That's Amore (Weddings by Bella Book #4): A Novel

by Janice Thompson

  “I’d love to meet with her. Someday,” I said. A bed-and-breakfast did sound like the ideal place for the Rossi family to stay on my wedding weekend, though. Certainly better than a motel.

  “You know, there are a lot of lovely places out here away from the big city. It’s not all backwoods.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Splendora is a gorgeous place. You just have to let your imagination go wild. Out here it’s all about bluebonnets in the springtime and pine trees covered in sap in the fall. It’s about fellas with huntin’ rifles and the sweet smell of hay in the air after a mowing. Most of all, it’s about a small town filled with people—many of whom have lived here since birth. Some have parents and grandparents who grew up in the very homes they now live in. They’re rooted here. It’s really pretty ideal.”

  I had to admit, she did make it sound pretty ideal. The girl was really good with marketing, apparently.

  “Oh, before I forget. Speaking of Splendora . . .” Her eyes lit up. “I want to have all of the girls stay over at our house on the night before your wedding—er, vow renewal—ceremony. A slumber party for the bride and her friends. We can do the bachelorette thing.”

  “The bachelorette thing?” I wasn’t so sure about that, especially considering my condition.

  “Well, a pared-down version. I know it won’t be the same. When I get married—which, by the way, could be sooner than you think—I want the full-blown bachelorette evening out with the girls.”

  “Wait . . . you’re engaged?” This was news.

  “Well, not yet, but I think Fred is going to pop the question any day now.” She glanced back toward the house. “We might be the next to get married at the wedding facility, after you and D.J. That’s what has Lily so upset, you know.”

  “What? That you’re possibly getting engaged?”

  Jasmine’s nose wrinkled. “Well, it’s just that she and Fred used to date, you see.”

  “Oh.” Now Lily’s reaction to working with her sister made perfect sense.

  “He didn’t break up with her to date me or anything like that,” Jasmine explained. “He fell for me later.” She giggled. “Well, a few weeks later. Lily never got over it. She blamed me for the breakup. But seriously? Can a girl help it if a guy falls in love with her? Fred says I’m sweeter than chocolate, and I happen to love a fella who loves me like that. We’re meant to be.” Another round of girlish giggles followed. “So don’t be surprised if we end up walking the aisle right after you and D.J.”

  “I won’t.” I only wondered how her sister would take it. And I also wondered if the two could possibly go on working together once Jasmine and—What’s his name again? Fred?—got married.

  I pondered their odd sisterly relationship as I watched Jasmine walk back toward the house. Was their quarreling just about men, or was there something more at stake? Perhaps pecking order had something to do with it, though I certainly didn’t know which twin had arrived first. I only knew that having older, bossy siblings could be a challenge.

  This made me think of Tres and Rosie. I glanced in the rearview mirror at my baby girl and observed the cherub face. Soon enough she would be an older sister. Would she boss the new baby around? Probably. Would they eventually be BFFs? I hoped so.

  At this point Rosie began to cry. Better get this truck moving to lull her back to sleep. As I slipped the truck into reverse, I happened to catch a glimpse of Lily waving at me from an upstairs window. A text came through on my phone just before I started to back up, and I glanced down to read Lily’s words: “I’m so sorry if I came across as rude. Please forgive me?”

  I typed back, “There’s nothing to forgive,” and then waved.

  Jasmine must’ve thought I was waving at her on the front porch. She went into a funny little song and dance number, which totally made me laugh. Rosie must’ve seen her through the window too, because she started to giggle.

  I began the arduous task of backing the truck out of the long, winding driveway. Not easy. Then again, nothing about this day had been easy, had it? Hopefully these two sisters would settle their differences and learn to work together. Yes, surely they could, with time. And prayer.

  I headed back to the Neeley property, passing through the little town of Splendora along the way. Despite any concerns on my part, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the place. The lovely shade of the pines made the roads feel as if they’d been encased by green and brown. And the quaint houses also put me in a simpler frame of mind. They weren’t ornate like the gingerbread-trimmed homes in Galveston, but they felt homey. Safe. Comfortable.

