After Jimmy Witherspoon's departure, it was another two months before T. J. was ready to try healing again. Having spent hundreds of hours watching television as he recuperated, he found that the airwaves were chock full of preachers, pastors and evangelists of every shape, size, ethnicity, and religion. These twenty-four-hour channels were not the place for Catholics, Methodists and Episcopalians. The fundamentalists filled these airwaves. They praised God, damned the devil, and the most popular of them seemed to include healing as a part of their service. As T. J. studied them, he saw that they all played to packed houses but none had captured the national limelight. He watched the downfall of Jimmy Swaggert and Jim and Tammy Faye Baker. Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell were still as strong as ever. A black preacher named T. D. Jakes seemed to be gaining popularity. Otherwise, none of these modern day preachers had what it took to captivate the imagination of the entire country, much less the world. There was a void. T. J. intended to fill it.
Two months later, T. J. announced that the next Sunday would be his first healing ministry since his resurrection. Ads were placed in major metropolitan newspapers. The event was an item on the evening news in several markets. How many times does a preacher awaken after twelve years to announce he is ready to start healing the masses?
When Sunday arrived, The Chosen could not have looked or sounded better. He had been fanatical about his therapy and it showed. In addition to added weight and muscle, his step was strong and his voice resonated with strength and power. He began speaking in a voice not much more than a whisper, knowing that if his voice was soft that people would strain to hear.
"My fellow believers, it's been a long journey. There were times that I was ready to give up the ghost. Just when I was weakest and ready to let go, a voice would bring me back, saying, 'I didn't resurrect you to spend a few weeks recovering and then leave this earth. I have work for you to do. Get out of bed and heal yourself so that you can do My bidding.' So I did, all the time hearing that voice pushing me on to return to this place. I wanted to make sure that God had healed me completely before I used His power to heal others. Today, I stand before you completely healed and ready to do the work of my Lord."
The congregation rose to its feet, cheering, clapping and waving hands in the air. T. J. let the celebration go on for five minutes before he motioned for them to be seated. "If anyone doubts that God can heal through man, I invite you to turn to the text of my sermon in the Book of Acts, Chapter Nine, where a good woman named Tabitha fell sick and died. Her family laid her in an upper room. Hearing that Peter was nearby, they summoned him, entreating him to 'please come to us without delay.' Peter rose and went with them to the upper room and asked the mourners to leave. When they were gone, he knelt down beside Tabitha and prayed; then, turning to the body, he said, 'Tabitha, rise.' When she saw Peter she sat up and it became known throughout all the area and thereafter many believed in the Lord."
As his sermon continued, T. J.'s voice rose to that of an army drill instructor, commanding and then demanding that the audience believe, not just in their Lord but in him as the one anointed to do His work. Suddenly, he began to shout.
"Devils, I know you are out there! I can feel your presence. I can smell your evil breath. I can see your eyes glowing like embers from the fires of eternal damnation. I intend to drive all of you out of my temple. For those of you who are inflicted with the devils of arthritis, heart disease, high blood pressure, or any other ailment that has been tormenting you, including the devil of cancer, listen to my voice. If the doctors have told you there is no hope, I tell you that if you believe in God and His miracles, there is hope. There is the power of His healing. All of you who are in need, I tell you to rise up. Stay in your place. Stand so that I may look into your eyes and into your soul. For I can tell you that my power is so strong that I need not to lay my hands upon you. The power of my healing has gone untapped now for over twelve years. It's like a thunderstorm, filled with electricity and ready to light up the sky."
As he spoke, one by one, people in the audience started rising. Soon there were hundreds standing, some swaying, some with their hands in the air. A few rose, only to collapse onto the floor.
"For those of you who are so crippled that you cannot stand, don't worry. I can see you. I can see right into your heart. Now, you devils, I want to talk directly to you. You demons have come to the wrong place. You followed these good people into my house and I am here to drive each of you out. I demand that you release your hold on my people! Get out of this house and out of their lives! These people are my people and God's people. As strong as you devils may be, you're no match for my Father and me. Be gone!"
CHAPTER 18
Jessie Woolsey had just returned to her Rivercrest Mansion from a City of Miracles board meeting when she got the call from her younger sister, Joanna. After a bad experience early in her life, fate dealt Jessie a good hand, and she was smart enough to know how to play it. As a senior in high school, she became pregnant. It definitely wasn't a rape. She had been dating the father for two years and they both took great joy in their youthful sex. They took precautions. He used condoms. She refused his advances for about ten days between each period, but somehow she became pregnant. She tried to talk him into marriage. He begged off. By the third month, she told her parents. Abortion never entered her mind. She wasn't embarrassed about it. She recognized it as something that she would have to deal with. Before the Roe v. Wade decision, abortions were available with the right connections, but the two primary alternatives were to have the baby at home or to go to what was known as a "home for unwed mothers." The staff would care for the young mother and arrange for the baby's adoption, especially if the mother was white and reasonably attractive.
