Simply Being Belle (7 page)

Belle shook her
head, pushing back from the table in frustration.  Millicent had called her out
in front of Dare, and it rankled her.  She raised her hand, nearly spoke words
she realized she might later regret, and then promptly closed her mouth.  Why
was everyone so intent on her having a vacation?  She knew when and if she
needed one.  Didn’t she?

After her meeting
with Dare, Belle sat in her boss’s office, awaiting her return.  No doubt
Millicent had a few choice words for her.  She still wondered why she was so
intent on her taking a vacation—and a six-week long one, at that.  It seemed to
her that the decision to take time off really should be up to her. 

When Millicent
entered her office and closed the door behind her, Belle watched her
questioningly.  She nearly jumped out of her skin when she dangled a mirror in
front of her face.  “Take it,” she instructed.

Belle eyed her curiously,
but reached for the mirror. 

“Look at yourself.”

She sighed as she
studied her face in the mirror.  “Yes?  So?  My face is dirty.  I was working
in the garden when I got Dare’s message.”

“Look at your
eyes.”

She checked her
eyes, and then shrugged.  “So?”

“You look
exhausted.  Notice the dark circles, my friend.”

“How nice of you
to point them out to me,” she said in a flat tone, eyeing her boss with a tinge
of annoyance.  She gingerly placed the mirror on Millicent’s desk.  She didn’t
need a third look at her undeniably fatigued features.

“Belle, I’m
talking here as a friend now, not as your boss,” Millicent said.  “You’re
exhausted.  You haven’t had a vacation, in … well, never, that I can recall. 
You actually have twelve weeks coming to you.  In light of how much time you
have available to you, I don’t think six weeks off is unreasonable.  Belle, you
need a vacation!”

“I don’t need a
vacation,” she protested.  “And especially not a six-week vacation!  What am I
going to do with all that time off?  Can’t I take it in installments?  You
know, a day here, a day there?”

Millicent shook
her head.  “No.  Belle, you do need time off.  You know I admire your work
ethic.  You know nothing would make me happier than to supervise a staff of folks
just like you, but…  Your work is all consuming for you.  You eat, sleep, and
drink Legal Aid.  It’s commendable, but you need balance in your life.  Girl,
you need a hobby.”

Belle watched her
friend curiously.  Millicent had often given her wise counsel over the years,
but she was practically suggesting she had no life.  She had a life.  Sort of.

“Belle, tell me,
exactly what do you have to prove and whom do you have to prove it to?” her
friend asked kindly.

She was taken
aback by the question.  She shook her head.  “I don’t get…”

“You move at sixty
miles an hour, and often spend as many as thirteen hours a day here.  I have to
remind you to take a lunch, and then half the time you don’t eat.  Instead, you
go off on long walks to…”

“To clear my
head,” she interrupted.

“No.  You think
about work and you know it.  And Belle, you never take breaks.  You can’t go on
like this.  You’re going to burn out by the time you hit thirty.  You need to
slow the pace.  No one will think less of you for it.”

She shook her
head, confused.  She wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone.    

“I don’t get…”

Millicent threw
her hands up in exasperation.  “Belle, listen to me.  You need to slow down.”

She saw concern in
her friend’s eyes.  “I … don’t want to.  Besides, I’m not sure I know how,” she
admitted softly.  “I love my work.”

“I know you do,”
Millicent said, smiling fondly.  “But everyone needs a break now and then. 
It’s good for the soul.  It’s a means to recharge the batteries.”

Belle emitted a
long sigh, seeming skeptical and uncertain.

“I have a job for
you,” Millicent said suddenly.

She perked up
then.  “You do?”

“Yes.  Your job is
to take a day off from everything.  You need a day of lolling around the house,
doing absolutely nothing.  Get a good book, retire to a comfortable chair, and
read.  Or better yet, sit, close your eyes, and simply be.  Can you do that for
me?”

“I can try, I
guess,” she relented.  “But why would I want to?” she asked with genuine
curiosity.

Millicent
chortled.  “Because I said so.”

Belle sighed.  It
didn’t sound like a very productive way to spend her day. 

“Belle…,”
Millicent prompted, “your first order of business is to rest.  Second, get a hobby. 
Something fun.  What do you think?”

