Journey 0f Hope (Journey 0f Love Book 2) Read online

  Journey Of Hope

  Journey Of Love: Book Two

  By:

  T.K. Chapin

  www.tkchapin.com

  Copyright © 2018 T.K. Chapin All rights reserved.

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

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  Version: 03.10.2018

  ISBN-13:

  Available Books

  By T.K. Chapin

  (Inspirational Christian Fiction & Romance)

  Protected By Love Series

  Love’s Return (Book 1)

  Love’s Promise (Book 2)

  Love’s Protection (Book 3)

  Diamond Lake Series

  One Thursday Morning (Book 1)

  One Friday Afternoon (Book 2)

  One Saturday Evening (Book 3)

  One Sunday Drive (Book 4)

  One Monday Prayer (Book 5)

  One Tuesday Lunch (Book 6)

  One Wednesday Dinner (Book 7)

  Embers & Ashes Series

  Amongst the Flames (Book 1)

  Out of the Ashes (Book 2)

  Up in Smoke (Book 3)

  After the Fire (Book 4)

  Love’s Enduring Promise Series

  The Perfect Cast (Book 1)

  Finding Love (Book 2)

  Claire’s Hope (Book 3)

  Dylan’s Faith (Book 4)

  Stand Alones

  Love Interrupted

  Love Again

  A Chance at Love

  The Broken Road

  If Only

  Because Of You

  The Lies We Believe

  In His Love

  Please join T.K. Chapin’s Mailing List to be notified

  of upcoming releases and promotions.

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  Dedicated to my loving wife.

  For all the years she has put up with me

  And many more to come.

  Table of Contents

  Note from the Author

  Chapter 1- Bethany

  Chapter 2-Mark

  Chapter 3-Mark

  Chapter 4-Mark

  Chapter 5-Bethany

  Chapter 6-Mark

  Chapter 7-Bethany

  Chapter 8-Bethany

  Chapter 9-Mark

  Chapter 10-Bethany

  Chapter 11-Mark

  Chapter 12-Bethany

  Chapter 13-Mark

  Chapter 14-Bethany

  Chapter 15-Mark

  Chapter 16-Mark

  Chapter 17-Bethany

  Chapter 18-Bethany

  Chapter 19-Mark

  Chapter 20-Mark

  Chapter 21-Bethany

  Chapter 22-Mark

  Chapter 23-Bethany

  Chapter 24-Mark

  Chapter 25-Bethany

  Chapter 26-Mark

  Chapter 27-Bethany

  Chapter 28-Bethany

  Chapter 29-Mark

  Chapter 30-Bethany

  Chapter 31-Bethany

  Chapter 32-Mark

  Chapter 33- Bethany

  Chapter 34- Bethany

  Chapter 35- Mark

  Chapter 36-Bethany

  Chapter 37-Bethany

  Chapter 38-Mark

  Book Previews

  Other Books

  Bonus

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Note from the Author

  Through the Bible we see God’s love play out time and time again. His love is immeasurable and took His only Son to the cross to die for our sins. It’s through the power of Jesus Christ and His resurrection that we have Salvation. The love of God motivated me to write this Christian romance series for you and I hope you enjoy it.

  In the second book of the Journey Of Love series, entitled Journey of Hope, we follow the story of Bethany and Mark as they struggle to understand God’s will. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, but we must keep on believing and trusting in God.

  Each book in this series is woven together tightly and requires them to be read in order. I believe this enriches the reading experience and helps you grow to love these characters more deeply.

  I pray this inspirational Christian romance inspires your faith, warms your soul, and fills you with the hope that is only found in the death, burial, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. May this story bless you in reading it as much as it has done me in writing it.

  Sincerely,

  T.K. CHAPIN

  Five hand-painted rocks are in the shape of a heart

  near the old oak tree to signify our love.

  We have laid a piece of our heart into the ground,

  and we will never forget them.

  Weeks Earlier . . .

  Chapter 1- Bethany

  I HAD ALWAYS HEARD OF people having it happen to them, but I never thought for a second it’d happen to me, to my child. She was sick, and the possibility of her dying at the ripe age of sixteen was real, it was here, it was now. As a mother, I was devastated and couldn’t see how everything would or could work out for my family. When you have a child you love in a coma and lying in a hospital bed, it changes you. It challenges your faith as you try to wait patiently for healing that may never come.

  Biting my thumbnail as I paced in circles just outside the room at Deaconess Hospital in Spokane, Washington, I waited for the nurses to finish changing Elly’s sheets in her hospital bed. Even in moments like this, in which nothing was really going on, I felt on the verge of losing my mind. Each day in the hospital ticked by, similar to a slow-moving clock that never has the right time. We needed a donor, a match of Elly’s blood type and someone close to her age, a specific prayer I prayed for continuously in Spirit and Word.