  If I could get past my fears, I would have to admit that opening a wedding facility here made perfect sense. The little community was the ideal location for a breathtakingly beautiful spot for an “I do.”

  Thinking of the words “I do” reminded me of D.J.’s recent proposal. I glanced down at the emerald ring and smiled, my heart overwhelmed with love for him. With my hunky cowboy’s hand in mine, we could pull this off. With the help of our Splendora friends and our Galveston family, we’d build a grand facility in Splendora. It would take a miracle to transform the old community center, but I felt sure it would happen in due season.

  As I turned into the driveway of the Neeley homestead, as I saw how D.J. had turned the overgrown property into a thing of near beauty, I realized I was married to a fella who happened to be in the miracle-workin’ business. And I couldn’t rule out divine intervention either. If the Lord could create the world in six days, then surely he could help us build a wedding facility in five short months. Yep. With D.J. and the Lord working together, all would end well. I knew it.

  4

  Can the Circle Be Unbroken

  I wouldn’t have dared ask God for all that He’s given me. I couldn’t have done it on my own. I thank God every day for what I have.

  Loretta Lynn

  The rest of July passed by like a whirlwind. And by the time it did, I wondered if I’d lost my mind. Maybe it was the extreme heat wave rolling over Galveston Island. I couldn’t say. But whatever made me think I could manage the Galveston facility, build a new one in Splendora, and take care of two kids . . . while pregnant? I must’ve been nuts.

  We’d barely gotten the construction under way on the new building in Splendora, and the workload was about to kill me, especially the driving back and forth. How many times could I drive north on highway 59 only to turn around and drive south a few hours later? Made no sense. And this back and forth–ness was taking a toll on the kids too. Tres had been unrulier than usual over the past several weeks. I found myself looking forward to the fall, when he would start kindergarten. But just as quickly, the idea of sending him to school made me queasy. Surely I didn’t have a child old enough for school!

  Stranger still, I was having more issues with this pregnancy than the other two, issues I planned to discuss with my doctor at the next visit. I’d never felt this exhausted before, and why, oh why, was I already showing this much? Sure, this was pregnancy number three, but I looked like I was five months pregnant already. Ugh. If this kept up, I really would look like Orca waddling down the aisle come December.

  Thankfully, I wouldn’t have long to wait to talk to my doctor. The first Monday in August was my scheduled visit to the obstetrician. Dr. Mullins had scheduled my first ultrasound, and D.J. decided to come with me. He always loved this part. I did too. Not that you could tell much about the baby at the fifteen-week point, but it was always so much fun to look at the teensy-tiny beating heart and to imagine what he or she might be doing in there. And this ultrasound always locked in feelings of motherhood for me. I needed that right about now.

  As D.J. and I drove from our house to my parents’ place, the kids argued in the backseat, as always. Not that I really noticed these days. My thoughts were firmly affixed to my work. And as much as I hated to admit it, the bickering between Jasmine and Lily Rigas was really starting to get to me. Maybe I’d cho
sen the wrong team to help me with the facility in Splendora. Only time would tell. I needed to focus—really focus—on my friend Cassia. She and her fiancé Alex—who also happened to be Jasmine and Lily’s brother—were getting married in January and needed my assistance. I’d promised to think through some ideas for their big day at Club Wed.

  “You okay over there?” D.J.’s words interrupted my troubling thoughts.

  “Hmm?” I glanced his way. “Yeah. Just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Not worried about the doctor visit, are you?”

  “Nah.” I leaned back against the seat. “That’s the least of my worries, to be honest.”

  “Well, I don’t like to see you worried about anything, Bella. Whatever you’re fretting over, just give it to the Lord.”

  Easy for him to say. He wasn’t pregnant and managing two wedding facilities.

  Shame washed over me in that moment. D.J. was the hardest-working man I knew. If he could release his anxieties into the Lord’s hands, I could too. And judging from the concern in his expression, he really was worried about me.