“I guess I can …
take it easy, and maybe … get a hobby.  Can you suggest one?” She grinned at
her friend then.

Millicent
laughed.  “Something just for you.  And I don’t mean volunteering at another
non-profit.  Do you get me, my friend?  No volunteer work.  You need to devote
yourself to Belle for awhile—you!”

“Oh, okay.  I
guess I can figure something out,” she reluctantly agreed.

“Good,” Millicent
said with a sigh of relief.  “Go home, get some rest, and we’ll talk later. 
Okay?”

“Okay.  It’s not
as if I have a choice,” she grumbled under her breath.

As she left
Millicent’s office, she couldn’t help but glance over at her desk.  How she
longed to find herself back there.  It was familiar—home.  Unfortunately, today,
Dare sat there, in her chair, and drinking … from her coffee cup! 

She couldn’t stop
herself.  She hurried over to him.  He looked up and eyed her questioningly. 
“That’s my cup,” she said flatly, pointing to the mug in his hand.

He held the cup in
front of him, studying it.  “This cup?” he asked finally.

“Yes.  See.  My
name is on it.  Give it to me.”

He seemed taken
aback.  “You want it … now?”

She nodded.

He tipped back in
the chair, watching her with amusement.  “Can I finish my coffee first?”

“No.”

She refused to
back down.  She wanted her cup and she wanted it now.  She didn’t care one iota
that she might be being unreasonable.  The man had taken her case, her chair,
her desk, and now he had the unmitigated gall to drink from her very own coffee
cup.  He could get his own doggone cup.  There were plenty of stray cups around
the office.  “Well…?” she prompted.

He passed her the
cup. 

“Thank you.”  She
spun on her heel and left the building.  Outside, she tipped the cup, dumping his
steaming hot coffee onto the sidewalk.  With a satisfied snort, she watched the
liquid spread across the pavement, and then she strode briskly down the block. 

She’d barely made
it to the end when she heard a masculine voice calling her name.  She glanced
back.  Dare stood in the doorway of the office building, waving her back.  She
glanced around uncertainly, and with an exasperated sigh, began walking toward
him.  What now?

“Did you need
something?” she asked flatly when she reached him.

“Let’s get lunch,”
he said, smiling in what struck Belle as a practiced, albeit, disarming way. 

“No, thank you.  I
should get home.”

“But you and I
have things to discuss.”

“Such as?” she asked
in a clipped tone, checking her watch.

“The case,” he
said succinctly, his eyes sparkling with his customary good humor.

“I’ve been banned
from work,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin.  “I don’t think
Millicent wants me anywhere near the Rodriguez case, which means I’ll have to
steer clear of you.  Darn,” she said with mock disappointment.          

“It’s just a
lunch,” he said reasonably.  “And don’t tell me you’re going to forgo an
opportunity to continue our discussion of the case.”

“Like I said, Millicent
won’t…”

He silenced her
with a dismissive wave.  “She won’t know.”

She took a deep
breath.  Was he really prepared to ignore Millicent’s explicit instructions that
she wasn’t to be involved with the case until her return to work?  She couldn’t
deny she wanted desperately to discuss it further; to wield her influence with
Dare, to show him Biggs was a crook and not the solid citizen he seemed to
think he might be. 

With a defeated sigh,
she muttered, “I’ll drive.”

He grinned.  “Be
right back.”

She waited outside
while he dashed back into the building to grab a few things.  Soon he strode
toward her carrying a black attaché case, and whistling a happy tune.  Belle didn’t
speak until they arrived at her car.  She hitched a thumb at the back seat. 
“You can put your brief case back there.”

He tossed it into
the back, and then climbed into the passenger seat.  Belle slid into the
driver’s seat.  She backed the car out of the space and steered out of the
parking complex and onto the street.  “Where to?” she asked.

His lips quirked
into a grin as his eyes lighted on her attire.  “Well, I’m thinking a casual
dining place might be just the ticket.” 

She shot him a
hostile glance, realizing immediately she’d just flashed him.  She dropped one
hand off the wheel and steered with her left hand. 

