It Had To Be You (6 page)

“We enjoyed having him,” Laz said. “He kept us entertained.”

“And vice versa,” Pop threw in. “We kept him entertained too.”

“Oh?” Sal looked at my father with a wrinkled brow. “How so?”

“We, um, well, we taught him some new songs,” Laz explained. “He has quite a voice, this one.”

“Yes, what was that he was singing when I came in the room?” Sal asked. “Sounded familiar.”

“‘Amazing Grace.’” Laz began to repeat the lyrics, and Guido, who’d remained silent for the last couple minutes, dove in again, singing at the top of his lungs. He warbled out just enough to put a look of horror on Sal’s face.

“What is happening here?” Sal turned to Laz, clearly upset. “You’ve converted my bird?”

Laz paled but didn’t say a word.

“Technically a bird doesn’t have a soul,” D.J. interjected. “So he’s not exactly converted, per se.”

“We just …” Laz fumbled around, finally coming up with, “He’s just been gleaning from us. Learning a couple of songs.”

At this point, Guido looked at Laz and began to quote his new favorite Scripture: “May the words of my mouth be acceptable. May the words of my mouth be acceptable.”

Sal smacked himself in the head. “What next? Are you going to baptize him too?”

“He sort of did,” D.J. whispered to me, then stifled a laugh.

I knew what he was talking about, of course. Laz had doused the poor bird in anointing oil a few months back—oil he’d purchased from a televangelist. The gooey stuff had only served to irritate the parrot’s skin. He’d lost several feathers as a result, which Sal now seemed to notice.

“Guido looks different than the last time I saw him,” Sal said, examining him from side to side, top to bottom.

“O-oh?” Laz tried to play it cool, but beads of sweat had popped out on his forehead.

“Yes. His colors were brighter,” Sal said. “It’s almost like something is missing.”

Thank goodness, Rosa’s voice rang out. “Tiramisu, everyone! And coffees.” She popped her head in the door. “Laz, want to help me with the cappuccino? I know our guests are ready for a treat.” She smiled as she saw Guido perched on Sal’s hand. “Oh, what a happy sight! Aren’t you glad to see him again, Sal? Guido has missed you terribly.”

“Yes, I am happy to see him. I missed Guido too.” He continued to stare at the bird, the creases between his brows deepening.

Pop convinced Sal to put the parrot back in his cage so he could enjoy some coffee and dessert. However, I had a feeling we hadn’t heard the last of this. Once Sal figured out that Laz had made a concerted effort to train Guido as a missionary, he would not be happy. I could just sense it.

Not that I objected to my uncle’s plan. Though it had seemed far-fetched at the time, it made sense to me now. And seeing Sal again made me realize just how much he needed the love of the Lord. At this stage of his life, he also needed the love and care of his friends. We would be those friends, even if only for a week or so. Even if his first reaction to seeing Rosa wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be.

We headed back into the living room, the whole place now coming alive with laughter and the clinking of silverware as we dove into Rosa’s tiramisu. I saw the look of appreciation on Francesca’s face as she took her first bite.

“Rosa, this is better than my mother’s.”

“Thank you.” My aunt’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “I’ve had plenty of years to perfect my recipe. There’s been a lot of trial and error along the way, but I finally have a recipe I’m happy with.”

“I’d be happy with it too, if you don’t mind sharing.” Francesca gave her a warm smile. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but Emilio is very encouraging.”

“We eat out a lot,” Emilio said between bites. “That’s how I encourage her. There’s nothing like a five-star restaurant to encourage a woman who doesn’t know her way around a kitchen.”

This brought a chuckle from many in the room, especially D.J. He knew my cooking skills were limited at best. Not that there would be a lot of five-star restaurants in our future. No, I sincerely longed to cook like Aunt Rosa. Someday, anyway.

I looked back and forth between Francesca and Rosa, realizing they were both my aunts now—though three decades separated them. Weird. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I had an aunt not much older than myself.

As I pondered this, Emilio started telling stories about the various new restaurants in Napoli, and before long, Bianca and Bertina chimed in, sharing all of the many changes that had taken place in my parents’ hometown since their last visit. After that, we told stories, sang old songs, and shared in the love that only a family knows, until the clock in the front hallway struck ten. At that point, D.J. announced that he needed to get some shut-eye.

