Unexpected wedding, p.1
Unexpected Wedding, page 1
Unexpected Wedding
Musicians of Cornerstone Fellowship, Volume 2
Carla Rossi
Published by Carla Rossi, 2024.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Unexpected Wedding (Musicians of Cornerstone Fellowship, #2)
Dedication
Author Note on Content:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Notes from the Author
About Carla Rossi
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
UNEXPECTED WEDDING
Second edition. June 30, 2024
Copyright © 2024 Carla Rossi.
Written by Carla Rossi.
Cover Design: Diane Wiggs
Scripture quotations are taken from the KING JAMES VERSION, public domain, and THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright© 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™. Used by permission of Zondervan.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Justin Meaders.
When I first wrote this book thirteen years ago, Justin was extremely generous with his insight and total honesty. I could not have completed the work without him. Back then, he was hand cycling, racing, and pretty much doing whatever he wanted to do while being a wheelchair user. Today, at the time of this second edition, he builds his own aircraft and pilots his creations. There is nothing Justin cannot or will not do.
Being a wheelchair user does not stop him.
Thank you, Justin, for being a truly exceptional and incredibly strong man.
Author Note on Content:
Please be aware my heroine in this story was the victim of a sexual assault in her backstory.
This is in her past, and not depicted on the page, and her journey to healing and happiness is handled with compassion and understanding.
Chapter One
Rocky Lionakis didn’t know what hit him. Last he remembered, he’d tucked his Bible beside him in his wheelchair and turned to leave the platform. Now he was flat on his back on the wooden ramp, gazing at the blue east Texas sky through a canopy of tall pines. It would have been a beautiful summer afternoon sight if he’d meant to be looking at it.
He lifted his head and then decided it felt better to stay down. Voices grew softer, and bubbly chatter faded as camp staff herded the junior and senior high audience for his last talk away from the outdoor stage and down the path toward the dining hall.
Somewhere the wheel of his chair spun with a rhythmic swish and put him in mind of an old bicycle he had as a child. It slowed and he closed his eyes. Normally a tumble from his chair ended with a quick recovery. Propelled by sheer embarrassment, he could usually steady the lightweight titanium contraption and be upright in seconds. This time his scattered thoughts and developing headache told him he’d fallen harder than he realized. For all he knew, his chair had landed in another zip code because it sure wasn’t beside him on the ramp.
He felt for his Bible and discovered it under his left hip. Everything was quiet except for the coo of a mourning dove somewhere high above him, and the scrape of a squirrel’s feet as it scampered up a tree.
As he started to relax, all pain dissipated. Maybe the fall had killed him...
The scent of something earthy and sweet reached his nose. He sniffed the air. Heaven smelled like strawberries.
He opened his eyes and looked into a warm chocolate-brown gaze. An angel stood over him. Strands of long dark hair slid off her shoulders and hung almost to his face as she bent over him.
She smiled and knelt beside him. “Fall off your horse there, cowboy?”
He blinked. If this was Heaven, God had sent him one sassy angel to welcome him home. Nice.
“Uh...”
Her hand was comforting against his shoulder. Her cheerful expression turned to worry. “Don’t move. I’ll get the camp nurse. I think you hit your head.”
“No.” He pulled himself up to rest on his elbows. The pain came rushing back. He knew it was too good to be true. “No. Thanks. I don’t need the nurse.”
She leaned in. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Aw, c’mon, I’m fine.”
“At least tell me you know where you are.”
“I hoped this was Heaven,” he snapped. “But judging by how annoyed I am, I must still be at Camp Towering Pines.”
She stood and dusted her hands across the seat of her navy cargo shorts. “I’m getting the nurse. The first aid station is—”
“No nurse.” He sat up to survey the situation. His lifeless legs were crossed at the ankle and slightly bent as if he’d been lying out in a field stargazing and decided to get up in a hurry. He used the fabric of his khaki slacks to tug them into place. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine.”
“At least let me get something to clean up that scrape.”
He had a scrape? That would explain all the burning and stinging. He stretched out his arm and twisted it until he could see the oozing mass. “It’s nothing. I’ll take care of it when I get home.”
She swept a clump of long hair off her shoulder and smiled. “Can I get—”
“No!”
She stepped back from the blast. The word was clearly too harsh, but really, couldn’t she see how embarrassing this was for him? He was laid out like a misshapen pretzel while she stood there all cute and caring with soft, fawn-like eyes and silky dark hair that could star in its own shampoo commercial. He hadn’t met many of the camp staff, but if he could pick out one he’d like to know, it would be her—which would make her the last one he’d want to see him like this.
“Sorry.” He softened his tone. “I’m really OK. Thanks for your concern.”
