The initial “getting to know you” went better than expected, especially when Rosa offered to show Earline her state-of-the-art kitchen. I’d never seen two happier women. Even Mama joined in, chatting leisurely about recipes. Since when did my mother care about cooking?
Shortly thereafter Pop initiated a tour of our hundred-year-old home. Earline oohed and aahed over the various decorating choices, which brought a huge smile to my mother’s face. And Dwayne Sr. admired the house’s intricate Victorian woodwork. When they reached the master bedroom, Earline practically swooned. “This bed is divine.”
Mama grinned. “It was my parents’ in Italy. There’s quite a story as to how we got it here.” She began to tell said story, and before long, all of the women were sitting on the bed, gabbing like girlfriends. Then Rosa and Mama decided it was time to show off the paintings in the hallway, which their father had done.
D.J. and I lagged behind, holding hands as we walked together from room to room. “They seem to be getting along pretty well,” he whispered at one point.
“Yes, so far so good.” Still, I did have to wonder when the dam would break. When Aunt Rosa would dive into an argument with Uncle Laz, scaring everyone to death. Or when Pop would insist they head outdoors for an impromptu basketball tournament.
At quarter to six we all headed next door to the wedding facility, and I took a final look around the outdoor area where tonight’s wedding rehearsal—and tomorrow’s actual ceremony—would take place. The white wood-slatted chairs would look beautiful decked out in covers and sashes, but that was a job for tomorrow. Tonight we just had to get through a makeshift ceremony.
I’d taken the time to write everything down. The order of service. The special music Earline would play as the bride and groom lit the unity candle. The vows. Everything.
I watched in awe as Bubba and Jenna showed off the fire pit. My best friend couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Bubba, but who could blame her? He was tall, rugged, and handsome, wasn’t he? And I’d never met anyone kinder than the Neeley boys. They certainly put most of the guys I’d known to shame. Yes, these cowboys were getting harder to resist by the minute.
Glancing over at D.J., I smiled. He offered up a wink, then helped Bubba unload the smoker from the back of their flatbed trailer.
Yes, things were really going well. I could finally start to relax.
Sharlene and Cody arrived promptly at six, along with the others in the wedding party. The bride-to-be radiated joy, but the poor groom-to-be looked like he might be sick at any moment. I whispered quietly in his ear, “You’re going to do fine. Take a deep breath.”
For the first time, I met Sharlene’s father face-to-face. The handsome south Texas oilman had that “this is my only daughter and she’s got me wrapped around her little finger” look on his face from the get-go. Not that I minded. Neither did Patti, who arrived at ten after six to finalize her floral plans. Though she’d spent the better part of the last few days whining about her singleness, Patti-Lou shifted gears the moment she realized Sharlene’s father wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She found an excuse to gravitate to his side and never left.
At 6:30, under skies as clear as cut glass, I gathered the troops for the rehearsal. The groom and groomsmen were lined up inside the gazebo, along with Pastor Higley. D.J.’s mom sat at the electric keyboard, playing Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” I marveled at her skill as her fingertips danced across the keys. At my cue, the five bridesmaids sashayed down the aisle. Off in the distance, I made eye contact with Sharlene, who gave me a confident wave before she slipped an arm through her daddy’s for their walk down the aisle.
Just then I heard a gasp from Patti-Lou, who stood at my side. The music came to a grinding halt as she cried out, “Wait! The bride isn’t supposed to participate in her own rehearsal! That’s a Southern tradition!”
“She’s right!” Earline called out. “What if the pastor accidentally marries them tonight? It’ll put a damper on tomorrow’s ceremony.”
Everyone chuckled, and I thought about her words. Some Southern women still followed this old tradition of replacing the bride for the rehearsal, so I looked at Sharlene, curious as to her reaction. “What do you think?”
She offered a shrug in response. “That’s fine. I’m a true Southern belle, so I don’t mind abiding by tradition.”
“Looks like we need a bride then.” Pastor Higley looked around, noting that all of the others—outside the family, anyway—were already in the wedding party. Finally, he looked at Patti-Lou with a nod. “Will you do the honors, young lady? And Mr. Billings, once you reach the front of the aisle, you can go ahead and stand in for your future son-in-law for the rest of the service.”