  “I’m trying, babe,” I managed after a few moments of silence. “But you know how I am.”

  “Yep.” He gave me a curt nod. He knew me, all right. Better than anyone else. I had a tendency to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. These days I was carrying a pretty big weight out front too. And by month nine it would be huge.

  Stop thinking about that, Bella. I took some deep, cleansing breaths and willed my thoughts elsewhere.

  “Just rest, Bella-bambina.” D.J. gave me a little wink. I nodded and turned my attention out the window.

  I always loved driving down Broadway, Galveston’s main thoroughfare. Whether you looked to the right or the left, you saw lovely Victorian homes with gingerbread trim, wide verandas, and colorful shutters. I’d been enamored with this street for as long as I could remember. I thought about the contrast between the streets of Splendora, encased by towering pines, and Broadway, with its wispy oleanders gracing the avenue and sweeping you back in time to yesteryear. Both were beautiful in their own way.

  I’d never forget the first time I’d clapped eyes on the gorgeous homes along this historic boulevard. I was new to the island, having just arrived from New Jersey with my loud, over-the-top Italian family. I’d wondered then if the islanders would ever accept us.

  Fortunately, they had welcomed our family, our pizza business, and eventually our wedding facility to the island. Sure, we’d gone through an adjustment phase, and yes, some of the kids poked fun at my parents, especially my father, who liked to work in the vegetable garden out back in his boxers and muscle shirt. Still, his eclectic wardrobe aside, we’d eventually been welcomed by the neighbors and tourists alike and had settled in just fine. So fine, in fact, that I couldn’t fathom ever leaving. Hopefully nothing would break the spell. We would all stay right here on Galveston Island and grow old together. The very idea brought comfort and gave me what I needed to draw in a few more cleansing breaths.

  My parents’ lovely old Victorian home came into view, and I flashed back to the old days, when I was growing up in that beautiful place. My, how times had changed. Back then I was just a kid. Now I had two of my own, with a third on the way. And one of them, my four-year-old, wouldn’t stop bugging me about his toy pirate sword—the one Brock Benson had given him on his last visit to the island—which he’d somehow snuck into the truck.

  “Please!” Tres said. “I want to take it inside Mimi and Poppa’s house!”

  I tried to imagine him swinging it around all of the collectibles in my mother’s foyer, knickknacks she and Aunt Rosa had collected from the Old Country. Nope. Just couldn’t picture it. The sword would have to stay put in the truck.

  I turned to give him a motherly look. “I don’t think so, Tres. Remember what happened last time?”

  “I promise, Mama! I won’t hurt anything.”

  “We’ll think about it, son,” D.J., the voice of reason, intervened. Tres settled down for a moment and then went back to teasing his sister about her curly hair. Before long my two-year-old daughter was in tears. Lovely. And why did Tres always have to make fun of her curls? They were adorable. No point in giving the kid a complex.

  I ran my fingers through my own long curls and sighed. Maybe I was taking this too personally. I pulled down the visor and gave my reflection a glance in the mirror. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” D.J. pulled the truck into the driveway.

  “I forgot to put on any makeup.”

  “So?” He looked perplexed. He brought the truck to a stop and turned off the engine, then stared at me, eyes squinted.

  “So . . .” I reached inside my purse for lipstick and mascara. “My mom is sure to say something. You know how she is.”

  My mother—the quintessential picture of make-up perfection—might not come out and say it to my face, but seeing me without the proper concealer and eyeliner would likely make her wonder if I’d sunk into a depression or something. I’d never met a woman more concerned with physical beauty than my mama—unless, perhaps, it was the Splendora trio. Those glittery ladies took the cake when it came to over-the-top hair, makeup, and clothing.

  I rubbed on some lipstick, made a stab at putting on some mascara, then waited for D.J. to open my door. I knew he would fuss if I opened it myself. We gathered up the kids, their bags, Tres’s sword—heaven help us—and my purse. Getting these kids in and out of the truck took heavenly intervention, for sure.

