Dolly Parton
The first two weeks of September passed with a lot of activity, both political and emotional. Tres settled in at his new school, thank goodness, and I felt a bit more settled in the double-wide. As promised, Mayor Deets made sure we had a copy of the bylaws in our hands. D.J. read them aloud to me, but we couldn’t make any sense out of them. The only word that came to mind was ludicrous. We decided the only option would be to appeal. Hopefully the city council would see our side in this. If not, we would have to hire an attorney, and I hated to go that route.
Twila’s run for mayor stirred up a lot of chatter among the local residents. Most—at least the ones I talked to—loved the idea. Those same people, however, made it clear that they would not, could not, vote for her or sign the petition about the renovations at the wedding facility. How Mayor Deets held them all so tightly in his palm, I could not say.
And that nephew of his! Clayton seemed to be working double time to ruin our chances with the new facility by posting an entire series of articles in the Gazette dedicated to preservation of historic buildings. Why now? None of it made sense. If we couldn’t update the facility, it would be of no use to anyone.
This felt more ridiculous by the day. What we needed was someone—or a group of someones—with backbone. Folks willing to stand up together and let their voices be heard. People who weren’t afraid of this manipulative duo.
What we needed was a plan.
The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if perhaps Earline was right. Maybe we could soften Mayor Deets’s heart by helping him fall in love. Okay, okay, so it might’ve been a desperate suggestion on Earline’s part, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And judging from the mayor’s ongoing plan to stop our wedding facility from undergoing the proper renovations, we were in desperate times.
D.J. and his men kept plugging along on the renovation work, completely ignoring the new bylaws. I knew my husband well enough to know that he’d prayed about all of this. Surely he felt convinced in his heart of hearts that the city council would reverse its decision or make some sort of exception for us. Anyone with a lick of sense could see that tying our hands behind our backs wasn’t going to benefit the community in any way.
D.J. wasn’t the only one praying. I ushered up what I liked to call popcorn prayers—those little, all-day-long whispers—to the Lord.
I had a lot to pray about, but front and center—pun intended—was this pregnancy. It seemed to really be taking a toll on me. With months left to go, I wondered how I would make it. My feet were already huge and I felt unusually tired. I found myself falling asleep earlier and earlier each night. Thank goodness D.J. carried the load with the kids, helping out with dinner and bath time and even tucking them into bed most evenings. He also took on most of Guido’s care, giving him meds at the appropriate times and feeding him each night. God bless D.J. Neeley. I’d never known a finer man.
I did the best I could to feed my family a proper dinner as often as I could, now that I had plenty of Rosa’s sauce—er, gravy—to cover everything with. Life was a lot easier with plenty of Italian food on hand. Still, I might want to cut back a little on the carbs. I’d already gained twenty pounds and was barely over halfway into the pregnancy. What would Dr. Mullins say? I wouldn’t have long to wait. Tomorrow’s visit back to Galveston would include a stop at the OB’s office for a checkup and an ultrasound to—hopefully—determine the sex of the babies.
All night long I tossed and turned, trying to imagine what the ultrasound would show. If they were boys, would they get along with Tres, or was the gap between them too large? If they were girls, would they bicker and fight like Jasmine and Lily? And what if I had one of each in there? Then what? Would we have to divide the nursery in half with a line down the middle—ballet décor on one side and sports memorabilia on the other? What a mess that would be. Who could keep up with it? And at what point would they each have to have their own rooms? Our house in Galveston wasn’t big enough for that. Would we have to move?
I finally managed to fall asleep that night but only got about four hours in before the alarm went off. Along the way I dreamed that we moved to Splendora permanently. That we built a big house, only to find out that the mayor and his council members planned to tear it down. Go figure.
