The Heart Knows It

by Julie Allan

  It was only when alone at night with Bennett that she revealed any chinks in her façade. “Bennett, what will you do if your hair falls out?”

  “I imagine it will. I suppose I will just shave my head,” Bennett answered, spreading his toothpaste onto his brush. “Why, what did you think I should do?”

  “I was just wondering what your thoughts were,” Lizzie said. “I know a lot of women who lose their hair during chemo get wigs, but I don't know of any men who do. I could shave my head, too,” she said, draping her washcloth over the bar to dry.

  Bennett spat out his toothpaste and turned towards her, “Absolutely not! I love that you want to be supportive, but I love your hair, and there is no reason for both of us to look like cue balls. Promise me, Lizzie, promise me you won't do anything like that!”

  “Okay . . . It was just a thought I had. Did I tell you your sister asked me to come over early to help with Thanksgiving dinner? Your mother just can't help like she used to,” she said, changing the subject to a safer topic.

  “I can bring the kids and Aunt Dorothy with me later,” Bennett answered.

  “Actually, I’m going to bring Dot. She is old enough to start helping, and you can bring Sawyer and Aunt Dorothy over around two.”

  Bennett flipped back the covers, and they climbed into bed. “Sounds good to me. I forgot to tell you; I heard from Meg. She said the showing today was very positive, and she is expecting them to make an offer on our house any day now.”

  “That's good news,” replied Lizzie. “I have not enjoyed cleaning two houses.”

  “You know we can afford to have someone clean for us.”

  “Yes, but it is never the way I want it. Besides, I like taking care of my family, myself.” Lizzie snuggled into Bennett's shoulder.

  “Lizzie are you okay with all that is going on? You’ve been cooking up a storm and keeping house like you are going for the Martha Stewart award.”

  “Yes, I am fine. I’m just enjoying the things in life that make me happy and taking care of my family,” Lizzie insisted.

  She felt a twinge in her heart. There had been only a handful of times in their long relationship that she had not been entirely honest with Bennett. She knew if she told him her real feelings and fears, it would be unfair. After all, he was the one with cancer. He was her rock, but she knew he would put her needs above his and she could not abide by that. She had to step up and be the rock of the family, however unworthy she felt. “Good night, love.” She hoped he would not press it further.

  “Good night, love.” Bennett reached up to turn out the light. He turned his body, snuggling into her back, so they fit together like two spoons in a drawer. As she drifted off to sleep, she allowed herself to forget about what was to come.

  Lizzie worked a full day at The Biscuit Box the day before Thanksgiving to give her manager a day off. She enjoyed being immersed in the shop and the kitchen. She had forgotten how hectic the day before a holiday was, with all the pre-order pickups and the last-minute shoppers hoping for a casserole or a gift basket to present to a hostess. By the time closing time arrived, she was exhausted. The front of the shop had been locked and darkened, and she had sent the staff home to start their time with family. They would all be back on Saturday and would not have a day off, with the exception of Sundays, until Christmas day.

  Lizzie finished the final wipe down of the kitchen and then stepped into the staff bathroom to clean herself up a bit before heading home. Again, the multiplying strands of gray hair seemed spotlighted in her reflection. I can't stand it, she thought, staring glumly into the mirror. The previous week she had called her salon, but there were no appointments available until January. She had begged, but the receptionist politely explained it was the holiday season, so she had taken an appointment for the first week in January and had made the receptionist promise she would call if there was a cancellation. But now, staring at herself, she felt panicky and irrational. How could she possibly wait? She needed to take action and the drug store up the block was just the place to help her do it.

  Lizzie stood in the hair color aisle, and her confidence waned. There were so many choices. She was a natural blonde, so at least she could rule out the brunettes and the red heads.Was she going for ash blonde? Honey? Golden? Platinum? She settled on a box with the words easy and one step on the packaging. In the car, she secured it inside her purse. She did not want anyone at home to know what she was up to.

  “Well, there you are! We were getting ready to send out a search party,” Aunt Dorothy said as Lizzie entered the kitchen.

