Swinging On A Star

by Janice Thompson

  When the pictures were finished, the wedding party took their seats at their table of honor on the stage. They were served by young women dressed in authentic peasant attire. The guests were served next. I could hear folks oohing and aahing over the quail and the beef kabobs. But ironically, the thing they seemed to enjoy most was the turkey legs. Go figure. Rob had been right about that. I’d have to tell him later.

  The party really got going as the bride and groom rose to dance their first dance. D.J. announced them, of course, doing a fabulous job as town crier. The words “Come one! Come all!” had never sounded so good.

  The violinist played a lively little jig, and Rob and Marian danced a well-rehearsed number that might very well have come out of Renaissance times. This was followed by the father-daughter dance and then the money dance, which seemed to go over well with the crowd. At D.J.’s bidding, the guests danced with Marian, tucking fifty-dollar and even hundred-dollar bills into the palm of the first knight, Brock Benson. My honey did such a fine job drawing people in that Brock soon had to remove his cap to contain all the money.

  A few minutes into the money dance, I noticed something rather unusual. Uncle Laz was walking around with Guido on his shoulder. I’d heard Rob tell him he should but didn’t think he would actually do it. Of course, with Laz dressed in rogue-looking attire, the bird seemed a fitting accompaniment. Guido greeted folks with an “Arrr!” and a “Whatcha lookin’ at, wise guy?” Thankfully, the guests found him delightful entertainment. Occasionally a guest was given the plan of salvation by the somewhat scatterbrained bird, but that was okay too.

  I walked into the kitchen to check on Jenna and Nick, who were serving up the quail. Jenna looked pretty snazzy in her peasant frock. For that matter, so did Nick. I’d seen my brother dressed in a suit before, but never medieval attire. He looked over at me with a sigh. “Don’t ever ask me to wear tights again, Bella. They’re all twisted up … and let’s just say that’s not exactly making this a stellar evening. I’d like to focus on the food, not untwisting my pantyhose.”

  His words got me tickled. I went over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Nick, I wish I could promise you wouldn’t ever have to wear tights again, but I can’t. I can only say how grateful I am that you—all of you—have been so willing to play along to make this evening spectacular. The food is great, your costumes are great …” Tears filled my eyes. “I really do have the best family on Planet Earth.”

  “Yes, you do,” my mother said, entering the room with a tray in hand. “And don’t ever forget it!”

  Like I could do that.

  Pop came in, grabbed a turkey leg, and took a bite. I gasped. “Pop!”

  “What?” He played innocent.

  “That’s for the guests.”

  “What do I look like? Chopped liver?” He took a couple of hefty bites, then left the room, turkey leg still in hand.

  I glanced at my watch, stunned at the time. “Oh man. I’ve got to find the Splendora sisters. It’s almost time for them to take the stage.”

  I found Twila gabbing with one of the guests, showing off her new outfit. Tapping on her shoulder, I whispered, “You’re on, ladies. Dazzle us with your madrigal tunes. Oh, and have fun!”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have added that last part. After D.J. introduced them, they made quite a production out of getting to the stage, flirting with several male guests along the way. As the trio moved toward center stage, they fussed with each other’s hair and makeup, making a big scene about that too. The audience found it entertaining, thank goodness.

  Then the music began. Their first number was out-of-this-world good. So good, in fact, that a guest asked for their card. I’d never heard such tight harmonies before.

  After a few madrigal tunes, things took a bit of a turn in an unexpected direction. Twila had apparently worked on a little jester-like comedy routine for the women to do. I watched it all, laughing so hard tears ran down my face. Still, I wasn’t sure how the bride would respond to this impromptu addition to her wedding. I looked at Marian, and a wave of relief washed over me. She, too, was laughing. In fact, I’d never seen her look happier.

  Then again, why wouldn’t she be happy? It was her wedding day, after all. The day she’d waited for … for years.

  I grew a little sad thinking about that. I hadn’t known D.J. for long. Just over three months. But I was nearing the place where I was ready for a commitment. Did he feel the same, or were we destined to date forever?

