At the Medical Center
Adam and Cristina were helping Jilly with her pre-op prep.
"Want your parents to come by?" Cristina asked, unable to hold back.
"They're still around?" Jilly's eyes lit up, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"They're praying for you," Cristina said. "Is that whole exile thing really that strict?"
"Yeah," Jilly replied, her smile fading. "It's our faith."
"'Our' faith?" Adam caught the shift in her tone. "So you still believe—and you're leaning toward going back?"
"My body…" Jilly hesitated. "A while back, I went to the ER. The doctor there told me to see an oncologist. But we were working three jobs just to scrape by for rent and basics—no way could we afford treatment. Then these past couple days, I got scared…"
Adam got it. Two girls who ran away from home at 16? Forget college—they barely made it through high school. Growing up in a Mennonite community, stuck in a primitive farming life, even a middle school education was a stretch. What kind of jobs could they land?
Sell their bodies or sell their sweat.
Both girls were pretty—especially Jilly. If they wanted, they could've made quick cash, big cash even. But they weren't like that. They chose the hard road—waitressing, juggling three jobs each to survive. Problem was, that kept them trapped at the bottom. Every penny went to bills, barely getting by, no savings. One hiccup, and they'd be helpless, just lying there waiting to die.
When Jilly saw the ER doc and realized she probably had cancer, her first thought was despair. Why bother treating it? She didn't want to drag Rachel, the sister who loved her most, down with her. Sickness could bankrupt them—and for them, it'd be poverty on top of poverty. If Rachel found out, she'd never give up on her. What then? Either burn through Rachel's future or shatter her dignity. Neither was something Jilly could stomach.
And even if they tried, there was no guarantee it'd work. If Jilly died, what would happen to Rachel—stripped of pride and prospects? How would she go on?
Sure, they'd promised "from life to death." But that didn't mean dying together. If Jilly had to go, she wanted Rachel to live on strong, carrying her memory, living the vibrant life Jilly wouldn't get to.
"So you called your parents," Cristina said, piecing it together.
"I didn't know what else to do," Jilly said, looking down. "These past few days, I've been thinking a lot. That place—it's still my home. If I die, I want a Mennonite funeral." She looked up, a hopeful smile breaking through. "I want to be buried in a white dress. I want everyone there—Rachel, my parents."
Adam and Cristina exchanged a glance. That's the power of religion for you. Fear of death births faith. Jilly might've scoffed at it once, ditching it all to run off with Rachel. But now, facing death, those childhood seeds of belief were sprouting fast.
---
In the Operating Room
Dr. Montgomery was leading the surgery, with Adam as first assist and Cristina as second. Out of nowhere, Dr. Bailey barged in, planting herself to watch like a boss.
"How'd Jilly end up like this? Depressing, right?" Bailey kicked off the convo.
Adam couldn't help but grin. He knew what she was getting at.
"If we'd caught it earlier, this could've been prevented and treated," Bailey said, throwing a pointed look at Dr. Montgomery, who was focused on the surgery and staying quiet.
"But you've gotta catch it early," Adam chimed in. "Right, Dr. Montgomery?"
"Yeah," Dr. Montgomery said, finally looking up with a无奈 sigh at Bailey. "Anything else you want to say, Dr. Bailey?"
"You bet," Bailey replied, tossing Adam a grateful nod before turning serious. "I want to open a free clinic—so people like Jilly can get yearly checkups, catch cancer early. That's the difference between life and death, isn't it?"
"Prevention, early detection—fewer tragedies in the world," Adam added casually.
"Exactly!" Bailey jumped in. "I need support—support from all the department heads. Dr. Montgomery, you're head of neonatal—will you back me?"
"It's complicated," Dr. Montgomery said, shaking her head. "Funding, coordination, all that jazz. Plus, we're surgeons. You think the chief will go for it?"
Hospitals don't usually do outpatient stuff—that's for community or family docs.
"I know," Bailey shot back without missing a beat. "I've done the groundwork and I'm ready to tackle every hurdle. The chief hasn't said no. If you all back me, I can do this—I will do this!"
"But why?" Cristina asked, confused. "You're a surgeon."
"Because I want to do more!" Bailey said, her voice rising. "I need something to lean on, a reason to believe medicine isn't just stitching people up and sending them off. I need to believe it saves lives and changes them. I need to know I'm doing the right thing!"
Adam watched Bailey, all fired up, and felt a wave of respect. Docs like her? They're why people look up to this job. He didn't mind lending a hand. With a little smile, he channeled some big-shot energy: "Funding's not an issue."
"Thanks, Adam!" Bailey beamed. That wasn't just about money—it was Adam throwing his full weight behind her. With his influence, the surgical chief and other department heads would take her seriously, not just brush her off. One sentence from him, and her brewing big plan was 70% in the bag.
"Alright," Dr. Montgomery said, not about to go against both Bailey and Adam. All she had to do was say yes anyway.
"Thank you, Dr. Montgomery!" Bailey said, over the moon.
"Can we focus on the surgery now?" Dr. Montgomery teased.
"Maybe not," Adam said with a sigh.
Everyone followed his gaze and got it.
"The cervical cancer's spread to the entire bladder. Stage four. No point in continuing—let's close her up."
---
(Chapter End)