Truly, Madly, Deeply

by Karen Kingsbury

  Tommy was so close, their knees touched. She could feel his heartbeat in his fingers, smell the minty fresh of his breath on her face. He was holding her up, making good on his promise.

  The song changed and this time it was “Lord, I Need You.” And every word mixed with Annalee’s deepest thoughts. I do need you, Lord. I need you every hour of this journey. Stay with me, please, Lord. Help me.

  Her dad cut one section—same as her mother. Then he too laid it on the floor. Once more he touched her face. “I love you, baby girl.”

  Annalee could barely see through her tears. “Love you, Daddy.”

  Austin was next. Her younger brother looked uncomfortable, like he was sick to his stomach at the thought of taking scissors to Annalee’s hair. But he came, anyway. This was what Annalee wanted and Austin wasn’t going to back down from that. Clearly.

  He stood next to Tommy and grinned at her. “I keep thinking of the time we went camping. Just the family. You were, I don’t know, maybe eight years old.” His eyes were dry, but the sadness there could fill an ocean. “We found that stick covered in sap. Like… dripping with sap, remember?”

  Annalee’s own laugh caught her off guard. She nodded. “What were we thinking?”

  “You wanted to be a forest princess. Something like that.” He shrugged. “I did what you asked. I wrapped your hair round the stick until it was poking out from either side of the top of your head.” His laughter faded. “Dad had to take his pocketknife and cut the stick out. Right?” He looked at their parents, standing together a few feet away.

  “It was like doing surgery.” A faraway look came over her father’s face. “You thought you’d have to stay home from school for a year.”

  Annalee could still see herself looking in the mirror once the stick was finally out. “I lost a lot of hair. But just from one side. No one ever noticed.”

  Austin took the scissors from their dad. Then he lowered his voice so only Annalee and maybe Tommy could hear. “It kills me to cut your hair, Annalee. You have the prettiest hair of any girl I know.”

  Again Annalee’s tears came. She closed her eyes. The strength she needed couldn’t come from any human. Not in light of her brother’s words. Help me, Lord. So much love around me, but so much sadness. Please, help me.

  Everyone sang as the song changed. This one was about God being the king of everything. Even the hearts of His people. Austin breathed in sharp through his nose. Like he was trying to find the strength to voice his prayer. “Dear Jesus, I know You love my sister. Even more than I do.” He sniffed. “God, she’s the nicest person I know. And I believe with everything in me that she has much to do on this earth for the next hundred years. At least.”

  Annalee felt a smile tug at her lips. She loved her brother so much.

  “So please”—Austin gritted his teeth—“kill off this cancer. Every cell of it. So that Annalee never, ever has to go through this again.” He cut one section of her hair and set it on the ground. Then he handed the scissors to their uncle Roger, Lily’s husband.

  The music continued to fill the room, reminding them with one song after another that God was sovereign. He was here and He was carrying Annalee. Holding her, no matter what happened. While Uncle Roger cut three areas from Annalee’s hair, he told a story about getting together for a day at Lake Monroe, and how Annalee and her friends had used sticks to make Pippi Longstocking braids. “Those sticks stuck straight out to the sides of your head.” He chuckled. “And even then your hair was beautiful.”

  “Sticks again.” Annalee laughed. The respite from crying felt wonderful. “Seems to be a theme.”

  The sadness lifted and against the backdrop of a song about healing from heaven, Annalee took a deep breath. She looked into Tommy’s eyes and felt hope fill her heart. Yes. She could get through this. No girl had ever been surrounded by so much love.

  Tommy whispered close to her face. “Remind me to get you a box of sticks later.”

  Bit by bit, section by section, her head felt lighter. Colder. Next came Tommy’s parents. His dad did a few cuts and prayed the entire time for God to bring good out of this situation. “We believe in Romans 8:28, Father. You make all things work to the good for those who love You.”

