“What is that?” I jumped up and peered out the window on the front door, squinting as I was met with a blinding glare.
“Did the power come back on?” Sophia asked, coming awake.
“No. The lights are coming from . . .” I squinted again. “Headlights?” Sure enough, a car had pulled into our driveway. Two more cars had parked in the street. The blinding light appeared to be coming from one of them.
“What is that?” D.J. asked.
We got our answer seconds later when the loudest banging in human history nearly knocked our front door from its hinges.
“I’ll get it.” D.J. headed that way and inched the door open. Seconds later he cried, “I don’t believe it!”
The whole group of us rose as we heard the voices of Rob, Brock, and the other groomsmen. The bridesmaids all began to squeal at once, filling the foyer with their high-pitched voices.
Marian raced across the room and threw herself into Rob’s arms, wailing at the top of her lungs. “I’m so glad you’re alive!”
Sophia rushed to welcome Brock, who looked like something the cat had dragged in. She threw her arms around Brock’s neck and began to weep. Loudly.
One by one the others were all led into the foyer, dripping water all over Mama’s precious Persian rug. Rosa, being the practical one, went to look for towels. The bridesmaids were happy to help.
Joey and Norah headed off to the kitchen to make sandwiches. Always thinking of others, of course.
Tony looked at Brock and Sophia, apparently a little confused. Bit by bit recognition came into his eyes. “Wait a minute.” He pointed to Brock. “You’re not Vinny DiMarco.”
Oh, yikes!
“Well, technically, I am,” Brock said, extending his hand. “But these days I usually go by my stage name—”
“Brock Benson,” Tony said, his jaw hardening. He glanced over at Sophia, then shook his head. “I get it now. I guess you have been a little distracted.”
With a nod of his head, Tony disappeared out the front door . . . and into the storm.
My heart ached for him, but what could I do? Sophia sure didn’t seem troubled by his disappearing act. She kept her attention on Brock.
As the guys toweled off, I asked the obvious question. “What in the world happened?”
“We raced the storm back home,” Rob said. “Almost beat her, but those last few miles were rough.”
Marian smacked him in the arm, and he responded with an “Ouch!”
“I’ve been calling you for hours on your phone and your dad’s. Why didn’t you answer?” she asked.
“I lost my phone. It went overboard about seventy miles out from shore when the winds picked up. We tried to reach you on my dad’s phone probably twenty times, but the call wouldn’t go through. It would act like it was going to . . . and then nothing.”
“I tried on my phone too,” Brock said. “Nothing. No service. We got to the marina over an hour ago, but the weather was just too crazy to drive here. We waited till things slowed down, then Rob’s dad brought us over.”
We would have continued the conversation, but the blinding light from outside grew even brighter. Brock walked over to the window and groaned as he looked outside.
“Rob, I think I was right about those cars.” He turned back to face us. “They followed us from the marina. They must’ve picked up on our conversation with the Coast Guard. We had to give officials the names of everyone on board.”
“So . . . the media knows you’re here?”
When Brock nodded and said, “I guess,” I swallowed hard. No telling what would happen next.
Turning back to the window, Brock shrugged. “I should’ve given them my legal name. No one knows who Vinny Di-Marco is. But under the stress of the moment, I just let ‘Brock Benson’ slip out.” He released a sigh. “Not that it matters, really. They’ll go away eventually. They always do.” He turned to face Marian. “Still . . . the last thing I wanted to do was draw any media attention on the week of your wedding. I’m so sorry about all of this, Marian.”
“Brock, I don’t care about that anymore.” Marian’s voice broke, and she spoke through her tears. “I’m just so glad you guys are safe. I . . . I was afraid . . . I was afraid there might not be a wedding. I was afraid Rob was . . .” She dissolved into tears, and Rob swept her into his arms.
“It’s okay, baby. We’re safe and sound.” He held her close for a couple of minutes and turned to all of us. “There’s going to be a wedding, and it’s going to be great.”
Brock yawned, and I turned to him with a smile. “Looks like you could use some sleep.”
“Yeah.” He stifled another yawn. “A hot shower would be great too.”
“With the power out, there’s not going to be much hot water,” Mama said.
At this, the guys flew into action. Brock hollered, “First dibs!” then raced up the stairs with Rob and the other guys on his heels.
