A Family Worth Fighting For (The Worthy Series Book 3)

by S. M. Smith

  A Family Worth Fighting For

  S. M. Smith

  Copyright © 2015 Sarah Smith

  Cover design by Paper and Sage Design

  All rights reserved. This book may not be used or reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form without permission from the author except where permitted by law. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your respect and cooperation are greatly appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION (R). Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved

  ISBN-13: 978-1508429234

  ISBN-10: 1508429235

  For my wild, and crazy family-

  Thank you for helping me redefine what a real family should be and for fighting with, but mostly for each other.

  Chapter One

  ~Jessie~

  The steady beep of the heart monitor is really starting to get on my nerves. But in all fairness, getting on my nerves isn’t a difficult challenge lately. I blame the hormones.

  “Hey, gorgeous. How are you feeling?” My very tired, but very hot husband enters my hospital room with a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper and a bag of trail mix.

  “Is it possible to mute this dumb machine?”

  He reaches over and cups my cheek. His hand is cool and feels good on my warm face, instantly calming me down.

  “A little anxious are we?”

  I sigh. Anxious doesn’t even begin to explain it.

  In the last year and a half, we found out my chances of getting pregnant were limited to five years, got married, vacationed in Hawaii, came back to find out a cyst on my ovaries was getting too big for my doctor’s liking, had one surgery, more ultrasounds, have taken numerous hormone pills, taken countless ovulation tests and a handful of pregnancy tests, found a property to open a second photography studio, helped my top photographer and his amazing photo editor of a wife move almost two hours away, watched my best friend’s life turn upside down and found out that one ovary has developed cancerous cells, resulting in a second surgery. Only this time, my doctor had to remove the rouge ovary, narrowing my chances of getting pregnant even further. The odds of my imaginary blonde haired, green eyed babies becoming a reality is dwindling down further and further each day. No, I’m not anxious at all.

  “I’m sorry. Has the doctor came back yet? I didn’t sleep through her visit have I?” I ask.

  “No, she came out right after your surgery to let me know that everything went smoothly, but said she had to get back in for an emergency delivery. She said she would check in with us as soon as she could.” He gives me a sympathetic look, knowing that I’ll most likely focus on the fact that someone else’s dream is coming true as we speak. He’s only partially right; I’m trying really hard not to focus on that.

  “So I found a couple of more houses. Do you want to see them now?” he asks, successfully distracting me.

  Oh yeah, houses. Stephen’s partnership at the firm came through a few months ago and his promotional bonus turned out to be a hefty chunk of change. We immediately found a bank who could offer the best interest rates and put a good portion of his bonus aside so that we could find and buy our dream home.

  “Sure,” I say, although houses really aren’t the top of my priority list right now. But I can’t argue that they don’t make a good distraction.

  Stephen climbs into bed with me, careful not to pull my IV out. He wraps one arm around me so that I can snuggle into his shoulder as he pulls up my iPad. I lay my head against him and inhale his fresh, clean scent, feeling a gentle sleepy pull as I get comfortable.

  “So I found four I wanted you to see. You can veto any of them, though remember we can also look into renovating anything you don’t like.”

  He gives me the run down on the first house and pulls up the pictures. It’s a pretty house, but the school district isn’t ideal. I don’t veto it entirely, agreeing to at least tour it and check out the neighborhood. The second house I veto after finding out it is only three bedrooms with one bathroom. If there was only one thing I needed to learn about the boy I’ve known most of my life, it was that he needs his own bathroom. Man oh man, can he stink one up fast!

  After reviewing and agreeing to tour the third and fourth houses, we start browsing other listings together. We find two more that we’d like to look at so Stephen calls our realtor to schedule a tour of houses, giving her the MLS list numbers that we’d like to look at. He hangs up just as our parents walk in.

  “Hey, guys,” Stephen’s father, Mark, says behind a lovely bouquet of lilies. Stephen gets up, leaving a warm spot on my pillow that I can’t help but want to melt into. He hugs his father and shakes my dad’s hand. His mother, Janine, sets a bag of sugar free chocolates on the table beside my bed and gives me a quick hug.

  “How are you holding up, sweetie?” she asks.

  “I’m okay. We haven’t heard from the doctor yet,” I say, knowing that’s the main thing they want to know. “But we’ve found a few houses we are going to look at next week,” I add, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

  “That’s great, honey.” My dad gives me an encouraging smile before taking up a seat next to the window.

  The room quickly fills up with awkward anticipation and I’m none too relieved when Dr. Graham knocks on the door. She looks like she could have been running a marathon by the flush color in her cheeks and frizzy state of her dark hair.

  “Hey, guys, sorry for the delay.” She makes eye contact with and smiles at everyone in the room, all too familiar with our entourage at this point. “I wasn’t anticipating needing to be back in the ER so quickly. I apologize for keeping you waiting. So Jessie, on a scale of one to ten, how’s your pain right now?”