  “I know; I'm sorry. I let the staff leave, and I finished the cleanup. I will get dinner started lickety-split; just let me change real quick.” She clutched her purse to her as she looked around. Aunt Dorothy was stirring a pot of something wonderful by the smell of it, and Dot was brushing the top of biscuits with butter. “But by the looks of things, I would say dinner is already handled.”

  “I hope you don't mind, child, but you have been doing all the cooking around here as of late. I kind of missed doing it and with you working all day today . . .” Aunt Dorothy broke off, looking at Lizzie expectantly.

  Lizzie rushed to Aunt Dorothy and threw her arms around her, “Are you kidding! I am thrilled! After the day I had, I was tempted just to order pizza. Anytime you want to cook, just say so, or we can cook together, this is still your kitchen.” She squeezed Aunt Dorothy once more and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She was relieved to see Aunt Dorothy more like herself and not the declining old woman she was when they moved in.

  “I'm so glad, child, Dot and I have had a lot of fun this afternoon in this kitchen.”

  “Wait ‘til you see what we made for dessert, Mama!” Dot squealed.

  Lizzie stepped over to the table where Dot was sitting with her cup of melted butter and her pastry brush and kissed the top of her head. “I see you have mastered the Long family biscuit recipe. Dot, are you coming with me early to Aunt Amy’s tomorrow?”

  “I was hoping to come later with Daddy, Sawyer, and Aunt Dorothy. I’m helping Aunt Dorothy with a project.” Dot glanced over at Aunt Dorothy.

  Aunt Dorothy smiled and nodded. “Child, don’t ask what it is, you will get no more information from either of us.”

  Lizzie looked at Aunt Dorothy and then Dot. The conspiracy of silence was evident in their expressions. Lizzie sighed, “All right, I’ll go change and be down in a few.” Lizzie was still clutching her purse as she exited the kitchen and headed for the stairs.

  She carefully hid her drug store purchase behind the towels in the master bathroom linen closet, then changed her clothes. Downstairs, Bennett met her with a glass of wine and a small plate of cheese and crackers that Sawyer had assembled. She was ordered to relax in the living room with her feet up until dinner was served. “Wow, it’s Thanksgiving Eve, not Mother's Day,” Lizzie exclaimed as she settled into the cushions on the sofa.

  “We know, but we want to show you how much we love you,” Sawyer said, sitting down with her and snuggling up. Oh, how she hoped he would stay this sweet, even when he got to Dot's age. Thanksgiving may have been a day away, but at that moment Lizzie felt the meaning of the holiday in full force. She had a beautiful, loving family, a successful business and a truly gracious home. For the next twenty-four hours, she promised herself she would focus only on the blessings and not on the worries.

  The next morning, after making sure her family had breakfast, she headed upstairs and asked them to please not disturb her for the next hour. No one even asked why as she left the table and gratefully headed upstairs, locking herself in the master suite.

  Lizzie's hands shook a little as she opened the box of hair color and her heart started beating rapidly. She scanned the back of the box and the insert; the directions seemed straightforward. She draped a towel over her shoulders and secured it with a hair clip. Then she snapped the tube, activating the magic inside and shook vigorously. Lizzie carefully squirted the contents onto the top of
her head and massaged it in and down her strands. Then she piled her hair up in a clip and covered it with a shower cap to keep from dripping. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was glad she had thought to lock the door. Lizzie would not want her family to see this sight! She took an extra towel and laid it over the pillows on the bed, then propped herself up with her tablet so she could pass the time with email and social media.

  Lizzie flipped through pictures and sent Thanksgiving wishes to friends and family. She clicked on her favorite game and played a few rounds. I wonder why the timer hasn't gone off, she suddenly thought. Surely time is up, her scalp burning a bit. Lizzie jumped off the bed and walked into the bathroom. “Oh, no! I forgot to set the timer!” she said aloud to her reflection.

  She quickly turned on the shower and stripped down. Lizzie washed her hair thoroughly with the second bottle that had been inside the box. Not really one step.

