Letters From the Grave
to early schedules from school and was up shortly after he talked to BJ.
He said, “Good Morning.” To his surprise, she walked to him while he was sitting at the kitchen table and sat on his lap, kissing him without saying anything. He was stunned. They had pecked when he visited, but never amorously. She was beautiful in a silky robe, with no makeup. Her breath was fresh, as though she wanted to send him a message.
She stood up and started pouring tea water, ready on the stove.
He said, “How about a helicopter ride today?”
“Really! I’ve never been in a helicopter. Are you serious?”
“Yeah. We’ve got some good weather and I’d like to take you down to Corpus Christi.”
“Exciting! When do we leave?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
She had a quick yogurt breakfast and hurried to get dressed, ready in twenty minutes. She talked excitedly all the way to the airport. Her anticipation grew when they drove onto the field and further on to CHI Operations, parking by the helipad. They walked into the Operations Center for the helicopter keys and flight log, and to introduce Julie. Jake introduced her to Ross, BJ and one of the pilots, sitting in the lounge area on standby.
BJ shook her hand. “I’m so glad to meet you! You’re all Jake talks about any more.”
She smiled, shaking his hand firmly. “Well, around me he talks about flying and you.”
They chuckled as Jake led her out, walking to the helicopter. She commented, “They all look up to you in there.”
He just smiled.
When they reached the helicopter on the pad, he helped her up from the skid into the right seat. “I’m going to walk around now and check a few things. It’s called pre-flighting.”
She was excited, answering, “Okay.”
When he was done with the walk around and checking the log book, he opened a panel and checked the fuel to be sure there was no water condensation in the tank. Everything checked okay, and he jumped into the pilot’s left seat after closing all panels. “All right, fasten your seatbelt.”
He put on a headset for takeoff and went through the engine start sequence and checklist. The inside of the helicopter was small and felt almost fragile to her, much more delicate than her car. The entire area in front and to the sides offered an incredible view. The turbine engine began to whine, and the rotor above them started moving. When the engine settled at the right temperature, Jake made a clearance call to the Operations Center announcing their departure. He glanced at her momentarily saying, “Here we go.”
He pulled up on the collective and cyclic controls, and the helicopter jumped forward and up. She squealed with excitement. In about one second, they were at hangar-top level, and he maneuvered into a sharp left turn as she watched the top of the Operations Center pass underneath. They were travelling straight and level, as gently as he could fly, climbing at a slow rate. She enjoyed the ever-widening panorama below.
Jake removed the headset so that they could talk. They continued to climb to three thousand feet, where he leveled off and flew toward the Texas Coastline. “We’re going to fly along the coast today. The weather’s great, and I get lost otherwise.” He was smiling as she glanced over at him with a “yeah-sure” look.
She sat comfortably. “This is fabulous. I can see why you like it.”
At the coast, he lowered to five hundred feet and flew just outside the surf line. She said, “I get it. You just wanted to look at the girls today!”
“Nothing compares to you, sweetheart.”
She smiled, “So, how long will we be up here today? It’s like being suspended on top of the world’s largest Ferris wheel!”
“It’s about three hours each way, and we’ll need to get gas and stop for lunch.”
“You just fly into a restaurant?”
“Sometimes I eat at the airports when I get gas, but we’ll land on the beach today. I know a nice place.”
“I can see why you like this, Jake. You get so much freedom to go anywhere.”
He smiled and scanned the horizon. “Yeah, it’s pretty special. If we weren’t going so far today, I’d take you to one of my favorite oil rigs. It’s got a great chef, but I’m thinking seafood on the beach today.”
She put her hand on top of his.
They’d flown for about two hours when he started descending. “Ready for lunch?”
“Sure.”
Jake landed on an isolated beach, where they could walk to a local seafood place near the water. They sat outside under an umbrella. Even though it was summer, there was a breeze off of the water, making it pleasant. She ordered grilled shrimp and he had grilled snapper. The setting could not have been more perfect. They took their time and relaxed, without feeling the necessity to talk continuously. After finishing, they walked hand in hand back to the helicopter with many people watching the “lucky couple” with their own helicopter.
