the third degree areas have to be grafted. The worst places are where her camisole melted andstuck to her skin.” Catherine remembered the day Lynda bought the bright red camisole. They’d been at Sunrise Shopping Center looking for a birthday present for Lynda’s best friend, Wendy. After wandering the mall for four hours, they’d left with a new pair of pants for Catherine, the camisole for Lynda, and nothing for Wendy.
“You can actually see the outline of her bra across her back where it protected her for awhile.”
“Does she know what happened?”
“She remembers everything up to being put in the ambulance. After that it’s bits and pieces. Now she’s drowsy and sick to her stomach from the pain medication, and drifts in and out of sleep so I never know what she’s seeing or hearing.”
Gene took a bite from the corner of his sandwich and then set it aside, too. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “How long do the doctors think she’ll be in the hospital?”
“Three to four weeks. She’s scheduled for her first grafting operation in a couple of days. They want to see how much of her back is going to heal on its own before they go in.”
“Where will they get the grafts?”
“Her head and her buttocks. She’ll have to put up with being bald for awhile and having her backside sore, but this way they won’t be creating scars by taking tissue from more exposed places.” At Gene’s encouragement, Catherine tried a bite of sandwich and almost gagged.
He gave up and put her sandwich with his. “Her beautiful hair…”
“It’s not so beautiful anymore,” Catherine said softly. “She lost most of it in the fire.”
“Will it grow back all right after the grafting?”
“Eventually. They don’t take the skin deep enough to affect the hair follicles. If she were a boy and went bald as a man you’d be able to see the scars from the surgery, but it won’t affect her.”
“Does Lynda know?”
“I know she’s heard me talking to the doctors, but I don’t know how much of it registered.” Catherine didn’t mind the barrage of questions. It was Gene’s way of coping with stress.
“How is Mom taking all of this?”
“She’s getting through it, but I’m worried about her. I finally had to ask a friend to come and get her last night. She was so tired she couldn’t walk straight.”
“At least you weren’t alone,” he said cryptically.
Gene took his big brother role seriously. He’d been her protector from the time she was six months old and a neighborhood dog tried to steal her bottle.
“Tom’s been here, Gene. He didn’t completely abandon us.”
“It just looks that way, huh?”
She would have to be more careful. Gene might be slow to anger, but he was slower still to forgive. “Actually, I’ve had more people wanting to help than I have things for them to do. I had Mom answer the messages on the machine at home and tell everyone that Lynda couldn’t have flowers or visitors but cards were okay. Brian volunteered to call some friends and have them call everyone they thought would want to know.”
“Brian?”
“Brian Winslow. The accident happened at his parents’ house at the lake. If it weren’t for him, Lynda would have been burned a lot worse.”
“All right, you’ve warned me about what to expect. When can I see her?”
“Now, if you want. She should be back in her room.”
“Is there anything else I should know? Anything I shouldn’t say or do?”
“Don’t try to con her. She knows how badly she’s burned.”
“She must be scared out of her mind.”
Catherine leaned into his shoulder. “Just like her mom.” Her cell phone interrupted them. “I’d better get that,” she said, and reached inside her purse. “It could be Tom.”
He stood and picked up their plates and coffee cups. “I’ll get rid of this stuff.”
“Would you mind going downstairs and seeing if Lynda really is back in her room?” She didn’t want him
“You can actually see the outline of her bra across her back where it protected her for awhile.”
“Does she know what happened?”
“She remembers everything up to being put in the ambulance. After that it’s bits and pieces. Now she’s drowsy and sick to her stomach from the pain medication, and drifts in and out of sleep so I never know what she’s seeing or hearing.”
Gene took a bite from the corner of his sandwich and then set it aside, too. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “How long do the doctors think she’ll be in the hospital?”
“Three to four weeks. She’s scheduled for her first grafting operation in a couple of days. They want to see how much of her back is going to heal on its own before they go in.”
“Where will they get the grafts?”
“Her head and her buttocks. She’ll have to put up with being bald for awhile and having her backside sore, but this way they won’t be creating scars by taking tissue from more exposed places.” At Gene’s encouragement, Catherine tried a bite of sandwich and almost gagged.
He gave up and put her sandwich with his. “Her beautiful hair…”
“It’s not so beautiful anymore,” Catherine said softly. “She lost most of it in the fire.”
“Will it grow back all right after the grafting?”
“Eventually. They don’t take the skin deep enough to affect the hair follicles. If she were a boy and went bald as a man you’d be able to see the scars from the surgery, but it won’t affect her.”
“Does Lynda know?”
“I know she’s heard me talking to the doctors, but I don’t know how much of it registered.” Catherine didn’t mind the barrage of questions. It was Gene’s way of coping with stress.
“How is Mom taking all of this?”
“She’s getting through it, but I’m worried about her. I finally had to ask a friend to come and get her last night. She was so tired she couldn’t walk straight.”
“At least you weren’t alone,” he said cryptically.
Gene took his big brother role seriously. He’d been her protector from the time she was six months old and a neighborhood dog tried to steal her bottle.
“Tom’s been here, Gene. He didn’t completely abandon us.”
“It just looks that way, huh?”
She would have to be more careful. Gene might be slow to anger, but he was slower still to forgive. “Actually, I’ve had more people wanting to help than I have things for them to do. I had Mom answer the messages on the machine at home and tell everyone that Lynda couldn’t have flowers or visitors but cards were okay. Brian volunteered to call some friends and have them call everyone they thought would want to know.”
“Brian?”
“Brian Winslow. The accident happened at his parents’ house at the lake. If it weren’t for him, Lynda would have been burned a lot worse.”
“All right, you’ve warned me about what to expect. When can I see her?”
“Now, if you want. She should be back in her room.”
“Is there anything else I should know? Anything I shouldn’t say or do?”
“Don’t try to con her. She knows how badly she’s burned.”
“She must be scared out of her mind.”
Catherine leaned into his shoulder. “Just like her mom.” Her cell phone interrupted them. “I’d better get that,” she said, and reached inside her purse. “It could be Tom.”
He stood and picked up their plates and coffee cups. “I’ll get rid of this stuff.”
“Would you mind going downstairs and seeing if Lynda really is back in her room?” She didn’t want him
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