CHAPTER TWELVE
Janice Reeves stood five feet three inches tall. She weighed an even ninety pounds. Her hair was the color of burnished copper and hung to her waist. Her eyes were emerald green and large, and her lips were beautifully sculpted, as if by Di Vinci himself. She stood at the kitchen sink and stared out the window as her father’s pickup came rolling down the dusty driveway. She rinsed the plate she had been washing and wondered where he had been so early on a Friday morning. It was unlike him.
When he came through the back door he wore a look of utter disappointment. “Is everything okay?” Janice asked, seeing the sadness in her father’s face.
“Some damn lunatic shot and maybe killed John Travis in front of his studio last night!” he declared in absolute disbelief. He shook his head and sipped the steaming coffee Janice had just placed in front of him.
“Oh Lord!” she moaned, slumping into a chair beside her father and burying her face in her hands. “Why would anyone want to do such a terrible thing?” she asked incredulously. “He’s such a sweet man, from what I’ve seen and heard, anyway.”
“The world is full of crazies, ‘Punkin,” Jim replied. “Man up the Wagon Wheel wants ya to sing some tonight. Says he likes what he heard on the tape. Told ‘im he was a wise man!”
Janice looked at the big man who had more faith in her than anyone else in the world, including herself. He had been both her mother and father since she was old enough to remember anything. He was her world and she would do anything for him that he asked.
“You’re sure?” she asked looking at him as if searching for the joke on his face. She saw nothing. “You’re not playing, are you? You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack! I told ‘im you’d be there. So, save the stage for the next superstar outta Austin!” he replied, smiling.
“You have a lot of faith in me, Daddy,” she said skeptically.
“Punkin, you can do anything you set your mind on. There’s currently an opening for a superstar in the country music field. You can fill it while John Travis decides whether he wants to live or die up there in that Austin hospital.”
“He’s in Austin?” she asked skeptically.
“Yeah,” Jim replied. “He’s fighting for his life from what I hear. They also say a crowd is gathered offering their prayers and support.”
“Will you come watch me?” she asked, thinking about her chance to become famous at the Wagon Wheel.
“Punkin, I wouldn’t miss it for the world! You’ll be famous someday. I want some credit,” he laughed good-naturedly, his bib overall covered, ample belly shaking with his mirth. His face turned red with joy.
“I love you, Daddy,” Janice said, standing, and hugging him around his massively wide chest and kissing his cheek.
“I know Sweetie,” he replied, patting her gently on the back. “You’d better get your outfit ready for tonight.”
“I’d better get you some breakfast first!” she said, pushing herself up and off him.
“I’m fine Sweetie,” Jim replied. “I had a bite in town when I went for feed. Guess I’d better go unload it. Them horses will appreciate it.”
He pushed up from the table and went out the door without looking back. She watched him go, knowing he was fighting back tears. She knew every time he looked at her, he saw his wife back when she was Janice’s age. He swore they could have been identical twins. Janice agreed. She saw pictures and at first thought they were of her, but couldn’t remember when or where they had been taken. She knew they were her mother, but the similarity was eerie.
It seemed days had passed before five o’clock that afternoon came around. Jim drove her to the Wagon Wheel and walked inside with her. The place was warming up and becoming crowded. She wasn’t taking the stage until seven o’clock and then again at ten.
Janice went back stage to her dressing room and changed into her outfit. Jim waited for her out front. He sat at the bar and had a beer. His heart beat fast with the excitement for his daughter; the only person in the world he would willingly die over. She was his only reason for living. He sipped his beer thinking of her future, knowing that after tonight it would be assured whether he was around or not. He had never told her about his heart. Or how bad his condition had become. She didn’t need to have that worry along with all the others she imagined. He also had never told her of the half a million dollars that was waiting on her in the bank when he died, plus the other half a million in insurance when he finally croaked.
He smiled and sipped his beer slowly while he waited for his daughter to appear on stage for the first time. He knew she would be famous after tonight.
The house band took the stage at six o’clock and played for an hour. The lead singer stepped back to the microphone after the applause for his last song of the set, and said, “Tonight we have a special guest; Miss Janice Reeves. A local girl. Now, all you ol’ boys and some of you ol’ girls, keep your hands on your heart, ‘cause this little girl is sure apt to steal ‘im! Give a big welcome to Miss Janice Reeves! Come on out Janice!” he said, stepping back from the microphone and waving Janice forward.
At the sound of the introduction, Jim turned on his barstool and looked at the stage. He swung his beer mug up and toasted his beautiful daughter. She saw him and smiled bright as a flash of lightning on a dark night. He felt a twinge in his chest and the mug became instantly heavy. He set it down and turned back to the stage. He then felt the pressure release in his chest and a stabbing pain.
Janice walked out on the stage unafraid and stepped to the microphone. She threw her smiling, beaming father a kiss. She said, “This song is for my father, Jim Louis Reeves. I love you dad!” She then launched into her music and song.
During the first line of the song was when Jim grabbed his chest, dropped the mug he had just picked up, grabbed the edge of the bar and sank slowly to the floor.
Janice had her eyes on her dad as she sang. She saw the wince, the grab for his chest and the bar and him sink to the floor. Her voice faltered with fear and concern. “Daddy?” she screamed fearfully, stripping the guitar strap over her head and dropping the instrument to the floor with a crash. She baled off the stage and ran for her father, crying her fears as she fought through the crowd on the dance floor.
She fell to her knees beside her father, cradled his head and stroked his cheeks. He stared up into her eyes and whispered, “I love you sweetheart! Do it for me,” then his eyes closed and he relaxed.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the man kneeling across from her said. “But, he’s dead.”
Janice didn’t hear his words. She already knew. She felt it in her heart. “Daddy please come back!” she whispered. “You never got to hear the song. I’ll never sing it again,” she added, realizing her father was gone from her.
“He wouldn’t want that, Miss,” the man said seriously. “You sing beautifully!”
When the ambulance came and took her father away she rode in the ambulance with him. He was pronounced dead at the scene, but she wanted him as long as she could have him. She would never get to talk to him, or hear his voice or feel his gentle touch again. Her world was suddenly empty, dark and void. She sat in shock in the emergency room and cried until she could cry no more.
She stood up after a long while and walked outside. The sun was up and a crowd was gathered in the parking lot. Janice passed them by in a trance, oblivious to everything but her own pain and misery. She had to get home and alone so she could decide what she was going to do. She was twenty-one and thought her life was over. In fact it had only just begun.
She was in the middle of the parking lot when she realized her car was in the parking lot of the Wagon Wheel where she and her father had left it. She turned around and walked back toward the hospital.
When she saw the crowd still gathered in the parking lot she remembered that the singer John Travis, was somewhere inside fighting for his life.
She started crying again and a gentle, kindly man urged her into his arms and he comf
orted her. He smelled fresh and clean.