Simply Being Belle

by Rosemarie Naramore

  “Hobby … hobby,” she mused aloud as she selected her outfit. She pulled out a pair of denim shorts and a soft pink top. She hoped her choice of clothing would suit her choice of hobby, though she could only wonder still what her hobby might be. She dressed quickly and then headed back downstairs. She stood in her living room, surveying the space.

  Suddenly, her eyes lighted on a crocheted afghan her Aunt Edith had given her years before. She had visited her one summer when she was eleven or twelve, and her aunt had taught her how to crochet granny squares. At that tender age, she’d yet to develop the surly attitude that had marked her early teen years.

  Belle’s eyes lit up as she hurried to the afghan. She lifted it, feeling the warmth beneath her fingertips. She wondered if she still had a crochet hook and skein of yarn tucked into the chest on the other side of the living room. She had purchased the items several years before, but had never used them. She hadn’t had the time. Well, she had the time now. She had the time—and a new hobby!

  She grinned gleefully, retrieved the items, and was pleased with herself as she dropped into the rocking chair to begin crocheting granny squares. Curiously, her fingers seemed to remember exactly what to do, and she began working at a brisk pace.

  By eleven-thirty, her hands ached from the constant repetitive motion of guiding the hook through the yarn as she grasped, pulled, and grasped yet again. She decided to polish off the square she was currently working on, and once done, tied off the yarn and laid it atop the tall stack she’d already crocheted.

  She surveyed her work. She must have crocheted some ten squares, and she was pleased to see most were of a consistent size and shape. They were actually quite square, in fact. Belle suspected that was half the battle, and also suspected the other half was figuring out how to connect the squares together to make an afghan. Her aunt hadn’t taught her that part.

  She continued to study the squares. Suddenly, she realized she wasn’t feeling especially relaxed. And as far as hobbies went, she suspected she’d grow bored with this one, unless she learned other crochet stitches. Perhaps she should take a class, but she really didn’t have time for a class. Would Millicent expect her to take a class?

  She envisioned her living room filled with afghans of every color, cozies of every size and shape, and saw a rather stark picture in her mind’s eyes of herself, wearing a cap with a puffy ball on top. She saw herself offering them to friends as birthday and holiday gifts. It wasn’t a pretty picture, she decided, and she tossed the granny squares aside.

  On to the next hobby.

  She decided to tackle the hobby search on a full stomach, and hurried to the kitchen to make a quick lunch. She made a peanut butter sandwich, grabbed a banana, and strode outside to the picnic table to spend some time with the dogs.

  Dogs!

  She could train the dogs! That might make an interesting hobby. Wait! She could show her dogs. She had friends who traveled to some of the most prestigious dog shows in the country to show off their perfect pets. One of her dearest friends showed champion Labrador Retrievers.

  Belle found herself growing more and more excited by the prospect of her dogs as a hobby, until Cy suddenly appeared in front of her, his one eye widened in hopeful anticipation of receiving a bite of her peanut butter sandwich. She couldn’t help but chuckle. Obviously, she thought her dogs were absolutely perfect, but she knew a one-eyed dog and his three-legged companion weren’t likely to score well on the show circuit. Oh, well.

  She ate half the sandwich, polished off the banana, and then tossed the dogs the remainder of the sandwich. Tri especially loved peanut butter.

  She stood up, spreading her arms wide. “I need a hobby,” she said loudly. The dogs thumped their tails in response.

  Suddenly, she heard her neighbor, Mr. Hennessey, calling her name. She glanced toward his yard and spied him at the fence, waving her over. She trotted over to him, glad for the distraction. Searching for a hobby was proving awfully tiring.

  At the fence, she greeted her neighbor warmly. “How are you, Mr. Hennessey?” she asked loudly, enunciating her words carefully, since the elderly man was hard of hearing.

  “Good! And yourself, young lady?”

  “I’m hanging in there,” she shouted at him.

  “Good! Good! Hey, I have something for you,” he shouted back.