“I’ll be happy to,” Sharlene’s father agreed.
I couldn’t tell if Patti’s near-swoon came as a result of being called a young lady or from the fact that she would get to walk down the aisle on the arm of one very handsome widower. Either way, she practically sprinted to the back of the aisle and took Sharlene’s place on Bob Billings’s arm. After a scrutinizing glance, I had to admit they made a nice couple. Had Patti-Lou finally found her man—at a wedding rehearsal, no less? Another bada-bing, bada-boom moment, perhaps?
D.J.’s mom started the wedding march once more, and the couple moved confidently down the aisle. The sight brought tears to my eyes. Just as they neared the gazebo, I heard the strangest sound. Almost sounded like . . . fluttering. Then . . . what was that—squawking?
With the piano music going on, no one else seemed to notice. I shifted my gaze this way and that, trying to figure out if we had a bat on the loose, perhaps. No, thank goodness. I didn’t see anything that resembled a bat.
As the music drew to a close, Pastor Higley took his place and began to lead everyone through the rehearsal. I wanted to pay attention. Honestly, I did. But the oddest bit of chattering to my left now had me completely distracted. I turned and looked up into the far rafters of the gazebo, stunned to see a near-featherless Guido. He sat perched in the oddest of places, just above Pastor Higley’s head, swaying to and fro. The loopy parrot appeared to be muttering something at first, then stopped and stared at me with the oddest look on his face.
No no no!
I vaguely remembered something the limo driver had said about having Guido’s wings clipped. We hadn’t had time to figure that part out yet. And now . . .
I stared up, praying in silence that he would not move an inch or utter a single, solitary sound from this point forth. He seemed to pick up on the warning shooting from my eyes. I’d never seen the bird so quiet. Or so wobbly. Must be the antihistamines at work. Guido tipped this way and that, nearly falling on Pastor Higley’s head on several occasions. Only my prayers seemed to keep him planted in place.
Fortunately, the service progressed rapidly, and before long the pastor wrapped up with, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Poor Patti-Lou. I could read the disappointment in her face as Bob Billings skipped the kiss and turned her around to face the congregation. Earline began to play the recessional music. The faux bride and groom headed down the aisle at a steady pace.
For whatever reason, Guido chose that particular moment to make his presence known to the masses. He let out a piercing shriek, followed by a lengthy stream of particularly foul words. Or would that be “fowl” words?
Pastor Higley glanced up in time to see the parrot take flight, heading to his left. “Watch out, Earline!” he called out. “We’re under attack!”
As if to prove him right, Guido landed on top of the keyboard, cried out “Go to the mattresses,” and began his machine-gun routine.
Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. I vaguely remember Earline fainting. And I’m pretty sure D.J.’s dad—a former military man—dove forward to catch her as she tumbled from the piano bench, shouting something about being under enemy fire.
Perhaps sensing his fear, Guido swooped down on Mr. Neeley and landed on top of his head. Mr. Neeley let out a scream, and the parrot—probably spooked—took to flight once more, but not before delivering a string of words that would’ve made a sailor blush. In Guido’s beak was a hairy blob of something indistinguishable. Horrified, I looked at Mr. Neeley, realizing his hair had gone missing. In its place, a shiny, bald head.
Off to my left, Patti grabbed Sharlene’s father by the hand, and they took off running across the courtyard, headed for the safety of the indoors. And Sharlene ran squealing into Cody’s outstretched arms.
From out of nowhere, Aunt Rosa appeared, looking even stranger than usual with a pair of bright orange cowboy boots on her feet and a broom in her hand. She began to chase after Guido, calling out to him in Italian. Something about cooking him up for dinner.
Laz stumbled along behind her, using his cane as a potential weapon—not against Guido but against Rosa. His cries, “Leave that bird alone, you old fool. He’s not hurting anyone!” rang out against the cacophony of other sounds.
Through the chaos, I looked over at D.J. as he rushed to his mother’s side and knelt in the grass to try to revive her. Bubba soon joined him, and the whole Neeley family took to praying aloud for the Lord to intervene. Earline woke up for a moment, started screaming and flailing her arms, took one look at her bald husband, and then promptly passed out again.