  “About a five. I feel more sore than anything,” I say, trying to adjust on the bed. A sharp pain shoots through me, making me wince. I see Stephen flinch as he fights the urge to help me. He learned the hard way from my last surgery that I would ask for his help when I really need it. I truly appreciate his desire to help and I wasn’t trying to be stubborn, but I needed to deal with the pain on my own terms. He flashes me an apologetic grin as I nod to him now.

  “Make that about a six.”

  Dr. Graham gives me a kind grin as she probably expected I may have been downplaying it a bit.

  “I’ll have the nurse bring in something for that in a few minutes,” she says, moving to the side of my bed so that she can address all of us. “Okay, so the surgery went exceptionally well. We were able to remove the ovary and believe we caught it before the cells could spread. Pre-op ultrasound shows a healthy looking right ovary, which is great news.”

  I hear a “praise Jesus” from a couple members of our little group.

  “Oh, yes.” She grins as she pauses and looks down at the tablet in her hand, tapping away at a few different things before turning to me and continuing.

  “Like we already talked about, I want to adjust your medication and see you back in a month. As of right now, as long as your BP stays strong over the next couple of hours, I don’t see any reason why I can’t discharge you this evening. But only if you promise to come back in if you feel dizzy, nauseous or faint.” She turns to Stephen. “If you notice the slightest change in her skin color, a fever or swelling or redness around the incision sight, I need you to call the nurses’ line immediately. I’m on call this evening, so they can page me and have me meet you in the ER. I really don�
��t foresee anything to come up, though. I couldn’t be more pleased with how well things went, but I want you to keep a close eye on her nevertheless.”

  Stephen nods his agreement as he stands and takes up post by my side again.

  “You said you might have a better understanding of our chances of getting pregnant after the surgery. Were you able to determine anything?” he asks, clearly trying, but failing at being patient. She gives him a hopeful grin though and breathing starts to become a little difficult for a second for me.

  “I feel confident in saying that we haven’t really decreased your chances all that much. I can’t give you specific numbers, but with the regimen we outlined pre-op and keeping a close eye on the results, I really feel that the chances are still very much in your favor.”

  You can hear the air being inhaled all throughout the room. Stephen squeezes my hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently. I look up to see the hope in his glossy eyes. A quick look around the room shows three more relieved faces. She’s happy with the results; I think it’s safe to say we will all choose to be as well.

  “Thank you, Dr. Graham,” my dad says from his lonely spot by the window, his voice cracking.

  “You’re all very welcome.” She gives me another genuine smile once again before turning towards the door. She stops just before she reaches it. “If you need anything, let the nurse know and we’ll do our best to take care of it. You have my office and cell numbers should you have any questions.”

  Everyone moves at once as she steps out of the room, and I’m engulfed in hugs from everyone. I feel tears fall down my cheek and gentle hands wipe them away. Stephen pulls me against him as he sits beside me and we both just let the tears fall for a few minutes as we take in everything the doctor just said.

  I’m cancer free, as far as she could tell, and I’m still in the running to become a mom. I didn’t realize how much I was anticipating Dr. Graham giving worse news until I feel Stephen’s tight grip on me and his soft murmurs of thankful prayers. I sink further into his embrace as relief and my own gratefulness flow through me.

  A knock on the door has us looking up to find a sweet looking older nurse pushing in a cart with a laptop and locked drawer.

  “Mrs. Cahill, Dr. Graham said you were having some pain. I’m here to hopefully relieve some of it,” she says giving me a warm smile. She does her security check on my medical records, takes my temperature and checks my blood pressure before she unlocks her drawer of goodies, takes out two extra-extra strength Ibuprofen and hands them to me. Janine swoops in handing me a cup of water and I take the two pills.

  “Dr. Graham says you can have all the fluids you’d like and some soft foods. Would you like me to have some broth brought up for you?”

  “Yes, please,” Stephen responds for me. I narrow my eyes at him and he gives me a don’t-argue-with-me look that I submit to. I feel the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on today start to take its toll as the nurse exits the room. I lay my head against his shoulder again, letting my eyelids slip. I reopen them quickly, catching sympathetic glances from all over.

  “I think we’re going to grab some lunch,” Janine says, picking up her purse and pulling on Mark’s arm.

  “I think I’ll join you.” My dad gets up and leans over Stephen to kiss my forehead. He pats Stephen’s shoulder as they exchange grateful looks. “Can we bring you kids anything?”

  “Mmm…some cheddar broccoli soup sounds really good.” Stephen gives me a surprised look, before a playful grin grows across his face.

  “Yeah?” he asks. I nod and he chuckles at me. “You continue to surprise me Mrs. Cahill. Make that two, if you don’t mind?” he asks my father.

  “Of course. We’ll be back in an hour or so. You two get some rest.” Dad pats his shoulder again before joining Mark and Janine.

  ***

  I wake to the sound of rustling plastic bags and a chatty whisper unique to only my best friend and business partner, Daphne.

  “And we’ll still get to have babies?” Daphne’s voice strains to keep at a whisper volume.

