“Oh?”
“Yes. And the doctor just confirmed it when he said they would be home in time for Christmas. I don’t ever want to forget that God brought them to us early, our little presents, wrapped up in teensy-tiny packages.” I kissed the tip of Baby A’s nose. “Whenever I look at them, I want to be reminded that they came exactly when—and how—the Lord ordained.”
“So what are you thinking?”
I glanced at the babies and smiled. “I’m thinking Holly and Ivy.”
“Holly and Ivy.” He grinned. “I love it, Bella. It’s perfect.” He leaned down to gently kiss our daughters on top of their heads.
Moments later the nurse arrived to take the babies to the NICU, and D.J. and I were left alone in the room. I knew it would be flooded with people soon—family, friends, loved ones. But right now, in this blissfully quiet moment, I needed to just be with D.J.
He leaned over the bed and whispered the sweetest “I love you” I’d ever heard. They were more than just words. I knew it in my heart of hearts. Coming from D.J. Neeley, they were a promise to love, protect, and care for our growing family, and to spend a lifetime showing me just what it meant to be a godly husband and father.
And for all of that, I was truly, truly grateful.
27
I Want to Be a Cowboy’s Sweetheart
I don’t want to make that sound like I’m preaching from a mountain top when I say you have to give your family everything, because I know it’s hard for people. I’m lucky to be in a position where you can establish those ground rules and make it that way.
Tim McGraw
Just two weeks after Holly and Ivy made their entrance into the world, we received word from the pediatrician that they could go home from the hospital. The whole Rossi clan gathered outside the doors of the NICU to await the big moment. The Splendora sisters also graced us with their presence. Well, two of them, anyway.
“Twila, Jolene, it’s so great to see you.” I glanced toward the door, wondering where Bonnie Sue was.
“She’s not here.” Jolene quirked a brow. “Isn’t coming either. But she sends her love.”
“Ah. Well, tell her I love her too.”
“I will,” Jolene said. “As soon as she gets back in town.”
“Yes, she’s . . . well, she’s away for a week or so,” Twila said.
Something about all of this sounded mighty suspicious. “Where has she gone?”
“To the Cayman Islands.”
This certainly got my attention. “The Cayman Islands? Seriously?”
“Yes.” Twila started to giggle. And then giggle some more. “Bella, you’re not going to believe it. You’re just not.”
“Try me.”
“Bonnie Sue and Mayor Deets . . .” Twila giggled once more.
“What about them?”
“They eloped.”
“W-what?” I shook my head. “Are you serious?”
“Very. And they’re in the Cayman Islands right now on their honeymoon.”
“Just double-checking to make sure I heard you correctly. Did you really just say that Bonnie Sue and Mayor Deets are married?”
“Yes. She wanted me to convey her apologies that they didn’t get married at the wedding facility. Pastor Higley married them in a private ceremony at the church yesterday, and they left on their honeymoon this morning. It took everyone by surprise.”
“Wow. I never saw that coming either.”
“I daresay I did see it coming, but I wouldn’t have predicted it happening this fast,” Twila said. “Tommy Deets said that at his age there’s no point in waiting. He’s never been married before, you know, so this is his very first honeymoon.”
I pinched my eyes shut and tried not to think about that.
With the whole Rossi family in the room to celebrate this good news, it got a little loud. So loud, in fact, that the nurse came to shush us. And then she gave us the good news. The pediatrician had just signed the babies’ discharge papers. We could begin the process of taking Holly and Ivy home. What joy!
Just as D.J. and I turned to fetch the babies from the NICU, Bubba came rushing through the door, looking wide-eyed and frantic.
D.J. took one look at him and panicked. “Bubba? What’s happened?”
“It’s . . .” Bubba paused for a breath. “It’s Mama.”
My heart nearly skittered to a stop.
D.J. paled. “Something’s happened to Mama?”
“No, she’s fine.” Bubba raked his fingers through his hair. “Well, physically, anyway.”
