Not Without A Fight

By Randy H. Church

Early in their marriage, Beth and Liam Boaz agreed to have children. Beth is an accountant on the fast track to the top. When she realizes children will hinder her chances at making senior partner, she decides to have an abortion after discovering she is pregnant. She also decides it would be best not to tell her husband, Liam.

Quite by accident, Liam finds out about the planned abortion and believes he has a legal right to keep his own child. A Supreme Court judge will be the one to decide the fate of Liam*s innocent baby. Their story will encounter many twists and turns along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randy H. Church
• Release date: Jun 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476018805

Randy H. Church

Born in St. Petersburg Florida in 1957. Married for 35 years to my High Schoool sweetheart. I have one daughter and four grandchildren. My wife and I now live in martinsville, Va. to be closer to our daughter and and son in law and our grandchildren. I am a Telephone Technician by trade and work for Verizon Communications.

Book preview

NOT WITHOUT A FIGHT

Randy H. Church

Smashwords Edition

Not Without a Fight

Copyright 2013 © Randy H. Church

Cover Art Copyright © 2013 Laura Shinn

Edited by Joshua Shinn

{Revised 2/2015}

Smashwords Licensing Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this ebook without purchasing it and it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Not Without a Fight is a work of fiction.

Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Similarities of characters or names used within to any person – past, present, or future – are coincidental except where actual historical characters are purposely interwoven.

Dedication:

I dedicate this book to my wife, Debbie, who listened to the Lord and started the Martinsville Pregnancy Care Center in Martinsville, Virginia. I would also like to acknowledge Operation Rescue and Forty Days For Life and to everyone who is doing their part in protecting the unborn.

To all of you, thank you.

—Randy H. Church

CHAPTER ONE

Liam looked around the room at his loving family members. His wife, mother, father, mother-in-law, they were all there to spend another Thanksgiving together. Everything was just perfect. A lot of work went into today’s gathering, and it did not go unnoticed by him. The twenty-two pound turkey that adorned the center of the table looked delicious, and he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into it. The placement of the abundant food on the table and the surrounding decorations looked more like a feast fit for a king than for the hoi polloi gathered at the table.

Liam sat back in his chair with a smile on his face and watched each family member, one by one, as they laughed and smiled at one another. His mother, Dorothy, was laughing and pointing at no one in particular as she spoke. Her index finger waved around as if it were a candle lighting the room. The chatter was at an elevated decibel as it echoed off the walls. He couldn’t quite make out what anyone was saying, but he didn’t have to. He could tell by their smiles and body language they were having a wonderful time, as was he.

Robert, Liam’s father, was the first to speak. Son, how many more of these wonderful holidays will we be celebrating without the grandchildren you keep promising us? You know if you wait too long your mother and I will be too old to properly enjoy them.

Robert, leave the poor boy alone. He’s doing the best he can, aren’t you, Son? The poor boy works harder on trying to have the baby than he does at work. Just look at those bags under his eyes; you poor thing.

Okay, Mom. I am thoroughly embarrassed now. But yes, I—we, are doing all we can to get pregnant. Well Beth is, not me. Hold on, I want to show you something. Liam scooted his chair back and dashed out of the room. A shuffling noise came from the bedroom. Moments later Liam returned carrying a well marked up calendar. Here, Mom, check it out. It’s Beth’s period, cycle and ovulation calendar. If we plan it right, not only will she get pregnant but we will have a girl."

TMI, Son. TMI. They all laughed.

Beth’s face turned crimson as she tried to hide her face in her hands. The calendar was all marked up with pink, yellow, and blue highlighters, pens, and pencils. His father said it looked like a football game book. X’s and O’s sprinkled throughout the calendar. Smiley faces were strategically placed throughout.

Well it certainly looks like you’ve done your homework. I didn’t know having a baby was so technical these days. When your mother and I set about having you we just…

Okay Robert, we get the picture. TMI, said Dorothy.

Eeew, that’s not a picture I want in my head, thank you, said Liam. Now Liam’s mom’s face was as red as Beth’s. Both were completely embarrassed.