Esther Johnson in Fort Worth ran one of the best known of these homes where some of the finest families in the state adopted their children. After getting Jessie's agreement, her mother called Fort Worth and arranged for Jessie to become a resident. The next day Jessie, kissed her parents goodbye, hugged her little sister and boarded the bus to Houston where she transferred to a Greyhound bound for Fort Worth. Jessie had never been that far from home, but at age seventeen she looked on her life as an adventure and this was the next chapter. She thought about the idea of giving the baby up for adoption. Assured by her mother that the child would have a good home, she had no reservations. Besides, she wanted to write a few more chapters in her book of life before she settled into motherhood.
When Jessie arrived at the Fort Worth Greyhound station, she asked directions and within half an hour the local transit bus dropped her in front of the Johnson Home. Jessie saw before her a campus dominated by an old red brick mansion, four stories high with each floor at least three or four times the size of her entire house in LaMarque. Behind it were several newer and smaller one-story buildings, also red brick. A black wrought iron fence surrounded the entire complex. Jessie walked through the gate, up the stairs, and without knocking, pulled open one of the two big double doors. Inside, she found herself in a nicely appointed living room with several sitting areas and one black and white TV. There were girls about her age and a little older, talking, watching television and reading magazines. Some were obviously pregnant. Others weren't showing yet. To one side was a desk and behind it sat a lady with gray hair and a pleasant expression who smiled and said, "Can I help you?"
"Yes, ma'am. My name is Jessie and I'm going to be staying here for a few months."
"Jessie, of course. We've been expecting you. Come have a seat. Let's get some paperwork out of the way before I show you to your room."
Thus, the Johnson Home became Jessie's home. The next months went by much more rapidly than Jessie anticipated. The Home provided her with a nice room and meals. She attended school for six hours every day. At first she had doctor appointments once a month. As her time grew near she saw the doctor every two weeks. She earned her high school diploma shortly before her baby was born. When she went into labor, she told one of
the attendants who drove her to Harris Hospital near downtown where everything went smoothly. Jessie had a seven-pound, twelve-ounce boy. She got to see him once and thought that he would grow up to look like her dad. Then, he was gone and out of her life, to be adopted by a family that she would never know. While she would miss him and he would always be somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, she never regretted her decision.
Finding that she liked Fort Worth, Jessie was ready to find a job and get on with her life. In the sixties, the Fort Worth Star Telegram separated its employment section into male and female categories. Under the female job listings were waitresses, retail clerks, secretaries and cooks. She scanned the listings until she saw one for a Ford dealer, looking for a "girl Friday" to answer the telephone, greet customers and do some light typing. She called and got an appointment on the same day that she saw the ad.
Warren Woolsey, a thirty-five year old divorcee with no children, owned Cowtown Ford. He had started in the car business at the age of eighteen and soon became a top salesman. Working his way up to sales manager more quickly than anyone in the history of the region, he was able to buy his own franchise before he was thirty. At six feet, two inches tall, he had the lean build of a college athlete and the face of a movie star. He did his own television commercials and aired them in Fort Worth and Dallas. With a Stetson set firmly on his head, he convinced people throughout the area that Cowtown Ford was "where deals were done." He was well on his way to becoming a wealthy man.
Warren Woolsey was looking for a girl Friday. When he saw Jessie, he found exactly what he was looking for and much more. At eighteen, Jessie was a striking young woman. She had long strawberry blonde hair, opaline green eyes, a bosom that caught every man's eye and a personality that made it clear that she was a match for anyone, man or woman. She still had a few extra pounds around the middle and didn't hide the fact that she had just had a baby, had put him up for adoption and needed a job. Warren hired her on the spot. He wanted her not just for his girl Friday but also for every other day of the week. Within three months, they were sleeping together. Jessie saw nothing wrong with sleeping with her boss and it didn't bother her that he was seventeen years older than she. Warren gave her orders during the day and worshiped at the temple of her body at night. After another three months, Warren flew her to Hawaii where they were married in a ceremony by the sea with a waiter and waitress from their hotel as best man and maid of honor. Jessie never worked another day for the rest of her life.
Jessie and Warren had four children, two boys and two girls, and Warren kept buying car dealerships. He kidded Jessie that every time he bought a dealership she got pregnant; or maybe it was the other way around. After the fourth dealership they moved to a mansion in Rivercrest, across the street from Rivercrest Country Club where the old rich played golf and the pot in the men's grill poker games was often thousands of dollars. As their children grew into teenagers, they bought a ranch in Palo Pinto County, fifty miles west of Fort Worth, where they raised horses and took friends on deer hunts in the fall. Jessie became a good shot and pleased Warren when she killed a buck from three hundred yards. Jessie's life could not have been better.
Warren was standing by the fireplace in their mansion, scotch in hand, telling Jessie about the exotic deer that he was going to import to their ranch for the next season when he suddenly gasped, clutched his chest and collapsed on the floor. Jessie rushed him to the hospital. His left anterior descending artery had occluded. Warren died instantly.