  He bent down to retrieve something. Belle couldn’t see him behind the six foot fence that divided them. The elderly man was gone an awfully long time, and her eyes widened fearfully. Finally, she stood on tippy toes in an attempt to see him, and sighed with relief as he finally rose up with a groan. She watched him curiously as he passed her a box of blueberries.

  “Thought you might enjoy these,” he said loud enough for the neighborhood to hear.

  She smiled her thanks, nodding enthusiastically. She had always loved blueberries, especially when they were large, ripe, and bursting with flavor as these appeared to be. “Thank you so much!” she shouted.

  He nodded and smiled, and shuffled off toward his back door.

  Belle carried the blueberries inside and put them on the kitchen table. She studied them for a moment or two, wondering if these berries might somehow morph into a hobby.

  Canning! She could learn to can. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became.

  She had a garden and several fruit trees. What better way to keep her cupboards stocked with fruits and vegetables than to can her very own? It was a brilliant idea.

  When the phone suddenly rang, Belle snatched it up. “Hello!” she said cheerfully.

  “My, don’t you sound chipper,” Lacey observed. “What’s the scoop?”

  “I think I may have decided on a hobby,” she said enthusiastically. She had filled Lacey in on Millicent’s insistence that she both get a hobby and learn to enjoy her quiet time.

  “Pray tell,” Lacey said in a bored tone. “What is your hobby?”

  “I’m going to learn to can fruits and vegetables!”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to do some canning. You know, put up preserves.”

  Lacey gave a disgusted snort. “Belle, are you for real?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know how much work is involved in canning, when you can just as easily purchase your fruits and vegetables fresh at the Farmer’s Market? And frankly, in the off season, you’re far better off these days stocking up on canned fruits and vegetables at the supermarket. Did you know studies have shown there’s really no discernible difference between the vitamins, minerals, and nutrients in the canned varieties of fruits and vegetables at the grocery store versus fresh or frozen varieties?”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” she said, deflated.

  “And, too, there’s always the chance you might make a mistake in the cooking and sealing process and poison the lot of us with your green beans. Hey, but I didn’t mean to burst your bubble,” she said. “But—I do suspect when Millicent suggested you get a hobby, she was thinking about something more, well, I don’t know, enjoyable. Spending hours in your kitchen toiling over a hot stove isn’t exactly what she had in mind. But that’s if you’re asking me my opinion.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Belle sighed.

  “Why don’t you try just ‘being’?” Lacey said.

  “What?” Belle asked, perplexed.

  “Didn’t you tell me Millicent suggested you simply ‘be.’ You know, sit and relax, thinking of nothing, in hopes of refreshing and renewing your psyche.”

  Belle sighed. “Who knew my psyche needed refreshing?” she murmured.

  “Oh, yours does, definitely,” Lacey said with conviction. “If anyone needs downtime, it’s you, my friend. Your psyche most definitely needs attention.”

  “Why do you say that?” Belle asked. Was she the only one who thought she didn’t need time off?

  “Come on, Belle, you know you work too hard.”

  “Lacey, I don’t,” she insisted.

>   “Well, you are definitely the Queen of Denial, my friend. Hey, gotta go. Lunch time is over. Call you later?”

  “Sure.” She returned the phone to the hook. So much for canning as a hobby, she decided. She glanced around the kitchen. No other ideas for a hobby here, she mused.

  She walked into her living room, glancing around uncertainly. And then she remembered. Hadn’t Millicent suggested she read a book? A smile spread across her face as she hurried to retrieve one from the bookshelf.

  She found one, and then settled onto her sofa. She tucked a throw blanket around her, more for ambience than warmth, since it was warm outside. She began reading.

  She read for hours, and had to admit, found the experience pleasurable. Of course, hadn’t she always enjoyed reading her law books? As she closed the massive, leather bound edition, she smiled with contentment. Millicent had been right. What better way to wile away an afternoon than with a good book?

  When the phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She snatched up the phone beside her, surprised to hear Millicent on the phone. “How’s it going?” she asked. “Are you enjoying your time off?”

