Page 9 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
“I sent her a text message, and she was lucky she got that. I’ve got a life to live and don’t have time for someone so needy. Lola, that’s my new girlfriend, thinks we need to save every penny so we can get married, but with Justine calling and leaving all those messages on the machine it’s making things a little difficult between Lola and me. What should I do?”
“So you cheated on your first girlfriend and then had the audacity to break up with her by text message? And now when she’s calling to find out what’s going on, you don’t have the guts to pick up the phone and tell her? Have I got the facts straight?”
“Yeah, I guess so, but you make it sound kinda harsh.”
Faith didn’t care. There had to be justice out there for the people who got screwed by love. “What did you say your name was?” she asked.
“Jeremy Kline. But, hey, I thought we weren’t supposed to give our names.”
“I’ve decided to make an exception in your case. My advice to you, Jeremy, is to grow a spine and a decent amount of morals before you try your hand at relationships again. My advice to the women of Fairfield is to run far in the opposite direction if you see Jeremy Kline coming your way. He has a lot to learn.”
Faith cut the connection and gave the notice for a commercial break before falling back in her chair with a disgusted sigh.
“Whoa, what was that all about?” Lucy asked, sticking her head in the door. The scent of her cinnamon gum wafted into the booth.
“I don’t know. I just snapped. I want to talk to a normal person.”
“Well, the phone lines have started lighting up like crazy, so a bunch of normal people are calling in to support you or you’ve just given the green light for all the crazies to crawl out of the woodwork.”
“Wonderful.” Faith took a drink of water and put her headset back on. It was eight forty-five. She could last another fifteen minutes. And then she was going to set the record for leaving the building and getting home on the off chance that Jake Murphy was still inside her house.
Maybe a quick fling was just the thing she needed. Millions of people did it. Not everything had to end in marriage. Lord knew there was a slim chance she’d ever go that route again. The problem was, she was one of the few people in the world who related sex and marriage as two sides of the same coin. She didn’t tell her listeners that because who’d want to listen to her then? But she’d been a virgin when she’d married and she hadn’t been with anyone since. Hadn’t wanted to be, she clarified.
Lucy slid into the chair opposite Faith’s console, breaking her from her thoughts. “You’ve got three callers on hold, and they’re all doozies.”
“It’s Friday the thirteenth,” Faith sighed, glancing at the calendar on her desk. “The crazies always come out on Friday the thirteenth.”
“Tell me about it,” Lucy replied, handing Faith a notecard. “This one’s up next.Superstitious in Seattle. Says her husband refuses to sleep in their bedroom because his ex-wife cursed their marriage bed.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Perfect caller for today, don’t you think?”
Faith scanned the call information and pressed the button to connect. “Superstitious in Seattle, this is Dr. Hartwell. I understand you’re having some bedroom issues?”
“Oh, Dr. Hartwell, thank you for taking my call!” The woman’s voice quavered with emotion. “My husband Roger and I have been married for eight months now. Everything was perfect until his ex-wife sent us a wedding gift—a beautiful antique quilt that belonged to her grandmother.”
Faith exchanged a glance with Lucy, who was making exaggerated spooky gestures with her hands. “That seems…unexpectedly generous of her.”
“That’s what I thought! So I put it on our bed. But Roger says she practices witchcraft and has cursed the quilt. He refuses to sleep in our bedroom now. He’s been on the couch for two weeks, and it’s ruining our marriage. I don’t believe in curses, but I don’t know how to convince him.”
“Have you considered simply getting rid of the quilt?” Faith asked, trying to keep her tone reasonable.
“I tried! I put it in the donation bin at Goodwill, but when I got home, it was folded on our porch with a note that said Return to sender. That’s when Roger completely freaked out.”
Lucy mouthed “Whoa,” across the console, and Faith had to bite her lip to maintain her composure.
“This sounds more like your husband’s ex-wife is playing mind games than practicing actual witchcraft. The simplest solution is to ceremonially dispose of the quilt—burn it if you can do so safely, or even cut it up and throw it away in multiple trash bins. Make your husband part of the disposal process so he feels some control over the situation.”
“But what if she really did curse it? What if something bad happens if we destroy it?”
Faith took a deep breath. “The power of suggestion is far more potent than any so-called curse. Your husband’s ex-wife is manipulating his fears. If you’d like, you could speak with a spiritual advisor from your faith tradition to perform a blessing on your bedroom afterward, but I promise you—the quilt has no power except what you give it.”
After a few more reassurances, Faith ended the call, shaking her head as Lucy burst into laughter.
“I told you! Full moon Friday!” Lucy wiped tears from her eyes. “But your next caller might top even the cursed quilt.Troubled in Tulsasays his girlfriend communicates with her deceased cat through a psychic, and the cat doesn’t approve of him.”
Faith groaned, glancing at the clock. Ten more minutes. She could do this.
After dealing withTroubled in Tulsa(her advice: suggest the girlfriend visit a grief counselor rather than a pet psychic), Faith checked her final call of the night.
“Waiting in Dallas, this is Dr. Hartwell, what can I do for you tonight?”
