CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Doctor Jared Black was in his late thirties. He stood an impressive six foot eight and weighed over three hundred pounds buck naked. His eyes were ebony black and set close together and deep in his face. His nose was long and narrow, his brow high and smooth, and housed an IQ off the chart. He had a photographic memory and was renowned around Austin as the best all around surgeon they had. As luck would have it John Travis had been hauled in and placed under his scalpel. Even before John had been sedated or x-rayed Doctor Black had his chest split open and his hand buried to his forearm in the famous singer’s chest massaging his heart and keeping it beating until he could get some blood pumping through him.
Two minutes after being brought through the doors of the emergency room John was wheeled into surgical ward three and Doctor Black was issuing orders like a drill sergeant until his patient was stabilized enough to be repaired.
Doctor Black worked robotically, not speaking unless he wanted something. He was not one for idle chatter while he was working on a human being. If they wanted to talk they could wait until the final suture was tied, then he would talk. He had seen too many ‘mistakes’ made by a distracted surgeon who thought he was good enough to do twenty things at once, when in fact he could hardly manage two.
The surgery seemed to go on and on, hour after hour, until finally Jared Black said, “Let’s close Mister Travis up and prepare him for his trip home. In a few weeks or so, that is.” He smiled around at his assistants and winked. “Be proud, folks. You’ve just saved a legend and a legend’s son’s life. I’ll go inform the family.”
“You always get the easy job,” Sammy Spiro, the anesthesiologist, said grimly.
“That is the rewards of being the doctor, Sammy,” Jared Black said with a smile, then stripped his bloody surgical gloves off with a rubbery snap and left the surgical ward, tossing them into a biohazard trash can as he pushed the door open and went out with a brisk, long legged walk.
Black stopped in the waiting room door and looked at the miserable family. His eyes locked on Misty and almost instantly decided she was the wife, the young girl was the daughter and the boy the youngest son. Although the kids certainly didn’t resemble the father.
He stopped in front of Misty and said, “Missus Travis, I’m Doctor Jared Black...”
Judy stood and rushed to the doctor. “I’m John’s wife. How is he?” she added her face a miserable mask.
“I’m sorry, Missus Travis,” he said seeing her face pale and begin to crumble. “My apologies” he assured her with a steady hand on her shoulder when she began to cry miserably. “Bad choice of words!” he assured her. “He’s in post-op recovery, Intensive Care. He’s alive. Barely. Please, let’s have a seat and I’ll explain as best I can his chances.”
Judy sat beside Black on one side and Misty on the other; hanging on every word the giant man said. Their eyes searched the tired face, then the bloody surgical greens and finally the soft, gentle eyes.
“John suffered three gunshot wounds to the upper torso,” Black explained in layman’s terms. “One, we believe the first, was to the upper chest, here,” he pointed to his upper left chest. The second, we believe, was lower, as John fell back, was here, to the upper stomach and the third, here, to the center stomach region. The first collapsed his left lung; the second pierced his stomach wall and lodged in his back muscle. The third passed through his large intestine, left kidney and exited his back above the hip. I expect, though it’s really too early to say for sure, that given time he will recover. But that is just an early prognosis...Our greatest enemy will be infection. The stomach, intestine, and kidney are nasty places. John is currently on massive, intravenous, antibiotics. His total recovery time is unpredictable at this time. But he has youth and good health on his side. That’s about all I can tell you at this time, but we, I, will keep you informed.”
“Can I see him?” Judy asked immediately.
“Briefly,” Black replied gently. “No more than five minutes. If you will follow me, Missus Travis.”
“Can I go?” Billy asked miserably, his face utterly devastated.
“No, Billy,” Misty replied sadly. “Maybe later, okay?”
“But Momma,” Billy pleaded.
“No buts, Billy,” Misty warned. “I said, not yet. I mean, not yet.”
Billy huffed angrily, leaned back in his chair and pouted. As hard as he tried he couldn’t stop his tears from sliding from his eyes. He cried, then leaned over into Misty’s lap, his shoulders bouncing.
Then Misty began to cry and comfort her son at the same time, sharing his misery, feeling his pain.
Jake moved over and held her in his arms, patting her back gently. He stared at Adam, who was rocking lil Billy and watching him comfort Misty. He smiled grimly, then stood and began pacing. He carried the infant like a child’s doll in his arms. The child and blanket nearly lost in his massive, gentle arms.
Black led Judy into the Intensive Care Unit and to John’s bed. Seeing him so helpless and hurt broke her heart as nothing else had been able to do. It was just now that she realized she could lose this man forever. Her eyes scanned the machines and monitors that were keeping him alive, so far.
“He looks so helpless,” she said softly, wiping her tears.
“He is,” Black agreed. “But, he’s getting the best care possible. If he wasn’t such a fighter, he’d be in the morgue now instead of here. He’s a strong man, Missus Travis. Have faith,” he added, handing her a Kleenex.
Judy nodded her head, wiped her eyes, then blew her nose softly. She stepped over to John and kissed him gently on the forehead, then stood up straight and squared her shoulders. “He’ll live,” she said. “I know he will!”
She turned to leave, then turned back and whispered in John’s ear, “I love you, John. Please get well. I’ll be back later, I promise.”
She turned away, nodded her head at Black and he escorted her from the I.C.U. and back to the waiting room.
Outside the waiting room several reporters waited in ambush for her. Several held cameras and a few more held microphones. They reminded Judy of vultures; waiting on the devastation of someone’s life upon which to feed, then spew out to an uncaring and selfish public.
“Reporters!” she said indignantly stopping and turning to Black. “What happened to privacy?”