Somehow I dragged myself out of bed, fed the kids, took a shower, and dressed for the day. I took a call from Jordan Singer, the Texas Bride reporter, to discuss the article he planned to write based on our upcoming ceremony. And I fended off a call from the mayor, opting to let it go to voice mail. He left a not-so-nice message, hinting that he would be stopping by the facility today or tomorrow to make sure we were complying with the bylaws. No point in worrying about that. We wouldn’t even be around. Then again, Cecil would. Hmm. Maybe I’d better send someone over to warn him. Should I call one of the Splendora ladies? Bubba and Jenna? The twins?
Yes, the twins.
Better yet, just Lily. She would be the perfect person to deliver the message. Jasmine would get too worked up. Besides, she was probably baking something. Or pouring chocolate into molds. Lily wouldn’t mind. Probably.
Before leaving for Galveston, I picked up a stack of Legos that Tres had spread all over the living room. I slipped on my shoes, noticing how much tighter they felt. Weird.
D.J. called out to me from the front porch, anxious to get on our way. Better not keep the man waiting.
Just as I stepped out onto the porch with the kids, something occurred to me. “D.J.!”
“What?”
“What about Guido?”
He looked perplexed. “What about him?”
“Do we leave him here or take him back to Galveston? Remember? This little visit of his wasn’t meant to last forever. If we’re going to take him back, this would be the perfect time. We’re going to see Uncle Laz anyway.”
“Ah.” D.J. nodded. “I know he’s been a pain in the neck, what with all of the medicines and the singing. But he really seems to be healthier, don’t you think? He’s thriving here.”
I nodded. “Yeah, now that you mention it.”
“I think his time in the country has served him well.”
“So, we’ll keep him a little longer?” I offered a little shrug, finding myself content with that.
“Yeah.” D.J. led the way down the porch stairs and toward the truck. After we got the kids buckled up, he turned my way. “Hey, speaking of family pets, I didn’t see Precious this morning. Did she run off again? I noticed she really likes to play in that big field behind the house.”
“No, she didn’t run off. I took her someplace.”
“Oh? Boarding her for the day?”
I shook my head. “I took her to Bubba and Jenna’s house while you were in the shower. It’s the weirdest thing, D.J. That little mongrel has fallen in love with your brother’s hound dog.”
“Beau?” D.J. laughed. “Seriously? Beau is seven times her size.”
“I know, but they’re inseparable. I took Precious with me to their house the other day, and she cried when I put her back in the car to come home. Jenna said that Beau carried on after we left too, howling and scratching at the door. Isn’t that bizarre?”
“Definitely.”
My husband climbed into the driver’s seat and glanced in the rearview mirror at the kids. “And how are my favorite two kids today?”
Tres lit into a conversation about a cartoon he’d watched this morning, and Rosie giggled. In that moment bliss settled over me. In spite of all the chaos going on in Splendora, I still had precious family moments like this one to hang on to.
I knew that the kids were excited about seeing family members again—so much so that we’d decided to let Tres miss out on a full day of school. As we drove, I did my best to keep them thinking about the great time they would have, so they wouldn’t resort to fighting.
“I know someone who’s going to be tickled to see her babies!” I said.
“Aunt Rosa?
” Tres looked up from his video game.
“Yes. She’s sent me half a dozen text messages. Mimi too. And Hannah. And Aunt Scarlet. And lots of other people.”
“Aunt Rosa!” Rosie squealed out her name and giggled again.
We made it to Galveston in record time and stopped by my parents’ place to drop off the kids. Rosa carried on and on about the filming of the sitcom, which, according to her, was destined to be the best show ever to hit the TV screen.
“How’s Mama doing in her advisory role?” I asked.
“Oh, girl, she’s in her element. They’ll have to put her in the director’s chair before all is said and done.” Rosa filled me in on a couple of funny stories related to Brock, but I didn’t really have time to listen to any more. We were running late to the doctor’s office as it was.
