Unexpected Wedding (22 page)

Susannah dropped back onto the couch near his mother. The only thing worse than one misty-eyed mom who missed a child’s wedding were two misty-eyed women who were feeding on each other’s misery and heartbreak and trying to comfort each other over the terrible loss of a chocolate fountain and a mediocre wedding singer.

Pastor Vincent didn’t appear moved by the sentiment as he continued to wait for answers.

Rocky took matters into his own hands.

“Mr. Rinaldi, I owe you an apology. I should have spoken to you before I married your daughter.”

“That is not his fault,” Gia said. “I begged him not to.”

“I’m sorry, Gia, but it was a mistake,” Rocky said. “My mistake. It was the right thing to do, and I didn’t do it.”

She lowered her voice as if to keep the conversation between them. What was she thinking? There was no hiding anything now. “I appreciate your traditional values in this, but our circumstances were different, remember?”

“Look at all this emotional carnage,” he whispered back. “Maybe we should have trusted our parents with our different circumstances.”

Vincent leaned forward in his chair. “What different circumstances?”

Rocky lined the words up in his head to be sure they came out in the right order.

“I’m pregnant,” Gia said simply. “We’re having a baby in the middle of January. That’s why we moved so fast.”

There was a small gasp from his parents, and they’d heard it before.

Vincent hopped out of the chair as if he had fire ants all over his socks and started a pacing line from the toppled ladder-back chair to the door and back.

Susannah didn’t make a sound. She was so quiet Gia rushed over and shoved the coffee table aside to drop to the floor in front of her.

“Mom, say something.”

“I’m fine, baby. In fact, I feel much better.”

No one expected that.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“It’s a relief, that’s all. These recent events are over-the-top impulsive, even for you, Gia. I knew something was up.” She stood and pulled Gia with her and squeezed her again. “This makes sense.”

Vincent charged toward him and wagged a finger in his face. “How could you let this happen? It’s the height of irresponsibility.”

His own father stood and took a step.

“Take it easy, Dad,” Rocky said.

Susannah rushed forward, dragging Gia with her. “What are you going to do, Vince? Commit bodily injury on a guy who’s already in a wheelchair? Look, if it’s one thing I’ve learned in all these years of ministry, it’s perspective. I’ve spent enough time with parents who bury their children to know having a healthy, married, pregnant daughter is not the horror you’d like to make it.”

“Something’s still not right,” Vincent said. He raked his fingers through his hair and continued to wag that finger in the air. “Wait a minute. What’s really going on here?” He turned on his wife. “You know this isn’t what it seems. You’re a nurse. You understand about his injury. He’s paraplegic. Is it even possible he’s the father of her child?”

“Don’t talk about my husband as if he’s not here,” Gia snapped.

Vincent settled his dark gaze on her. “Who’s really the father of that baby, Gia?”

She stood like a flamingo, leaned against his chair, and bent to wrap her arms around him.

“Rocky Lionakis.”

13

Gia felt a warm, sturdy arm around her waist. It wasn’t her mom. It wasn’t Rocky.

It was Bev.

“C’mon, Gia. Didn’t you say you had food in the kitchen? Let’s get these guys a plate.”

“Good idea,” her mother said.

“Hey, Rock, turn the TV on for your dad,” Bev said. “I’m sure there’s an Astros game on.”

“Great,” Gia said as the three arrived in the kitchen. “My dad’s a Rangers fan.”

Bev laughed as she went straight for the drawer with disposable utensils. “Don’t worry about them. They’ll strut around a bit, maybe paw at the ground and snort like a bunch of bulls.”

“Yeah,” her mother added as she passed Bev a paper plate. “After that they’ll go outside and pee on a couple trees. Then it’s over. They’ll eat and watch the game and fall asleep in the chair. End of male bonding.”

Gia waited by the microwave while her cold rolls reheated. “Dad was pretty wound up.”

“Let them work it out, baby. He wants to know you’ll be taken care of and treated well.”

“Don’t you worry,” Bev said and pointed a plastic knife her way. “Rocky can hold his own. He’ll step up and tell your dad what he needs to hear. Pass me those rolls and make your husband a plate.”

Her mother headed off with her dad’s dinner.