After giving up on Aunt Rosa, Uncle Laz hobbled over on his cane and knelt at Earline’s side, pulling something from his pocket.
“Laz, don’t!” I called as I recognized the familiar bottle of stinky oil.
Ignoring my pleas, he doused her forehead, then began to pray in Italian that the Lord would raise her from the dead. Seconds later, much to my surprise, Earline sat straight up, smiled at the crowd, and asked what had happened.
“It’s a miracle!” Laz proclaimed. “She’s been resurrected!” Tears flowed down his cheeks, and he knelt in the grass with hands extended heavenward, praising the Lord for allowing him the honor of witnessing a miracle.
Convinced she’d truly been raised from the dead, Earline rose to her feet and began a celebratory dance that would’ve made the Full Gospel sisters proud. Her triumphant chorus of “Praise the Lord! Thank you, Jesus!” filled the air, adding a whole new flavor to what had just transpired. Her husband, bald but likely happy to be alive, swept her into his arms. They helped Laz to his feet and thanked him for the role he had played in ministering to them.
At that moment, Guido—likely exhausted after his capers—landed on a chair in the front row with Mr. Neeley’s toupee in his mouth. I grabbed it, tossed it D.J.’s direction, and then snatched the featherless bird in my hands, muttering, “You’re not going anywhere,” to quiet him down.
As everyone looked my way, I offered up a lame smile and tried to come up with something brilliant to say. After a few seconds, I finally managed to squeak out, “Well, I think that went pretty well, don’t you?”
Crazy dreams always seem to follow particularly stressful incidents in my life. For instance, after I skipped out on a couple of classes in college, nightmarish dreams plagued me for years. The Technicolor replay was always the same. I would wake up, look at the alarm clock, and realize I’d overslept. Then I’d spring into action, shimmy into my clothes, and run across the campus, hairy-scary, in search of my class. Only, I could never find my class. Instead, I spent the entire hour roaming from building to building, completely lost.
And then there was the near-naked dream. I couldn’t recall dreaming it as a child, but after a particularly traumatizing event as a teen—one in which I’d bared my soul to a good friend in school, only to have her share the story with the masses—I’d repetitively dreamed that I showed up at school wearing only my underclothes.
On the night before Sharlene and Cody’s wedding, I had the near-naked dream. My, what a dream! Surely it was one of those pizza-induced nightmares. In this version, I stood in front of the congregation at Chapel in the Pines dressed in Aunt Rosa’s slip, insisting I couldn’t possibly dance without my clothes on. The craziest part of all was that no one seemed to notice my lack of clothing. My vulnerability, though completely obvious to me, seemed to elude them.
Sister Jolene grabbed me by the hand. “C’mon, Bella! Don’t worry about the choreography! Just let the Spirit move you!”
I tried a few tentative steps as Earline banged out a rousing melody on the piano off in the distance. When the music stopped, a bald Dwayne Neeley Sr. stood before the congregation with microphone in hand.
“I stand before you today to ask your forgiveness,” he said, his shiny head bowed low. “For years I’ve lied to you about my hair—or, rather, the lack thereof. Can you find it in your hearts to forgive me?”
As a mighty chorus of yeses rose from the congregation, Earline began to play once more, and we all took to dancing again. On and on I danced, completely oblivious to the crowd. Through the window I could see Bubba with his big meat smoker. The pungent aroma of barbecue beef filled the air.
I’d barely had time to consider its ramifications when I heard a squawking sound off in the distance, then some familiar lyrics. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie . . .” I glanced around, looking for Guido, as everything faded to sepia tone.
And that’s where the dream ended.
Only, it didn’t. The drowsiness slowly lifted, but from the safety of my bedroom, I could definitely hear Guido chirping away in the next room. He had both the lyrics and the melody to “That’s Amore” down pat. And just as in my dream, the distinct smell of barbecue filled the air. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, realizing Bubba really was outside, preparing for tonight’s Boot-Scootin’ barbecue extravaganza. I tried to imagine how wonderful it would taste. At the wedding. The one I hoped and prayed I could still pull off after last night’s chaotic rehearsal.
In the midst of my reverie, a rap on my door gave me a jolt. My mother peeked inside with a wider-than-usual smile. “Ready for the big day, Bella Bambina?”