Twila and Jolene ushered up a hearty “Praise the Lord” in unison. I echoed those words in my heart.
“What, then?” D.J. asked.
“She’s on her way here, and she’s not happy.”
With the new babies to visit, I couldn’t imagine why my mother-in-law would suddenly be so upset. Unless . . .
A little shiver ran down my spine as I thought about it. “Oh no! She found out about . . .” The next words came out as a whisper. “The banana pudding?”
Bubba nodded. “And she’s hoppin’ mad.”
Oh. Help.
“Who told her?” I asked.
“I think Bonnie Sue let it slip just before they left for their honeymoon. She called Mama and thanked her for telling Bella she could share the recipe with Jolene.”
At this point Jolene made some flimsy excuse about needing to go to the bathroom, then slipped out of the room. Coward.
“As you might imagine, Mama flipped.” Bubba paced the room. “She’s kept that recipe a secret her entire adult life.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of D.J., who looked as if he might faint. Nothing—I repeat, nothing—scared my husband. But right now he looked as white as a sheet.
“We’re. All. Going. To. Die.” He spoke the words in a very matter-of-fact way. “It’s been good knowing you all.”
Aunt Rosa took a couple of steps toward D.J. and attempted to calm him down. “She’ll be upset, D.J., but she’ll get over it. I know she will.”
We didn’t have time to ponder this for more than a moment, because the door opened and Earline breezed through. She headed straight for me.
Oh dear, oh dear.
“Bella.” My mother-in-law’s voice trembled. “I need to speak with you.”
“Y-yes, ma’am?”
“You found my recipe for banana pudding and shared it with Jolene?”
“No. I, well . . .” If I told her the truth, that D.J. had done it, she would kill him. If I let her go on thinking I’d done it, she’d kill me. What a dilemma!
I did my best to explain what had happened that fateful day when I’d discovered the note taped on the back of the Crisco can, but Earline didn’t seem terribly receptive to my explanation.
“Let me understand this,” she said when I finished. “You found the note taped to the Crisco can, the one with the words ‘Top Secret’ on the top of it, and you thought you were looking at beauty secrets.”
“Which is the only reason I even felt comfortable looking at it at all,” I explained. “It never occurred to me that it might be anything but that.”
“I see. So you read it.”
“Technically, D.J. and I both read it. And I’m really, really sorry.” Boy howdy, was I ever.
“If you didn’t want us to read it, you shouldn’t have written ‘Top Secret’ on it, Mama. That’s just a temptation waiting to happen.” D.J. sighed. “And just so you know, Bella didn’t do anything with the recipe. I did. I made a copy of it and gave it to Jolene.”
She looked more than startled by this revelation. “Why, son? Why?”
“Because I thought maybe—just maybe—it might save the town of Splendora. That’s why I did it, Mama. I thought it would help Mayor Deets fall in love with Bonnie Sue and forget all about his vendetta against the Neeley family. I thought they might get married and live happily ever after and the town of Splendora would be saved from total ruin.”
&nb
sp; “And you have to admit, that’s pretty much what happened,” I said. “So D.J.’s instincts were right.”
A resounding “Amen” sounded from all of the others in the room.
“Just tell me this, D.J. Neeley.” Earline crossed her arms at her chest.
“W-what?” he asked.
“Tell me, son . . .” Her wrinkled brow relaxed, and her face lit into the loveliest smile. “Do you really think it was my banana pudding that did the trick? If so, I need to package that stuff and sell it all over the great state of Texas! It’s truly miraculous!”
We laughed about her response all the way home that day. And later that evening, after we got the babies settled into their bassinets for the first time, D.J. and I were still talking about it.
“Maybe Mama really could sell her banana pudding,” D.J. said. “I’m sure Bubba and Jenna would love to put it on the menu at their restaurant.”
“True. And maybe she could do Bonnie Sue a favor and teach her how to make it herself so that Mayor Deets will go on being happy for the rest of their married life.”