D.J. and I said our goodbyes and headed to Doctor Mullins’s office. Once again we started in the ultrasound room with the tech. The chatty gal got the ball rolling by taking several photos of the babies. We couldn’t seem to get much out of her except, “They look great!” and “Dr. Mullins will be in shortly.”
True to her words, he entered the room moments later, greeting us with a smile. “How’s my favorite couple?”
“Fine.”
“And how’s life in the country treating you?” Dr. Mullins settled onto a stool next to the examining table and reached for my chart. “I see your blood pressure looks good, Bella. That’s great. And no sign of diabetes, so I’d have to say that country living agrees with you. You planning to raise these babies in Splendora?”
I did my best not to groan aloud. Instead, I managed, “Um, no. We’re coming back home at the end of December. And to answer your earlier question, my feet are swollen and I’m fat.”
This made the doctor laugh. “As for where you’re planning to live once the babies arrive, well, Splendora’s loss is our gain. And as for your weight gain, it’s to be expected with twins. Just keep an eye on it. No carb overloading. Stay away from chicken-fried living.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t live in the country. They fry everything up there. Even their Oreos. And their Twinkies.”
“Gross.” The doctor’s nose wrinkled.
“I know, right? I wouldn’t have believed it myself, except I saw it at the church social the other day.”
“Church social?” He smiled and set the chart aside.
“Dinner on the grounds,” D.J. explained. “First Sunday of every month at Full Gospel Chapel in the Pines.”
Dr. Mullins’s brow wrinkled. “I see. At First Baptist we don’t fry things, but we eat a lot of casseroles.” He rubbed his belly. “Which is why I look like I’m in my fifth month.” He busted out laughing and D.J. joined him. “Now, are you guys ready for another peek at these two babies? The tech got some good pictures, but I always like to confirm her findings, just to make sure.”
“Confirm whether we’re talking pink or blue?” I asked.
“Yes. Give me a minute and we’ll see if they’re doing somersaults. If they play nicely we’ll get our answer.”
He put the wand on my belly and moved it around, finally bringing it to a halt just under my belly button. After a couple of minutes he started taking measurements of the first baby’s head. “Baby A.” He gestured to the screen. “Looking good.”
“Boy or girl?” D.J. asked.
The doctor laughed. “I’m taking the baby’s measurements first to see how big he or she is. Then we’ll talk about the sex.”
The process of measuring the baby continued for a few minutes, and then the doctor began pressing the wand this way and that against my belly until I thought my full bladder might burst. “Aha.” The camera froze over something that I couldn’t quite distinguish.
“Well?” D.J. leaned forward in his chair.
“Of course, we’re never 100 percent certain until the babies are on the outside, but I’d have to say . . .” The doctor paused to click a photo. “This one right here is a baby girl.”
“A girl.” Wonder flooded over me at the revelation. Rosie’s going to have a baby sister.
The doctor took a few more pictures, then made some small talk as he started measuring baby number two, who refused to cooperate. For a few minutes it looked as if we wouldn’t get our answer. Then, in the blink of an eye, the little one settled into just the right position. The doctor snapped a photo, gave a crooked grin, and looked our way. “I’d say it’s pink times two.”
“T-two girls?” D.J. paled. I could almost hear the wheels clicking in his head now. Counting Rosie, he would have three daughters to protect from boys. Three weddings to pay for. Three . . . everything.
Me, on the other hand? I wanted to jump for joy. These sweet babies would grow up with the best sister ever, surrounded by love on every side. We’d go to ballet recitals and gymnastics classes. And Tres would love playing the role of big brother to this darling crew, as long as they didn’t dress him up in their princess dresses and make him play fairy-tale games. Yes, I could see it all now.
We left the doctor’s office minutes later. I felt giddy.
D.J., on the other hand, wasn’t saying much. When we got into the truck to head back to my parents’ place, he looked my way. “Baby A and Baby B. So, maybe an A name and a B name?”
I nodded. “I’ll have to think about that. Something family-oriented, of course.”