  The orchestra began a jolly piece of music, and D.J. invited the guests to round dance. Marian had explained this part to me in detail, claiming it was the perfect opportunity for young men to meet ladies. Not to mention check out their dancing skills.

  I watched with surprise as Brock went over to Rosa and extended his hand. Would she really dance with him? With flushed cheeks, she accepted his invitation, and within seconds they had joined the others on the floor. Rosa didn’t really look confident with the round dance, but she seemed to be taking it in stride.

  I searched through the crowd for a sign of D.J. Oh, if only things would slow down so that we could join the dance. Not that the wedding planner necessarily needed to be dancing. There were other things I should be attending to. Like the wedding cake, for instance. The bride and groom were supposed to cut the cake before the round dancing! How could I have forgotten?

  As the dancing ended, I signaled the trumpeters to sound the call for the cutting of the cake. D.J.—now completely in his element as town crier—went to the stage to speak to the people about the tradition, something he and Rob had arranged in advance. The court jester, a lively fellow dressed in typical jester attire, acted out D.J.’s words as he spoke.

  “Wedding cakes have an interesting tradition,” D.J. said, using a more dramatic voice than before. His British accent wasn’t very good, but at least he was giving it his best. “Back in Roman times, a small loaf of bread was broken over the bride’s head for fertility.”

  That got a chuckle out of the audience. Brock elbowed Rob, who flushed. The jester pretended to break a cake over the head of one of the guests, which caused even more laughter. “In the Middle Ages, guests would bring small cakes to the wedding ceremony and stack them on top of each other.”

  I signaled for the ladies-in-waiting to enter the stage, each carrying a white cake. They looked a little nervous, especially the poor bridesmaid who carried the bottom layer. It was quite large. She managed to get it onto the table without dropping it, and I could read the relief in Marian’s eyes.

  One by one the cakes were stacked, the largest on bottom and the smaller ones above. The audience took great delight in this process, and I could hear the clicking of cameras around the room.

  In the end, the cake stood four layers high. Well, five, if you counted the tiny cake on top, which the flower girl placed with D.J.’s help. I stood back and looked at how changed the table looked. Funny how such a thing of beauty could come from so many people working together. In a sense, that’s what had happened with the wedding facility. I could never have pulled off this wedding if not for my parents and my siblings, not to mention Laz, Rosa, and Jenna. Yes, we’d stacked our cake layers—symbolically speaking—and the outcome looked pretty tasty.

  At this point, D.J. grinned. “Would the bride and groom come to the stage, please?” Marian and Rob climbed the steps to the stage, taking their places on either side of the small table. “To symbolize good fortune and prosperity, the bride and groom would kiss each other over the top of the cakes. Without knocking them down, of course.”

  This got another laugh from the crowd.

  “Rob and Marian, let’s have a little smooching!”

  The photographs that followed must’ve been priceless. They made it over the top of the cake—barely—and kissed, but Rob’s doublet laces got hung up in the cake topper. When he stood up, the topper was dangling from his chest with icing all over it. The crowd went nuts, of course.

  They also went nuts ov
er the cake, which was the tastiest thing I’d ever eaten. In spite of her busyness, Rosa had still managed to pull off a great wedding cake. Nothing new there, but she’d never made one the same week she debuted on television. The woman was a wonder!

  D.J. joined me and we shared a piece of cake. I’d just taken my last bite when Bubba swept through the door. I was pretty sure it was Bubba, anyway. He was still in his Figaro costume— decked out from head to toe.

  As Bubba drew near, I looked at D.J., confused. “What in the world?”

  “It’s a surprise for Rob and Marian,” D.J. explained. “Brock asked us to do this after hearing Bubba sing at the opera. He asked Bubba to entertain us here tonight.”

  “So here I am!” Bubba grinned.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” I took his hand and gave it a squeeze to show my delight at this news. “Are you singing in Italian?”