  “I’m doing great!” Belle said enthusiastically. “I took your advice and I’ve been reading all afternoon.”

  “Oooh,” Millicent crooned, “tell me. Are you reading a steamy romance novel, or maybe something scary? Or, or, maybe a mystery, or an inspirational novel?”

  “I’m reviewing my law books,” she said cheerfully.

  “Belle!” Millicent cried, “That is not what I meant when I told you to read a book. I meant, read for pleasure!”

  “But my law books do give me pleasure.”

  Millicent let out a long suffering sigh at the end of the line. “Belle, I’m worried about you,” she said seriously. “But hey, I need to talk to you about something. Dare came to me today and asked if I’d allow him to consult with you on the Rodriguez case. As much as I hate to disturb you during your much needed vacation—much needed,” she repeated for emphasis, “Dare had mentioned he could use your expertise. I told him I want you disturbed only when absolutely necessary. Are you okay with this arrangement?”

  Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure. As much as she wanted to be back to work, even in the consulting capacity Millicent described, it felt to her as if her supervisor thought she was a few bricks short of a load. It was rather demeaning.

  “Well?” Millicent prompted.

  “Uh, sure. He can call anytime,” she said without enthusiasm.

  “Okay, then. You find a hobby. Understood?”

  Millicent didn’t wait for a response and hung up the phone. Belle glanced at her watch. It was nearing six, and while she toyed with the idea of cooking something for dinner, she decided to wait.

  She grabbed a diet soda and headed into her backyard. She found her dogs sprawled out beneath the apple tree. The kitten was curled up between Tri’s massive paws. “Well, here are three beings who know how to ‘be,’” she observed as she smiled down at them. “Must be nice,” she mused.

  Suddenly, she had an idea. Why not try her hand at simply being? Just the thought made her chuckle. Wasn’t everybody fairly adept at being, since human beings, by their very name and nature, couldn’t help but be?

  She jogged to her porch and retrieved a lawn chair. She placed it nearby the dogs. She cast a furtive glance around the lawn, searching for neighbors beyond the fence line, and satisfied she was alone, sat down in the chair. The dogs rose up to watch her. “Go to sleep,” she told them. “I’m going to simply be. Okay, here goes.”

  She closed her eyes, pressing her lids tightly together in an attempt to block out the light. She also struggled to block out the sounds around her, to no avail. Her eyes fluttered open in frustration. “Okay,” she said calmly to the curious dogs. “This isn’t working. I’m going to try again.”

  This time, she sat back in the chair, closed her eyes, and focused on simply being. She felt as if she was getting somewhere, but unfortunately, Tri laid his massive head in her lap and emitted a shrill whine.

  “Tri,” she groaned. “I almost had it.”

  He thumped his tail in response, but Belle pushed him away. “I’m going to try it again. Please don’t bother me. Sit!”

  She closed her eyes again, this time concentrating on the noises of nature all around her. She found herself beginning to be transfixed by the soft sounds. She felt herself drifting, at least she thought she did, but acknowledged it might be wishful thinking on her part, when suddenly, she felt a weight pressing on her knees. Startled, her eyes fluttered open.

  “Cy!” she cried. The dog, who had always aspired to be a lap dog, had backed up and lifted his bony rump onto her lap. “That’s it!” Belle groaned in exasperation. “To your rooms, all of you!”

  The dogs slinked slowly to their respective dog houses, their hangdog expressions registering not one iota with a flustered Belle, nor did the suddenly playful kitten who batted at her feet. She scooped her up and deposited her on the porch with the dogs. She needed to get this being thing over and done with.

  She closed the screen door behind the animals and returned to the lawn chair. She sat down and took a deep, cleansing breath. After easing herself into a comfortable position, she held her hands out in front of her, palms facing outward as if gently pushing against the air. “Okay, one more time,” she said.