  Minutes later we walked inside the door, into the spacious foyer of the home I’d grown up in. From the living room I heard the sound of Guido, my uncle’s colorful parrot, singing “Amazing Grace.” Nothing new there, though the old fella had gotten a little rocky over the years. His once-perfect pitch was gone, along with the proper placement of the words. I’d never heard this twisted-up version before. He had the right words but the wrong order. Sounded like he’d been drinking. This reminded me of a time years ago when Uncle Laz had overdosed the poor bird on antihistamines. What a mess that had been!

  Speaking of Uncle Laz, I heard his voice off in the distance. Sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. Like Guido, he sang out a cheerful tune. Different lyrics, though. The words “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!” rang out from the kitchen. Laz and Rosa must be cooking together.

  True to form, I found them hard at work in the most-used room in the house. The Rossi kitchen was always humming with activity, but never more so than today. From the looks of things, they were up to their eyeballs in sauce. Gravy, as Aunt Rosa called it. Looked like they were canning.

  Stranger still, Rosa had joined Uncle Laz in the song. She usually argued with him when he chose a Dean Martin song, preferring to stick to Sinatra tunes. But there was no denying the obvious. He’d won her over to his Deano-lovin’ ways, and the two of them bellowed out his favorite song at the top of their lungs. They carried on, Laz using the ladle as a microphone, until they noticed that D.J. and I had entered the room with the kids. Then my aunt let out a squeal.

  “Ooh, it’s my babies!” She wiped her hands on her apron, which was covered in gooey tomato blobs, then rushed our way to sweep Rosie into her arms. My daughter giggled and laughed. Aunt Rosa just had the magic touch. Tres ran to Laz’s side and brandished his toy sword. I hoped D.J.’s decision to let him bring it inside wouldn’t come back to bite us like last time.

  Rosa cooed over little Rosie, brushing loose curls out of the youngster’s face, then she turned her attention to me. “I’m so tickled to see my babies, but we’re drowning in gravy. I hope you don’t mind if I keep working while I watch them.”

  “Of course not.” Reminded me a lot of my conversation with Jasmine, who insisted on making her candies while we did business. We were all a bunch of workaholics, weren’t we? No one could stop long enough to smell the roses.

  “Tres can help.” Laz grabbed my son and set him up on the barstool in front of the count
er. “He can use his sword to peel the tomatoes.”

  “Hardly.” I gave Tres a “please be careful with that sword!” look, and he offered up a devilish grin. I turned back to my aunt. “Rosie will be ready for a nap in about thirty minutes.”

  My daughter shook her head and said, “No nap!”

  “I’ll make sure she sleeps.” Rosa shifted my daughter to her other hip. “Now, don’t you fret. Better get on the road to your appointment. Don’t want to keep the doctor waiting.”

  “Oh, we’re fine. We have plenty of time.” In that moment the strangest thing happened. A little fluttering took place inside my tummy. I’d felt that sensation before, of course, but not this early in the pregnancy. I put my hand on my stomach and waited to see if it happened again. Nope. Maybe it was just my imagination. Crazy.

  Mama came into the kitchen seconds later. She gave me a funny look. I could read the “did you forget to put on makeup?” expression on her face. To her, makeup was a woman’s first line of defense. My beautifully made-up mama never even checked the mail without what she called her Top Seven: concealer, lipstick, lip liner, blush, mascara, eye shadow, and eyeliner. Me? I was lucky to smear on lip gloss.

  Regardless, my mother gave me a hug and went over to swipe little Rosie from Aunt Rosa. “You’re off to the doctor’s office?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Going to find out if this baby is a boy or girl?” She tickled Rosie, who giggled.

  “Not yet, Mama. They don’t know that until about halfway into the pregnancy. Just having the typical first ultrasound to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “We make the most beautiful babies in this family,” my mother said. “Of course everything is okay. He—or she—will be perfect, just like these precious dolls.” She planted kisses in Rosie’s dark curls. “Right, babycakes?” She continued to babble in toddler lingo, then carried my daughter out of the room.