The Rival

He walked into the loud, jam-packed tavern. Wall to wall people was the term he’d often heard. His huge size could be daunting; because he stood a good head taller than just about every man in the room. Consequently, he didn’t have to push his way through the crowd to get to the bar; the mass automatically opened a pathway for him-like the Red Sea parting for Moses.

He placed an elbow on the mahogany surface, a black boot on the gold foot rail near the floor and watched the scene around him. Men flirting with women; women flirting with men. Many he knew; some he didn’t. But his dark brown eyes sought only one. He stopped his quest when he found his quarry.

She was across the room from him; too far away to see his appraisal in the dim room. She was taller than average and prettier, too. But that wasn’t what had caught his interest at the beginning. It most definitely wasn’t what held his esteem now. It was the way she stood, so tall and proud, as if she were royalty. She was a beauty; but that only got a woman so far. This one was the epitome of sophistication and had more intelligence than a lot of men he knew. She wasn’t afraid to show it, either.  But, she did it in a way that made everyone feel comfortable. So much charm all rolled into one beautiful package. It was extremely rare to find such a jewel. Oh, her laughter! It touched your ears and made your heart skip as it filled the room like skilled fingers gliding on piano keys. Her smile could blind a person and it mesmerized him; like the sun’s rays glistening over a lake on a clear day.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman captivated him the way she had. Maybe that was the problem. She was the first. He couldn’t get enough of her. He was totally content just watching her. No, that was a lie. He wanted more than that.

She was like a virus; contagious; toxic. The more he was around her; the more he needed to be around her. He knew she wasn’t aware of the affect she had on him. She was always friendly with him. She even joked with him; but was never overly flirtatious. She was genuine; never pretentious. He liked that the most.

She glanced his way. Their eyes met. He held the intangible contact for a few seconds before smiling. Then he looked away. He had to. If he didn’t he’d go to her and he couldn’t do that. He yearned to hold her. He craved to be the one she laughed for. The one she smiled at.

Then why? Why didn’t he tell her his true feelings?

He felt it then.

His answer.

His brother’s hand on his shoulder.

He couldn’t win her heart for it already belonged to another.

Say What!?

When I worked as a Controller in the auto industry, I went to lunch with clients, bank reps and my managers. One day I took my service manager and a customer to lunch. We just ran over to Eat ‘n Park, which was fine because they have a decent salad bar and I love rabbit food (lettuce).

This customer was yakking away when I stood and told them that I was going to the salad bar and asked if either wanted anything. The customer, whom I just met that day, said, “Yes, bring me back a kumquat.”

I stood there for a second or two while my mind screamed, “Why would you say that to me! What kind of depraved sex manic are you?” But I didn’t say it out loud…thank goodness! I turned and headed for the salad bar and while I filled my plate I couldn’t get the word kumquat out of my mind or wonder why the customer would say such a thing to me. When I sat back down I couldn’t concentrate on the conversation because I thought I was sitting with a pervert.

Once I got back to the dealership I called my secretary and told her I had to ask her an important question.  So, as diplomatically as I could, considering the circumstances, I whispered into the phone, “What’s a kumquat?”

She calmly answered, “A fruit.”

“A fruit!” I squealed, “I thought it was some disgusting nic-name for a womanly body part!” I heard giggling on the other end of the phone and knew my secretary was in hysterics. I couldn’t blame her- it did sound quite silly…now.

So I told her I had a blonde moment and didn’t know my fruit very well. But I didn’t tell her what I almost said to the guy! Which, by the way, I was so glad I hadn’t said. Can you just imagine the look on his face if I had shrieked, “You pervert! What makes you think you can talk to me like that! If you want a kumquat go get your own! I’m not that kind of girl!”

Silly Adult! Brains are for Kids!

Last summer my dog, Kommit, a darling mischievous Boxer, found a bunny nest in the middle of our backyard. I saw her sniffing and pawing at the ground and when I went to investigate her curiosity, I found three tiny bunnies nestled in a hole in the ground. They couldn’t have been but a few days old, because their eyes weren’t even open and they barely had any fur. Needless to say, every morning at potty-time, Kommit made a bee-line for that nest; so I placed my son’s orange miniature football cones around it and as soon as Kommit got even remotely close I warned her with a “No” and she would meander to another part of the yard.