“No problem. I’ll leave you to it so I can get back to the kids. I’ll see you here next week.” She turned to leave. “And if you’re still trying to retrieve your chair from those bushes down there, perhaps you’ll accept my help then.”
This was no angel.
“I got it,” he shot back.
She glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes as she sashayed off the ramp and across the stage.
As the fog cleared from his brain, Rocky looked around and tried to reconstruct the fall that had left him stunned. He spotted a patch of wrinkled, non-skid covering that had come loose from the ramp. That wouldn’t have tripped him up except that pine cone and acorn debris was lodged underneath the black, sandpaper-like tarp. He still should have been able to easily maneuver the bump, but yet, here he was. From there his chair must have continued down the slope, tumbled off the end and down the embankment, and bounced into a nest of brush. He could get it. He wasn’t worried about that. He’d dragged himself across worse terrain and pulled himself out of trickier situations.
But first he’d have to get to the bottom of the ramp.
That meant a scratchy journey of pulling his once muscular legs behind him until he was off the ramp, but still lying at the top of the bank above his chair. From there he’d roll onto his back with his head pointed down the hill, pull his legs straight, and let gravity help with the rest.
Fine, dusty dirt swirled around him like a cloud as he quickly slid head first toward the chair. Ants scurried on the ground with him. He avoided the red ones and ignored the black ones. As for the spiders, what he didn’t see crawl up his pant leg couldn’t bother him—and he would keep telling himself that until he could get home and into a hot shower.
A thin sheen of perspiration turned into trickling sweat. It burned the gash on his arm and caused dirt to stick to his skin. When he reached the tangled mess of palmetto and yaupon, he tugged on the wheel of his chair. It didn’t come loose. You’ve got to be kidding me... He scooted closer to the brush, still flat on his back, and used both arms to yank it free. Fluttering white moths came with it from their daytime resting place among the leaves, while buzzing mosquitoes signaled the fading sun and hovered around him for an evening meal.
He turned again—now with his head pointing up the hill—and considered his choices. The ground was too uneven for him to comfortably get back in the chair. Even if he could, it would mean he’d have to wheel himself to the top.
“That’s a no brainer,” he muttered to himself as he swatted at bugs and eyed the steep grade.
He laid his chair on its side and began to scoot backward up the hill with his ride in tow. Once at the top, he se t it upright on the sidewalk and reached for the railing near the ramp. He tugged his legs into a cross-legged position and hoisted himself into his seat.
He spun around and prepared to make a mad dash to his car. He’d assess the damage to his ride and to himself later. Right now he needed to scram before one more beautiful woman caught him like this.
“Impressive.” The familiar voice came from the top of the ramp. “I almost didn’t get here in time.”
His breath caught in his chest. The nightmare continued.
“In time for what?”
She rushed toward him, her arms laden with water, peroxide, gauze, and first aid tape. “I can see you have amazing upper body strength and can take care of yourself, but did you really think I wasn’t going to make sure you got out of the jungle OK?”
“I told you I had it.”
She tossed him a bottle of water. “Well, forgive me if I wanted to make sure. No one will be back in this part of camp tonight. After dinner we go back to our cabins for evening devotionals and then it’s campfire and night games. If you had gotten hung up down there, it would have been a while before someone found you.”
“I have a phone.”
“Good for you. Does that and the wheelchair make you immune to snake, scorpion, and man-eating mosquito bites?”
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes as a response.
She dropped her stash near his feet. “Are you always this charming or are you making an extra effort just for me?”
He cringed at her remark. He usually was charming. And polite and easy going and generally a nice guy. She evidently brought out the worst in him. “I thought you had to get back to your kids.”
“I used the nurse’s radio to let the others know I’d been delayed. As long as they’re eating, they can’t get into too much trouble. Hold out your arm.”
Like a fool, he did what she said. He immediately regretted it when she poured icy water across his shredded skin.
“For cryin’ out loud, woman! Do I get a say in this?”
“Nope.” She dropped the empty water bottle and reached for the peroxide. She took hold of his hand so he couldn’t pull back. “This wound was already bad enough, then you had to thrash around in the dirt a while and make it worse.”
The peroxide bubbled and hissed as it cleansed his arm. “Seriously, that really stings.” He squirmed in his seat. “And isn’t this a little personal? Shouldn’t you have at least bought me dinner first? We haven’t been properly introduced.”
She paused to flash a flirty smile and shake the hand she was already holding. “I’m Giavanna Rinaldi. Everyone calls me Gia. Quit your whining. You’re worse than the kids.”
“Speaking of kids, I can’t believe they leave you alone with them. Do they know how vicious you are?”
“Yes.” She found a piece of gauze. “It’s what they pay me for. And you are?”
