Hello Love Page 2

  “Amen!”

  “Amen!”

  “Hallelujah!”

  Arms dropping, hands releasing, the women lost their physical connection, but the energy in the group had heightened. Andrea shot another look at Jade and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Oh Heavenly Father, goddess mother, spirits of the universe, let our vibrations be positive and our actions harmonious? Jade frowned and flashed her a just-go-with-it look.

  Once Andrea gave in to the woo-woo-ness of the occasion, she found herself melting into it. There was singing, complete with tambourines, and an opportunity for them to take a turn to tell their story, if they so desired. Andrea did not desire a turn of her own. Who wanted to hear another sad story about a defective wife whose husband had left her for a younger, prettier woman? It was nobody’s business, frankly. And besides, she didn’t think she could talk about it without crying, and she hated crying, the way her face got so blotchy and red and her nose began to run. Not happening.

  It occurred to her, as she listened to each story in turn, though, that there were a lot of brave, strong women in this group, and she felt a flush of shame recalling how she’d judged them when they’d first arrived, thinking they were middle-aged, middle-class suburbanites looking for magical solutions to their almost certainly insignificant problems. She’d been so wrong. One by one, the women revealed tales of tragedy that would have kept Shakespeare busy. Problems so seemingly insurmountable that Andrea wondered how some of these ladies got out of bed in the morning.

  There was depression and divorce and cancer and disaster. One woman’s house had burned down three years earlier. “It was horrible, so horrible. But this is the lucky thing,” the woman said, twisting her hands. “We all got out safely. It was a miracle, truly.” She nodded her head. “But I still smell the smoke at random times. It’s only my imagination, but it makes me crazy. That’s why I’m here today. I want to not smell it anymore. I want it gone. I want to be able to move on.” She looked down at her shoes, her voice cracking. “I know it seems silly.”

  But it didn’t seem silly to any of them.

  When the last participant had spoken, Martina cued a round of applause for everyone there. “And now,” she said, when the clapping had died down, “for the most important part of today’s session. Letting the universe know what we want. Making our wishes known.” She approached the lady whose house had burned down and said, “I don’t want to cause you any pain, but usually we write out our wishes, make a bonfire, and burn them, but if that’s a problem, we can think of some other way to release them into the universe.”

  “Oh no. I’ll be okay.” The woman’s face broke into a sly grin. “A fire here wouldn’t bother me. You can’t do it anywhere near my house, though,” she added, which brought a few laughs from the group.

  Martina handed out large index cards, two apiece. As she distributed them, she called out, “For now, just hang on to these. I’ll be giving you directions in a minute. This is a simple exercise, but it can be life-changing if done right, so I’ll need your complete attention.”

  THREE

  Down the road, Dan saw the squad car in front of his house and felt his heart thump against his chest. This couldn’t be good. All he could think of was his daughter, Lindsay. He’d just made a quick trip to the grocery store to pick up a few items. What could have happened in that short a time? Different possibilities ran through his mind as he pulled his truck into the driveway and raced toward the house. Through the open doorway he saw an officer in the front hall, his daughter right behind him, and he exhaled in relief. She was still alive, so everything was okay. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be too bad.

  “Dad!” Lindsay’s face was tear-stained. “I’ve been trying to call you!” Frustration, that’s what he heard in her voice.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have my phone on.” He addressed the cop, a young guy who didn’t look entirely at ease in his grown-up uniform. “What happened?” The guy didn’t look like he could enforce much of anything, much less the law.

  “It’s Anni. She’s gone,” Lindsay blurted out.

  Dan ran his hand through his close-cropped brown hair. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  “It was only for a few minutes. I just let her out to pee and I was texting Brandon, so I didn’t check on her right away and she wandered off and went down to the end of the driveway, you know how she does that.” Dan knew. Even now, more than a year later, Anni still watched for Christine. “I saw a car stop right by her and I opened the door to yell for her to come back.” Her breathing was ragged; she could barely get the words out. “I’m so, so sorry, Dad. I saw it happen, but I couldn’t stop it.” Lindsay gulped. Tears poured down her face, and the sick feeling Dan had when he’d first seen the police car was back.

  He was afraid to ask, but he had to know. Part of him thought he already knew. It had to be that Anni had been hit by the car and was dead. “What happened?”

  “Your dog has been stolen, sir,” the young officer said.

  “Stolen?” Dan looked at Lindsay, who nodded in confirmation. He held his arms out and his daughter walked in, burying her head in his chest. She was too far gone to talk, her chest heaving with sobs. “Who would steal my dog?”

  The cop read off his notes. “Apparently at two thirty p.m., a dark-colored, four-door sedan stopped, blocking the entrance to your driveway. A young male dressed in a dark jacket or sweatshirt, either black or navy blue, and wearing a baseball cap, got out of the vehicle, grabbed your dog, placed it in the backseat, and drove off.”

  “Her,” Dan said, feeling the blood run from his face.

  “What?”

