could talk you into going with me. She’s making chicken-fried steak—my favorite.”
“O-oh?” Did I dare take time away from my wedding plans? Would everything crater if I took an evening off? And didn’t I have enough stress without meeting his family during this chaotic week?
After silence on his end, I added, “I really don’t know if I could take time away before the big day.” Surely he would understand. Right?
As my hunky cowboy’s smile faded, I could’ve slapped myself. D.J. was taking a critical step forward in our relationship, and here I stood blowing it. The wedding would go on whether I took an evening off or not.
D.J. wanted me to meet his mama. I would meet his mama. He wanted me to eat chicken-fried steak. I would eat chicken-fried steak.
Even if it meant the stress of this wedding caused me to fall apart in the process.
On Wednesday afternoon, with Mama and Sophia’s help, I scrubbed the wedding facility from top to bottom. By 4:00 the wood floors in the reception hall gleamed, the chandeliers sparkled, and the linens had all been washed. I stood back and surveyed the place, trying to imagine it filled with people. Line dancing. Eating barbecue. Laughing. Nibbling slices of cake. Sipping cups of punch. Congratulating the bride and groom.
Yes, I could see it all now. This wedding would come off without a hitch, and the whole Rossi clan would breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Feeling more confident than I had in days, I wrapped up my work and headed home to shower and dress for my date—if you could call a trip to Splendora for chicken-fried steak with Earline and Dwayne Neeley Sr. a date.
D.J. arrived promptly at 5:15. As the doorbell rang, Precious went into one of her typical Yorkie-Poo frenzies. Panic set in, though it had nothing to do with the dog. The moment had arrived at last. I would head off to Splendora-land to meet the Neeleys face-to-face. If I could’ve located the bottle of Laz’s anointing oil, I might’ve smeared some on my heart. Instead, with a forced smile and a determined attitude, I opened the door to the man of my dreams.
D.J.’s five o’clock shadow gave him that down-home Texas look I suddenly found so appealing. I took one look at the boy and remembered why my heart had gotten tangled up with his in the first place. I wanted to holler “Yee-haw!” and reach for a pair of those boots in the front hall. Instead, I found myself wrapped in his arms as he placed a gentle kiss in my hair.
“No PDA,” Pop said with a wink as he entered the foyer.
D.J. stepped back and extended his hand. My father took it, and the two dove into a lengthy conversation about the weather while I tried to still my heart. But oh, heaven help me! How could I? In that moment, as I watched my old-school father and my new-school love interest exchanging pleasantries, I could almost forget about our families’ differences. Almost. I had to wonder if a cheesecake-loving Italian girl from Galveston could really merge worlds with a chicken-fried-steak-lovin’ cowboy from Splendora. I guess if I wanted to find out, God would have to lead the horse to water. Or, in this case, take the Italian girl to the piney woods of east Texas.
As D.J. pointed his truck north on Interstate 45, I asked him to tell me anything and everything about his parents and his brother.
“Well, let’s see now.” He appeared to be thinking of where to start. “My family is originally from Tennessee.”
“Wow. What part?”
“Knoxville. My dad’s been in the auto repair business for as long as I can remember.” He sighed. “I used to work with him, but I really don’t have what it takes to be a mechanic. Bubba, on the other hand . . .” D.J. went off on a tangent about his baby brother’s skills under the hood, as well as his many certifications. “’Course, Bubba’s good at just about everything he does,” D.J. said with a smile. “He won all sorts of singing contests as a kid.”
“No way.”
“Yep. And his barbecue’s the best in town. I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother.” D.J. looked my way. “You ever been to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo?”
I shook my head. “No. I was supposed to go with Jenna a couple of years ago, but at the last minute she got sick and we had to cancel. I think we were supposed to see Martina McBride or someone like that.”
“Well, it’s a fabulous event,” D.J. said. “And every year my brother competes in their big barbecue cook-off.”
“Oh, I’ve seen those on the Food Network,” I said.
“Then you know what the jackpot looks like.”
“Are you saying Bubba won?”
“Well, in the rib category, anyway. And he came in second in brisket. He’s pretty amazing.”
“Sounds like you and Bubba are really close.” I sighed.
“Why the sigh, Bella?” He looked my way with concern in his eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess if I only had one sibling, there would be time for a really deep relationship. There are so many of us, sometimes it’s hard to keep up with what everyone’s doing.” I paused a moment to think about that, then turned back to him with a smile. “But enough about that. Tell me more about your family.”
For the rest of the ride, he did just that. Turned out most of their extended relatives had either passed on or lived elsewhere. D.J.’s parents had planned to have a large family, but complications from Bubba’s birth had prevented his mother from having any more children. She still mourned the loss but found her solace in a strong relationship with the Lord and in her local Full Gospel church, where she’d acquired some fame as a gospel-style pianist. She’d raised her boys to believe in God, country, and hard work.
“I think you’ll like my mama,” he said with a smile. “Can’t wait for you to meet her. And vice versa.”
“Me too.”
As the conversation lapsed, I couldn’t help but think of my own mother. She’d given birth to five children, and the ensuing chaos of raising a houseful of hooligans quickly followed. Spoiled hooligans, no less. Our family reunions consisted of rambunctious relatives, an overabundance of rich foods, and arguments before night’s end. Never a dull moment in the Rossi household. Would the Neeleys be put off by our craziness when the families met face-to-face the night of the wedding rehearsal? Would they mind that their son had fallen for a girl who’d never even been to Splendora, Texas? Who couldn’t line dance to save her life? Who—gasp!—attended the Methodist church? I whispered a prayer that they would somehow see beyond any differences and sweep me into the fold.
As we approached downtown, D.J. turned onto Highway 59, continuing the drive north. I drew in a deep breath, knowing we’d just come to the proverbial fork in the road. My world as I knew it ended at the intersection of Interstate 45 and Highway 59. Beyond that point lay the vast unknown. An undiscovered galaxy. A place I’d never pictured myself traveling. Could I really trust God with the things I couldn’t see or control?
My breathing escalated, but I did my best to slow it back down as I pondered these things.
That’s what faith is all about, Bella. Deep breath, girl.
We sat in evening traffic until we reached the Kingwood area, north of Houston. Then suddenly the terrain changed. The forest seemed to grow up on both sides of the freeway. Beautiful green pines stretched majestically toward the sky.
“Oh, D.J.! This is amazing.”
“Yep.” Just one word, but it spoke volumes.
Our conversation quieted, and I breathed in the unexpected beauty of my unfamiliar surroundings. I felt as if we’d slipped off into a green wonderland, where ribbons of late afternoon sunlight danced through the green needles of the sturdy pines. The whole thing reminded me of a fairy tale, something with animated characters dancing to beautifully scored music. But never mind the dwarves and magic mirrors. Skip the choreography. I just hoped this story would wrap up with the classic happily-ever-after ending.
Shaking off my daydreams, I shifted my attention back to the road. D.J. exited the freeway and turned onto a side street. We crossed over railroad tracks and wound our way down a country lane. The trees enveloped us on both sides now, casting shadows of their limbs onto the road below. I couldn’t remember when I’d ever seen anything so pretty. Or so awe inspiring. The whole thing was breathtaking.
