The Merciless Travis Wilde

Caleb had come up with another old “contact” who’d located a judge powerful enough to arrange the waiver of the usual license requirements and to perform the ceremony.

Jake had somehow found a florist who’d miraculously arranged for dozens of white roses and white orchids to be delivered to the chapel in record time.

Travis wanted to tell his brothers what their thoughtfulness meant to him but he didn’t trust himself to speak.

He didn’t have to.

His brothers hugged him and made it clear they understood.

Promptly at eight, the chapel doors opened.

Jennie appeared, on the arm of her surgeon.

He wore a dark suit.

She wore a short white lace dress, courtesy of one the nurses who was part of the team that would be taking care of her. The dress was simple and beautiful.

As beautiful as the bride herself.

Travis stood straight and tall.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

And, in that instant, he knew he had been waiting for this woman, for this moment, his entire life.

Music began playing, an instrumental version of “And I Will Always Love You,” courtesy of Jake’s iPod.

Jennie’s face lit.

Still on her doctor’s arm, she started toward Travis. Her steps wobbled at the very end, and Travis stepped quickly forward and took her in his arms.

“I love you,” he said softly, and she smiled again, her eyes glittering with happy tears.

The service was brief.

The judge spoke of love and commitment, joy and sorrow, of how love was life’s one true constant.

When it was time to make their vows, Travis realized they didn’t have rings...

Except, they did.

Jake and Caleb had thought of everything.

Jake handed him a plain gold band to put on Jennie’s finger.

Caleb handed Jennie a matching band to put on Travis’s finger.

It was time to speak their vows.

“I, Travis Wilde, take this woman, Jennifer Cooper...”

His voice was strong and sure.

Jennie looked into his eyes.

“I, Jennifer Cooper, take this man, Travis Wilde...”

She spoke softly, but her words were clear and certain.

A moment later, the judge smiled.

“By the rights vested in me by the State of Massachusetts,” she said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Wilde—Travis—you may kiss your bride.”

Travis cupped his wife’s face in his big hands.

Both of them were smiling. Both of them had tears in their eyes.

“Mrs. Wilde,” he said softly.

Jennie laughed. “Mr. Wilde.”

“I love you,” he said.

She put her arms around his neck. He lowered his head to hers.

And as they kissed, he knew that the words, I love you, could never be enough to tell her what she really meant to him.

* * *

Travis spent the night by his wife’s side.

He’d brought her two wedding gifts.

Her beloved, one-eared plush dog, which he’d arranged to arrive by courier..

And a hand-written IOU, promising her a kitten.

She wept, kissed him, and they held each other close.

At a few minutes before six the next morning, the surgeon came by. He shook Travis’s hand, gave Jennie a quick hug.

Moments later, an attendant wheeled Jennie from her room.

Travis went with the gurney as far as they’d let him, holding his wife’s hand, smiling at her, telling her how much he adored her, that he’d see her very soon, that as she fell asleep, he wanted her to think about where she wanted to spend their honeymoon.

“New York,” he said. “Or Paris or Rome, or anywhere you choose.”

She was already a little groggy from medication; her voice was slurred but her words were deliberate.

“I want to go home,” she said. “To your place in Dallas. That’s home to me, it has been ever since we met.”

“Right,” he said brightly, “of course,” he said, even more brightly because he was a heartbeat away from sobbing.

The gurney stopped.

There were massive doors ahead.

“Sorry, Mr. Wilde,” one of the attendants said softly, “this is as far as you can go.”

Travis bent over the gurney. He put his arms around Jennie as best he could and lifted her closer.

“Think of me,” he whispered. “Think of us. Think about all the years ahead.”

“I love you,” she said. “I love you, love you, love you...”

The gurney started moving. The doors opened, then shut.

Travis stumbled back against the wall.

Long minutes later, he made his way slowly to the private waiting room the hospital had arranged for the Wildes.

His brothers were there.

“Trav,” they said, and they drew him into their strong arms.

* * *

Time passed, but surely snails moved faster.

One minute. Two. An hour.

And, while the hands of the clock on the wall, the hands of the watch on Travis’s wrist crawled forward, amazing things began to happen.

The door opened, and Emily and Jaimie walked into the waiting room.

Travis looked up, saw them and got to his feet.

“Travis,” they said, and he opened his arms and they flew to him.

His sisters-in-law appeared a little while after that.

“Sage,” he said hoarsely, “Addison...”

They kissed him, whispered words of encouragement.

God, he thought, I

am a lucky man!

Lissa showed up next.

He knew she must have flown in from California on the red eye, that she probably hadn’t slept, but her tear-shot smile and hugs were all a brother could ever want.

A couple of hours later, the door swung open again.

Travis rose slowly to his feet.

“Dad?”

General Wilde walked straight to his son.

“Travis,” he said. He held out his hand. Travis reached for it but then his father cleared his throat, pulled back his hand and wrapped Travis in tight embrace.

“I got here as soon as I could.”

Travis nodded. “I—I—”

“I hear your Jennie is quite a woman.”

Travis tried to say yes, she was, but all that came out was a choked sound of joy.

* * *

Morning became afternoon, afternoon became evening.

Lights blazed on in the waiting room.

Darkness descended over the city.

The Wildes paced.

Talked in low voices.

Endlessly looked at the clock. At their watches.

Lissa, Sage and Emily left, came back with stacks of newspapers and magazines that went untouched.

Jaimie and Addison went out, returned with sandwiches, pastries and munchies.

Those went untouched, as well.

Jake disappeared, brought back a pizza.

Caleb vanished, showed up with two boxes of doughnuts.

“You have to eat,” they all told Travis, but he didn’t and neither did they.

Coffee, however, was a big success.

Everybody gulped it down.

After a while, by unspoken agreement, they stopped checking the time.

What was the point?

Time was either their friend—the surgery was taking so long because every step was going well—or it was their enemy—the surgery was taking so long because nothing about it was going well.

Every now and then, somebody in hospital green appeared in the doorway.

The first time, they all leaped to their feet, but it turned out the operating room team had simply sent someone to say that the surgery was progressing.

“How much longer?” Travis said.

He didn’t get an answer.

The second time, he changed the question.

“How is my wife?” he asked.

The answer was still the same, but with an addendum.

The surgery was progressing, and the doctor would be down to see them when it was over.