It Had To Be You

by Janice Thompson

  “I thought this would blow over.”

  “Me too.” My emotions suddenly got the better of me. Not wanting to be seen or heard by any of the others in my household, I walked out to the veranda and took a seat on the swing. Maybe if I sat, I could think clearly. Make sense of all this. Instead, I found a lump growing in my throat, and before long, I was crying like a baby. For a while, I couldn’t manage a word. When I finally did, “W-what’s happening to my family?” were the only words that made sense.

  “This can’t last forever, Bella. It’s going to pass. So take a deep breath.”

  “I’m doing my best.” I tried to catch my breath to tell the rest of the story. “Oh, but it gets worse. Emilio isn’t speaking to Laz. And vice versa.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s c-c-complicated!” A couple of tears worked their way down my cheek. “The way things are going, my parents are going to end up not speaking!”

  “Your parents? Never. They’re the most solid couple I know, next to my own parents.” I could tell from the stunned sound of his voice that D.J. thought I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to compose myself. Surely I could get through this, and once I did, D.J. would make sense of it. Tell me what to do. Give me a plan of action.

  “Even Bertina and Bianca had a quarrel this morning before they left for town,” I said at last. “Something about shoes. Shoes! Can you believe it?”

  “Um, no. Not really.”

  “Deanna says they never argue. Never. And it’s all my fault!”

  “Their argument over shoes?”

  “No, I’m just saying I should have protected Rosa. That’s what started all of this. If I hadn’t been standing there when Sal and Laz had their argument yesterday, none of this would have happened.”

  “Say what?” D.J. said. “You’re blaming yourself for this?”

  “Sort of.” I sniffled.

  “I’m having a hard time figuring out how any of this could be your fault, Bella. And by the way, you blame yourself for things a lot. Things that have nothing to do with you.”

  “I—I do?”

  “Yep. This is more observation than criticism, by the way. Don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’re always so quick to admit fault, even when you’re not at fault.”

  “My generous nature?” I tried.

  “Sounds more like false guilt to me,” D.J. said. “But you’ve got to let go of that, Bella. First of all, it’s not exactly honest to take credit—or blame—for something that’s not your fault. And I can absolutely assure you, you just happened to be standing in the right place at the right time last night. If you hadn’t been in front of that door, Rosa probably would’ve stormed inside. Then we might’ve seen bloodshed. Your presence probably kept things from being worse than they already were.”

  “I guess.” I sighed. “All I know is everyone in this household has gone nuts. Rosa’s flipping out—and who can blame her? She turns on Laz, who turns on Sal, who involves Emilio. Before you know it, Emilio is insulted, thinking somehow everyone hates Francesca.”

  D.J. cleared his throat. “Well, let’s face it, no one is very fond of her.”

  “It’s not for lack of trying,” I said. “We’ve all tried … but she makes it so difficult. One minute she’s as sweet as sugar, the next she’s as abrasive as sandpaper. I can’t figure her out.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want you to,” he said. “Maybe she’s this way on purpose. I think she’s probably afraid of being vulnerable. Maybe she’s been hurt in the past.”

  Another sigh escaped. How dare D.J. say something that nice about Francesca right now, when I was mad at her?

  Why am I mad at her again, Lord? Ah yes, because she’s practically perfect in every way.

  Shame washed over me at that revelation. Honestly, I couldn’t think of one reason to dislike Francesca. Being beautiful didn’t exactly prohibit you from leading a normal, healthy life.

  D.J. interrupted my thoughts. “So, why are Bianca and Bertina fighting? And why are your parents going to end up not speaking?”

  “They’re not. I mean, I don’t know if they are. I just know that Mama had a meltdown when she heard what Sal said. It just confirmed something she’d already voiced to me earlier.”

  “And what is that?”

  I exhaled, unsure of how to proceed. “She’s got this idea in her head that Pop sees his brother’s pretty young wife and wishes he had one for himself,” I finally said.