Tres and Rosie had family names, so we’d better stick with that idea. Still, I couldn’t come up with any A or B names that made sense.
D.J. was silent as we drove back to the Rossi home. Quite the reverse from last time. Instead of him asking me, “Are you okay?” I found myself asking him. He just nodded.
After a while he shook his head. “They’re both girls.”
“Right. So Dr. Mullins said.”
“Two more little girls.”
“Yep.”
His gaze shifted to me. “Do you think they’ll want to take ballet lessons?”
“Ooh, I was just thinking about that. I’d say the earlier, the better. I heard someone say that three is a good age, that their cognitive skills are pretty good by then. We can start with Rosie first and then the little girls can follow her lead. Of course, if they’re anything like their mother, they’ll have two left feet.” I giggled. “Well, technically, six left feet, since we’re talking about three little girls.”
“Three little girls.” D.J. shook his head, then suddenly snapped to attention. “What am I doing?”
“Talking about the babies?” I said.
“No, I mean, why am I driving back to your parents’ place? You’re meeting your friends for lunch at Parma John’s, right?”
“Right.” In the excitement of the news, I’d almost forgotten. Go figure. For weeks I’d been dying to see everyone, then I get back home and almost forget? They would never forgive me.
I couldn’t help but grin as I thought about Hannah, Scarlet, Gabi, and Cassia. Next to Jenna, those four ladies were the closest friends I had in the world. What would they think of my news about the babies? Suddenly I could hardly wait to find out!
17
Heart, Don’t Do This to Me
I was tossed all over the place growing up, which I guess prepared me for the music business, but the one thing that has always been there, that has never ever left me, has been country music.
Kellie Pickler
D.J. turned the car around at the next available spot and pointed it in the direction of Parma John’s, our family’s pizza restaurant. I couldn’t wait to see my friends and eat pizza. We would talk, laugh, and catch up on life. Ah, bliss! All of the things I’d been missing out on would be mine in just a few short minutes.
If I could just figure out what to make of my husband’s silence in the meantime. When we drew near the restaurant, I did my best to engage him in conversation.
“You still thinking about the babies?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
Not much of an answer. I tried to keep
things positive and upbeat. “It’s going to be great, D.J. Watch and see.”
“Mm-hmm.” He pulled the truck into a parking spot near the restaurant and got out. After walking around to open my door for me, D.J. gave me a pensive look.
“Are . . . are you okay, honey?” I asked as I stepped out of the truck and slung my purse over my arm. “Because if you don’t want me to have lunch with my friends, I can go back to my parents’ place with—”
“Three daughters.” He closed the passenger door. “Three.”
“R-right.” Rosie plus Baby A and Baby B equals . . . yep, three. I hadn’t done very well in math, but even I could figure this one out.
“Three daughters means we’ll eventually have three boyfriends. Three weddings. Three husbands. Three opportunities for me to walk the fine line between protecting my little girls and trusting that they’ve learned the lessons we’ve taught them.”
“Well, yes, I suppose. But don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? I mean, they’re not even born—”
“That’s probably what every father on the planet says to calm himself down: ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself.’ But right now I don’t think I can stay calm. They’re getting married.”
“Who’s getting married?” Scarlet’s voice sounded from behind us. “Oh, I know! You two are! And it’s coming soon—beginning of December. Just two and a half months till the big day!”
I turned around and saw her standing next to our truck. She threw her arms around my neck and giggled, then stepped back to examine my belly.
“Girl! You. Are. Pregnant!”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” A nervous giggle followed. I wanted to think it bubbled up as a result of her words, but I knew better. D.J. was having a meltdown. Right here on the Strand. Oh, he was doing it in his usual polite way, but any moment now he might just blow like a top.
“This wedding is going to be the most fun ever.” Scarlet looped her arm through mine and we started to cross the street to the restaurant. “I can’t wait to bake your cake! You said shabby chic, right?”