  “Anni. She’s a her, not an it.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about your dog. I’m new at all this,” he said. He did sound new, and unsure too, like he wanted to help but was clueless how to go from here. Poor guy didn’t seem up to the task. It didn’t seem right that he was working solo. Didn’t police officers always come in pairs? Where was his older, more experienced partner?

  “But why would someone take Anni?” Dan said. “She’s not a purebred. Could it be kids playing a prank? Maybe someone from your school?” He addressed the question to the top of Lindsay’s head.

  She pushed away from him, rubbed her eyes, and swallowed. “No, this guy was older, I think. He had another guy in the car and they were playing really loud music. Some heavy metal. I didn’t recognize the song.” She pointed outside. “The bastard,” she said bitterly. “He didn’t just put her in the backseat, he threw her in really hard and hurt her. She made that yelping noise like she was in pain. I ran after them screaming my head off, but they were all the way down the road by the time I got to the mailbox. I saw them throw a bottle out the driver’s side, and I saw Anni’s little face looking out the back window. I’m so sorry, Dad. I know I should have watched her better.”

  “It’s not your fault, Lindsay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Dan spoke to the officer. “Does this happen sometimes? Dogs get taken and turn up again soon? Like kids taking a car for a joyride?”

  He shook his head. “I guess it’s possible, but I’ve never heard of it happening, at least not around here.”

  “But it could be a prank, right?”

  “Sure, it could be.” He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I’ll ask the other neighbors on this road and see if anyone else has heard anything.”

  “What about the bottle?” Dan asked. “You could check it for fingerprints.”

  “It was an empty bottle of Jim Beam,” Lindsay said. “I found it in the ditch and picked it up with a plastic bag so they could take it to the lab.”

  “Your daughter gave me the bottle, sir. I will be turning it in with the paperwork.” The look on the cop’s face told Dan there was no lab, and even if there had been, a stolen dog wasn’t a top priority. He referred back to his notes. “The description your daughter
gave me is that Anni is about thirty pounds, with a reddish-orange coat. Mostly one color with a light-colored streak on her nose and underside. Mixed breed, some beagle. She’s wearing a collar and identifying tags. She said she doesn’t bark much, and is eight years old. Do you have anything to add to that?”

  Dan thought. “Her collar is red and her name, Anni, is stitched right into the collar. She’s well behaved and knows her name.”

  The police officer dutifully added these details. “Very good, sir.”

  “When she does bark, it sounds really cute,” Lindsay said, sniffing. “Not yappy, just sort of short and crisp, like she’s talking.”

  “Okay.” The officer nodded, but he didn’t write it down.

  Dan asked, “So what’s your plan to recover Anni?”

  The cop shifted his stance and closed the notebook. “I’ll ask around and we’ll have our eyes and ears open.”

  “That’s it?” Dan couldn’t hide his frustration.

  “Pretty much. Without a license plate number or more identifying information, there’s not a lot we can do,” he said apologetically. “I’ll leave it up to you to file a missing pet report with the Humane Society. It’s too bad your dog wasn’t microchipped. That would help if she’s found far from home.”

  Dan had wanted to get her microchipped, but Christine didn’t like the idea. Now he wished they’d done it anyway. “Thanks, Officer,” he said. “If you hear anything, anytime, day or night, please let us know.”

  Dan and Lindsay stood in the doorway and watched as the squad car drove away. She said, “Daddy, I’m really sorry.” The despair in her voice was heartbreaking enough, but the fact that she’d called him “Daddy” made it even worse. She hadn’t called him that in years.

  “Get your jacket,” he said. “I want to drive around and look for her.”

  FOUR

  Andrea stared down at the two large index cards in her hand. So many narrow lines on each one. She was supposed to fill these with words? All around her, women were digging into their purses, fishing for pens. Jade found two of them and handed one to Andrea without saying a word.

  When everyone had their cards, Martina said, “I’d like each one of you to think about what you really want in the foreseeable future. What will enrich your life? A better job, help around the house, a new relationship? Think about where you’d like to be a year from now and use every bit of your imagination to visualize it. You’ll need to do this with a serious intent if you want to make your wishes your reality.”

  She continued, “What we’re going to be doing today is placing an order. Let me give you a real-world example. Say you’re at home and you want something, like a book, so you go online and order it from Amazon. Two days later, the book you ordered is in a box on your front porch. What if you’d just thought, ‘I wish I had that book,’ but you didn’t do anything else? Would it be on your porch two days later?” A few ladies shook their heads. “No, it would not. Because you didn’t put in an order. Think of all the times you’ve said, ‘Why isn’t this happening for me?’ or ‘I want this,’ and nothing ever changes. Without placing your order, you’re just saying words that circle in the air. You need to let the universe know your wants, your wishes, your intentions. I’m not talking about something materialistic like a Lamborghini. Just what you need to be a happy, fully realized person.”

  The words poured out of Martina faster and faster, her enthusiasm spilling out as she talked. “Who knows? Maybe the very thing you’ve been wanting has been circling around you the entire time, just waiting for you to call its name. So it’s time to say ‘hello, love!’ or ‘hello, new job!’ or ‘hello, energy’ or whatever it is you need to become fulfilled. Someone is going to get it. Why not you?”