It didn’t make sense to send the guys to the Tremont this late, and the condo Marian had rented was too close to the water’s edge to be considered safe. No, they would all stay here—with us. Mama and Rosa took inventory, trying to figure out where everyone would sleep. They finally came up with a workable plan, one that used up every bed, sofa, and floor space.
By 10:30, everyone had eaten and the house was silent and still. D.J. and I sat on the bottom stair, and I leaned my head against his shoulder. He slipped his arm around me and drew me close.
“Tough night,” he whispered.
“Mm-hmm.” A shiver ran down my spine. “When I think of what could’ve happened to those guys out there . . .”
“I know.” He grew silent for a moment, then added, “I was really worried too.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. Spent a lot of time praying for them. Rob is a great guy, and Brock . . .” His voice drifted off.
“What about him?” I asked.
D.J.’s voice wavered a bit as he spoke. “Bella, I really like him. He’s a lot of fun and a really talented guy. But we both know that personality and talent won’t get you into heaven. I was worried that something might happen to him before . . .”
“Before he came to the Lord?” I asked.
“Yeah.” D.J. drew in a breath. “I’m mighty glad he’s back safe and sound. Hoping God can use this near miss to somehow get through to him.”
“Me too.” I leaned over and gave D.J. a kiss on the cheek. “You’re sweet, you know that?”
He shrugged. “I am?”
“You are.” I paused a minute, and my stomach rumbled.
“Hungry?” D.J. asked.
“Starved!”
We took one of the smaller flashlights and snuck into the kitchen, looking for something to eat.
“Thank goodness the lights are out,” I said, reaching for some of my aunt’s homemade cookies. “If Rosa knew we were in here, she would—”
“She would what?” Rosa’s voice rang out, startling me.
“She . . . would tell me to take not just one cookie but two!” I grabbed them from the cookie jar and giggled. Pretty soon we were all laughing. And by the time we finished, I felt better about everything. The storm. The wedding. Brock Benson’s spiritual journey. Everything.
Yes, tomorrow was definitely going to be a better day. I could feel it in my bones.
By Friday morning the storm had almost passed, and— wonder of wonders!—the power was back on. Rob and his groomsmen headed off to the Tremont—minus Brock, of course. And Marian drove her bridesmaids back to the condo. As much as I’d loved having them all here, I enjoyed the peace and quiet even more.
After they left, I lay in my bed, curled up under the covers, listening to the last remnants of rain on our roof and a light breeze whistling at our windows. Though things were pretty tame now, the wind had really whipped up in the night. I could only imagine what the castle looked like. Was it even still standing? If so, could I really pull off a wedding there by tomorrow night?
I’d just started to play out the possibilities in my head for the hundredth time when the doorbell rang. Precious took this as a sign that we were under attack and began a yapping frenzy. When would the dog learn that incoming guests were just that—guests?
I managed to get her calmed down and went into the hallway, where I found Pop heading down the stairs.
“Who in the world would come knocking at our door this early in the morning?” He yawned and slipped on his robe.
“Maybe someone needing help,” I said. “Or . . .” I paused, thinking about the men in the cars last night. “Maybe the paparazzi looking for Brock. Better look through the glass before opening the door, just in case.”
I followed him down the stairs and noticed the reflection of something shiny hit the glass panes on the front door. Through the glass I saw someone—make that several some-ones— in a shimmering haze of color. They were almost blinding, in fact.
Pop opened the door, and I gasped as I saw Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue standing there in their sequined dresses. Jolene’s beehive hairdo was lopsided, Twila’s makeup was smeared all over her face, and Bonnie Sue looked like she’d been crying. Their bags were mangled, but they held on to them for dear life.
Precious took one look at the women and flipped. I’d never seen her yap with such vigor. Likely the sight of these bedraggled ladies scared her to death.
“Sister Twila!” I threw my arms around her. “Are you all right?”
I felt her trembling as she responded. “As all right as a person could be after a near-death experience.”
I ushered them inside, and Pop and Joey helped with their bags.
“What in the world happened?” I asked, leading them into the dining room.
“Th-the tropical storm.” Twila’s voice trembled as she took a seat at the table.
“We were in the middle of the gulf on that big cruise ship,” Bonnie Sue added. “And then the storm hit.”
