Swinging on a Star (13 page)

Which, I’m sure, made an awesome photo for the reporter with the camera in his hand. And he wasn’t alone. Looked like the newshounds were out in force. Not to catch a glimpse of me, of course, but to see what Brock Benson had to say after his night in the slammer. They rushed him, almost knocking him down. I marveled at the fact that he didn’t retaliate in any way. Instead, he paused and flashed a winning smile.

Yep. He was a consummate actor.

“Brock, can you tell us why you were arrested?” a reporter asked, shoving a microphone in his face.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Brock said, using beautiful diction and a pronounced stage voice. “And I am happy to report, all charges have been dropped. But to answer your question, I was rescuing a fair maiden in distress.” He pointed to me, and I curtsied.

“Just like the scene in
The Pirate’s Lady!
” another reporter said, extending a boom microphone. “Right?”

“Only without the pirate ship,” Brock said with a Hollywood wink. “And this lady”—he turned my way and took my hand in his—“is fairer than the fairest.”

Suddenly I felt a little nauseous. He’d gone a bit over the top. And I wasn’t sure how D.J. would perceive any of this if he read about it in the paper.

“So, a love interest, then?” the first reporter asked, sticking the microphone in my face.

I heard the clicking of cameras as the reporters turned my way. Yikes! Did they really think I was involved with Brock Benson?

Before I could say “No,” I caught a glimpse of D.J. through the crowd. Waving my arms, I shouted, “D.J.! Oh, D.J.! I’m so sorry! I love you!”

He came sprinting my way, parting the crowd as he aimed himself in my direction. I lunged into his arms, planting a thousand kisses on him. Apparently the paparazzi found this somewhat entertaining. I could hear the continual clicking of cameras as they went off all around me. Finally I came up for air.

“Thank you for springing me!” I said. “It was your letter— and the letters of all my friends and family—that did the trick.”

“We love you, Bella,” he whispered. “And we’d fly to the moon for you.”

Brock turned to D.J. and extended a hand. The cameras starting clicking once again.

“I’m really grateful,” Brock said with a sheepish look on his face. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.”

“It was an easy letter to write.” D.J.’s voice grew more serious. “You’re a great guy, Brock. And I really meant it when I said you could use your notoriety for good. So I’m glad the Lord saw fit to release you.”

Brock flinched at the word
Lord
but didn’t say anything.

At that moment, the most bizarre thing happened. I heard three very familiar voices ring out.

“Yoo-hoo! Bella, girl!”

Twila. Marvelous.

“Move on over and let me through!”

Bonnie Sue. Terrific.

“Hey, handsome! Scoot over and let me pass.”

Jolene. Could things possibly get any better?

They arrived at my side, all giggles and smiles. As Bonnie Sue laid eyes on Brock, she let out a squeal. “Brock Benson! I can’t believe it’s really been you all along. Vinny DiMarco, my eye! Shame on you for pulling the wool over our eyes!”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with a shrug. “Just role-playing. It’s what I do. Besides,” he leaned in to whisper, “my legal name really is Vinny DiMarco. Though I hope you’ll forgive me for deceiving you.”

“Oh, nothing to forgive.” She gave him a hug. “We’re old friends now, and friends always forgive.”

Before anyone could respond, Twila interrupted. “Ready to fly this coop?” she asked. “We brought the Pinto.”

“Th-the Pinto?”

“Yeah.” D.J. shrugged. “Here’s what happened. Sophia brought them to my place in her car last night. Then they picked up the Pinto, and we all drove back to your parents’ place, where we spent the night writing letters.”

“And eating garlic twists,” Jolene threw in.

“Yes. But now we’re rabbit trailing.” D.J. grinned. “Anyway, I told your folks I’d come and fetch you in my truck, but when I went out to the driveway, the Pinto was blocking my truck. When I asked Twila to move it, she suggested they bring it here.” He leaned down and whispered, “The ladies wanted to take you home in their chariot. So, here we are.”

I looked at D.J. with one of those “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” looks, and he just shrugged. “Well, after your time in the back of an undercover patrol car, I figured it’d be a refreshing change. And when are you ever going to have the opportunity to ride in a pink Pinto again?”

I whispered, “Hopefully never!” then followed behind him through the throng of people.

We made our way through the crowd, cameras still flashing, and arrived at the bright pink Pinto on the side of the road. Unfortunately, it was double-parked. We’d better make a clean exit before a traffic cop showed up.

“Hmm. Not quite sure how we’re going to do this.” Twila looked at all of us and then at the little car. She seemed to be sizing up the situation. “I guess I could drive and Jolene and Bonnie Sue could go in back. Brock, you could squeeze in between them.”

The look on his face was priceless.

“Bella, you and D.J. can ride up front.”

“Both of us? In one seat?”