Walking him to the door, I whispered, “So, what do you think of my nutty family now that you’ve met the Italian contention?”

“Honestly?” he asked. “Bella, I think you’re the most fortunate person on the planet. You’ve got great relatives. They’re a blast to be around. And all of them clearly love the Lord.”

“Well, all but Sal, not that he’s technically a relative.”

“True. But he’ll come around. I’ve been praying for him.”

“Me too.”

D.J. kissed the tip of my nose as he pulled me close. “Our children are going to be so blessed, Bella. They’re going to grow up surrounded by people who love them … and love God.”

My heart swelled—not just at the idea that D.J. was already thinking ahead to the children we would one day have, but at the realization that he was right. His parents and brother were committed to the Lord, with deep abiding faith leading the way. And my family, however goofy at times, was equally as committed. Of course, there were probably times when D.J. thought we needed to
be
committed … but that was another story.

I gazed into his eyes, overcome with emotion. Suddenly, I didn’t want to wait until February to get married. I wanted to start my happily ever after right here, right now.

On the other hand, I had no decor, no cake, and no plan of action. I’d been so busy planning for everyone else’s wedding that I’d barely had time to give thought to my own. That would come in time. I hoped.

“A penny for your thoughts.” D.J. gazed at me tenderly.

“Oh, just thinking how amazing it’s going to be when I’m Bella Neeley.”

“I can hardly wait.” He leaned down and gave me a kiss … one that convinced me that—no matter how difficult things got—this was a guy worth waiting for.

After D.J. left, I climbed the stairs, more than ready for bed. The last few days had really knocked the wind out of my sails. As I reached the top step, I was reminded of my earlier attempt to try to reach Jenna. Once I arrived in my bedroom, I fetched my phone from my purse and looked to see if she had returned the call. Confusion set in when I saw that she had not.

“What’s up with you, girlfriend?” I asked, setting the phone on the bedside table. “Are you ignoring me?”

I slipped out of my clothes and into a comfortable nightie, then reached for the Crisco to remove my makeup. I’d learned a few things from my mama of late. Of course, most of her beauty secrets she’d acquired from the ladies at D.J.’s church, but she still took the credit.

The sound of laughter rang out from the guest room next to mine. Looked like Bianca and Bertina were having a high old time with Mama and Rosa. Their relationship—though tested by miles—was still going strong, even after all these years. Surely Jenna and I could make it through ours with just as much finesse, in spite of my busy schedule and her preoccupation with Bubba Neeley.

At once I thought about something I’d heard in a sermon: “It’s about the people, not the project.” This statement was never truer than now. Still, with two weddings to plan, keeping people front and center wasn’t always easy.

A rap on my door caught my attention. I hollered, “Come in,” then smiled as I saw Deanna standing there, dressed in her pj’s and robe.

“Feel like having a sleepover?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Sure. Did they kick you out of Armando’s room?”

“No, just thought it would be more fun this way. We have a lot of catching up to do. Unless you’re too tired, that is.”

“Never.”
It’s the people, not the project. Focus on the
people, Bella!
When would I ever have another chance for a sleepover with my Italian cousin, after all?

She reached into the pocket of her robe and came out with several small chocolates. “I brought these from home. I remembered they were your favorite.”

“No way!” I reached to open one of the delectable goodies and popped it in my mouth, overcome by its creamy goodness. Deanna grinned. “Some things never change. You always did have a sweet tooth.”

I nodded, my mouth too full to respond properly.

At that moment, another rap on the door sounded, and Aunt Bianca—at least, I think it was Bianca—popped her head inside. She took one look at my cousin, and her anxious expression shifted to one of relief. “There you are, Deanna. Your mama was wondering what happened to you.”

Okay, this one is Bianca.
Perhaps I would be able to tell the twins apart by week’s end.

“We’re having a slumber party,” I said.

Deanna held up the chocolates and elevated her brows in a playful sort of way.

Bianca took that as a sign to join us. She practically sprinted to my bed and hopped aboard. I smiled as I looked at her Scooby-Doo pajamas. Who knew Scooby was popular in Italy? Seconds later, another rap sounded at the door. Bertina stuck her head inside.