  The nurses came out of her room and I re-entered. My gaze fell on my sweet Elly as I walked in. My once beautiful and vibrant little girl was now hooked up to tons of machines keeping her alive. I never could get used to the sight of her hooked up to all of those machines. The whole experience was like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. The chill of the always present coldness of the room engulfed me instantaneously, another aspect I never grew accustomed to.

  She’s in a medically induced coma, the doctors said, and those whom I must trust said that it’s a must until a donor comes through. The most unsightly part of it all wasn’t seeing her asleep, but the tube connected to a machine that helped her breathe. I crossed the smooth sterile floor to her bedside. Brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, I thought to myself, she’s such a good girl. How could God let this happen? How could a loving God let my baby suffer? These were the thoughts I didn’t tell people, the thoughts that I kept to myself and locked up in the back of my mind. They weren’t the questions a good Christian woman would ever think, let alone speak.

  My phone suddenly rang from inside my purse, which sat atop a small table near the recliner by the window. That recliner had been my home away from home for four weeks now. It was where I pillowed my head each night in the hopes of finding sleep, but I rarely did. It was wher
e I dreamed of one day leaving the hospital with Elly’s hand in mine, her smile lighting up her face again.

  Deciding to go answer the call, I left the bedside and went over to answer it.

  It was my husband, Mark.

  Hesitation lingered in my finger whether to answer. We had been fighting for the past two days solid. This time, it all stemmed from the fact that I’m allowing the rest of the family issues to slip through the cracks. I’ve found him to be heartless lately. He acted like our little issues at home were more important than our daughter fighting for her life in a hospital bed.

  “Hey.” My tone was level, and I was slightly annoyed he had even picked up the phone and called me. Last night, our fighting grew out of control like a wildfire too large to contain. I was screaming so loudly into the phone outside the hospital that one of the intake receptionists from inside the lobby of the hospital came out and asked me to quiet down. I was embarrassed, but I felt like he couldn’t understand me. I reasoned that somehow yelling louder would hopefully make the words get through that thick skull of his. My heartache and loneliness only intensified the more we fought. Last night was about Easton. He’d had a fever the past few days. When I told him to take him to the doctor, he flipped. The problem, of course, was him. Mark didn’t go to the doctor’s office unless it pertained to himself, or in the early days when Elly first got sick last year. Back when he cared. Doctors, to my husband, were not a kind of person he ever wanted to be around. He tried to explain it once to me. Something about their lab coats reminding him of Doctor Jekyll. His blood pressure would skyrocket every time he was around one. Even when he still took turns with shifts up at the hospital with me for Elly, he struggled with the doctors. A doctor would walk in and he’d freeze up and start sweating profusely.

  “Easton still has a fever, Bethany. I think he might need to go in. I called and set up an appointment for one o’clock.”

  Touching my forehead, I closed my eyes as I could feel my anger boil and my chest tighten. The stress was closing in all around me. Why couldn’t this man get past himself and take Easton to the doctor? With Elly so close, I couldn’t get into another screaming match with him. She was in a coma, but she still might be able to hear. I didn’t want to risk it. I succumbed.

  “Fine. I will take him. Could you please come sit with your daughter while I do that? Or do I need to call my sister again?”

  He let out a defeated sigh. “Of course I’ll come up. I just have to swing by Sportsman’s on my way.”

  “Okay. Glad to see you can fit our daughter in.”

  Click.

  He hung up. There was no sweet ‘I love you’ like we used to have just a short while ago. There was only this painful unnamed feeling in my gut. Right now, I had a feeling we were in the ‘for worse’ part of the vows. I loved him a lot, but I sure didn’t like him right now. My heart was hurting over where we were in our marriage. We rarely used to fight. Then, I really needed him in my life and all we did was fight. I’d never admit it out loud to anyone—I don’t think any parent of a sick child would—but Elly’s sickness had brought everything on. The stress, the difficulties, the fighting between Mark and me, it all came into existence when Elly was diagnosed. It tore me to pieces to feel this way, but I hadn’t a clue how to remedy that. My prayers weren’t changing anything.

  I placed the phone gently onto the table beside the window and took a moment. A moment to wipe my eyes, to take a deep breath, and push all the pain down deep. Then, I turned around and headed back over to Elly’s bed. I had to stay strong for Elly.

  I forced a smile and smoothed a hand alongside her cheek as I looked upon her fragility. “You’re going to be okay, my angel.” The words came out and yet I knew in my heart I wasn’t sure if it was true anymore. I was losing hope.

  I leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead as a tear escaped my left eye. Wiping the tear, I prayed right then and there for God not to take Elly away from me.