  Tommy’s mom took the scissors and with great care she cut a section from the side of Annalee’s face. “Your beauty, Annalee, comes from inside you. God has made you one in a million, and so your beauty will continue to shine till you’re old and gray.” She paused. “But your hair matters. I’m honored you would ask me to be here today. And one day—when you’re better and your hair grows back—I’ll be here to celebrate that, too.”

  Her prayer was one of gratitude, thanking God for the healing ahead and for the things Annalee had yet to do. The ways she would change the world in years to come.

  Her friends were next. They worked together, reminding Annalee of the time they all used food coloring to dye their hair blue for their school’s spirit day. “I thought we’d have blue hair forever.” Carly laughed. “But nothing could ruin that beautiful blond color of yours.”

  Iris said something that touched Annalee to the core. “Your hair will still be there.” She wiped at the tears on her cheeks and cut a part of what remained of Annalee’s hair. “Still that same pretty color. Only now it’ll be shorter. And it will live just beneath the surface. Because life is like that sometimes.”

  Finally it was Tommy’s turn.

  He released her fingers and stood just in front of her. Then with his dry eyes lost in hers, he took her face in his hands. “Remember that first day in the school’s theater room?”

  “Yes.” Everyone else seemed to fade away. “You… were looking at me.” Her voice was steady. “I thought you were the cutest boy I’d ever seen.”

  Tommy smiled. “I thought I was dreaming. Because… a girl as beautiful as you didn’t just show up on the first day of freshman year.” He paused. “And every one of my friends thought you had the prettiest hair of any girl they’d ever seen. So pretty.” He ran his hands over what remained of it. “But I have to tell you something. Something I never told you before.”

  Annalee held her breath. She had no idea what was coming.

  Tommy put his hands on her face again. “For me, it was never your hair, Annalee.” He looked all the way to her soul. “It was your eyes.” He kissed her forehead. “It was always your eyes.”

  And suddenly—for the first time since the haircutting began—Annalee felt the sadness lift. Yes, she was losing her hair. The image she’d come to expect every morning in the mirror would be different now. Maybe forever.

  But nothing could touch the thing Tommy loved most about her. The eyes that showed her family and friends and all the world her love and joy, her peace and patience. Her kindness, gentleness, thoughtfulness and faithfulness. Cancer could make her sick and tired and broken. It could even leave her bald.

  But it couldn’t touch her eyes—the windows to her soul.

  As the hour played out, as Aunt Lily shaved Annalee’s head and as her hair was taken to a waiting trash bag… as the music stopped and the praying ended and people left the house, Annalee knew two things with all her heart. She was going to fight this cancer.

  And she had never loved Tommy Baxter more.

  The one who—from the beginning—had looked right past her hair and straight to her heart.

  From the very first time their eyes met.

  15

  For Reagan, life outside Northside High felt like it was crumbling a little more each day. But here inside the brick walls of her favorite campus, Reagan felt peace. Especially this afternoon.

  The last hour of school today would be the student clothing drive—the one Annalee had set up at the start of the school year. The items would be donated to an Indianapolis safe house for sex-trafficking victims. Donna Miller was going to be here, too—since Annalee couldn’t.

  It was the middle of October and Annalee was in the hospital again. But she was suppose
d to come home soon. Her doctor had said this time she would need a few weeks to recoup from the chemo and steroids. Which was why in addition to clothing, today the students at Northside were each bringing letters or cards for Annalee. Something to encourage her.

  The clothing drive figured to be the one bright light today, at least for Reagan.

  Things at home were still strained, with Tommy doing IMPD ride-alongs every Saturday afternoon. So great was the tension, that when school got out today Reagan was going to meet Luke for coffee. So they could talk through what they hadn’t been able to work out at home regarding the situation.

  Until then, Reagan was more than happy to be here at Northside, setting up for the event. None of the Millers knew about the cards and letters. Reagan could hardly wait to see Donna’s reaction. Yes, the Northside community was loving the Miller family through Annalee’s cancer. Reagan had passed a sign-up sheet around for students and their parents to bring the Millers meals throughout the week.