  “Are you kidding me? Your mom is smarter than that.”

  “I know. It makes no sense. I’ve never known Mama to be insecure. But the world has tilted off its axis, and my mama is going right along with it. And me … I feel like I’m about to fall off. There’s nothing left to hang on to.”

  “There is,” D.J. said. “God hasn’t fallen off his throne just because the Rossis have declared war on one another.”

  “I know, but he’s been pretty silent so far.”

  D.J. paused, and his voice took on a deeper tone as he finally spoke once again. “What did your father have to say about all of this?”

  “He flipped. The minute he heard my mother’s accusation, he went storming out of the house. Drove down to the restaurant, where he found Bianca and Bertina having lunch. They made up, by the way. Bianca and Bertina, I mean. Looks like they settled their shoe issue.”

  “That’s good. So, your father talked to them?”

  “Yes. From what Deanna told me, he went a little crazy, saying all sorts of nutty things. Bianca tried to calm him down, but Bertina lit into him.”

  “Why?”

  “No idea. I guess she just voiced what every woman in the house was already thinking—that an older man with a pretty young wife posed a threat to the whole makeup of our family.”

  D.J. sighed. “This is better than a soap opera, Bella. Or worse, depending on how you look at it.”

  “Well, things are just going to get worse if we don’t do something. Emilio is really hot. And Laz is ready to take someone’s head off. And here’s the worst part of all—this is ruining everyone’s testimony. Completely ruining it!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve waited for months for Sal to arrive so we could show him how Christians live. How they act. How the salvation experience transforms lives. All in the hopes that he would see the love of the Lord in us—and in that goofy bird—and find it irresistible. So far, all he’s seen is a bunch of maniacs ready to kill one other. There’s nothing irresistible about that.”

  “But technically, he started all of this with what he said to Laz about Rosa, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.” I groaned. “And I’m so mad at him for saying all of that stuff about Rosa not being pretty. He has no idea what pretty is—or isn’t—because he’s never experienced the love of the Lord. Until God touches his heart, he’s going to see things only as the world sees them. He’s not going to get it.”

  “You’re a smart girl, Bella Rossi,” D.J. said. “You’re spot-on about all of this.”

  “This is one time I don’t want to be right. I just want someone to tell me how to fix this.” Leaning my head back against the swing, I closed my eyes and tried to will it all away.

  “Unfortunately, this one’s pretty big. Fortunately, we serve a really big God. But he’s only going to move if you take your hands off and let him.”

  I released a slow, steady breath, trying to calm my nerves. At that moment, Bianca and Bertina pulled up in Mama’s car.

  “I have to go, D.J. Can I call you later?”

  “Of course. And Bella … I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  My sigh lingered in the air as I rose from the porch swing and approached my aunts, who walked alongside a giddy Rocco and Deanna, who were both in a dreamy-eyed state. At least the whole world hadn’t gone crazy. These two were so in love, they couldn’t see beyond it to the chaos.

  “How are things?” Aunt Bianca asked as she climbed the
stairs to the veranda. “Any better?”

  I shook my head. “No, things are terrible.” I brushed away the tears that now stung my eyes. “Everything seems … hopeless.”

  “Oh, never hopeless, Bella,” Deanna said with a wink. Rocco slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close, kissing the tip of her nose. “Sometimes life surprises you.”

  “Well, I could stand to be surprised right about now.” I had that same feeling I once had in sixth grade when my teacher announced she was giving a pop quiz on Edgar Allan Poe. I felt doomed.

  Instead of going inside, the ladies and Rocco joined me on the veranda, where I poured out my heart about anything and everything related to the wedding. On and on I went, telling them about my fears and frustrations.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked when I finally slowed down. “The band will be here in a few minutes to practice for the reception. They wanted Rosa and Laz around to hear them rehearse so they can put their stamp of approval on the songs for Saturday night. How can they pull things together when the bride and groom aren’t even speaking?”

