Unexpected Wedding (Musicians of Cornerstone Fellowship #2)

Chapter One

R ocky 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 set 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.”

“Of course. But at what point did you go all savage Florence Nightingale on him?”

“I ambushed him after he crawled back to the top.”

The rookie’s big throaty laugh burst unexpectedly from her tiny body. “You must tell me more, but I need to see why these girls are slowing down.”

“Probably because it’s ninety-five degrees and the humidity is off the charts. We need to...”

But Rebekah trotted off before Gia could finish her sentence about hydration safety. If that over-zealous newbie didn’t calm down it was going to be one long, irritating summer.

“Ooooooooo- wee !”

Rebekah’s shrill celebration from the front of the pack could only mean one thing: she’d reached the air-conditioned comfort of the cabin. Bless her perky little heart.

Gia stepped inside, hung the clipboard on its designated hook by the door, and dropped onto her bunk. Cool air caressed her damp skin and chased the heat from her cheeks. She drained her nearby jug of water and wiped away the sweat with a fresh towel from the plastic tote under her wood-framed bed.

The rustic scent of stale campfire and wet clothes hit her nose four seconds after first time camper, Sophia, opened her duffle nearby. It caused a weird, fast-moving spell of nausea.

She pressed her finger under her nose. “Sophia, don’t put your dirty wet clothes in your bag like that, OK? Either hang them and let them air dry or, when it’s closer time to go home, you can put them in an airtight bag.”

“Sorry, Gia. I thought they were dry. Must’ve still been damp.”

“No problem. I’m trying to save your clothes and keep your mom from passing out when she finds your laundry.”

She leaned forward to rest her head in her hands. The worst moldy clothes in the world had never caused a reaction like that. After eight years, maybe it was time to retire from summer camp. It’s what her parents expected now that she’d earned her college degree. Last she spoke with them, they made it clear they weren’t paying for grad school, but rather insisted she join the workforce as a contributing member of society—preferably somewhere far from Dallas. She couldn’t blame them really, it did take her a while to pull it together. It was a long treacherous road from the depths of academic probation to a degree with honors. There had been semesters of more partying than studying, a string of incomplete classes at two different schools, and an outright failure of several courses. Still, her parents paid tuition and encouraged her to work each summer at Towering Pines. Why? Because it was easier to report to their friends and massive congregation that Gia’s away at college studying to be a child psychologist, or Gia’s working at a Christian summer camp as a counselor, than to say Gia was kicked out of her dorm and we have no idea where she is, or Gia failed to meet the requirements to be classified as a sophomore, junior, senior, whatever...

And the kicker was that a few semesters back she had grown up, renewed her relationship with Christ, and started to understand how much she really wanted to help hurting children. Outside of a brief romantic mistake at the close of her senior year, she’d stayed on the straight and narrow and continually sought God in all things. She was a new creature in Christ and all that. Too bad her parents didn’t have a clue.

More odors crept to her nose as the rest of the girls entered the cabin in tired but chattering bunches. They settled in for quiet time, but not before spritzing and squirting an array of fruity and floral scents into the woodsy air they all had to share. Could they just once refrain from making the place smell like the bath shop at the mall?

Rebekah headed her way, wrestled their lone metal folding chair into submission, and tentatively placed her bottom on the seat as if waiting to see if it would collapse. “You look green.”

“Thanks.”

“No, really. And you’ve faded to pale. You OK?”

“I’m fine.”

Rebekah tapped the empty water jug with the end of her dusty cross trainer. “I know it’s not dehydration. You drink more water in one day than most people get in three.”

“Years of camp experience. You’ll get in the habit too.”

“Now you’re green again. Should I radio the nurse?”

Irritation pricked at her last patient nerve and sent a rush of heat through her neck and face. Blood pulsed in her ears. “Do you want a water jug upside the head?”

Rebekah planted her tiny hands on her hips. “Oh, now see? That’s better. The pink is back in your cheeks. And don’t you think it’s a little ironic? I threaten you with the nurse, you threaten me with bodily harm. Were we not recently talking about the use of force when it comes to first aid, and you were on the pro side of the argument? Then you resort to violence when the running shoe is on the other foot?” Rebekah paused to take a breath and cross her legs. She leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand as she gazed at the ceiling. “Wait a minute. Is that even true irony anymore?”

Gia sighed. She didn’t know about true irony, but it would be nothing short of a true miracle is she didn’t shave off Rebekah’s auburn eyebrows as she slept.

“I’m fine,” she said with an air of calm that didn’t match her roiling insides. “My camp physical was eight weeks ago. I probably need to eat. I missed dinner, remember? Other than that, there’s nothing wrong that a good night’s sleep won’t cure. Can’t seem to get enough Zs these days.”

Rebekah stood and pushed aside the folding chair. “What’s say we rest first today? I’ll go get you a plate and we’ll do the devotion after. I’ll prepare something if you need me to.”

Gia let her head drop to the downy pillow, too tired to resist. “No. I’ve got it. We’ll be discussing Psalm 139 and how we are fearfully and wonderfully made.”

“One of my favorites. Be back in a sec.”

Wooden slats creaked and mumbles faded to restful breathing. “Feel free to take a snooze,” Gia called from her bunk. “We’ll do devotion later.”

Rebekah’s footsteps paused on the small deck and the tell-tale squeak of the metal mailbox lid followed. She returned and dropped a stack of letters on the floor near Gia’s bed. “You’ve got mail,” she whispered, then dashed out the door.

Gia hung over the side and pushed the envelopes around until the one with her name surfaced. She’d know that masculine scrawl anywhere, and any correspondence from the writer was about as welcome as the fresh wave of nausea that slammed into her. She quickly tucked the card into the Bible under her pillow until she could destroy it in the campfire later. She had no interest in the evil professor who’d broken her heart and mentally abused her during their short and disastrous acquaintance. That he would send her a card at her summer job was completely inappropriate and downright creepy.

She rolled onto her back and pressed her fingers into her temples. Don’t go there , she commanded herself. Don’t think about it. It’s in the past... But it was hard to forget him when most nights seemed filled with ugly dreams and images surrounding the last time she saw him.

Her eyes fluttered as she prayed silently and drifted into twilight rest. Professor Evil’s memory faded.

Rocky and his wheelchair rolled across her mind among the jumble of everything else that had happened in her day. Did he really crawl down that hill? Did she really tackle him when he got back to the top?

She smiled. He was ruggedly handsome, offbeat funny, and entirely too cocky to be taken seriously.

She liked him.