“Great idea, Bella.”
“Well, marital bliss is something I’ve experienced firsthand, so I happen to be an expert.”
“Does that mean you’re going to learn how to make my mama’s banana pudding?” D.J. asked.
“Maybe. Someday.” I winked.
When I finally made it to bed a short time later, I settled back against the pillows and sighed.
“You okay?” D.J. asked.
“Yeah. Just thinking about Cassia’s wedding. She’s counting on me. There’s so much work to do, so many plans to make.”
“Bella, I’m sure she’ll understand if your sister does most of the work.”
“Sure, but I still think I can help. Maybe they could come here, to the house. Of course, we’d have to work around the babies’ feeding schedule and naps, but I think it can be done.” I sighed again as I thought it through.
“Promise me you’ll keep things in balance, Bella?” D.J.’s brow wrinkled in obvious concern.
“Balance? Me?” I laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll pass off the crux of the work to Sophia. I have a feeling I’m going to be homebound for a while, anyway.”
“No doubt.”
“I kind of feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.”
“How so?” D.J. asked.
“Because there’s no place like home. And no better people to fill it with than the ones I love.”
“Oh, you love me, do you?”
“I do.”
“Yep. You’ve said those two words before.”
I nodded in the direction of the bassinets. “And look where it got me.”
He smiled and leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek. “It got you a perfect life.”
“Perfect life.” I repeated his words, believing them. Yes, we’d had our share of ups and downs, and no one could predict the future. But I felt sure this was about as close to perfect as things could get. Four kiddos, all of them healthy. A godly husband. Surrounded on every side by family. Okay, so we didn’t exactly have a Christmas tree up yet and had very few gifts for family members. Still, we’d received the greatest present of all this year, hadn’t we?
But one thing nagged at my conscience. “D.J., can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, babe.”
“Do you . . . do you miss living in Splendora? Do you wish you’d never moved to Galveston in the first place?”
He gave me a funny look. “Why would you say that?”
“Well, all this time I thought maybe you were trying to tell me something—that you regretted settling here, so far away from your home.”
“Bella, are you kidding me?” He looked flabbergasted by this news. “Is that what you’ve been thinking all this time?”
“For the past few months, anyway.”
He laughed so hard I thought he’d wake the babies. “Honey, I love Splendora. Always have. But Galveston is my home. You couldn’t pry me away from this place.”
“You mean that?”
“I mean it.”
“Good, because I don’t want to go back to Oz.”
“Splendora, you mean?”
“Right. I mean, it’s a great place to visit. And the flying monkeys were great. But I like it here, on sunny Galveston isle.”
“Me too. So don’t worry. I’m not secretly brooding over what I’m missing in Splendora.”
“What you’re missing is Twila officially entering the mayoral race. And Lily and Cecil getting twitterpated. And Jasmine and Fred making their spring wedding date official. And the mayor and Bonnie Sue getting married. And Bubba and Jenna refusing to give us our dog back because they’re afraid Beau is going to have a nervous breakdown. Other than that, you’re not missing much.”
“I think we can safely say there’s even more drama here on Galveston Island, though. Right?”
“Right.” Between my family, Club Wed, Parma John’s, our friends, and our children, we had more drama than a theater company. And from what I’d heard just this afternoon, my picture would be appearing on the cover of next month’s Texas Bride magazine. That should provide enough drama for months to come.
From the other side of the wall, Tres hollered at Rosie, who responded with high-pitched wails.
“You want to go take care of that, or should I?” I asked.
A boyish grin lit my husband’s handsome face. “I say we let ’em duke it out and see who comes out on top.”
The noise on the other side of the wall escalated, but I did my best to ignore it. Well, until Thing One woke up wailing. I rose and picked her up, then settled back onto the bed. Seconds later, Thing Two started up. D.J. scooped her up and passed her off to me, then went to see about Tres and Rosie. He returned a couple of minutes later, both of our older kids in tow.
“They wanted a little more time with Mommy,” he explained.