  On top of that, Reagan had helped the school set up a GoFundMe account and already families at Northside had donated twenty thousand dollars toward Annalee’s medical expenses.

  Reagan was setting up the last of six tables when Donna walked up and set her purse against the wall. “I’m ready.” She smiled, but her eyes still looked weary. “Annalee’s so glad I’m here.”

  An ache cut through Reagan as she hugged her friend. Tommy’s sweet girlfriend would’ve done anything to be here for the clothing drive she had arranged. Her absence was further proof of how sick she was. Reagan sat down in one of the folding chairs behind the long table. “How’s she feeling?”

  “She’s still vomiting.” Donna took the seat beside her. “Her nausea is crippling. She can barely open her eyes some days. And she’s lost more weight. Every day she looks a little thinner. But for the past hour she’s been holding down liquids.” Donna folded her hands on the table. “We’re praying for victories along the way. That is for sure one of them.”

  The bell rang and Reagan smiled to herself. Donna was about to experience another victory. Before a minute passed, the doors pushed open and a stream of students entered the auditorium. Each of them carried a bag of clothes and a few dragged overfull black bags behind them.

  This message from the Northside students was clear—if Annalee wanted used clothing to support victims of sex trafficking, then that’s what she would get. The students would do anything to help her feel better. To let her know they cared.

  The teens dropped the clothes off at one of the six tables, then they made their way to Donna Miller.

  “Here.” A senior girl handed a pale yellow envelope to Donna. “This is for Annalee. Tell her I’m praying for her every day. And tell her we miss her.”

  “Thank you.” Donna smiled. “This is the nicest thing. She’ll love it.”

  The stream of students bearing encouragement for Annalee had only just begun. Next came three freshman boys. Each of them had a folded piece of paper for Donna. “We don’t know her that well. But we are believing she’ll get better superfast,” one of them said.

  By then, students were lined up for the chance to talk to Donna. A look of astonishment shone on her face. She cast a quick glance at Reagan. “You… you knew about this?”

  “It was their idea.” Reagan grinned.

  And still the stream continued. One after another the students approached Donna and gave her something for Annalee. At the end of the hour, more than a hundred bags of clothes sat piled high on the tables. And someone had run to get Donna a box for the cards and letters. When the final bell rang, encouragements for Annalee spilled over the cardboard edges.

  Each of the parent volunteers greeted Donna and wished Annalee the best. “We’re praying at our house,” one of the women said. “Every evening before bed.”

  When the room was empty, Donna sat back down and pulled the box close. Almost like she was hugging it. She turned teary eyes to Reagan. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I told you… it was the students. A few of Annalee’s friends spread the word and everyone was on board.” She reached out and covered Donna’s hand with her own. “They love her. We all do.”

  “And the clothes…” Donna shook her head. “So many bags.”

  The drive had netted ten times what they had hoped to collect. Already Principal Larson had asked the parent volunteers if they’d come back to sort through the bags. Some clothing could then be set apart for the safe house. The rest could be sold and the proceeds given to supply other needs for the residents.

  “Annalee won’t believe it.” Donna shook her head. She ran her hand over the letters and cards. “The coming week will be hard. She’s so tired and her immune system is low. She can’t go to school.”

  “But she’ll have all week to read words from her classmates.”

  “Exactly.” Donna lifted the box and walked with Reagan to the door. “She’ll have a scan in the next few weeks. To see if the treatment is working.” A shadow fell over Donna’s eyes. “So much depends on the results.”

  “I’ll come by the house this next week to see her.” Reagan tried not to think about Annalee having another scan. “Things will be better. They will.”

  “I pray for that every hour.”

  Reagan helped Donna get the box into the backseat of her car. Then Reagan headed to the coffee shop.

  Luke was waiting for her.

  This was the first time they’d taken a moment away from home to talk since Tommy brought up the idea of being a police officer. Luke had already ordered Reagan her favorite vanilla latte. He smiled and Reagan felt herself relax. Maybe he was seeing things her way, after all. They spent the first few minutes talking about his current case, and then Reagan updated him on Annalee and the school clothing drive.