“Tell them we have cake for dessert,” Gia said.

“Yum,” Bev said. “I’ll make coffee.”

Gia stood with several slices of salami hanging off a fork. “I don’t know where the coffee pot is,” she said and looked around. “There’s coffee in the pantry, but we haven’t been drinking it. No caffeine for me.”

“Good for you.” She made a loop to drop off Nick’s plate and returned to one of the top cabinets in the corner. “I have one hidden.” She retrieved the coffee, the maker, and a filter. “Rock doesn’t use it much. I keep it here for Nick. He’d drink coffee until nine o’clock at night if I’d let him.”

“Gia?” Rocky’s desperate call from the other room made her smile. The other guys had food. He didn’t.

“Don’t get there too fast,” her mother said. “That pathetic little cry might be endearing today, but ten years from now it’s going to grate on your last healthy nerve.”

“Point taken. But the man’s been through enough today, and he’s been waiting on that cake since he left this morning.”

“Oh, he’s fine.” Bev popped a piece of cauliflower into her mouth. “And your mother’s right,” she said when she swallowed. “Don’t make it too easy on him.” She plucked another veggie off the tray. “Do we have ranch dip for this?”

“Yes, we do,” Gia said. “Let me hand Rocky this plate and I’ll get it.”

Her mother made room for her plate on the table and speared several cubes of cheese as she sat down. “Speaking of long days, Gia, you held your own pretty good through this whole grueling confrontation.”

“Yes, Mother, and thank you for the police. That was a nice touch.”

“We were scared. We didn’t know what we’d find here. Trust me, someday we will laugh about this.”

“Why wait?” Bev snorted. “It’s hilarious now. Nick and I didn’t know what to do. Did you see us waving like a couple of guilty teenagers at an under aged drinking party? We thought of running out the back door and then looked at each other and said we’re in our fifties, why would we run? And where would we run? It’s not like I can get my lard-butt over that back fence.”

Her mother tugged a napkin out from under the meat tray to hide her mouthful of food while she laughed.

“And I was so smart,” she said when she was finally able to speak. “I barreled right through them and into the house to grab you. What if they’d had Tasers? I’m wearing a giant metal belt. That can’t be a good combination.”

Bev hooted and hollered until she had to wipe away tears.

“Glad you two are amused,” Gia said.

“Anyway,” Bev said, “I’m going to need your e-mail and snail mail address, Susannah. We’re having a reception around the Fourth. You and Vincent have to come.”

Her mother’s smile did a slow fade. “A wedding reception?”

“Relax, Mom. Nick and Bev want to do something with their friends and family. You can plan something too and tell people whatever you want—except about the baby. Tell us when and we’ll be there.”

The idea seemed to appease her.

“Good. We’ll do something a couple weeks later. Probably a luncheon at the house. You’ll have to come, Bev.”

“We’ll be there,” Bev said and scooted the rest of the baby carrots onto her plate.

Gia held in a giggle as she thought of the two celebrations. The Lionakis’s Fourth of July kegger versus the Rinaldi’s prim and proper punch and cookies garden party.

Fun. Rocky would be thrilled.

Her mother pushed a piece of hair away from Gia’s face, her thumb lingering there to caress her cheek. “I can’t believe this. Weddings... Babies... I don’t know where to start.”

“I think I’m still in shock,” Bev said. “Must be. Why else would I be main-lining ranch dressing over here?”

“B!” Nick’s booming voice reached the kitchen. “Is that coffee ready?”

“Yes. Be right there.”

But she didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

“B?” Gia asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Short for Bev I guess. He started doing that one day like twenty-five years ago as if that one syllable was easier than the other one syllable that is actually my name. Men,” she continued. “Most exasperating creatures on the planet, Gia. Train Rocky early so you can keep the irritation to a minimum.”

“She’s right,” her mother agreed. “Marriage and motherhood are the hardest jobs you will ever have. There are blessed and miraculous benefits, but it is hard work.”

Gia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “So what’s the key to success? You two keep warning me to keep my husband in line and be prepared for hard work, but you have yet to share any actual advice. You’ve been married more than fifty years between you. What’s the secret?”

The mothers glanced at each other as if they actually had one singular answer.

“Should we tell her?” Bev asked.