He chuckled and
she shot him an annoyed glance.  He stopped laughing when she pulled into the
parking lot of a nearby convenience store.  “What’ll you have?” she asked him. 
“I see they have corndogs, two for ninety-nine cents.  Or maybe you prefer the
two-cheeseburger deal.  If you fancy popcorn, it comes with a free small soda.”

He leaned back in
the seat.  “I wasn’t thinking quite this casual, but… well, considering your outfit,
it’s probably a good choice.”

She scowled at him
then.

With a cheery
laugh, he left her in the car and headed inside.  He returned moments later
with two corndogs and a pound of potato wedges.  He held a super-sized coffee
in one hand.

Since his hands
were full, Belle leaned over and opened the door for him.  He passed her the
corndogs and slipped into the seat.  “Are you thirsty?” he asked.  “I can run
back in and grab you something.  I just didn’t have enough hands to grab you a
drink, and since I was desperate for coffee since mine was hijacked earlier…”  

She silenced him
with a contemptuous look. 

He only grinned as
he carefully settled his coffee in the cup holder between the seats, and then
turned to watch her.  “Shall we eat here?  Or, I noticed there’s a park a block
or so back, just around the corner from work.”

She started the
ignition and drove to the park.  Once there, they climbed out of the car and Dare
rounded the hood to stand beside her.  She eyed him curiously as he stared at
her car.  He finally turned to meet her gaze and frowned.  “It isn’t purple.”

She shot him a
questioning glance.  “What?” 

“Your car.  It
isn’t purple.”

Suddenly, color
flamed in her cheeks.  She realized he was remembering the Sweet Sixteen party
tape, in which she had demanded a purple car from her mother.     

“No, it isn’t,” she said, failing
to mask the flash of pain in her eyes. 

He abruptly
sobered and watched her with concern.  “Hey, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…” he
began, but she turned away and hurried to a nearby picnic table beneath a
canopy of trees.  She dropped onto the bench seat, and then glanced around. The
park was beautiful; a veritable oasis in an urban landscape.  She had often
enjoyed lunchtime walks there. 

As Dare sat down,
she pretended to admire a nearby sculpture crafted by a local artist.  While
she’d viewed the sculpture countless times, he didn’t know that.  When she finally
turned back to him, she discovered him watching her.

“Why do you watch
the tape?” he asked softly.  “It was apparent when we watched it that it upsets
you.  You seem upset now.”

She chewed her lip
thoughtfully.  She hadn’t expected the question.  “I watch it because I have
to.”

“Really, since it
does upset you to watch it, why put yourself through it?” he asked, his blue
eyes narrowed and reflecting his curiosity.  He studied her for a long moment.

It was apparent to
Belle the tape had upset him at one point during the viewing.  She refrained
from mentioning that to him.              “I have to watch it,” she repeated
tiredly.

“You don’t ‘have
to’ do anything,” he said.  “What do you hope to gain from putting yourself
through it?”

 “It’s not so much
what I gain but … what I lost that’s important,” she murmured, unable to meet
his eyes.

He shook his
head.  “What do you mean?”

She glanced at him
tentatively.  “I lost that person—the person I was—and I want to assure she …
stays lost.”

“You were a child. 
Why be so hard on yourself?”

“I was sixteen,”
she said succinctly.  “Old enough to know better.”

He shook his
head.  “You’ve grown up…”

Belle stopped him
with a raised hand.  “I don’t wish to discuss this.  The tape is old news…”

“Precisely,” he
said with conviction.  “So don’t you think it’s time you stop punishing
yourself?  I mean, I really don’t get it.  It occurs to me that that tape, and
your disgust with the person you once were, colors everything you do in life. 
It seems to me that your work ethic…”

“What do you know
about my work ethic?” she cut in angrily.

“I know you work
harder than any other attorney at Legal Aid.  As I was saying, I think your
tireless work ethic is a means to make amends for … well, the you you used to
be.”

“Thank you, Dr.
Phil, for the psychoanalysis.”  As if she hadn’t already realized she spent the
bulk of her time atoning for her past sins! 

“I’m only trying
to help,” he said softly.  

Belle opened her
mouth to speak, but promptly clamped it shut.  He couldn’t possibly understand
why she forced herself to view the tape, or that it nearly killed her to do
so.  But frankly, it wasn’t any of his business, and she had no desire to
discuss it with him.  He was a veritable stranger, after all.