Jessie grieved for months before she closed the best chapter of her life and contemplated what destiny would bring next. Her children were grown. In addition to the car dealerships, Warren had made some wise stock investments over the years and had joined some of his friends in successful oil ventures. Jessie was a wealthy woman. She sold the car dealerships to pay estate taxes. When she surveyed what Warren had left her, she concluded she could not possibly spend it all if she lived to be two hundred. After his death, she filled her time with charities, visited her children who were scattered around the country, traveled and generally led a quiet life. Although there were plenty of men in Fort Worth who would have loved to have this still-beautiful lady at their side or in their bed, she refused to date. She and Warren had something very special and, in her mind, he was irreplaceable. If asked, she would have said that she was content but bored. She stayed that way until two things happened. The first involved Thomas Jeremiah Luther and The City of Miracles. The second was the call.
CHAPTER 19
"Jessie, this is Jo."
"What's the matter, Jo?"
"Lucy's very sick. She's in Hermann Hospital in the medical center. She had an abortion and developed an infection and lost a lot of blood. We didn't know anything about it until I found her in bed with a temperature of one hundred and five."
"Is she going to be okay?"
"We don't know, Jessie. They operated on her." Joanna paused, took a breath and continued. "They say she could have brain damage or even die."
"I'm coming down, Jo. I'll fly into Hobby and rent a car. Get me a room at that hotel across from the medical center. In fact, get two rooms and I'll pay for them. You and Bo will need a place to rest, too."
Jessie took charge as she always did. She and Jo had not been close growing up. She was eight years older and left home when Joanna was just a kid. After Jo graduated from high school, they began to spend more time together. As adults they talked on the phone at least once a week. Jessie often marveled at the turns in their lives. If she hadn't gotten pregnant and gone to Fort Worth, she might have been just like Joanna, married to a refinery worker, living in a frame house and working for ten dollars an hour. Fate plays a strange and unpredictable game. Now an unwanted pregnancy had once again entered their lives. This time she feared the result might be far different.
Then, her mind turned to Lucy. Why did Lucy have to get an abortion? She could have come to live in Fort Worth. Besides, Lucy had to know abortion was wrong. Those thoughts and many others whirled through her head as her housekeeper drove her to Dallas to board the Southwest Airlines shuttle to Houston. As she sat in the plane, she shoved them aside and concentrated on how she could best help her family. Deep down she liked having a crisis to manage, if only it had not involved Lucy and Joanna.
CHAPTER 20
After drinking coffee and picking at food in the hospital cafeteria, Joanna and Bo returned to the waiting room outside the post anesthesia care unit. Joanna walked to the nurse's station and asked if they could see their daughter yet. A few minutes later Dr. McIntosh came through the double doors. Joanna tried without success to read her face.
The doctor's voice was calm and reassuring. "We are transfusing blood products and I have Lucy on high doses of antibiotics. She's still bleeding internally. Her hemoglobin and hematocrit are low but not critical. That's a good sign. We have her heart monitored and she's on a ventilator to help her breathe. You can come in for about five minutes. Don't be shocked by what you see. We've got tubes and wires almost everywhere."
With grim expressions on their faces, Joanna and Bo followed Dr. McIntosh into the unit. There were patients in every bed separated by curtains, each one in some stage of recovery. Some were moaning quietly. Others were pulling on the tubes attached to them. Some were staring at the ceiling and a few called to the nurses.
They found Lucy in the fourth bed on the right. Until the doctor stopped at the foot of the bed, they wouldn't have recognized her. The ventilator masked her face. There were tubes in her arms, one infusing blood products and another dripping a clear liquid into the other arm. Wires went to monitors that gave constant readings of her blood pressure, heart, pulse, oxygen and temperature. Tears filled Joanna's eyes as she looked at her baby girl. Bo clenched and unclenched his fists.
Finally, Joanna spoke. "How long will she be like this?"
"I wish we could give you a definite answer," Dr. McIntosh replied. "Once the anesthesia wears off, we'll have to see wha
t her responses are. That ought to be in the next hour or so." She decided not to tell them her concerns because the anesthesia should already have been wearing off. They should have been seeing some response. She erred on the side of caution and excused herself to wait awhile in hopes that she would not have to further alarm Lucy's parents.
Dr. McIntosh came back an hour later. "Well, there's no real change. Lucy's blood count seems to be stabilizing some. Her temperature and her white count are high. She hasn't regained consciousness. I think we have the right antibiotics for now. We won't have the blood culture results back until at least tomorrow morning. It may be that there is another antibiotic that will be more effective to fight the infection. We won't know until then."
"Is it still the effects of the anesthetic, Doctor?" Joanna asked with a hint of hope in her voice.
"No, Mrs. Brady. The anesthetic has worn off and we are getting ready to move her into the intensive care unit one floor down. Because she hasn't improved, I'm going to ask a neurologist to consult. We're doing everything we can for her.
"Well, Doctor, you might try one more thing."
"What's that, Mrs. Brady?"
"Prayer, Doctor."
"Joanna, I'm Catholic and I pray for all of my patients. My prayers are already up there with yours."
"Thank you, Doctor McIntosh."
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