The Caregiver - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,63

have it.”

With obvious reluctance, Lucy did as she bid.

Half dreading what she would see, Mattie raised it to her face. Immediately she spied a gray patch of bare skin that was now showing just above her ear. Unable to stop her sounds of dismay, Mattie tilted her head and moved the mirror around. More patches were visible.

And even more strands were loose in her hair, just waiting to fall on her lap. The tears now fell on her cheeks. She was in a losing battle with the disease. First it had claimed her breast, and now her hair. Already she’d lost ten pounds.

She was turning into someone she didn’t know. “I’m hatt gukkich.”

“You are not,” Lucy said. “You are not ugly at all.”

“Why don’t you let me have the mirror now, child,” the nurse said gently.

Though she wanted to scream and fight, Mattie did as she was bid.

When the nurse held the mirror again, she gazed at her with concern. “I can give you some medicine for your anxiety. It will help you rest.”

“I don’t need medicine. I’m fine.”

“All right,” she said agreeably. “Now, would you care to pin your hair back up and put it under your kapp?”

Mattie struggled with a reply. At the moment, she was afraid to touch her head. Afraid doing so would only pull out more strands.

After a meaningful look Lucy’s way, the nurse said, “Or we could do something else . . .”

“And what is that?”

“We could go get Miss Beverly. She’s a volunteer hairdresser.”

The nurse made no sense. “Why in the world would I need—”

“Miss Beverly shaves heads for women who are losing their hair,” she explained. “She’s here today. I saw her just down the hall.”

Oh, but shaving her head seemed like a terribly hard step.

But even if she fought the changes, they would still come. The chemo would still take its toll. “If you could find this Miss Beverly, I would be most appreciative,” she said quietly.

“I’ll be right back, sugar,” the nurse said with a smile.

Lucy walked around the bed and sat at her side. “Oh, Mattie, I’m so, so sorry.”

Mattie was, too. She was sorry about her hair, and her looks. And the fact that once again, her faith felt so tenuous.

Just when she was about to remind Lucy that God was in charge . . . Mattie was coming to realize that she didn’t care for that arrangement. Not at all.

Not one little bit.

Focus on Mattie. She needs you. Focus on her needs, not yours.

Over and over again, Lucy repeated the mantra, willing herself to believe the words. Willing herself to let them guide her.

Focusing on Mattie helped keep her mind off Calvin. All their misconceptions about each other had fallen away on the steps, leaving room for their feelings to grow.

And now they seemed to be in full bloom. No, it was more than that. She’d felt happy and calm. And peaceful. And for one little moment . . . the only thing she’d thought about was Calvin. And the fact that she was sure he’d been about to kiss her.

And if he had, Lucy knew she would have kissed him back. The feelings had been mildly shocking. When Paul died, she had sworn to herself that she’d never trust a man again. Certainly, she’d promised herself to never get involved in another relationship! All that would bring her was sorrow and pain.

So why did she now find herself thinking about him all the time?

“Lucy?” Mattie asked, snapping back her attention.

“Yes?”

“I . . . I don’t want to get my head shaved.” A new shadow of pain lit her eyes. “I’m afraid.”

“Of course you are,” Lucy murmured as she sat on her bed and, with her hands, gently embraced Mattie’s face. “It’s a scary thing, this is.”

“What if it doesn’t grow back?”

Afraid to assure her about something she knew nothing of, Lucy murmured, “Have you ever heard of someone’s hair not returning?”

“Nee.” Mattie seemed to shrink into herself. “I’m just sad and angry that all this is happening to me. I know it’s selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Mattie,” Lucy consoled. “You’re just trying to come to grips with a mighty hard day. That’s all.”

Mattie squeezed her hand. “How bad does my head look . . . really?”

“It looks bad, Mattie. Not gut at all.”

“You never did pussyfoot around the truth, did you?”

“Oh, I have. There were times with Paul that I got terribly gut at hiding bad things.” Remembering another visit, Lucy said, “Do you recall when you