“Rocky Lionakis. Everyone calls me Rocky.”
“Nice to meet you, Rocky.” She bit off a piece of tape.
“No tape! I’ll have to rip it off later along with a layer of skin.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s what we use on the kids. See there?” Another piece was stuck to her full bottom lip. “It took two extra large gauze pads to cover that up. Make sure you clean it better when you get home and put some antibiotic cream on it.”
“Yes, Nurse Make-It-Worse.”
She laughed as she gathered her supplies. “There is no end to your sparkling wit is there?”
“Sorry. Thanks for the water and I appreciate your help.” But he would appreciate everything more if she’d disappear into the woods so he could roll home and lick his wounds. Leaves and twigs fell from his hair when he moved, and he was covered from head to toe with a layer of grime. There were no less than six insect corpses stuck to his pants—and that’s what he could see. He pulled up the front of his polo shirt to wipe his face. Big mistake. That served only to create mud and smear it around.
He pointed his chair toward his car. “It was nice meeting you, Gia. I’ll see you next week. Thanks again.” He took off down the winding sidewalk through the trees.
“Wait up,” she called after him. “I’ll walk out with you.” She skipped to his side and crinkled her nose as she rearranged the stuff in her arms. “Or I guess I should say I’ll walk and you roll.” She giggled at her own remark. “Walk and woll. I mean roll. Walk and roll.”
Rocky stopped near the patch of asphalt that served as a small parking pad behind the outdoor stage. “You sound like Elmer Fudd.”
“You try to say it fast.”
“Some other time. Right now, it’s entirely possible I have a wolf spider in my pants, so I need to go.”
“Oh.” She snorted and made a sweeping gesture toward his car as she stepped back. “By all means, you should hurry.”
Within seconds he transferred to the driver’s seat and collapsed his chair to pull it inside.
She approached his car door and scuffed the toe of her cross trainer on the steaming blacktop. The strawberry-scented cloud that surrounded her wafted into his hot car.
“What’s your talk about? I missed it today. I had to make a run to the office for some of the other counselors. By the time I got back, everyone was off to dinner.”
He turned the key. “It’s about my injury, my recovery, and my faith journey.” He shrugged. “Nothing fancy. I’m new at this.”
“This isn’t what you do for a living?”
“No. Not even close. I’m a computer guy.”
“Maybe I can catch your story next week.”
“Sure.”
She stepped closer still. “Do you live around here?”
“No, I’m about an hour down the road near Houston. What about you?”
“Dallas born and raised, but I’ve been away at school in west Texas. I’ve worked at this camp every summer since I graduated high school.”
He nodded.
“Well, Rocky, take care of that arm,” she said as the hint of a shy and uneasy smile teased the corners of her mouth. “See you next week.”
She turned and headed down another twisting trail. He caught one last glimpse of her before the forest swallowed her up. Warmth radiated across his chest. She was beautiful, sarcastic, and entirely too brutal to be around children.
He liked her.
GIA RINALDI RETURNED what she borrowed to the medical shack and jogged toward the dining hall. The new counselor she was in charge of training, Rebekah-with-a-K, would be annoyed she’d taken so long.
“What took you so long?”
And there it was.
Rebekah-with-a-K stood at the exit with the cabin clipboard as she guided sweaty pre-teen girls from dinner like a flight attendant unloading a plane. “Bu-bye,” she chanted over and over. “Head straight for your cabin.”
“Sorry,” Gia said and relieved her of the clipboard. “Had to stop by the nurse.”
The petite college sophomore with the flaming red hair morphed from drill sergeant to compassionate new friend. “You OK? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m fine.” She pulled the screen door closed and wrestled the hook into its corresponding eye. “I was helping Rocky.”
“Rocky... Which one is that?”
“He’s not a camper. He was our speaker. He took a spill from his wheelchair and banged up his arm.”
Rebekah pushed her visor further into her mass of tight curls. “That can’t be good. Did you have to help him back into his chair and all that?”
“Oh no. He didn’t want my help. I had to forcibly administer first aid.”
They fell in step behind the ten girls of Mighty Oak Cabin 2A for which they were responsible. “Take a few minutes in the bathrooms,” Gia called ahead. “Then to your bunks for quiet time and devotional.”
Rebekah swatted a mosquito away from her face and scrunched her nose into a freckle-splattered look of curiosity. “How do you forcibly administer first aid to someone who doesn’t want your help? He’s a grown man. You can’t just tackle him and make him accept a bandage.”
“But I did. And yes I know, in hindsight, I should’ve left it alone like he asked, but his chair had bounced from the end of the ramp all the way down to that nasty bug-infested clump of brush between the Pin Oak and Cottonwood Trails. Color me nosy, but I had to make sure he got out of there OK.”