  She jumped out and wrapped her hair up in a towel. Lizzie laid out her clothes and slathered on her moisturizer. She plugged in the hair dryer and unwrapped her hair. Blinking at her reflection, she leaned in close to the mirror. Did it look a little green? Maybe it's just because it's wet. Lizzie tried not to panic—maybe it was the lighting. She began to dry, fluffing at the roots and using her rounded brush to smooth different sections. The green became more prominent as her hair got drier. What am I going to do? Leave it to me to turn this into a disaster!

  Lizzie carefully secured the silk scarf she had wrapped around her hair. She was hoping her family would think she was trying out a new fashion. The look was rather dramatic. She had taken extra care with her makeup and put on some ornate chandelier earrings to help sell the get-up she was trying to pull off. Lizzie sighed and headed downstairs, hoping her family would be too wrapped up in the parade on television to notice as she left to help Amy with the family feast. They were all sitting in the living room glued to the TV. “I'm headed to Amy's—see y'all in a bit.” She turned to step into the hall but not before Sawyer caught a glimpse of her.

  “Hey, Mama, why do you have that cloth on your head?” he asked. The entire family turned to look. Lizzie felt her cheeks burn and confidence ebb.

  She stammered, “I . . . I . . . I'm trying out a new look,” she said, a bit alarmed at the flash of anger she saw in Bennett's face.

  “Um . . . Mama, I'm not sure that is a good look for you,” Dot said.

  “Dot, I think it best if we let your mother decide what looks good on her,” Aunt Dorothy patted Dot's leg in a firm warning while shooting Lizzie an inquiring look.

  Bennett got up and followed Lizzie out into the hall and into the kitchen. “Lizzie, I told you I did not want you to shave your head! Why do you always have to be so stubborn?”

  “I . . . I didn't!” Lizzie protested, tears forming in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

  “Then what’s with the crazy get-up, and why are you crying?” Without waiting for her to answer, he reached over and pulled off the scarf. His anger instantly turned to amusement. “Your hair! It's green!” he laughed gleefully.

  Lizzie tried to explain, “I was trying to get rid of my gray. I forgot to set the timer.” Bennett continued to laugh as Lizzie’s annoyance overcame her embarrassment, “Bennett, it is not funny!”

  “Oh, yes it is, and we’ll talk about this for years! This is almost as good as the Thanksgiving you got mashed potatoes all over you,” he said, trying to put on a straight face and failing miserably.

  “I suppose it is better to go with my grass-green hair and face the ridicule, then fear the scarf being yanked off my head,” Lizzie sighed.

  “Oh, you know that scarf would be too tempting to too many of our clan, best meet it head-on,” Bennett said and dissolved again into laughter which brought Aunt Dorothy and the children into the kitchen.

  “Oh, Mama!” Dot said.

  “Well, child, I guess we can safely say you should leave your hair to a professional,” Aunt Dorothy said.

  “Lesson learned. I will see you all in a few hours, and you can enjoy the jokes that will be made at my expense,” she said as she grabbed her purse and jacket. Lizzie left them all standing in the kitchen, watching her distinctively green head disappear out into the morning sunshine.

  Ten minutes later she sat for a moment in Amy and Scott's driveway and paused to gather her courage to walk in. She got out and walked slowly up to the door, trying the knob and hoping to slip in quietly. No luck, the door was secure. She rang the bell, hoping it would be Amy who would answer it. It was her niece, Faith.

  “Oh, Aunt Lizzie, what happened?” she exclaimed loudly. That brought the whole Hutchin's clan running to the door. She now faced her three nephews, and Amy and Scott. Their mouths dropped open at the sight of her.

  “Okay boys, back to what you are doing, and don't you dare say a word,” Amy ordered, whisking Lizzie in the door and into the kitchen, as Faith followed. Amy sat her in a chair. “You better start explaining so we can figure out how to fix this.” So Lizzie recounted her morning activity and mishap for both of them who, to their credit, did not laugh but gave her the sympathy and support she needed.

  “Mama, do you still do the books for that salon on Coleman?” asked Faith.