  “That is a problem,” Bianca said.

  “What if things don’t get better?” I asked. “What if Rosa and Laz really decide to call off …” My words drifted off, too painful to even speak aloud.

  “They won’t. They will get married.” Bianca turned to face me. “You know that old theater expression, ‘The show must go on’?”

  “Sure.”

  “This show will go on, Bella. They will work this out. We just have to trust the Lord to do it in his time and his way.”

  “I sure hope he remembers that we’ve got a wedding the day after tomorrow. And a rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.”

  “He remembers.”

  Bianca began to explain—in Italian, with great passion— how the true lovers of the world loved deeply and argued deeply. How, in the end, they always made up deeply. Oh, I hoped she was right!

  For whatever reason, my gaze shifted to Deanna and Rocco, who’d slipped off into a world of their own once again. As they stared into each other’s eyes, one thing became abundantly clear. Love really could win out in the end, especially if I factored the Lord into things.

  Somehow that lit a spark of hope inside me. Maybe, just maybe, he would come through in a mighty way where Rosa and Laz were concerned.

  A shattering of glass inside the house roused me to attention, and I realized Rosa and Laz were at it again. I whispered up a prayer that God would intervene. Bring down the walls of Jericho. Part the Red Sea.

  Yes, the Lord had performed mighty miracles in the days of old. Surely he could do it again. He could—and would— bring two stubborn senior citizens together … hopefully before they killed each other!

  13

  Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive

  World War III was well under way when Gordy and the band showed up. I met them at the wedding facility and tried my best to explain what was happening next door. Gordy’s eyes widened as he heard the particulars.

  “Tell you what, Bella. Let’s do this. I’ll get the band together, and we’ll start to play.”

  “Even if the rehearsal’s off?” Didn’t make much sense to me, but I was willing to listen to his idea regardless.

  “Yes. There’s nothing like a little music to bring people together. Nella vita, chi non risica, non rosica, Bella, my dear.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “‘In life, he who risks nothing, gains nothing.’ Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as it were.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Yes, you will see.” Gordy winked. “Just do me a favor and open the windows so that everyone can hear us playing from next door. Agreed?”

  “It’s worth a try.” At this point, I would’ve attempted just about anything.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Lilly said as some of the other band members warmed up to the tune of “In the Mood.” “I’ve seen this with my own eyes. God can work through music just as easily as he can through preaching.”

  “Swing music?” I tried to picture such a thing. I mean, c’mon … worship music, maybe. Hymns, sure. But, “In the Mood”? How could the Lord possibly use that to bring healing and hope?

  “Get ready,” Gordy said with a smile. “You’re about to witness a miracle of biblical proportions.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “And just so you know,” Gordy called out above the clamor of the band, “the Lord has often used swing music to perform miracles.”

  “He has?” I must’ve missed the memo.

  “Sure.” Gordy reached for his trumpet, then turned back to me. “Think back to the 1940s, Bella.”

  “That’s going to be a little difficult.” I hid the smile that threatened to creep up. “Long before my time, you see.”

  “Oh yeah.” He grinned. “Well, anyway, in the forties, our country was facing an unbelievable season of war, both in Europe and in Japan. People were spent, emotionally and physically. The war was really taking its toll. Musicians knew it, and they responded with some of the most amazing, upbeat music you ever heard.”

  “Wow, I never thought about that. I guess it makes sense, though.”

  “Of course it does.” Gordy nodded. “In a way, they were ministering to the people to keep their spirits up. To keep people’s minds off what was happening in Europe and Japan. It was a holy diversion, if you will.”

  “That’s what we need today.”

  “Mm-hmm. Sounds like it. And hopefully it will be just as effective.” He gave me a pensive look. “You know, this reminds me of a story in the Old Testament.”

  “O-oh?”

  “Yes, from the book of 2 Chronicles, chapter twenty. Jehoshaphat was facing several enemies, and the Lord told him to send the Levites—the musicians—to the front lines. I’m sure those fellas were scared spitless, but they went, and you know what happened?”