  “So this is like that attractions book?” one woman called out. “Because I’ve been trying that, but it didn’t work.”

  Martina pursed her lips. “I think I know the book you’re talking about, but this is different in that it isn’t dependent on a belief or an attitude. You can secretly think this is all hogwash and it will still bring results, as long as you put it out there in a positive way.” She went on to explain that this was based on scientific principle—physics and the study of small particles. Every cell in your body, she said, was a quark, a sort of vibrating string. And through their thoughts and intentions, human beings had an almost magnetic power to attract similar strings out in the universe. As the number and intensity of these attracted strings build, a critical mass is reached and the want, whatever that may be, comes into being. “Most of us are more powerful than we know. We are each in charge of our own vibrating energy.”

  Andrea looked around to see how the others were reacting to this pseudoscience. Most of the group was nodding along. Only one other participant had a dubious expression on her face. A different woman raised her hand. “So are these vibrating energies the reason why people say we’re all connected?”

  Martina nodded. “Exactly. And we can use that connection to make our wishes a reality. The key is to be specific, but still open to different possibilities. Sometimes you’ll find that you’ll get what you need, but it doesn’t come in the way you’d hoped. For instance, you might want a new job because you hate your boss and your work is tedious. If the mean boss leaves the company and you get a promotion to a position you like better, you’ll have achieved your goal without changing jobs. Not what you asked for, but exactly what you needed. When life goes the way it’s supposed to, everything falls into alignment.”

  A woman on the opposite side of the circle raised her hand and asked, “So what exactly do we write?”

  “You’re placing an order,” Martina said. “Start off by writing, ‘I am ordering . . .’ at the top and then go on from there. Be specific.”

  Jade nudged Andrea and said, “Get writing. Time to write down what you want in a man. And you might want to ask for a new job too, while you’re at it.”

  “I don’t mind my job,” Andrea said quickly. Losing a husband and a house was bad enough; she didn’t think she could cope with more change in her life.

  “Really?” Jade said. “Because working for Tommy McGuire would make me crazy. You sit alone in that office day after day. I’d go insane.”

  “Well, I don’t mind it.”

  “Okay, then. Just order a new man.”

  That’s what Jade had done the year before, and only a month later, she’d met Matt, who Andrea had to grudgingly admit seemed perfect for her. Both of them had boundless energy and goofy personalities. They made each other laugh. Matt was handy around the house, liked to cook, and had good manners. He wasn’t career oriented and didn’t seem good with money, but neither aspect troubled Jade. When Andrea was around, Matt always included her and didn’t make her feel like a third wheel. Jade credited this workshop for leading Matt right to her. “I don’t know how it works,” she’d said. “It just does.”

  Andrea sat down on the log and stretched her legs out in front of her. In the middle of the circle, Martina Dearhart arranged logs in the fire pit, wedging brown paper in between each one, and dousing the whole thing with starter fluid. All around, women furiously scratched out words onto the cards. She overheard one woman say, “I’m glad I don’t have to believe in this for it to work, because I have my doubts.”

  Andrea felt the same way, but she was willing to give it a try. She’d sat here for this long; she might as well see it through. She tapped the pen against her lower lip and thought about everything she’d like in a man. Surprising that she was even thinking this way. Even after Marco had left her for a flashy blonde named Desiree, she would have forgiven everything to have him back. And then, when she didn’t want him back anymore, she didn’t want anyone else. The pain was too new, too raw. The rejection had shredded her heart and self-esteem. Within a few months she was feeling better about herself, but was still guarding her heart. She wasn’t eager to date agai
n, but if the perfect guy showed up in her life, well, who knew what she might do? Feeling foolish for even participating in this crazy exercise she wrote, I am ordering, and then stopped. What was it that she really wanted? Next to her, Jade was scribbling quickly, probably ordering the perfect wedding and, after that, the perfect baby.

  “Remember,” Martina called out in her best cheerleading voice, “we’re all the stars of our own lives. Let’s make it the best production we can!”

  Andrea sat for a few minutes, flexing the card in her hand. This whole exercise was ridiculous, magical thinking at its best, she thought, but if nothing else it would force her to set specific goals and that was valuable all by itself. She’d done way too much floundering in her life. Getting on some sort of track might be helpful. And what if it did work? On the off chance that this was the case, she should choose her words carefully. The old adage “be careful what you wish for” rang in her head. Marco was a good example of that. She’d always been the quiet type and found herself attracted to bold, confident people—Jade being one of them. Marco had seemed like just what she needed, with his boisterous, charming ways; a perfect counterpart, she’d thought. What a disaster that had turned out to be. Marco was a selfish man. A selfish, charming, boisterous man. But mostly selfish. Everything was always about Marco.

  Martina lit a match and a big whoosh rang out as the flames devoured the paper and began licking the wood. “Time to finish up. Just a few minutes more,” she called out. “Remember to be specific in your request, but open to what you’ll receive. And feel free to write whatever you want. No one will see it but you.”