Chapter 2.

Stef sat at the breakfast table, holding her cup of juice in her hands. She'd rather have had coffee, strong coffee, but she was asked to avoid caffeine by her doctor. She had an appointment later that morning that she wasn't looking forward to.

The kids all ate and slowly trickled out the door to school, when Lena found a private moment to take her wife in her arms and hug her tight. "Everything's going to be okay, sweetheart," she promised. She kissed Stef's forehead and her lips. "Call me when you find out something. I love you, and I'll be thinking about you all day."

"Thank you," Stef sighed. She wanted to roll her eyes or make a sarcastic comment about how corny her wife was being. That would've been a typical Stef response. But she couldn't, because in the back of her mind, Lena had only said exactly what she needed to hear. "I love you too," she assured her. "And please, try not to get yourself all worked up."

Lena kissed her one more time, then headed out the door.

When Stef turned to put her dish in the sink, she started. Callie was standing near the kitchen doorway, her eyes wide and confused. "You better get to school, baby," she told her, trying to sound normal. But she knew the teenager had heard everything.

Callie approached her cautiously, as if she she might spontaneously combust at any second. "Are you sick?"

"Uh, do I look sick?" Stef asked, trying to shrug off her daughter's concern.

Callie took a step closer. "Why are you going to the doctor today?" Her dark eyes were pleading, watery, as if she were holding back tears. "I want to know what's going on. Please?"

With a sigh, Stef sat down at the table, and pulled out the chair next to her. "Have a seat, love."

Callie sat down, facing her, her hands primly folded in her lap.

"The thing is, sweetheart," she began, her throat tight, "not too long ago, I got a mammogram. You know what that is, right?"

Callie rolled her eyes in a way that was uncannily Stef-like. "I took health class, you know."

For some reason, the young girl's remark made Stef smile a little, simply because she reacted so much like she, herself, would. "Anyway," she continued, "the doctor found something in my breast, and they did some tests, and hopefully, I'm going to find out what's going on in there today."

"Is it cancer?" Callie asked quietly, her voice oddly high-pitched.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, Stef took a shallow breath. "I really don't know. It could just be a cyst. Look at me: I'm healthy as a horse." She stood up, looking around for her car keys. "I'll drop you off at school, Cal. I really have to head out now."

Callie shook her head defiantly. "I want to go with you."

Stef let out a small, nervous laugh. "Why would you want to go, honey? It'll be boring, and you have school."

"I just want to," she told her. "I want to be there with you."

Her firm expression softening, Stef reached out to her daughter, giving her a hug. "That's sweet of you, Slug-a-Bug. And I love you for it, but the place you need to be today is school."

"I could just take the morning off," Callie argued. "I won't miss much." She sighed, her shoulders slacking. "Mom... please?"

Stef turned away just in time, pretending to get her purse in order, as her eyes welled with tears. She was trying not to make a big deal of it so she wouldn't embarrass Callie, but the girl had just called her mom for the first time, and she wanted to hug her, kiss her, jump up and down, and cry, all at once. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and turned back to her daughter. "Fine, sweets. If it will make you feel better, you can come along. But it's back to school right after the appointment."

"I can go?" she asked, surprised, and maybe even a little reluctant, as if she were beginning to change her mind.

Stef nodded. "Hurry and get your jacket."

Minutes later, they were driving down the highway toward the hospital. For such a dismal trip, Stef had to admit that the drive was almost fun. She and Callie carried on a pleasant conversation about work and school; her eldest daughter was like a different child when they were alone. Just as Stef began to think that it would be nice to spend some one-on-one time like that with each of the kids more often, Callie suddenly blurted out a question.

"Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" Stef asked, warily glancing at her.

"You know..." she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Your breast."

"It's not a dirty word, honey," Stef laughed. "You can say it."

"Sorry," she apologized.

"It's okay," she told her. "And no, it doesn't hurt."

Callie nodded, seemingly satisfied. "If it doesn't hurt, then it can't be too serious, can it?"

"You'd think that," Stef sighed. "And I don't want to worry you, but it tends to be the less serious issues that cause pain."

A few seconds of silence passed, until Callie spoke again. "Our last foster father used to pinch mine. That really hurt."

"He'd pinch your breasts?" Stef asked, horrified. She had a strong hatred for people who abused children, and she hated that particular foster father most of all; he was the one whom Callie and Brandon had risked their lives to save Jude from. The one who used to beat her babies.

Callie nodded, but didn't volunteer anymore information, and Stef didn't ask. Before she knew it, they were pulling into the hospital parking lot, and entering the revolving doors.

As they walked through the main floor to the elevators, Callie's usual withdrawal returned. She stayed so close to Stef that their shoulders touched, as if she were afraid she'd get lost. When they got on the elevator, she leaned against the wall, pale as a ghost.

Stef took her hand, rubbing it with her thumb, trying to calm her. "Are you okay, baby doll?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I just don't like hospitals very much."

"Neither do I," Stef replied honestly. "But they're not all bad. They can be kind of exciting."

Callie gave her a skeptical look as the elevator stopped, and they stepped out into a long hall.

"See that guy over there?" Stef pointed out a tall, balding doctor. "He delivered Brandon."

"He did?" the young girl giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"He had a full head of hair back then, though," she whispered, as they turned a corner, following the arrows that pointed to the Pathology department.

"I have an appointment to be seen this morning," Stef told the receptionist, when they reached the desk. "For Stefanie Foster?"

"Hold on a sec," the receptionist replied, typing something into her computer.

