Is It Worth It by Dallacey E Green

Jake is a Native American Indian and his wife Charlie is an African American. In the last recent months Jake and Charlie have gone through a tragic loss, which has greatly affected their marriage. They leave New York City and move to the South, in hopes to find some solitude. This move challenges their relationship to the point that Jake finds himself wondering if their love, their marriage, is truly worth it.

SKU: B009CFFDGK Category: Romance

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About the author:

Dallacey E Green graduated from Andrews University with her BA in Architecture and a minor in Art. She also has her certificate in Interior Design.

What inspired you to write your book?

I wanted to write about a man who is determined to make his marriage work, out of the deep and abiding love he has for his wife. I wanted to show just because times get tough, it doesn’t mean we should give up on love because true love never fails.

Here is a short sample from the book:

Chapter One
The Question
He opened the bedroom door, all was quiet and faintly lit. His gaze falling directly upon the tiny blue-shaded lamp which laid perched upon a kidney-shaped glass covered vanity. The light graced the glass as well as the antique silver brush and comb set, causing them to glisten teasingly, beckoning his gaze.
A gold parson chair stood before the vanity, slightly pulled back as though it had just been vacated only moments before…closing his eyes Jake imagined his wife sitting there, her jet-black hair caressed by the soft bristles of the brush, contentedly looking at him in the round circular mirror.
Shaking his head he opened his eyes upon the parson chair where a sheer robe laid draped upon its back, pooling to the ground, trailing towards the feather slippers that had been carelessly left upon the dark wooden floor. He swallowed as the sweet scent of
amber filled the air, drawing him as he inhaled her rich enchanting fragrance.
Slowly Jake gazed upon the large heavily carved canopy bed, framed with a deep blue and gold fabric about the sides. Her embroidered gown lay there, cream satin shimmering in the light. His eyes swept over the room then, the room in which they had shared and no other thought assailed his mind as did the question, is it worth it?
The wind whipped upon the left bedroom window. Jake’s gaze moved towards the wall where images shimmered of his past memories, many among them present memories, yet no picture seemed more dear to him than that of his own reflection, laughing heartedly, gazing into the eyes of a lovely Cherokee Indian woman…wife.
What did his grandmother use to say? Jake’s thoughts unraveled as he tried to remember her story, as he remembered his own. She’d said that the white man’s world was strange and alien to her, but she had loved him, Jake’s grandfather, Joseph McDaniel. He was a photographer who had come to America to live and to take pictures of the people that lived in the Quail Boundary Reservation, for three months. And in that short time Joseph McDaniel had come to admire and adore Sparrow.
Against Sparrow’s better judgment, she consented to be his bride. They were married quickly and soon Joseph was summoned to return back to the life and society he had once known and loved.
Sparrow went along as a faithful wife should, but she said the noises in the city were so loud that she could not hear the sounds of the great birds. She said the buildings were so tall that she could barely look upon the vast blue sky, nor gaze upon the starry night.
She hid her sorrow but he knew, had guessed somehow. Her husband, my grandfather, sent her back to her people, only he said for a short time. She was to stay at the reservation for two weeks then join him again, but Sparrow, my grandmother never did.
Joseph McDaniel was attacked, one day, in a street corner by two thieves. He was rushed to the hospital badly injured. He lived for three days before succumbing to his injuries.
My grandmother’s heart was broken. She grieved for him until her dying day. Sparrow never married again. My mother told me that it was not because no one asked her, for she was a beautiful woman, even when her hair turned white. She possessed all the beauty of her youth, but had loved Joseph so much that she vowed never to marry again.
My mother Josephine was born five months after her father died and was taught by my grandmother Sparrow that it was best to live in our world. It was best to stay and marry our people, and it was best to forget that she was half-white.
My mother grew up on the reservation, married my father, a Cherokee man, and had twin sons, my twin brother Jarred, and me.
We had many teachers on the reservation. Some were Cherokee Indians and some were not Indians at all. I remember the day I met Peter Rose, an art teacher from the outside world. He was six feet eight inches tall. Peter was a slim young man, who was rather awkward with his height, but to this day the most skilled and talented artist I’ve ever known.
It was through Peter I learned about drawing, painting and drafting. By the time I turned fifteen, I knew I wanted to be an architect. My parents tried to persuade me not to go away to college, well my mother mostly, but I was determined to live out my dream.
I left my Cherokee brothers and studied at Miami University for five years. When I graduated with high honors, only two people came to my graduation to show their support, my brother Jarred and Peter. Funny because when I married my wife, there were only two people from my family who showed up, Jarred and Peter. I could always count on them.
I guess you could say my parents were not happy with my career, nor were they pleased that I had not married a Cherokee Princess, but an African Queen.
We were very happy. My wife brought so much joy to my life that often I would wonder if indeed I was dreaming. To love someone the way I loved her and to be loved back in return is something most people desire and few people ever experience at all.
Blessed, we were blessed and when the children came, Jake Jr. and Jessica, the joy we had experienced before did not hold a candle to what we felt then. I always teased my wife that I wanted seven children.
“Why seven?” Charlie would ask playfully.
“Because seven is the number of completion, seven is perfection and that is what I feel when I am with you,” there was warmth in his eyes when he spoke.
“Jake I am not having seven children,” she said with a note of determination in her voice. “Do you know how expensive it would be to have that many children?”
“I’ve never really thought about it, but I don’t mind working hard for the things I want. I worked hard to get you didn’t I?”
“This is different Jake. Seven children would take a lot of time and love.”
“I have so much more love to give. There are five empty spaces in my heart left to be filled,” he teased.
Charlie rolled her eyes.
“No?” Jake asked, enjoying how flustered his wife got when he teased her.
“No.” She shook her head.
“Then at least give me four.” He smiled dashingly down on her as he brushed his fingers over her cheek.
“Jake!” Charlie exclaimed.
“Sweetheart if you give me four babies, I’ll love you forever.”
“Too late you’ve already promised to love me forever in our wedding vows,” she stated.
“Please Charlie,” he spoke seductively bending down kissing her hair and brow.
“It isn’t going to work this time,” Charlie tried to sound cool and unmoved, yet he could sense that she was breaking.
“What isn’t going to work Charlie?” he whispered, flashing his green eyes on her.
“I won’t be persuaded by your…charms.” She stiffened her shoulders and tried to turn away. Jake caught his wife and turned her toward him, lifting her chin.
“So you won’t even humor me with a kiss?”
Charlie lowered her gaze.
“Please,” Jake said as he inched closer.
“Jake I…” Their lips touched then and she forgot everything