“There you are!” She put her hands on her hips and stared at Bianca and Deanna. “I thought maybe the Rapture had taken place and I’d been left behind.” She giggled and scurried into the room, climbing on my bed alongside her sister and daughter. Only then did I notice she also wore Scooby-Doo pajamas. Man. The twins had this matching thing down to a science. Made me wonder what the rest of the week was going to look like.

Before long, Mama joined us. Then Rosa. Then Sophia. By this point, the whole atmosphere had really shifted to a party scene. The only female missing was Francesca. I had a feeling neither she nor Emilio would be emerging anytime soon.

“Remember all of those things we used to do at slumber parties when we were kids?” Sophia said, climbing onto the bed alongside the rest of us. “Wrapping houses. Tossing water balloons at cars.”

“W-what?” Mama gasped. “You threw water balloons at cars?”

Sophia clapped a hand over her mouth and laughed. “I can’t believe I just confessed that.”

“When I was a girl, we would call boys on the telephone.” Bertina giggled. “We were brazen.” She looked at her sisters and sighed. “Mama would’ve had a fit.”

“Back then, girls didn’t call boys,” Bianca explained, giving me a knowing look.

“Now they just send text messages,” Sophia said. “The rules have changed, I guess.”

“Whenever I went to a slumber party, we always did each other’s hair and makeup,” Mama said. Her face lit up. “That would be so much fun! We can practice for the wedding!”

She sprinted out of the room and came back with her humongous makeup bag. The ladies began to squeal with delight as they looked through it, and all the more as she began to explain her beauty secrets. Out came the tube of hemorrhoid cream, which she rubbed into the crow’s-feet around Bianca’s eyes. Out came the udder cream, which she used to soften Bertina’s hands. Out came half a dozen other products, most purchased at the local feed store or Walmart. The women found these things delightful. Even Deanna went on and on about how she wished they had a Walmart in Napoli.

“Now I want to do Rosa’s makeup,” Mama said. “We need to practice for next Saturday.”

“But it’s eleven o’clock at night,” Rosa argued. “And I’m in my nightgown.”

“Who cares!” Bertina crossed her arms and gave Rosa a look of warning. “This is going to be fun.”

Bianca reached for the makeup bag and tossed it Mama’s way. “Just relax and enjoy yourself, Rosa.”

I wondered if Rosa knew
how
to relax and enjoy herself, but I didn’t say so.

The sisters spent the next twenty minutes meticulously applying foundation, powder, blush, lipstick, eye shadow, eyebrow pencil, and mascara. Rosa fussed and fumed, not used to sitting still for so long, and definitely not used to this amount of pampering. While Mama worked on her face, Bertina painted her fingernails and Bianca gave her a pedicure.

When they finished, Rosa stood and approached the mirror over my dressing table, gasping as she saw herself for the first time. “O-oh my.” The face that stared back at her was beautifully made up—not too much, not too little. Just right.

“Rosa!” I stood beside her, gazing at her reflection. “You look like a movie star.”

“Laz won’t recognize me.” She giggled. “And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself!” Bertina said with a wave of her hand. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

Rosa grimaced and shook her head.

“Of course she is. Beauty runs in our family,” Bianca assured us all.

Mama dove in, going on and on about what a head-turner Rosa would be on her wedding day. Listening to my mama and aunts and their girlish chatter brought a smile to my face. Made me wonder if one day Sophia and I would have a conversation like this—say, in forty years or so. Though, of course, I wouldn’t have to wait till then for my wedding day. Hopefully, she wouldn’t either.

My sister approached and began to fuss with Rosa’s long hair. “We need to put this in a nice updo.” She turned to me. “Bella, do you have any rubber bands? Hairpins?”

Minutes later, Rosa was seated on the chair at my dressing table, having her hair done. After a bit of work on Sophia’s part, it was beautifully styled. We all gasped at the change. Honestly, Rosa was right. Laz might not recognize her. The transformation was pretty amazing.

The conversation rose to a roar at this point as we all oohed and aahed at my aunt’s appearance. She stood and turned with her back to the mirror, and Sophia handed her a handheld mirror to use as well. Now seeing the whole picture, Rosa began to cry.