I didn’t mind. Not really.
Tres climbed up onto the bed and situated himself next to me, carrying on about the new kindergarten class he would start in a couple of weeks. D.J. settled into his side of the bed and lifted Rosie up to join us. She snuggled up against her daddy, her eyes growing heavy. Then, with the newborns drifting back off to sleep, I began to hum a familiar little song, one meant to soothe the troubled soul.
“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie . . .” I glanced over at D.J., who gave me a little wink. Then, with joy flooding my heart, I whispered the words that so beautifully suited this holy moment. “Now that’s amore!”
Acknowledgments
The life of a writer is a strange one, for sure! We’re always dreaming up ideas. Of course, dreaming them up is one thing, implementing them is another! No book makes the transition from the imagination to the written page without a team of people working together. I’m so grateful for my team at Revell. I have the best editors, marketers, and sales team a girl could ask for. Specifically, I’m grateful for:
Jennifer Leep, who took a chance with me on that first Bella book.
Jessica English, my amazing copy editor. She puts the Texas spit-shine on my stories and keeps my discombobulated timelines straight!
Michele Misiak, who puts up with a zillion emails from me and works tirelessly to promote my books.
Janelle Mahlmann, assistant marketing manager, for promoting my stories.
Claudia Marsh, who works so hard on my behalf.
Erin Bartels, trade catalog manager, for her amazing copy.
Cheryl Van Andel, who works on those gorgeous covers.
My amazing sales team! I would send you all cookies, but I’ve already done that.
A special thank-you to my agent, Chip MacGregor of MacGregor Literary. He submitted my first Bella story to Jennifer Leep years ago, sensing that it had potential. Good call, Chip! We’re all family now. I’m forever grateful for the role Chip has played in my writing life.
Finally, to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. You don’t just love me bec
ause I’m a Texan. You love me in spite of it.
1
God’s Country
It was very much like Norman Rockwell: small town America. We walked to school or rode our bikes, stopped at the penny candy store on the way home from school, skated on the pond.
Dorothy Hamill
That whole thing about being a big fish in a small pond is more than just a saying, at least in my neck of the woods. When you grow up in a sweeter-than-peaches town like Fairfield, Texas, you find yourself captivated by the love of family, friends, and neighbors. And don’t even get me started on the church folks. They’ll swallow you up with their bosomy hugs and convince you that you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread.
If you’re not careful, you’ll start believing you’re pretty awesome too, especially if you’re fortunate enough to be named Peach Queen like I was my senior year at Fairfield High. And why not? Why shouldn’t a small-town girl like me allow a little lovin’ from the locals to go to her head? Being a somebody in a small setting is a sure sight better than being a nobody in a big one.
Not that us small-town girls are unaware of the goings-on beyond our quaint borders, mind you. Oh no. I’ve had glimpses of life beyond the confines of my little town—say, on one of those Housewives reality shows. But I can’t picture it. Not really. I mean, who in their right mind would treat their friends and family members like that? And the language! If I ever took to swearin’ like those potty-mouthed gals, my mama would stick a bar of soap so far down my throat I’d be gargling bubbles for days to come. No thank you. I might be twenty-four years old, but respect for my elders has been pounded into me. If I ever lost sight of it, my grandmother would be happy to remind me with a swift kick to my backside.
We small-towners aren’t just taught respect, we genuinely care about our neighbors. It’s not unusual for folks to linger in the checkout line at Brookshire Brothers grocery store to chat about the weather or discuss plans for the upcoming peach festival. And the investment at our local churches is stronger still. The big news there most often revolves around the various prayer lists, where the Pentecostals are interceding for Brother Sanderson, who has undergone a much-needed hip replacement, and the Baptists are shocked to hear that Bessie May Jenson, the congregation’s oldest member, has recently suffered a gall bladder attack. This sort of news is always followed by a rousing chorus of “God bless ’em!” and “Don’t stop praying!” from the prayer warriors.