  Bubba nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got a couple of songs from the show that will do. I have to sing fast, though, because we’re on intermission at the opera house. I need to get back as quick as I can.”

  “I don’t believe it! You left the show to come here?”

  “Yep.” Bubba took his place before the crowd of wedding guests and began to sing. Everyone—and everything—came to a grinding halt. Marian moved my direction with a stunned look on her face. “Oh, Bella! Why didn’t you tell me? He’s marvelous. Just perfect!”

  “I didn’t know he was coming. Brock arranged all of this. Well, Brock and D.J.”

  “That D.J.” Marian giggled. “He really is something, isn’t he, honey?”

  “Oh yes.” He was something, all right. And like a true knight in shining armor, he always rushed in to save the day, even when I didn’t know I needed saving.

  “He’s a keeper, Bella,” Marian whispered in my ear. Then she glided back across the room and took her groom by the hand. Seconds later they were on the dance floor, waltzing to the song Bubba crooned.

  I looked at D.J. and extended my hand.

  He looked a little flustered. “Oh, I’m not a dancer, Bella. You know that.”

  “Yes, and Bubba thought he wasn’t an opera singer either. The truth is, we don’t have a clue what we’re capable of until we try.”

  He took my hand with a boyish grin. “I can’t argue with that logic. Maybe by the end of the evening I’ll be a ballroom dancer.”

  He swept me into his arms, and I felt like a princess as he twirled me around the dance floor. When the song ended, D.J. looked up at the stage, a terrified look on his face.

  “What is it, babe?” I asked.

  “I, um, have to do something.”

  He took off running, and I started to ask him if the clock was about to strike midnight. Maybe he’d leave a glass boot behind. For whatever reason, he took the stage next to Bubba. Then the two of them began to sing the most amazing Italian love song I’d ever heard in my life.

  “Bella!” Jenna approached, her eyes wide. “I knew Bubba could sing, but … D.J.?”

  I couldn’t respond because I didn’t want to miss even one second of their performance. Finally, as they rounded the chorus for the second time, I turned to Jenna. “I should’ve known. I’ve stood next to D.J. in church dozens of times and heard him worship. I knew he had a strong voice, but I never pictured this.”

  Two cowboys from the piney woods of east Texas, standing on a stage in medieval attire and singing opera. Would wonders never cease?

  Earline drew near with tears in her eyes. “Bella, I can’t thank you enough. Look at the transformation in my boys. Bubba has never been happier, and D.J… .” She released a sigh. “He’s turned into quite an amazing man. I’m so proud of him.”

  “Me too.” I could barely get the words out over the lump in my throat.

  When the song ended, Bubba made a run for the door, hollering his congratulations to the bride and groom. I whispered a prayer that he would make it back to the opera house in time for the second act. D.J. slipped back into town crier mode and introduced the court jester, who took the stage once again, his silly antics bringing more than a few smiles. The whimsical fellow was followed by a juggler in colorful attire, then a real sword-swallower, each one introduced with great fanfare by my Splendora sweetie. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to watch the sword-swallower, especially when he lit the swords on fire.

  Over the next hour or so, things got a little rowdy. People ended up in the stockades—this part staged, of course. Somehow D.J. kept things under control. I’d never seen him more in his element. Who would have known it? My D.J. really was born to be a deejay, even a medieval one.

  I was happy when the moment arrived for the fireworks. Nick and Joey had been working on this for hours, I knew, and it would be perfect. The trumpeters got our attention once again, and I watched, my heart racing, as D.J. summoned the guests to the area in front of the stage.

  “His Highness and Her Highness would ask you to join them in the courtyard for the royal display of fireworks. Afterward they will board their carriage, hand in hand, for the first time as a married couple!”

  He left the stage and headed my way. The guests began to spill out into the area around the castle, which, under the twinkling stars, looked as real as any castle from medieval times. Joy wrapped itself around me as those first fireworks lit the night sky, merging with the shimmering stars above.