Once airborne again, they stopped for fuel at an airport near the coast, not far from Corpus Christi. The whole trip was like a tour ride for her. When they returned to the CHI heliport in the early evening, the sun was painting an orange-red tapestry, sinking into the sea. It had been a magical day for Julie, who thanked him with a huge kiss, as BJ and some of the office staff watched. You’re a lucky guy, Jake.
That night, her last night with him in Lafayette, was special for both of them. He grilled steaks, and they enjoyed a bottle of wine. She thanked him for a special time together, their most special time yet. That night after he went to bed late, there was a knock on his door. She entered without giving him time to answer, wearing a silky nightgown she’d been saving. It was a new level in their relationship. He didn’t know how to react and remained speechless. It was her turn to be in control.
The next day, she left as the sun began to rise. He felt a deep sense of loss, waving as she drove away. He thought, How can we carry this to the next level? They both had lives apart.
Later, sitting in the pilot’s lounge, BJ sat down after all the helicopters left on scheduled routes. “Man, you are one lucky SOB. That is a fine lady you’ve got there, Jake.”
“I’m not sure I’ve got her, BJ. She’s got her life in Mineral Wells, and I’m here. I don’t think either of us can leave. I don’t know if I can have a long-distance relationship.”
BJ responded, “You need to think about this. Women like her don’t come often. You’ve never met anyone like her. Do you want to be a hermit for the rest your life?”
“I’m not a hermit.”
“Oh. Yeah. What’s the definition of a hermit? You come pretty close. You’re a better man, Jake, when there’s a woman around. Think about how life was before Callie came to you. Everyone here saw it. You saw it. Admit it.”
“I know, BJ. Maybe I’m just depressed since she left this morning.”
“Yeah. Why do you think that is?”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Angola
Ryan hated morning call at “The Farm,” Louisiana’s State Penitentiary, Angola. Another pre-dawn breakfast and work in the laundry or outside tending the vegetables they would eat. He didn’t deserve to be at the state's maximum security prison. Over eighty percent of the prisoners were violent offenders, more than half with life sentences. Over eighty men and one woman resided on Death Row. He didn’t belong there. He was only convicted of being a thief. They didn’t get him on the murder charges. The judge didn’t like his attitude for refusal to say anything about the unrecovered part of Ramsey’s coins. Fuck ‘em. His story was that Callie had the coins, and no one proved otherwise. No matter how tough they tried to make it for him, he’d be out in less than a year. His only goal now was to get the gold back. He was earning it for the time in here. This time, he’d get it all back.
After work detail, he’d be required to sit through some “offender educational programming” session again. The prison did everything the goo
d people of Louisiana wanted, trying to rehabilitate the “lifers” who would never see freedom again. What a waste! He was going to be out soon enough, so it was all a waste of time and taxpayer money. The educational program was more torture than any prison labor detail. They liked to pretend that they could turn these mongrels inside into acceptable humans. Fat chance. Then there was the faith-based stuff for “moral rehabilitation” -- what a joke. None of the inmates at The Farm had any morals. Ryan had morals, just none that society accepted. Fuck ‘em.
After eating breakfast, he lined up with the other prisoners from his cell block, waiting for the guard to call his name. “Ryan, cattle stalls.”
He yelled back, “What! Get someone else to handle the Shit Detail. You idiots can’t keep givin’ me the Shit Detail. I got rights!”
The big guard walked down the line, stopping inches from Ryan’s face, looking down at the shorter man. “You got something to say, Fly Shit?”
Ryan could smell a foul odor on the guard’s breath. He was tempted to swing at the man in uniform, pretty sure he could take the out-of-shape lard, even if he was a head taller and a hundred pounds heavier with bad breath. The guards constantly goaded him, hoping to get him extra time. He wasn’t going to play their game. “No sir. It’s just that I always get the stalls. Can’t someone else do that?”
“You have a special talent for shoveling shit, Ryan, and you should feel glad to be appreciated for