  “Yes, I can call Rosalie and see if she can give us some advice.”

  “Oh, please don't bother her on Thanksgiving; she is probably cooking!” interrupted Lizzie.

  “No worries there. She told me when she cut my hair last week that her family goes to a hotel buffet every year,” Amy replied, phone already to her ear. Faith and Lizzie tried to listen to the conversation with Rosalie, but all they could hear were Amy's comments back, “I see . . . that makes sense . . . I sure will . . . Happy Thanksgiving!” Amy hung up.

  “Well, I have good news and bad news, it seems it is fixable, but you will need to wait at least until Saturday. Rosalie said you need to give your hair a few days’ rest from the chemicals, and she will meet you before hours at seven-thirty Saturday morning and fix you right up,” she explained. “Oh, that is good news, and I don't really have to be anywhere the next few days.” Lizzie relaxed her shoulders. “No, but you will have to endure the rest of the family,” Faith said.

  “Oh, I will make it clear, any cracks about the hair means no Thanksgiving pie!” Amy laughed. Her eyes were smiling, but both Lizzie and Faith knew Amy meant what she said. She was a lioness when it came to the people she loved, and she loved Lizzie as a sister. Yes, green hair and all, Lizzie had so much to be thankful for.

  Chapter 10

  The hustle and bustle of the holidays were in full swing, but Lizzie was finding it hard to get in the spirit. Festive decorations adorned every lamppost in Mount Pleasant, and tree lots were springing up all over town. Normally, that got Lizzie going, but it was going to take more than decorations this year. The unseasonably warm weather did not help. It was seventy-eight degrees, and it was only eleven o'clock in the morning. Bennett was off at work, the kids were in school, and Aunt Dorothy was at the church, helping the Christmas committee finalize their plans for the decorations for the Christmas Eve and Christmas day services.

  Lizzie ran her fingers through her restored blonde, minus the gray, hair. She sat at the stoplight and let her thoughts run. Most things can be fixed and restored, but what about Bennett? Will he survive this cancer? She had tried to put it out of her mind. They were in a holding pattern, waiting to start chemo after Christmas. Every time she was forced to be still, like at this light, it crept into her thoughts. Lizzie felt driven to make this the most festive Christmas they had ever had. She could not shake the fear that it could be her last one with Bennett. The light changed, and she surged ahead. It always amazed her how heavy traffic could be on Highway 17, even in the middle of a weekday.

  She had spent the morning working at The Biscuit Box, had dropped the deposit to the bank and was now trying to squeeze in an hour of Christmas shopping before she had to be home to meet up with Sawyer when he got off th
e bus. She found a parking spot and consulted her list. She needed to visit the bookstore, a few of the clothing stores, and the sporting goods shop. She had ordered quite a few items on-line but still wanted to browse for a few more things.

  She stood in the rod and reel aisle in the sporting goods store and compared Sawyer's wish list with the items on display. Hmmm . . . Perhaps I should get Bennett to do this part; he’d know exactly what to get at Haddrell's.

  She came around the corner and found herself in the section with the exercise equipment. It was not just gray hair making her feel middle aged. It used to be she could eat anything and just go about her active life to keep her figure. Lately, her muscle tone was sagging south, and her belly was a bit rounder than she cared for. Another thing to work on . . . I need an exercise routine. She stood gawking at the treadmills when a salesperson walked by.

  “You can try them out you know,” the sales person said.

  “Oh, good to know,” Lizzie answered. She looked around; there was no one around. I think I will try it out. She put her purse and her packages down next to a sturdy looking model. She climbed up and looked around again, still alone. She pushed the start button and felt the belt move under her feet, very slowly, she pushed a button and the speed increased. She pushed again and all of a sudden she was moving at an alarming pace. Frantically she reached for the button to slow down and in her haste, pushed the up button again. She could not hang on, she flew off the end and landed on her tailbone on the hard tile floor. “Ouch,” she cried softly. She looked up a store clerk, and five fellow customers were looking down at her, several extending their hands to help and saying, “Are you all right?”