“No problem.” D.J. looked at me with a lopsided grin. “I carried you through the night with my prayers. What will it hurt to carry you home on my lap?”

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me!” My eyes filled with unexpected tears.

Man. I really needed to get some sleep.

We somehow managed to get everyone into the car. The camera guys had a field day with the photos of Brock in the backseat between Jolene and Bonnie Sue. The ladies made a big production out of it, and in the end, so did Brock. They even did a couple of fun poses.

I, on the other hand, was horrified. For one thing, I stunk. I’d spent the night in a jail cell. How could I sit on D.J.’s lap? He scooted into the seat, and I inched my way next to him, finally realizing we could both fit side-by-side if we squished a little. “There. That’s not too bad.”

Twila gave the crowd a wave as she revved the engine. “Let’s get the heck out of Dodge!” she cried out, then took off toward home. A few minutes later, when we were out of the sight of the cameras, Twila sighed. “Bella, I’m sorry you spent the night in jail. It’s wholly unfair, and I told the officer that myself.”

“You talked to the police?”

“Of course!” She laughed. “And the sheriff too. I called him this morning.”

“No way.”

“Yep. Told him what a tragic mistake that policeman had made. He had a good laugh at it, of course. It’s just plain silly.”

“He laughed?” I could hardly believe it.

“Oh yes, he did,” Bonnie Sue said. “The man can laugh.”

“And then that judge sprang you like a broken lock.” Twila giggled.

“Thank goodness! I still have to coordinate a wedding!” Glancing at my watch, I took note of the time: 9:40. The day was still young. I ran my fingers through my matted hair and tried to scrape the dried drool from my chin. “I must look like something from a horror movie.”

D.J. looked at me with a smile. “Well, not any horror movie I’ve ever seen, though I think we’ve already established that I don’t get out to the movies much.”

“That’s fine with me. In fact, after this week, I don’t care if I ever see another movie.”

As we made the drive through town, I noticed everyone was chattering except Brock. I turned around to face him. “A-are you ever going to forgive me for ruining your career?”

“Ruining my career?” He laughed. “Bella, this is the best thing that’s happened to me in years. And I’m sorry if I seem like I’m down. I just have a lot on my mind. Spending the night in a jail cell gives you a lot of time to think.”

“Tell me about it.”

He exhaled loudly and then looked at me, his eyes a little misty. “I have something to confess.”

“O-oh?”
Please don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me
in front of my boyfriend. That would be really awkward
. “As much as I hate to admit it, you were right.”

“Right about what?”

“All of that stuff you said about me falling for your family. Or, rather, falling for the idea of having a family of my own.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t you see? When I look at your family, I want that. I want parents who love their kids . . . and brothers and sisters who fight. I want people gathered around a dinner table, talking about the weather and arguing about politics. I . . . I want what you have.”

“And God wants you to have that too, Brock.” I gave him a sympathetic look. “I honestly believe he’s going to give you a great wife and a houseful of kids . . . if that’s your desire. But as much as you want those things, he wants something even more.”

“What’s that?” Brock said with a curious expression on his face.

“Your heart.” I whispered the words, hoping he understood my full meaning. “Brock, he wants your heart.”

“She’s right,” Bonnie Sue said. “And it doesn’t do any good to run from God. Ask me how I know.”

“He’s gonna catch you anyway,” Jolene said. “So you might as well stop where you are and turn his way. Makes things so much easier.”

Though I didn’t know their individual testimonies, I somehow knew the ladies were speaking from experience. Turning back to Brock, I said, “Think about the wedding. That whole Renaissance theme.”

“What about it?”

“Do you know what
renaissance
means?”

He shrugged. “Shakespeare and art?”

“No.” I shook my head. “
Renaissance
means ‘rebirth.’ Starting over. That’s what happened in the Renaissance era. Art, music, architecture . . . they all experienced a rebirth. They came alive again. And that’s what God wants to do with you. In fact, I’m convinced that’s why he brought you all the way from sunny California to soggy Galveston Island. You’re at a fork in the road, Brock. And I’m hoping you turn the right way.” When he looked at me with tears in his eyes, I whispered, “I’m just saying, maybe it’s time for a little renaissance of your own. Maybe God has orchestrated all of this—you being here, the medieval wedding theme, and so on—to get your attention.”

“If that’s the case, then he went to a lot of trouble just for me.” Brock laughed, and I could tell he was trying to make light of things.

“Oh, trust me. He’s gone to a lot of trouble for you, all right,” I said. “When he went to the cross, he had you in mind.”

Brock grew silent at this statement, but I could hear the wheels turning in his head. It was D.J. who finally spoke up, his words gentle but firm.

“You think that jail cell was tough . . . it doesn’t even compare to spending a life without him.”

More silence from Brock.

I turned back to D.J. and started humming. “Amazing Grace,” of course. Just couldn’t help myself.

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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, but 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.”