“I’ll handle it, Missus Travis,” he assured her. “Just stay calm and say as little as possible.”
Lindsey Poe was petite but aggressive. She had been compared to a Chihuahua and was proud of the comparison. She tried to live up to her nickname, ‘Chichi’. She stepped forward and thrust the hand held microphone under her chin and said, “Missus Travis, Lindsey Poe, Channel Twenty-Seven News. Would you like to comment on your husband’s condition?”
Black stepped in front of Judy and said, “I’m Doctor Jared Black. I performed the emergency surgery when Mister Travis was brought in. Please direct your questions to me. Missus Travis is in no way prepared to answer your questions at this time. She needs to get back to her family and inform them of her husband’s current condition.”
The reporters converged on Black giving Judy a chance to slip, for the most part, away unnoticed.
“Doctor Black,” Poe said, “would you confirm for all Country Music fans what Mister Travis’ condition is at this time?”
“Mister Travis is alive,” Black said solemnly. “He suffered three gunshot wounds to the torso. All three potentially life threatening. I expect...” was all Judy heard before she entered the waiting room and her family. They all stood when she entered, then gathered around her and listened as she told them about John.
An hour later Billy and Misty were asleep on the waiting room sofa-like seats. Judy sat staring at the small color TV mounted on the wall at the opposite end from the door. Adam and Dempsey had gone to the studio after learning that John was in intensive care and expected to recover. They had promised to be back later. The TV was tuned to CNN and at the mention of J
ohn’s name; Judy began to listen to the reporter.
“...John Travis, the country western star was shot several times as he left a recording studio in Austin, Texas, last night. Sources close to the singer say he is expected to make a full recovery, but that it will be several months before he will continue recording his album, ‘Just Beyond The Curve, dedicated to his late father, John Travis, Senior, who died in a fiery car crash at the peak of his career nearly twenty years ago. John Travis, Junior’s assailant was restrained at the scene by band members and is currently in custody charged with attempted murder. Various other charges are pending. We at CNN send our prayers and well wishes to the Travis family for a speedy recovery.”
Jake entered the room behind Judy and stopped to listen to the reporter. When she finished speaking and went on to another story Jake laid his hand gently on her shoulder and said softly, “Judy, you need to come see this.”
“Come see what, Jake?” she replied, looking up at him sadly.
Jake smiled for the first time since John had been shot and said, “Sugar, I believe half of Austin is outside in the parking lot awaiting assurance from you that their Bard is alive. You should talk to them, Judy. They’re your family, too. Not to mention John’s fans.”
“What would I say, Jake?” she asked, her eyes tired, red rimmed and filled with misery.
“Just tell them the truth, that’s all. They deserve it from you and not some reporter who is trying to make a dollar from this tragedy.”
“Will you go with me? I’ve never spoken to a crowd before.”
“Every step of the way, Sugar!” he assured her, taking her into his arms for a hug, remembering the devastated girl in the parking lot he had also held through her misery. He had assured her as well, that her life would get better in time. She had explained the death of her father during her debut performance at the Wagon Wheel.
“I love you, Jake,” Judy said, looking up into his handsome, but awkward eyes.
“Must be my talent,” he said with a big grin. “I’m the only man you ever met who can look down his long aristocratic nose and tell you what’s going on to the north and south at the same time!”
Judy laughed for the first time. “They’re not that crossed!” she exclaimed.
“The hell they ain’t!” he chided her, leading her toward the door. “I’m such a good drummer cause I see four drum sticks in each hand and I only use the middle two!”
“Jake, quit joking me!” she said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder, picking the baby up and following him out the door.
“I ain’t jokin’ ya,” he declared, leading her toward a bank of elevators.
“What am I gonna say?” she asked, as the doors opened and they stepped inside.
“You’ll think of something,” he said, then pushed the button that would take her to John’s fans.
The ride down to the lobby was made in silence. Both she and Jake were deep in their own thoughts, then the door opened and they walked to the double door and out onto the sidewalk where a group of near fifty people stood around talking. They grew silent and turned to face Judy when she stopped and looked at them nervously.
“First off,” she said seriously, in a loud calm tone, “John is alive...”
The crowd cheered and mumbled itself to silence so Judy could continue.
“He is in bad shape. But he is strong. I haven’t been to see him yet this morning. However, when I do, I will inform you of his condition. John thinks of you all as his family. So do I. So, as family I will keep you informed until he can with his own voice. We appreciate your concern and your prayers. Thank you.” Judy stood silent for a moment, then turned for the door.
“Missus Travis?” Janice said, her voice sad and heartbroken, her eyes shifting from Judy to the baby, then Jake and back.
“Yes?” Judy asked turning back looking at the child like woman who looked so devastated.
“Will you tell John that we love him?”
“It will be my honor, Miss...”
“Janice Reeves.”
“Miss Reeves. I’ll tell him.” Judy started to turn away again, then looked back at Janice and said, “If you like, Miss Reeves, when John’s better I’ll take you up and you can tell him yourself.”
“You’d really do that for me?”
“I would be honored, Janice,” Judy said with a smile.
“What would I say?” Janice asked seriously. “I’ve never met a star before.”
“You’ll think of something,” Judy said, remembering that Jake had told her the same thing earlier. “John doesn’t really consider himself a star. Just a man who makes his living singing. You will find him one of the most down to earth men you’ve ever met in your life.”
“Thank you, Missus Travis,” Janice said, wiping her tears, thinking of her father and how down to earth he was.
Judy stepped forward and hugged Janice, then stepped back, turned and walked back into the hospital. Jake winked at Janice; she smiled shyly, then he turned and followed Judy inside.
Just Beyond the Curve Page 27