I gasped, realizing that in all of the chaos I’d completely forgotten the trio of sisters had also been in the gulf.
Lord,
forgive me! I forgot to pray for them!
“Our ship wasn’t due here till Sunday, but they brought us back two days early.” Twila slumped over, looking like she might pass out at any moment. “Don’t know when I’ve ever been so tired.”
“Me either,” Jolene said, leaning against the wall. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“I just need to get my car and go home.” Twila yawned. “That’s why we came here first, to get my car. But it appears to be MIA.”
“Ah, that’s right.”
“Where is it, Bella? Did the winds pick it up and fly it away?”
I smiled at the image of her pink Pinto sailing over the house. “Funny story.” I hoped she would find it funny, anyway. “We took it to D.J.’s house on Bubba’s wrecker so it wouldn’t be in the way during the wedding tomorrow night.”
“Oh dear.” She groaned. “Why did you move it with a wrecker? Why not just drive it over?”
“For some reason, I couldn’t find your keys all week. Mama didn’t have them. Rosa didn’t have them. And if you gave them to me, I must’ve somehow misplaced them. I hope you’ll forgive me. And I hope you have a spare set.”
“Sure. I always keep a spare. But I could’ve sworn I gave you my original.” Twila fished around in her purse, coming up with the set of rhinestone-studded keys. “Oops.” She sighed. “I guess I’ve made a real mess of things.”
“Not at all. But you’re stuck with us for the time being.” I reached out to take her hand. “You don’t need to be driving until you’ve had some rest. After you sleep, we’ll go and get your car.”
“Yes, we’ll take care of that for you,” Joey said. “You ladies should get some rest.”
Just then I thought I caught a glimpse of someone on the front porch. Through the dining room window, I could make out a blue shirt and dark pants.
“Is that the Burton kid?” I turned to Joey. Moving into the foyer, I headed toward the front door. Pop, Joey, Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue all followed along behind me, as if I were the Pied Piper. As I swung open the door, I came face-to-face with a strange man with a camera in his hand. A flash went off, nearly blinding me, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. That didn’t seem to faze him.
“I’m a reporter with the—”
He never had a chance to finish. I yelled, “Get off our property before I call the police!” then slammed the door in his face. The noise awakened just about everyone in the house. Mama and Rosa came sprinting down the stairs, still dressed in their nighties. They took one look at the trio of sisters and began to squeal with delight. Then Mama turned my way.
“Who was that at the door, Bella?”
“I . . . I think it was the paparazzi!”
Bonnie Sue looked as if she might faint as she heard the word. “P-p-paparazzi?” She looked at the other sisters. “Do . . . do you think they’re after us?”
Joey snorted with laughter, then quickly tried to disguise it as a sneeze. Nice attempt, anyway.
Twila giggled. “I don’t know, honey, but I guess it’s possible.” Turning to me, she explained. “We were a smashing success on the ship—with the passengers and the captain.”
“Oh?” I wasn’t sure what this had to do with the paparazzi, but I kept listening.
“Yes. And we had the prestigious honor of being asked to sit at the captain’s table. How do you like them apples?” She beamed with delight.
“The captain’s table?” Mama looked shocked. “How did that happen?”
I could hardly believe this news myself. To sit at a captain’s table usually required knowing someone pretty important. Or
being
someone pretty important.
“Well, here’s the thing.” Jolene smiled. “One of the gals who judged the big karaoke event heard us singing and told him all about it.”
“Singing?” This was news.
“Oh, honey . . .” Bonnie Sue giggled. “We were all the rage last night at the big karaoke final. But anyway, back to the story. The next thing you know, there we were, dressed in sequins, singing for the captain. It was the fancy night, you know.”
“Fancy night?”
“Formal night,” Twila said with a yawn. “They have at least one formal night per week on the ship, so we got trussed up like chickens in our opera dresses and moseyed in to meet the captain. He heard us sing, then asked us to sit at his table. But I think . . .” Twila leaned in to whisper. “I think he had his eye on Jolene.”
“Oh, hush, Twila.” Jolene giggled. “No doubt the man is just nice to everyone. But I must admit he’s the handsomest man God ever did put on this earth. Oh, you should’ve seen him, ladies. He was tall and tanned, with a silver moustache and perfectly placed silver hair.”