This isn’t my game book dad. That’s in the den. I’ll get it for you. Liam left the room and the chatter started up again. He could hear it from the den; it sounded more like a hum or a murmur. He knew exactly where it was. It was right on his desk where he could get to it easily and often. Nearly every night he made some kind of entry, some kind of notation he felt was important or helpful in raising his child.

Liam returned carrying what looked like a family photo album. It was pink and covered with some kind of lacey looking thing, similar to a doily. The room became hushed as he proudly placed the book on the table as if it were a breakable piece of glass. The cover read simply, Game Plan, First Quarter. His dad looked the book, then at Liam, then at Beth, then at Beth’s mom who had remained silent throughout most of the evening, and then at his wife. He broke out into laughter.

This is a joke, right? his dad asked.

Liam looked at the notebook and shook his head. No it’s not a joke. I did a lot of research and put a lot of work into this. This is just the first of five notebooks. One for each of the first five years their character and personality is being developed. Book one will tell me what to do when the baby cries. It will teach me how to train, nurture and develop the baby as she grows. You will have wished you had this book when I was born.

Son, the doctor spanked you on the butt when you were born and I just continued it throughout your ‘developing’ years, as you put it. I didn’t need a book, just a good occasional swat to keep you in line. Robert leaned forward and laughed as he reached for his glass of tea. Dorothy reached over and smacked him on the shoulder.

So that’s how you did it. It must have worked; he didn’t turn out so bad. He opens the car door for me and treats me like a Southern Belle. Thank you for that tip, Robert. Beth laughed and scooped up a heaping of mashed potatoes and dumped them on her plate.

Robert looked at Beth and smiled. Eating for two are you?

Robert, shame on you. You apologize. That was not very nice.

That’s okay, Dorothy. I am really hungry. And if Liam had his say I would be eating for four. He wants four kids. Can you believe that? I’ll bet if he were the one carrying them for nine months he wouldn’t want four. But no, Robert, I am only eating for one. When I get pregnant you will be the first to know.

Beth’s mom shot her a quick look. Hey, what about me?

I will do a conference call and tell everyone at the same time; how’s that? They all laughed and set about eating.

But seriously, Son, there is no owner’s manual or instruction manual on how to deal with newborns. In some ways they are all different, and in other ways they are all the same; they eat, poop, and sleep most of the day. Save for at night when you and Beth are trying to sleep. Then all of a sudden they come to life like little furbies. Another thing that is a misnomer son – you don’t train babies; they train you. For example, you don’t decide when the baby eats; they decide. And they will let you know loud and clear when they want to eat. And Beth, if you breast feed, look out. The baby’s lips will attack your nipple like a heat-seeking missile, with no compassion whatsoever. It can happen without warning, anytime, anyplace, and it doesn’t care who is around. And pooping; you don’t tell them when to poop and when you will change their diaper—they tell you. Or your nose might alert you first. Sorry, Son, that game book you have will become obsolete as soon as that baby arrives.

Dorothy put her fork down and gave Robert the look. He shrugged his shoulders. What? I know what I’m talking about here. You don’t have to be Dr. Phil to figure this stuff out.

Liam closed the book scratched his head. Well Dad, I’ll have to call you sometime for advice. Will it get easier as they get older?

Not if you have a girl, Son. I hear they can be… Dorothy cut him off.

Okay Dr. Phil, you’ve given enough advice. If they keep listening to you they won’t want any kids. They all laughed as Robert ate some humble pie.

CHAPTER TWO

Liam Boaz had all the physical characteristics for the making of a great basketball player, with the exception of one thing; he couldn’t shoot a basket to save his life. Every morning the twenty-six-year-old, six-foot four-inch, 190-pound, blond, blue-eyed stud with an athletic build, stood in the bathroom throwing wadded up paper into the trash can; his miss ratio was easily five to one. He was known by his friends as a tenacious man that was not a quitter. Something as small and insignificant as throwing paper towels into the trash can was just as challenging as any of his important court cases. His passion for conquering the challenge would one day pay off.

