Good Morning, Miss Australia [Rumbelle]

Miss Australia

                      "Belle? Belle!"

Moe's voice calling for his daughter rang through the modest, two-bedroom house, situated in an inconspicuous area in the outskirts of Portland, Maine, that had been home to Belle's family since they'd arrived from Australia.

Her cell phone still hovering next to her ear, Belle stood rooted to the spot inherent small bedroom, a fierce blush coloring her cheeks. In her mind, there seemed only room for a stranger's voice echoing her words of goodbye with a regretful, 'Goodbye Miss Australia, wishing you a very nice day too.'

When she'd received a message by email yesterday from the Wynken, Blynken and Nod Wake-Up Service to call in at 4.55 A.M. she'd groaned inwardly, but had complied nonetheless. Stepping out of the shower cell she'd wondered what this person she was going to call did for a living that he or she got up so early. She'd blow-dried her hair in the kitchen, which was furthest away from her father's bedroom so she wouldn't wake him at this untimely hour. Then she quietly got dressed in her room and waited till it was time to call in.

The stranger on the other side of the line had been the latest in a long row of participants she'd called to wake up since she'd started participating in the WB&N Wake-Up Service, but she'd never been this deeply affected by a conversation before.

They'd had a rough start. The stranger hadn't answered his phone after the third try and the volunteer on the switchboard had warned her that the next attempt would be the last. Belle had murmured 'of course', feeling a bit sorry for the new participant on the other side of the line. Three attempts was regulatory, but she persuaded the operator for one last try. Perhaps the person on the other side of the line had displaced his or her cell phone, or had left it on silent. Or perhaps the participant simply slept through the sound of the phone ringing, unaccustomed to be woken up by it.

When at the second ring a grouchy man finally picked up the phone she'd actually felt relieved, ignoring her blood running cold at the withering greeting uttered with the hint of a Scottish brogue. Being used to waking grumpy participants of the program, she'd simply carried on, knowing that they would come around eventually. And so did this Scot.

His terseness had gradually disappeared and Belle couldn't help but feel drawn to his deep, soft voice and his formal, but adorably confused replies as he stayed on the line with her. And for the first time in the four months she'd done this, encouraged by her friend Ariel, she actually regretted when the conversation with the stranger on the other side of the line ended.

Ariel (or "Ary", as she wanted to be called, because "The Walt Disney Company had condemned her to a lifetime of lame jokes about fish out of water with her name and fiery hair colour") was an archivist and colleague of Belle's in the Portland Public Library where Belle worked as a librarian. They'd met at UVM, the only four years in her life Belle had lived separate from her father. It was the bubbly redhead who had encouraged the dreamy bookworm to be more outgoing and actually meet people instead of reading about them in books. Belle had agreed but stipulated that it would be on her own terms. With a meaningful look Ary had taken a sip from her coffee and had said no more.

When Belle told her two days later what she'd signed up for Ary had lifted her eyebrows but refrained from commenting on it. Belle never went for the obvious, like going out like a normal person her age and this time was no different.

Over the past few months Belle had woken up many people, men and women, with friendly conversation. If the number of marriage proposals were something to go by – three since last week – she was pretty good at it, even though grumpiness and melancholy outweighed by far the affection of the ones taking a liking to her.

Almost every day she had another amusing story to share with Ary, whether it would be the teenager who taught her to say 'Where's the bathroom?' in Klingon, the old woman who kept talking about her forty-eight cats or the cell phone salesman who apparently had only joined the service to lure participants to his website. Belle's new early morning hobby had actually become a source of amusement for them over a mug of Starbucks coffee.