Beautiful in My Eyes (12 page)

Dad takes me to dinner, and then to the Metropolitan Opera to see
The Phantom of the Opera,
and though I am enjoying the play, a small part of me feels as ugly and lost as the Phantom and I empathize with the character.

“Are you all right?” Dad asks me on the way back to the hotel.

I smile. “Yes, I’m just a little tired.” It isn’t a lie really. I
am
tired. Tired of trying not to think about the missing hair and the bare patch of skin, a patch that seems to be growing
more with each passing minute. I can no longer ignore it, and I suddenly want to be home with Julian, wrapped in his arms. I need to know my hair loss doesn't matter, that his love for me is unconditional. I look at
Dad,
unable to hold the tears back any longer.

“Giselle, honey, what’s wrong?”

I swallow hard. “Dad, for the past little while, I have been slowly losing my hair, and this morning . . . I found a large clump of hair on my pillow. And it's getting worse.”

“Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.” His eyes move to my hair. “There has to be something you can do to stop it.”

“I researched it. It's a condition called Alopecia. There are things a doctor can prescribe, but mine is severe, and in most cases it progressively gets worse.” I pause, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Oh, Dad, I'm so afraid of what Julian will think. He has always loved my hair. I'm sure if he had known in Scotland that the woman he intended to marry would eventually lose all of her hair, he probably would have had second thoughts about the decision.” Shaking my head, I wipe my eyes. “I just don't know what to do.”

“Giselle, Julian loves you more than life itself and this is not going to matter to him. He didn't fall in love with you because of your hair. He loves
you
, and that will never change.”

“I know. At least I hope so. I'm just so worried, not only about what
he
will think, but everyone else, too.”

“No one else matters. I promise you, honey, it will be okay.”

“I'm sorry, Dad, and I don't mean to sound like a child, but I just want to go home. I really need Julian right now.”

“I understand, and don't be sorry. We've had a wonderful time together.”

When we reach the hotel, Dad calls the airport and changes our return flight to tomorrow morning. When he is done, he sits next to me and takes my hand.

“Dad.” My voice breaks. “Would you hold me?”

“You don't even have to ask.” I close my eyes, finding comfort in my father's embrace. After a while, I slowly begin to relax and soon feel myself drifting off.

“I guess I should go to bed now. I'm going to try and get in to see a doctor tomorrow. Slim chance getting an appointment so soon, I know. But I have to do something.”

“I hope you can. Goodnight, honey.” He kisses my forehead.

“Goodnight, Dad. And thank you.”

When I awaken the next morning, the bald spot has grown and another has joined it, and I cry as I collect the hair from my pillow.
It's happening so fast, God
.
How can it be happening so fast?

I call a dermatologist, elated that I can get in. I can't get back fast enough.

I spend the entire flight home, praying Julian will understand and be there for me. If nothing works to stop my hair from falling out, I hope he can live with it.

Because I don't know if I can.
And I don't know what I will do if he can't.

Chapter 12

The beauty
seen,
is partly in him who sees it.

Christian
Nevell
Bovee

I
am grateful Julian isn’t home when I arrive because it gives me more time to think about my situation. Dad had taken me straight from the airport to my appointment. The doctor called in a couple of prescriptions for me and I picked them up right after the appointment. He told me my case was so severe, the creams may not work, but I'm trying to be positive. I can't allow myself to do anything less.

When I get back, I unpack and put my things away, as well as the things I bought for Julian and Aidan while I waited for him. His briefcase is gone so he must be at the bookstore. I take a moment to admire the beautiful gowns
before hanging them up and smile as I think of Dad and how happy he was to buy them for me. Cassie will definitely be lavished and pampered by her new husband.

I am glad I had the chance to spend that time with Dad, and I wish we hadn’t had to cut our trip so short. Before dropping me off, he had stood for a moment holding me and assuring me things will be all right.

Having finished putting everything away, I go down to the kitchen to make myself a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it will help me relax. But anxiousness continues to press at my insides. Here I am, a twenty-three-year-old woman, having to contemplate losing my hair. Heaving a sorrow
ful sigh, I press my head in my
hands and will the tears to stay away. I don’t want Julian to see me with red eyes because it would make things worse. How, I don’t know.

I jump at the sound of the front door opening. Julian is whistling as he walks down the hallway. The familiar sound brings those dreaded tears to my eyes. I stand and try to smile as he enters the kitchen.

“Giselle! Hey!
Wha
' are ye . . .”

The moment the first tear slips down my cheek, a torrent follows and in a flash, I am in his arms, my face pressed against his warm chest.

“
Wha
' is it,
darlin
'?”

I am unable to answer as heart-wrenching sobs tear through me.

“
Shhh
, tis all right, honey.”

“Keep holding me, Julian. Please.”

Julian scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the living room. He sits down on the sofa and cradles me on his lap. He holds me in silence, but I can feel his heart pounding madly. I finally draw back a little and look into his blue eyes.

“Talk ta me,
darlin
'. Ye
hav
' got me scared.”

“I'm sorry.”

He wipes my tears with gentle hands as his own eyes fill. “Tell me, honey.”

How?
There are no words I can say that will make this any easier. All I can do is show him. I slowly pull the pins from my hair, and as I do, another small lock of hair falls out.

Julian's eyes widen. “Oh, Giselle! Oh, honey!”

“It started months ago, but the past couple of days . . . Oh, Julian, I'm so sorry.” I try to look away, but he catches my chin, forcing me to meet his tear-filled gaze.

“Why are ye sorry? Ye
hav
'
nothin
' ta apologize for.”

“But I know how much you love . . .”

“I love
ye
,” he says, cutting off my words. “I love
ye
an'
everythin
'
aboot
ye. Do ye thin'
tha
' will change because o this?” He lightly caresses the bare spot that is now visible on
the front of my scalp. “Tis no
yer
hair
tha
' makes ye beautiful,
darlin
'. I fell in love with ye for
who
ye are. I love ye with every fiber o ma
bein
', and ma love only grows with each day
tha
' passes.”

“But . . . how can you say that? I'm losing it all. By the end of the week, at this rate, it will all be gone. I saw a doctor and he gave me some things to try, but . . . I don't think they will work. How will you be able to look at me? I can barely look at my reflection now.” I pause, my lips trembling. “Julian, I don't want you to be ashamed or embarrassed to be seen with me. I can buy a wig and . . . He presses a finger to my lips.

“Listen ta me,
darlin
'.
Yer
hair
doesnae
make you beautiful. Aye, I
hav
'
alwa's
loved it, but losing it
doesnae
diminish
yer
beauty, no even a wee bit. Tis ye
tha
' I love.”