  Chapter 2-Mark

  MY LEFT EYE STARTED TO twitch again. It had started to do so about a year ago after Elly’s diagnosis. My doctor assured me I didn’t have brain cancer, but it was simply brought on by stress and anxiety. He asked me if I had any of that, to which I responded, “Yes, plenty. Do you want some?” He didn’t laugh but instead referred me to a psychiatrist. I refused and asked for a prescription of Xanax. He declined but offered me a list of different breathing techniques to relax. I tossed them in the garbage on my way out of his office.

  Letting out a stream of hot air, I sat back into my couch and tried to cool off. The sweet smell of Easton’s recent diaper change lingered in the air like the stench of failure as a parent. I was failing not only Easton, but our entire family. Easton is our four-year-old and had been fully potty trained up until he regressed after Elly went into the hospital a month ago after her liver failed. Our family appeared to be falling apart at the seams, and yet my wife, Bethany, didn’t seem to have a care in the world, of course, outside of Elly. My home life suffered, which inevitably bled into my work life at Sportsman’s. I had been slacking on the job in order to spend more time at home. Everything in my life felt like a disaster, and I was slipping into a deep depression.

  Ester, our eight-year-old girl, suddenly jumped onto the couch and then proceeded to leap from one end of the couch and over to the loveseat like a wild panther stalking its prey. Then, she jumped again back to the couch I was on and shook it.

  Growing agitated as I saw she was about to go for another round of jumping, I said, “Please stop. Get down.”

  My gaze turned from her and back to the TV. Frozen had been on repeat all morning, and it was to the part where Elsa sings Let it Go. A noteworthy concept that I was trying to embrace in my own life and failing miserably at. When I started staying home more instead of the hospital, I attempted to do anything and everything Bethany did at home, which lasted about two days. I was fairly certain that she possessed some sort of wonder woman gene within her to do all that she did around here. Now I’m at the point of trying to let everything go and just make sure everybody stays alive and well-fed. The only issue that truly remained was me and the torturous thoughts I could not rid myself of. One thought in particular haunted me every single day. Will life ever go back to the way things were before? Even as I sat here watching this children’s movie, it nagged at me like an old housewife who is trying to get her husband to fix a leaky pipe. It was there, barking at me, taunting me. The reality was that I loved my wife, very much so, and I also loved my kids, but lately, I had fallen victim of selfishness, and in it, loneliness.

  Peering down at the coffee table and my cellphone, I thought of her. Also mingled in was regret for hanging up on her again. A flicker of pain coursed through my heart like a blade, slicing and cutting away at the very walls and arteries that kept me alive. It wasn’t kind of me to hang up like that. I knew that. But I did. The fact was I didn’t know what to say or do anymore without it resulting in a fight.

  Bethany, in my mind, had grown so cold and distant over all of this that I wasn’t sure where I belonged anymore. Bethany was changing, and things haven’t been good between us in a long time. I wanted Elly to get better as much as she did, but that wasn’t happening. Instead of getting a new liver and my little girl getting better, she was in a coma and waiting. What resulted in my life was a living horror. She had changed from a bubbly homemaker to a shell of a person with the sole purpose of staying with Elly. I was in thick with the mentality early on but stopped once I noticed the other kids suffering. I had to do something. I had to stop taking turns with Bethany up at the hospital and turn my attention to our home life, our other kids. I fear Bethany ignored it then and was ignoring the growing reality that was happening here on the home front. Easton was regressing and Ester’s grades were slipping.

  “I love you, Daddy.” Ester’s sweet words broke into my thoughts. I looked over to see her standing tall next to the coffee table with a dolly in one hand while wearing her super woman ou
tfit. My heart melted and suddenly, I felt okay again. Those sweet little nuggets of joy were gifts from God sent to me in my heartache, and it was also those moments that kept my heart going and my faith alive.

  My phone buzzed, vibrating across the coffee table.

  Smiling as I was still bathing in the joy of my daughter’s kind words, I grabbed it.

  It was a text from Pastor Charlie from the Church on the Lake. He wanted to confirm my counseling session for one o’clock—the same time as Easton’s doctor appointment. I told Bethany I had to go to work on the way to see Elly, but the truth was I was going to meet with our pastor. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t feel comfortable with the truth. She not only knew Pastor Charlie and his wife, Serenah, but her father also worked with the guy. I was afraid Bethany would try to stop me if she found out.

  Replying to the pastor’s text, I felt a flicker of hope flame in my heart as I confirmed.

  I had been a Christian all my life, but with all that had happened lately with our family, I knew I was in over the hairs on my head. I wasn’t only struggling to stay afloat emotionally, but spiritually too. A thing I was not proud of, and a thing I knew for certain was an issue. Needing help is a difficult thing to admit for any man, especially myself. I prided myself on my ability to deal with the difficult things in life, but I knew this wasn’t something I could do on my own. I had to be real with myself and real with God if I had a desire to truly find a fix for my heart.