  D.J. slipped into place behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I turned to face him, my heart soaring with the excitement of the moment. Fireworks flew overhead, but they were nothing compared to the ones going off in my heart as D.J.’s lips met mine for a kiss sweeter than tiramisu.

  Surely no one would mind if the town crier and the wedding planner spent a little time smooching under the stars. Right? We were only following the script, after all.

  33

  After You’ve Gone

  On the morning after the wedding, Marian surprised me with a phone call. I laughed when I heard her cheerful voice.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon or something?” I asked.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow for Bali. But I wanted to call you to say thanks for everything you did.”

  “Oh, honey, you’re welcome.”

  “I, um, picked up a newspaper this morning,” she said, then giggled. “And I happened to catch a few minutes of the national news too.” She paused. “Bella, why didn’t you tell me? You spent the night before my wedding in the Galveston County jail?”

  A groan erupted. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t want anything to ruin your day. I wanted it to be about you. No distractions.” “Well, I’m glad no one told me. It certainly would have been a distraction. But it’s still pretty humorous. From what I hear, you beat up a police officer.”

  “That’s what they tell me.” I sighed. “But don’t believe everything you hear. I’m really just a girl from Galveston Island who made a teeny-tiny mistake. At exactly the wrong time. In front of, well, pretty much everyone in America.”

  I shuddered as I replayed the moment in my mind. No telling what those cameramen had done with the footage they’d shot on my lawn that evening. Likely they were speculating about Brock Benson’s love life on the talk shows at this very moment. Nothing I could do about that.

  Oblivious to my thoughts, Marian kept going. “Well, you still managed to pull off the wedding of the century, and that’s what matters!” She laughed. “And your Splendora friends were the life of the party, weren’t they? Absolutely priceless!”

  “Um, yeah. I hope you’re okay with that.”

  “Okay with it? They were my favorite part!” She laughed long and loud. “Seriously, I think you’re so blessed to have such great friends and family, Bella. They’re wonderful. And those women were the icing on the cake. They looked amazing and sounded even better.”

  “I have to agree. Thank you for including them.”

  “Oh, honey, you’re welcome! I’m just thrilled you did this for us. This was your first exposure to a medieval wedding
, right, Bella?”

  “Right.” I had done a lot of research online but had never actually been to a medieval wedding until now.

  “What did you think? Did you enjoy it?”

  “Oh yes! I’d wanted to plan a medieval wedding for ages, but I wasn’t sure I had it in me.”

  “You have it in you, all right. And think of how much easier it’s going to be next time, now that you have this one under your belt.”

  “Yes.” I paused a moment, reliving the entire night. The gowns. The twinkling lights on the Cinderella carriage. The castle. The dancing. The cakes. Overcome with emotion, I shared my heart. “Oh, Marian, it was glorious. I think I loved it because it was absolutely fairy-tale-like. Sent me back in time and made me think that miracles were possible. That men really could be chivalrous and ladies could be elegant and … well, valued.”

  “Yes. Women were certainly different back then.”

  “Maybe not so different.” I thought about D.J.—how he always treated me like a princess. “I guess the real difference is in figuring out that we’re all royalty. We’re God’s kids. So the whole princess theme is very real. That’s why it resonates with women so deeply. We’re waiting for Prince Charming to sweep us away, of course, but that’s just a symbol of God sweeping in and loving us in spite of our flaws. He doesn’t see our warts. Or our wrinkles. He only sees that we’re his little princesses. And he wants us to hang out in his throne room.”

  “Well said.” Marian sighed. “And I agree on every point.” After a brief pause, she asked about Brock. “Is he still at your place?”

  “Until tomorrow afternoon. Joey’s going to drive him to Houston to catch his flight back to L.A. around noon.”

  “Bella …” Marian paused, then her voice seemed to catch. “I want to tell you something about Brock.”

  “What about him?”

  “Rob and I have been praying for him for years. He’s Hollywood on the outside, but I’ve always believed God wanted to break through that shell and do a work in his life.”