He stood straight up as he arched his back for one last shot at the trash can. His eyes focused like a laser beam on the rim of his target, taking three practice shots with his left arm extending back and forth in anticipation of his final shot of the morning. He rocked his arched body forward and extended his left arm as he released the ball of paper towels with the precision of a skilled surgeon. His eyes followed the trajectory of the ball as if in slow motion as he watched it hit the rim of the can, like so many before it, falling to the floor and joining the pile of previous attempts. Frustration showed on his strong, chiseled face, clinching his teeth as his temples pulsated in and out. He bent down to pick up yet another day of trashcan defeat. Liam was not accustomed to defeat.

After graduating from Stetson Law School in Gulfport, Florida two years ago, specializing in Civil Rights and Torts, he joined the law firm of Kenny, King, Knight and Armstrong, vowing to one day become a senior partner. Liam earned a reputation as a tenacious pit-bull litigator with an impressive track record for court victories.

Rumor had it that if you had a case that was not winnable, then Liam was your man. Several senior partners in the firm requested him to sit second chair with them in the court room during litigation, looking to him for his jurisprudence expertise when the case started to go south.

Almost daily one or more of the senior partners consulted with him and picked his brilliant mind on a case they were working on. He didn’t mind, though; in fact, he relished knowing that his contribution to their cases would land his name on the senior partner’s door sooner than later.

Liam quickly removed the pile of missed shots before his wife, Beth, short for Elizabeth, came in to use the bathroom as she, too, had to get ready for work. Beth was a beautiful twenty-six-year-old blonde with the figure of a model who has a bright and promising career as a CPA in a large accounting firm in Manhattan. Like Liam, she, too, was brilliant and on the fast track to success as a senior partner with Allen, Brooks and Cline, the largest accounting firm in Manhattan.

Success did not come without a price; a normal work day consists of sixteen hours, never out of the office in less than twelve.

Beth graduated from Columbia University and, like Liam, graduated top in her class. She knew as a young girl that one day she would grow up and be an accountant, not just any accountant, but the best in her field.

She loved math all her life and was fascinated with big business, so it was a logical choice she made to embrace them both and become an accountant. She was motivated and driven and nothing would get in the way of success, not even her husband; he had his career and she had hers.

Liam felt the rush of air against his body, but it was too late. Beth came running into the bathroom and pushed him out of the way of the toilet as she dropped to her knees in front of it and quickly began to regurgitate her breakfast; it was not a pretty sight.

What took only a couple of minutes seemed to be an eternity with the smell and tears that followed. Liam had a look of horror on his face; fear was painted on his face like a Picasso.

He jumped back, not knowing what to do. His back hit a towel rack, breaking it in half as it hit the marble tiled floor. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the smell, the sheer volume of puke, or the interspersion of crying. He wasn’t sure which to address first. He did what any man in his shoes would have done; he stood there dazed, doing nothing, being thankful it wasn’t him.

Beth stood up, void of patience, and demanded a wash cloth. Like an obedient dog he retrieved a warm, damp wash cloth, with an outstretched hand he cautiously handed it to her like a scolded puppy. She snatched the wash cloth from his hand as she violently rubbed it around her face like she was trying to wash away leprosy. She glared at him with disdain for several seconds. The look on her face said, How could you; I hate you.

It was all Liam could do to muster up the courage to ask if she was okay.

He had no clue when he asked if she was coming down with the flu or if she ate something that didn’t agree with her.

She replied sternly that she didn’t have the flu. It must be something my body doesn’t agree with. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it.

In his most innocent moment he said he hoped she figured out what it was her body didn’t agree with so it doesn’t happen again. She assured him it wouldn’t. Liam hugged her and said he wished it was happening to him and not her.

Fat chance she said as she pushed him away.

Beth called her office and told Fran, her secretary and best friend, she had an errand to run and would be a little late.

Beth and Fran were roommates at Columbia. They both