  “They won the battle?”

  “Yep. Those musicians were real heroes that day.” He laughed. “Worshiped their way through, and the enemy was confused. In the end, God’s people went on to win the war. Great message for today, eh?”

  “No kidding.” Suddenly it made perfect sense. Maybe it wouldn’t matter what songs were playing, as long as the hearts of the warriors were in the right place. Any song could be an offering of praise, right? And praise was powerful, no doubt about that!

  The groove between Gordy’s eyebrows deepened as he continued. “I’m of the opinion we should hand out warnings when we place an instrument in a believer’s hand. Let them know that they’ll eventually end up on the battlefield.” He lifted his horn triumphantly and grinned.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I sighed. “I’m glad you’re willing to go to battle for my family, Gordy. You hardly know us.”

  “I’m getting to know you better every day, and I’ve fallen in love with your family, Bella.” He grinned. “I’m ready to lift the morale of the fighting men.”

  “That’s what we need—a morale lift. For the fighting men. And women.” Another sigh escaped. Boy, were they ever fighting.

  Gordy turned back to the band with a nod and gestured for them to stop playing. “Fellas—and Lilly—we’ve got a situation on our hands. Folks next door are in dire need of a morale boost. We’re talking a case of life or death here.”

  Several of the older guys nodded, gripping their horns. Lilly lifted her clarinet heavenward and hollered out a prayer for the Lord to lead the way, and a rousing “Amen!” went up from the rest. Apparently, they were accustomed to saving lives through music, though this was all new to me.

  “I love it when the Lord calls us to action,” Lilly said with a giggle as the prayer ended. “Heavenly swing!” A couple of seconds later, Gordy tapped his director’s stick against the music stand and said, “Let’s take that song from the beginning, folks. This time play it like you mean it! People are counting on you!”

  Seconds later, the Glenn Miller tune filled the room once again, this time more powerfu
l than before. All of the instruments rang out in perfect harmony. I could almost see the warriors marching off to battle.

  “Louder!” Gordy called out. “Play louder, men! The troops can’t hear us from here!”

  I opened every window and waited. The band grew louder, then louder still. I wondered how long it would take for my relatives to respond. Or the police, asking us to turn the volume down.

  Ironically, the first people to enter the room were Twila, Bonnie Sue, and Jolene, who stared at me, dumbfounded.

  “Someone lose their hearing aid?” Twila shouted above the beat of the band.

  “No,” I hollered back. Pulling them into the next room, I did my best to explain, telling them not only what had happened between Rosa and Laz but also about Gordy’s impassioned response.

  Bonnie Sue’s eyes grew wide. “Is my Sal involved in this?”

  My Sal? “Well, he’s involved, yes.”

  “Hmm.”

  Jolene elbowed her. “That’s what you get for hanging your heart on a man who hasn’t come to know the Lord yet, Bonnie Sue. We tried to warn you. Look at the trouble he’s caused. And you were willing to walk along the garden path with him, simply because he showed you a little interest.”

  Bonnie Sue groaned. “I know you’re right. Should’ve listened to you. But I was just so swept away by his dancing skills. Besides, he paid me more than a little interest.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she stifled a grin.

  “Back to the matter at hand.” Jolene looked me squarely in the eye, shouting to be heard above the band as they played merrily in the other room. “That Jehoshaphat story Gordy told you was right on, Bella. But there’s more to it than just worshiping your way through a battle. You’ve got to have prayer warriors in place. Guess that’s why we’re here.” She linked arms with the other two. “We’ll hit our knees. Won’t stop till the Spirit moves.”

  I nodded and led the trio of praying women back into the reception hall, where Gordy and the band ended “In the Mood.” The music began again, this song a slightly different tempo from the one before.

  “Perfect!” Bonnie Sue said with a wink. “‘Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive’!”