“Why not?”

They both leaned in and glanced over their shoulders as if about to reveal a box of black-market diamonds.

Gia leaned in too because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. “You two met an hour ago. I find it hard to believe you have the exact same answer.”

Bev smirked. “We do and it’s easy. You won’t believe how uncomplicated it is.”

“I’m on pins and needles.”

“Men are very simple,” she said. “They only really care about two things. Food and sex. Keep them well-fed and well-loved and you won’t have any problem you can’t get past.”

“She’s right again,” her mother agreed. “The experts say couples mainly fight about money and child rearing. That might be true, but if a man has a full stomach and is given a lot of affection, they become very manageable. And by affection I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Mom,” she said and raised her hand. “Stop. That’s...yucky, coming from you.”

“Let your mother talk,” Bev said. “She probably sees all kinds of things through her work at the church.”

Her mother shrugged. “True. And let me say another big issue is infidelity. Anything can go wrong in a relationship and it can be anyone’s fault, but a satisfied man is far, far, far less likely to roam—even when faced with other issues. If he’s satisfied at home he’ll behave like a neutered cat. And by satisfied I mean—”

“Stop,” Gia said again and faked a gag. “I know you’re doing that to gross me out.”

“Your mother, she speaks the truth,” Bev said.

Gia narrowed her gaze and pointed at them. “Hard to believe you two don’t have your own reality show on cable TV.”

“B!”

“Coming.” Bev reached in a cabinet and pulled out several matching mugs. “Do you and Vincent want coffee, Susannah?”

“Yes, please.”

“Gia, is there something I can make you to drink?”

“I’ll get it. I picked up some decaffeinated tea. I don’t like it much but it helps distract me from the coffee.”

“Rocky doesn’t want coffee, does he?”

“I doubt it. I’ll refill his water bottle.”

Her mother sliced off pieces of cake, tipped them onto dishes, and lined them up on the counter. Gia added forks and made several trips to drop off and pick up plates.

Rocky wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a goofy thumbs up on her last pass. He glanced at her still-antsy dad and acted like he was going to swat her bottom. She darted out of the way and then leaned in as she handed him cake.

“You really want to poke that bear, cowboy? He’s practically growling over there. I hope you have an escape route.”

“We’re fine,” he answered. “I got this.”

Gia’s heart did a little somersault when Rocky smiled.

Then it sputtered and sank as she met her father’s gaze. He attempted a supportive smile. She attempted to send one back. Why did it have to be so hard? He hadn’t wanted to save her when she really was in trouble. Why did he act like he needed to intervene now? She was the safest she’d ever been.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen...

The mothers had their heads together over steaming coffee mugs and forkfuls of cake.

Someone giggled.

Gia winced. “You’re not talking about sex again, are you?”

“Oh, hush,” her mother said. “We’re party planning and talking about how Greek and Italian men are similar.”

“Oh boy.” Gia didn’t slow down. She snatched her cake off the counter and headed for the patio. “That means you’re talking about Nick and Daddy so I’m outta here.”

“Sit down,” Bev said. “It’s not that bad. We were discussing how your father and Nick were raised by emigrant parents. It was hard starting out in a new place, but family really pulled together back then. Nick’s mother rented out a spare bedroom and cleaned houses to make ends meet.”

“Vincent’s mother opened a tiny café, and Vincent delivered groceries from his Uncle Tony’s store when he was in middle school. He had a bike and a wagon, and he did that year round. Ice, snow, you name it. Vince says his hands and feet didn’t thaw out until his parents moved the family to Texas.”

Gia imagined her father, slight and cold, pulling a cart through the streets of a small Northeastern town. He didn’t talk about it much and there were few memories of her grandmother, but she did remember Nonna Rinaldi crying after her son and speaking Italian as they discussed his ministry that was so different from the denomination he’d been born in to.

“What we’re really laughing about,” Bev said, “is how stereotypically Greek Nick used to be. He was fiercely devoted to his mother and was so spoiled. We had some doozy fights early on. He thought every woman knelt at the feet of her husband when he got home from work and removed his shoes and socks. Things like that were so foreign to me. I told him I’d do every stitch of his laundry and keep him in clean clothes forever—but not if he couldn’t get them into the hamper.”