  She closed her eyes, pressed them tightly shut, and inhaled deeply, smelling the lovely scent of flowers mingled with berries from Mr. Hennessey’s backyard. She listened to the sound of a bird calling to its friend, though she couldn’t identify the bird. She drifted, finding herself truly relaxing. She was so relaxed, she didn’t hear Steven and Dare round the corner of her house and quietly approach her.

  As the two men stood before her, each caught the other’s eye. Dare shook his head slightly and Steven shrugged, as if to say, “Who the heck knows what she’s doing now?”

  When the dogs spied the two men, they danced around excitedly, but curiously, didn’t bark. Dare shot them an amused glance, before turning back to study Belle’s serene face. She was lovely, her features relaxed in quiet repose. Her thick lashes fanned out over her high cheek bones. Her full lips, slightly pursed, seemed to beg for a kiss. He was reminded of Sleeping Beauty and decided the fairy tale character didn’t have anything on Belle.

  Steven pulled Dare from his musings when he nudged him hard in the side with an elbow. “What should we do?”

  He shrugged again. “Who knows?” He noticed slight eye movement behind her lids. “She’s either in REM sleep or is having a seizure.”

  “Should we call 911?” Steven said too loudly, and Belle’s eyelids fluttered open.

  She watched the two men in surprise, wondering when they had arrived, and why she hadn’t heard them approach. Perhaps she had mastered “simply being.”

  Apparently the dogs had also mastered simply being, since they hadn’t barked as they usually would when anyone stepped onto the property. Doggone dogs.

  Chapter Ten

  “What the heck were you just doing, Belle?” Steven demanded, raking a hand through his hair.

  “I was attempting to ‘simply be,’” she offered by way of explanation for her near comatose state moments before. Dare stood nearby, smiling at the quarreling twosome.

  “Be what?” Steven demanded.

  “Who knows?” Belle said shrilly. “I think it’s more about the ‘be’ than the ‘what’, actually. I don’t know, though. Ask Millicent. She’s convinced I’m overworked and overwrought. She says I need a hobby. I’ve spent the day trying to get one, but I’ll tell you, it isn’t easy. And frankly, I’m worn out from the effort of it all.”

  “Which is why you were trying to simply be,” Dare said agreeably. “Makes sense to me. A hobby is more about the doing than the being, but you were tired from doing, so you decided to … be.”

  Belle pulled back, her face registering her confusion. “Huh?”

  He chuckled lig
htly, and she watched him as if he’d lost his mind. Steven’s angry voice drew her attention back to him.

  “Well, you looked ridiculous, Belle. Dare thought you were either in REM sleep or maybe having a seizure. You’re fortunate we didn’t call for an ambulance.”

  She shook her head and shrugged apologetically.

  “Essentially, she was meditating,” Dare said reasonably. “Some say it’s very relaxing. I’ve tried it, but couldn’t quite zone out enough to relax. Did you feel relaxed, Belle?” he asked with interest.

  “Until you two showed up,” she replied in a surly voice.

  “I’d say she was relaxed,” Steven said curtly. “She didn’t hear us approach her. It’s a darn good thing we aren’t a couple of weirdoes. You were so out of it, Belle, someone could have snatched you up and tossed you into the back of a van and no one would have been the wiser. In the future, I suggest you ‘be’, or ‘meditate’, or whatever you choose to call it, within the safety of your home.”

  She snorted. “I can take care of myself, Steven. Besides, I’m in my own backyard.”

  Belle realized Steven often assumed the role of big brother to her, and while it could be endearing, sometimes it grated. Like now.

  “Okay,” Dare said peaceably, “let’s call a truce. Apparently, Belle has had a taxing day.”

  “You’re not kidding,” she muttered. She relayed the day’s events to them, giving the condensed version, but managing to convey her frustration at ending the day still minus a hobby.

  Dare chuckled at her spirited recounting of the day’s events. He also couldn’t help but laugh when he envisioned Tri and Cy in the show dog arena.

  “What’s so funny?” Belle demanded.

  “Did you really think Tri and Cy could be shows dogs?” he asked, smiling at the notion.