 After about a week of this, when my husband and I were on our patio chatting- not paying any attention to the dogs, although Hayley, our older Boxer never bothered with the nest, we heard this high pitched squeal and when we looked toward the sound, we saw that Kommit had pulled a baby bunny out of the nest! We ran to the bunny, now squirming on the ground…Kommit took off like a bat out of hell in the opposite direction…she knew she had done something wrong! I picked up the little bunny and to my untrained eyes, it appeared okay, so I gently placed it back into it’s nest with it’s siblings.

 When I inspected the nest the next morning, to my utter regret, I found a dead bunny. I felt so sad, but what could I do? My dog was a rabbit killer; but she wouldn’t understand. My husband took the dead little bunny corpse and buried it beneath a tree. Now we only had two baby bunnies, but boy were they getting cute. Their naked little bodies now had some gray fur. Their ears were so tiny! They were black and lay close to their little heads and they felt like velvet.

 Every morning I would check on my two little tenants. I pulled back the dried grass that their mother covered them with each night and when I touched them they bounced! They were like little Mexican jumping beans. Not only did I touch them, I picked them up, too. I just couldn’t help myself-they were just too cute not to hold and pet. It’s a fallacy that the mother rabbit will abandon them if she smells humans on them, by the way. Every night after dusk, the mother rabbit would hop to the nest and sit on it to feed her babies. It’s a real wonder to watch nature at work.

 During our bunny operation, I saw my niece, Miranda, who was 4 years old, and told her about our little visitors. “Miranda, we have baby bunnies in our back yard!” I excitedly told her in my best Aunt Pammy voice.

 “You do?” she asked with wide unbelieving brown eyes.

 “Yes! And guess what?” My attempt at dragging out suspense always works on 4 year olds. “They bounce when I touch them!”

“Aunt Pammy,” she rolled her eyes, “they’re practicing hopping.” Her tone informed me that all adults should know something that simple.

It’s too Heavy!

Children are so literal and they’re so full of life and innocence. I’d love to bottle up those uncontaminated emotions and sell them. Wouldn’t life be so wonderful if we could sprinkle purity and the zest for life all over the world?

When my oldest son was about 3 years old I told him, “We have to run some errands.”

He said, “But I want to pway.”

“I know. And as soon as we pick up Daddy’s truck, you can come home and play,” I explained.

He looked at me with reservation in his big blue eyes then asked, “Isn’t that berry hebby?”

At first I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. What was heavy? Then it hit me! The truck was heavy and I just said we were picking it up! “We’re not going to pick up Daddy’s truck. We’re going to go get it and drive it home.” I clarified to my innocent little boy.

That seemed to make much more sense to him; because he grabbed his little German Shepherd stuffed animal, which he took everywhere with him, even to bed, then followed me to our other vehicle. He was perfectly content with getting the truck and driving it home, but didn’t want to pick up that heavy thing!

Welcome!

Hello. I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Pamela D. Hart and I’m a writer and this is my new blog, The Hart’s Beat. I’m going to fill it with fact and fiction. How will you know which is which? Well, at the end of each post it will tell you in the tags whether it is a story about me and my life or if it is totally fabricated. Why will I do this? Because I’m honest and I feel it’s only fair that I am truthful with my readers. I also want my readers to get to know me, and if you, my readers, are reading a fictitious story, you have the right to know.

 

The Hart’s Beat will be comprised of stories, antidotes, jokes, poetry and sometimes just gibberish. But I’m hoping whatever I may write, you will gain something from it. Life has a way of teaching lessons and I want to pass along what I’ve learned. Hopefully you’ll leave The Hart’s Beat with a little more knowledge, maybe a tear, or a laugh or two.

 

So, welcome. Feel free to comment, but always be respectful to others. I am very strict with that rule and I will become very testy with anyone who disobeys it. Other than that…let’s have some fun!