One the counter sat a bowl of pink rubber bracelets imprinted with the word 'Survivor.' Callie, who was standing next to Stef, picked one up, studying it. The receptionist looked up and smiled at her. "You can take one, sweetie. They're free."

"Thank you," Callie mumbled. She chose one and slipped it on her wrist.

"You're welcome," the young woman replied. "Okay. You're all set. Have a seat and you'll be called in shortly."

"Thanks," Stef nodded. She turned to the waiting area and Callie followed, sitting down in the chair next to her.

Stef took a deep breath through her nose, trying to relax. As much as she'd been denying her fear, and insisting that there was nothing to worry about, she was scared. In her heart, she knew what she would find out that day, and she dreaded it.

Callie leaned her head against her shoulder, nervously jiggling her leg. The constant movement was driving Stef crazy, but she didn't say anything. Finally, a nurse came out and called her name. She stood up, feeling slightly lightheaded from the anxiety of it all.

Callie hopped to her feet as well. "Can I go in the room with you?" she asked.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Stef sighed. She turned to the nurse, unsure.

"It's up to you," the nurse replied, answering her unspoken question.

"You can come in," she finally agreed, putting her hand on her daughter's shoulder. She hoped she hadn't made the wrong choice, but the truth was, she really didn't want to be alone, and was grateful for the company.

The first part of the appointment seemed just like any visit to the doctor. The nurse took Stef's weight and height, and asked her some questions about her history, including her grandmother's battle with breast cancer. Before she left the room, she asked her to change into a gown, and told her Dr. Robinson would be in soon. She changed quickly, her back turned to Callie, and sat up on the examination table. The air-conditioning in the room was so high, goosebumps rose on her skin.

"My stomach hurts," Callie complained from the chair she sat in.

Stef turned to her. "You're probably just nervous, baby. And it's a little cold in here. Sometimes that can give you a tummy ache."

She shook her head. "It's not the cold. I am nervous."

"Don't worry," Stef assured her, just as there was a knock on the door.

Dr. Robinson came into the room, and greeted Stef warmly. "Is this your daughter?" she asked, indicating to Callie.

Stef smiled proudly. "Mm-hm. This is Callie, my second oldest."

The doctor turned to Callie. "No school today?"

Callie looked to Stef, and Stef spoke up. "She just needed to be with her mom today."

"I see," she nodded. "Well, let me just quickly examine you, and I'll get your test results so you ladies can get out of here." She crossed the small room to the table. "You want to lay down for me?

Stef laid back, and the doctor opened her gown and began to feel her breasts. "Sorry, she apologized. I know my hands are cold." seconds later, her smile was gone, her lips set in a thin line of either concentration or worry. "I'll be right with you," she said when she was finished. "Go ahead and get dressed."

The doctor left the room, and Stef changed again. Then, she got back on the table, hugging herself. When Dr. Robinson returned, her face was drawn, and Stef became alarmed. "Callie," she said quietly. "Why don't you come over here by me?"

Callie stood up and went to her, and Stef wrapped her arms around her, hugging her close to her body. Callie gently rubbed her back, trying to sooth her in some small way.

"I have your test results," said Dr. Robinson. Flipping through a folder, she was noticeably struggling to look her patient in the eye, and kept glancing at Callie as if she couldn't decide whether or not she wanted her there.

Growing nervous, Stef pulled Callie a little closer and kissed her temple; something to distract her from the fear she was feeling.

The doctor sat down in her desk chair, her eyes still trained on Callie. "I'm afraid you do have cancer," she told Stef. "I'm so sorry."

Stef felt her daughter flinch in her arms and she quickly planted another kiss on her cheek to reassure her.

"It appears to be classified as stage II invasive ductal carcinoma."

"What does that mean?" Stef asked, suddenly irritated with doctors, and the way they expected everyone to understand medical terminology.

"It means," Dr. Robinson explained, "that the cancer began in your milk ducts, but has broken through the wall and begun to invade your breast tissue. We'll want to treat it right away before it can spread to your lymph nodes."

Stef felt as if she were in a trance. In her arms, Callie was so still and quiet that she hardly seemed to be breathing. She may have forgotten her daughter was there if her nails weren't digging painfully into her back. "What sort of treatment?"

"Because of the location of the tumor, and your family history, I strongly suggest a mastectomy, followed by chemotherapy."

With the word 'mastectomy,' Stef's ears buzzed, and she felt faint. She needed surgery, and she was going to lose her breast. Dr. Robinson began explaining that breast cancer was sometimes called "The Curable Cancer," and that stage II had a ninety-three percent survival rate, but she barely heard any of it.

"I'm so sorry to deliver bad news," she finished. "I'll let you have a minute."

"Thank you," Stef numbly nodded. After Dr. Robinson was gone, she turned to Callie. "Are you okay, baby?"

Callie nodded, avoiding her mother's gaze. Her face was pale under the harsh lighting of the room.

Reaching behind her, Stef peeled the young girl's nails from her flesh, then held her hands in front of her. Gripping them tight, she kissed the knuckles. When she let go, Callie withdrew her hands, shoving them in her pockets.

"I love you," Stef told her. She felt like she was supposed to cry, or scream, or something, but she couldn't. Was there really a right way to react to a cancer diagnosis? "We're gonna get through this, sweets," she promised. "All of us, as a family."

Callie gave another weak nod. "I love you too, mom."

Stef rose from the table and grabbed her jacket. "Do you want to go grab some lunch?"

"I thought I had to go back to school," the teenager fretted, wringing her hands.

Stef reached out to hug her. "No, I think we could both use a day off."

To Be Continued