  Finally, Luke exhaled and leveled kind eyes at her. “We can’t keep on like this. Passing in the kitchen, going to sleep at different times.” He gave a slight shrug. “You’re blaming me for something Tommy has decided. This… change of direction. It’s all him.”

  Her frustration rose quickly, and Reagan didn’t think to keep her tone in check. “You told him about the ride-along program, Luke. You set it up for him.”

  He folded his hands on the table and leaned closer. “Please… talk quieter.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Don’t you see, Luke? You met with Mike Lockwood and a few days later Tommy was in the passenger seat of a cop car.”

  “Yes. I did.” Luke worked the muscles in his jaw. “But Tommy had already looked into the department’s ride-along program. He told me that.”

  “Oh. He… didn’t tell me.” Reagan needed a minute. She took a sip of her coffee. “Thanks for the latte, by the way.”

  “Of course.” Luke’s expression softened. “This isn’t a battle between me and you.” He hesitated. “Have you talked to Tommy? Really talked to him? Since he told us?”

  “No.” A ribbon of guilt wrapped itself around Reagan’s heart. “Have you?”

  “Yes.” Luke leaned back. “I asked him why he wanted to be a police officer. Something he didn’t tell us that first night.”

  Guilt mixed with her fear. “What… did he tell you?”

  “Remember that boy in third grade? The one with braces on his legs?”

  Of course she remembered. “Tommy stuck up for him at recess. Took down the bully who tripped the poor boy.”

  “Exactly.” Luke crossed his arms. “Has it ever occurred to you that just maybe Tommy was born to do police work?”

  She held her breath. Tommy was too young to know what he wanted. He hadn’t finished with a 4.0 GPA and the highest test scores in the city so that after graduation he could go to one of the nation’s top universities. God clearly wanted him to pursue higher education. The doctor and lawyer route. Also being a cop was dangerous and—

  A dozen more rebuttals fought for position in Reagan’s mind. But she couldn’t say any of them.

  Instead she could see Tom
my sitting in the principal’s office that third-grade year explaining his position. His little voice and big conviction. “I’m sorry, sir,” Tommy had said. “But someone had to help Kevin.”

  And suddenly the truth came over her like rain. How come she hadn’t remembered that before? Not just the time in third grade, but a line of memories took their place in her mind. Each of them involving Tommy standing up for someone.

  Reagan covered her eyes with both hands. Luke was right. Tommy had always helped people. He was wired that way from the time he was a child. With the realization came a regret like nothing Reagan had felt in a long time. She lowered her hands and looked at Luke. “You’re right.” She shook her head. “I… forgot about that.”

  “I wondered.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re not really angry at him, anyway.”

  The feel of his skin against hers was something she had missed. More than she knew. Luke was right about this, too. Of course she wasn’t angry at Tommy. How could she be upset with him for wanting to be a police officer? That didn’t even make sense. “I can’t believe how I treated him.”

  Luke studied her. “You two need to talk. That’s all.”

  “But I still feel…” She was shaking now. “Couldn’t he help people in a hospital? Or in a court of law?”

  “You’re scared.” Compassion filled Luke’s expression. “You’re afraid, Reagan. That’s all.”

  Of course that was it. Ever since Tommy had told them his decision, fear had practically suffocated her. “You think that’s it? Fear made me get angry with him?”

  Luke waited a moment before responding. “Tell me, sweetheart. How have you spent your free time these last few weeks?” His smile was gentle. “I think I know… but tell me.”

  Reagan withdrew her hand and sat back in the wooden chair. “I knew you caught me that one day.” She felt sick again. “Every Google search led to another. I… came across a fallen officers page. All the fallen police as far back as you could go. Men and women who had been shot to death or killed in pursuit of a suspect. Guys in their forties who had dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of training. Officers dying from 9/11-related illnesses—like Ashley told us about.”