Page 23 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
“Hi, Dr. Hartwell. I’m calling about second chances. My husband and I have been separated for eight months after I discovered he was having an affair with a co-worker. He’s begging me to try again, says he’s changed, that he’s in therapy and understands why he did what he did. Part of me wants to believe him, but another part says once a cheater, always a cheater. Can people really change?”
Faith felt her throat tighten. This hit too close to home, too close to the fears that kept her from fully trusting Jake despite the pull she felt toward him.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Faith said, her voice softer than usual. “People can change, but it requires genuine commitment to doing the hard work of self-examination. The real question is whether you’re willing to risk your heart again. Trust, once broken, is like a precious vase that’s been shattered. It can be glued back together, but the cracks remain visible. The repaired relationship is never the same as before—it can be stronger in some ways, but also more fragile.”
Faith paused, acutely aware that she wasn’t just speaking to the caller, but to herself as well.
“Before you make your decision, ask yourself these questions: Has he taken full responsibility without making excuses? Is he transparent about his activities now? And most importantly, are you willing to begin the work of forgiveness? Because reconciliation without forgiveness is just a ticking time bomb.”
By the time the call ended, Faith felt emotionally drained. She glanced at the clock—still another hour to go. Lucy gave her the signal for another call.
“Grateful in Gainesville, you’re on the air with Dr. Hartwell.”
“Hi, Dr. Hartwell. I have sort of an unusual situation. I’ve been dating this guy for about six months, and I recently found out he’s actually quite wealthy. He’s been living in a modest apartment, driving an old car, and letting me pay my share of everything. When I confronted him about it, he said he didn’t want me to be interested in him for his money. I feel like he’s been lying to me this whole time. What should I do?”
“That’s an interesting dilemma,” Faith replied. “While he should have been more forthcoming, consider his perspective. People with wealth often wonder if they’re loved for themselves or for what they can provide. His approach may have been misguided, but his intention was to find someone who values him for who he is, not what he has.
“Have an honest conversation about how this made you feel, but also listen to his reasons. If everything else in the relationship has been genuine, this might be something you can work through. Trust is built through understanding as much as honesty.”
As Faith wrapped up the call, Lucy was making frantic signals through the glass, pointing excitedly at the phone lines. Her eyebrows were doing that comical dance they always did when she was excited, and she mouthed something that looked suspiciously like “It’s HIM!” while making an exaggerated swooning gesture.
Faith’s heart performed an acrobatic routine that would have impressed Olympic judges. She knew exactly who “HIM” was before her eyes even found the caller ID display—Waiting in Dallas. The same man whose kiss still lingered on her lips from the night before. Jake.
Her fingers suddenly felt clumsy as she adjusted her headset, and she was grateful listeners couldn’t see the flush creeping up her neck or the involuntary smile that curved her lips despite her best efforts to remain professional.
“Good listeners, we have time for one more call tonight.” She took a steadying breath, willing her voice not to betray her. “Waiting in Dallas, you’re on the air with Dr. Hartwell. What’s on your mind tonight?”
“Hiya, Doc.”
Faith felt her insides do a slow flip. “Hey yourself. What can I do for you tonight?”
“Well, I was hoping to get some expert advice about trust,” Jake said, his deep voice causing a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with the chamomile tea. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”
“Trust is certainly a cornerstone of any healthy relationship,” Faith responded, striving to maintain her professional tone despite the knowing smirk Lucy was giving her through the glass. “What specifically about trust interests you?”
“I’m wondering about trust as it relates to the past. How much should someone’s history define their future possibilities?” There was a serious note in his voice that caught her attention. This wasn’t just flirtatious banter—he was genuinely asking.
“That’s a complex question,” Faith said thoughtfully. “We’re all shaped by our experiences, both good and bad. But I don’t believe anyone should be permanently defined by their past mistakes or by what others have done to them.”
“So you believe in second chances? In starting fresh?”
“I believe that people can change when they genuinely want to,” she said carefully. “But trust isn’t given automatically—it’s earned through consistent actions over time.”
“And what would you say to someone who’s afraid to trust again after being hurt? Someone who’s built walls so high they can’t see the view on the other side anymore?”
Faith’s throat tightened. They weren’t talking in hypotheticals anymore. “I’d say that safety and self-protection are natural responses to pain. But walls that keep out hurt also keep out joy. At some point, we have to decide if the possibility of happiness is worth the risk of pain.”
“Is it? Worth the risk?”
The studio seemed to shrink until it was just her and his voice, intimate and private despite the thousands of listeners.
“The honest answer? I don’t know,” she admitted, forgetting for a moment that they weren’t alone. “That’s something each person has to decide for themselves. What I do know is that living in fear is its own kind of pain.”
“Thank you, Doc,” Jake said softly. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. And for what it’s worth, I think some things—some people—are absolutely worth the risk.”
The call ended, leaving Faith feeling exposed and vulnerable, as though she’d just shared far more than professional advice. She gathered herself quickly, wrapping up the show with her usual sign-off, though her mind was already racing ahead to what would happen when she got home.
“Whew,” Lucy said as she burst into the booth, a bundle of energy spiked with coffee. “That caller was something else. Half the women in America probably swooned.”