  “Well, Jessie and I will still get to have babies. You need to worry about—“

  “Hey, darlin’.” Daphne interrupts Stephen when she sees me open my eyes. “I brought you a decaf peppermint latte, but Mr. Hall Monitor over here says you can’t have it yet.” She rolls her eyes when she looks back over at Stephen.

  “Your soup just got here. They had to get back on the road, but your dad asked that we call him when we get home.”

  Stephen sets the bowl of soup on the stand and pushes it up to me so that I can sit up and eat, before settling into a chair next to me with his own bowl. I take in a spoonful of the creamy soup and let it warm me from the inside out. Daphne wraps her hands around a venti latte that has my name written on it, literally. I eye it longingly and she grins mischievously.

  “Decaf?” I ask. She nods. I see Stephen’s spoon stop mid bite in my peripheral vision and ignore it.

  “Oh, go ahead,” he says before I can start pouting.

  Daphne springs up and out of her seat, miraculously without spilling a drop. She hands me the warm cup and I inhale the minty goodness before taking a sip.

  “Mmm. You are a very good best friend.”

  Stephen scoffs from his seat beside me.

  “I think so too.” Daphne flashes her best southern belle smile before taking up her seat again. “So no work for you for at least two weeks.”

  “No, I just can’t be on my feet too much for the next two weeks. I can still work.” I correct her.

  “You and I both know that if I allow you to get within two feet of a camera, you’ll be all over the place trying to get a good shot. No working for you.” She gives me a stern look.

  “For once, I agree with her,” Stephen says, getting up to throw away his bowl. He makes himself busy putting the lid back on my bowl of soup and moving the stand out of the way so that he can climb back in the bed with me.

  “I can edit. And I can do viewings. I can still work. I promise I won’t overdo it.” I’m not sure either of them know how much I need to work right now. I can’t sit at home and think about all the possible “what ifs” and worst case scenarios.

  They both give me leery looks but Daphne finally agrees.

  “Okay, I’ll let you come back on Thursday. But know I’m going to keep a very close eye on you.” She points her finger and narrows an eye at me so that she looks like my grandma when she used to get onto me for being late for dinner.

  Another knock at the door is the sweet nurse again.

  “Mrs. Cahill, the doctor would like you to try to stand up and even walk if you’re feeling up to it.”

  Stephen and Daphne both stand at the same time to help me up.

  “Daph, we got this. You don’t have to hang out here. We should be able to go home soon, right?” Stephen asks the nurse.

  “Doc says if she can walk without too much pain she can be released within the hour,” the nurse says courteously as she disconnects me from the IV and heart monitor. The back ground noise finally dies and I couldn’t be more thankful for the lack of incessant beeping.

  “Okay.” Daphne checks her watch. “I have to be a responsible adult anyway. I’ll call you later. And I won’t see you at the office til Thursday. Unless Doc says she needs to rest up some more?” She looks hopefully at the nurse, who just chuckles.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Doc says she’s clear for restricted work on Thursday.”

  Daphne looks irritatingly at the nurse before rolling her eyes at me. “Fine. I’ll see you Thursday at eight a.m. then. But not a second sooner.” She whirls around and stomps off.

  “How would you like to become my wife’s personal assistant?” Stephen chuckles, impressed with the nurse’s ability to stand up to Daphne. I smack his chest, which only makes him laugh harder.

  “Ignore him. He loves her as much as I do,” I say.

  I notice the apathetic look he gives the nurse, who
chuckles as I carefully slide my legs over the side of my bed and slip into my favorite moccasins. I take the nurse’s hand and brace my other arm around Stephen’s neck. Together they help me stand and I feel triumphant as I take on my whole weight and feel only a slight bit of pain. I don’t let go of Stephen’s arm though, just in case.

  “Good,” the nurse says. “Now, can you take a step for me?”

  I step with my right foot and feel a twinge of pain spread across my body. When I try to step with my left, it takes my breath away, making me cry out. Stephen steps up and I lean most of my weight on him. He starts to position himself to pick me up, but I’m determined to sleep in my own home tonight, so I shake my head at him.

  “Let me try again. I know to expect it so I can adjust to it this time.” And I do. I take a smaller step this time and before I know it, I’m able to walk to my bathroom, barely holding on to either of them. Feeling pretty proud of myself, I ask the nurse if I can change back into my own clothes.

  She agrees as long as I allow Stephen to help me. He’s only too eager to help and she excuses herself to update the doctor.

  “I really like her,” he admits as he brings my overnight bag into the bathroom.

  “I couldn’t tell.” I narrow my eyes at him and take the bag. I pull out my favorite sweats and t-shirt and let him help me into them, even though he keeps making libidinous faces. I can’t help the giggles that escape me, or the tears of pain the laughter brings. With the onslaught of tear, though, his playfully wandering hands turn into strong, warm arms.

  Chapter Two

  ~Jessie~

  “Those again?” Daphne scoffs at the strappy brown riding boots with the gold buckles I’m rocking for the third time this week.

  “You said you liked them. Gives me an air of authority.”

  “I did. But that was the first time you wore them. Now the only thing they say about you is that you need a bigger shoe selection.”