STARTING OVER (6 page)

While he made two more trips and stacked the six boxes neatly, she dug through her freezer until she found something that could be thawed and cooked quickly.

He proved he was handy in a kitchen, and they put together a decent meal in record time. He also proved he was a witty, entertaining dinner companion as he shared stories of his family. Being the youngest, as well as the only boy, he had been both adored and resented by his sisters, emotions that had generated some very funny escapades.

Kate listened, fascinated by the relationship of the siblings. As an only child, she had had no similar experiences. But he seemed equally interested in her family and their business, and she found herself telling him about her childhood. And she felt herself relaxing and laughing for the first time in months. He was easy to talk to and easy to like.

Kate slept well that night, pleased with her new employee and confident that if anyone could turn C-Breeze around, Rusty would be the one to do it. She hoped that Doug, if he was looking down and watching her, was happy with her choice and how she was coping without him. It wasn't going to be easy, but Kate was beginning to believe that she might survive the tragedy, after all.

BY THE END OF THE WEEK, her already shaky confidence was fading fast. The phone's continued silence mocked all her efforts of optimism. And Rusty didn't seem to be
carrying his share of the worrying load as he went about his work, the sound of his cheerful whistling filtering in above the noise of the air conditioner.

But he had been busy. She had to give him credit for having more energy than any other person she knew. He had offered to open the office every morning and she hadn't hesitated to have a key made for him. He had rewarded her trust by going in early the day after their impromptu dinner and rearranging the furniture as she had planned. And he never seemed far away whenever there was something heavy to carry or move.

She wasn't sure how it happened, but they had fallen into the habit of eating lunch together, whether they drove into town for a hamburger or he picked something up and brought it back to the office.

Although her house was in Lake Jackson, a small city about ten miles inland from the Gulf of Mexico, her office was several miles out of town, closer to the water and away from any residential areas. The isolation was good for helicopter takeoffs and landings, but it didn't invite many drop-in guests. Which meant that Kate's prediction of long
hours playing cards was coming true. After all, a person could only wash the helicopter or go over the ledger trying to make it balance so many times without going a little crazy. It was nice to have a friendly diversion to pass the time as they waited. The clock kept ticking, and C-Breeze sunk lower, along with her prospects, as each quiet day passed.

Rusty was outside tinkering with the helicopter and Kate was cleaning off her desk in preparation for the weekend when the telephone rang. Expecting it to be her mother checking up on Kate's weekend
plans, it was quite a surprise to hear the voice of a dispatcher from Centex Oil inquiring about the availability of C-Breeze to make an emergency delivery to a platform in the Gulf. Kate's hand shook as she took down the information. It wasn't a big job, but it was a job, something to put money in the bank, a new beginning.

The receiver was barely dropped onto its cradle when she was hurrying out the door as quickly as her awkward bulk would allow. The heat and humidity caused her to slow her steps, and she was panting from the exertion and excitement by the time she reached the helipad.

Rusty was straddling the tail section, touching up the paint. The helicopter was looking better than it had in years, its white and blue body sparkling and its silver rotor blades shining in the sunshine. Rusty had repainted in gold letters the company's name on the helicopter's sides and the helo identification numbers on its engine cowls and the bottom of the craft.

But Kate barely noticed the helicopter as she shouted, "Rusty, it happened!"

There must have been a note of near hysteria in her voice because he immediately swung his leg over the edge and slid down from his perch. He hit the ground running and didn't stop until he was standing in front of her. His hands reached out to grasp her shoulders as he stared down at her.

"Is it the baby? Is something wrong? Did you have a pain? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" His words tumbled over each other, his voice filled with concern.

"No, no, nothing like that." Her hands lifted and gripped his muscular forearms as she almost sobbed in relief. "We're back in business!"

"Well, damn. It sure took them long enough!"
be exclaimed, obviously sharing her enthusiasm. "When and where?"

"Tomorrow morning Centex wants you to carry a drill bit out to platform rig eighty-three. They broke one today and discovered that their spare was defective,
They're using an old one temporarily, but they don't want to take any chances that their drilling will be interrupted by another failure. The new bit will be delivered here in the morning at eight, and they want you to bring the other two back with you." Suddenly she realized that the next day was Saturday, and while she had warned Rusty that the hours might be crazy, she felt bad about expecting him to give up his weekend after all the hard work he had done on the helicopter that week. But neither could she afford to pass on this job. "I'm sorry about the timing, but we need this run. You can take a day off next week to make up for it."

He shrugged. "Don't be pessimistic. We're going to be so busy next week that I won't have time to take off."

Kate's smile was indulgent but hopeful. "At least this means you'll get paid something soon. I really appreciate you not pressing me for your salary right away."

Again he shrugged as he replied, "Rebel and I have been making it just fine. What time did you say that barbecue would be ready tomorrow?"

THE GULF OF MEXICO sparkled like diamonds scattered on a blue-green swatch of silk. Below him, the helicopter's shadow danced on the surface, following as he headed away from the shoreline. In the distance Rusty could see dozens of shrimp boats with their nets lowered, trolling for the day's catch. Huge oil tankers moved slowly along the Intracoastal Waterway as they headed into and out of Galveston Bay. Oil platforms dotted the Gulf, their square bases and towering rigs forming the skyscrapers of the ocean.

Rusty noted the location and activity level on each as he passed them. He had studied the charts and knew, by memory, the name, number and affiliation of each, but visual contact helped him get a better picture of the Gulf and its residents.

It was all part of getting acquainted with a new area. Rusty was already familiar with all the rigs and platforms off the coastal line from Louisiana to the tip of Florida. The Texas operations were sort of like the last frontier for him in the Gulf. He wasn't sure where he'd go from here, although he figured it would be somewhere along the Pacific coastline. And there was always the siren's song of the Alaskan oil fields calling him north.

As long as everything was fresh and new, Rusty was excited and absolutely committed to his job. He liked a busy schedule and the challenge of mastering the machinery and tasks at hand. But once it became too easy, he grew bored, eventually moving on to pastures that weren't necessarily greener but just unexplored. He enjoyed having a different view outside his window every few months. His mother teased that he was always so busy looking at the horizon that he never focused on anything around him.

With the oil industry being as unstable and unpredictable as it was, job-hopping was common as the workers followed the activity. But unless the men had families who were willing to tag along, it didn't encourage any sort of meaningful relationships. Aware of his wanderer's streak, Rusty had always been careful to avoid getting involved with a woman who was ready to settle down.

That was one of the reasons he had responded when his friend Harry told him about the situation at C-Breeze. A newly widowed woman with a baby on the way and a business teetering on the verge of bankruptcy had all the elements Rusty preferred—challenge and freedom.

He would enjoy the change of scenery.

And the woman was certainly not a threat to his bachelor status. She was the epitome of everything he had spent the past few years avoiding: hearth, home and family. Any of those three things could permanently ground a man and tie him to one boring spot for the rest of his life.

Rusty had no definite plans for his future other than to keep his feet off the ground as much as possible. Flying was the one love of his life. There was time enough for thinking about putting down some sort of roots in the far distant future. At twenty-nine, he felt he had the whole world to see and experience. And if he had his choice, he would be seeing it from the cockpit of a helicopter, stopping only long enough to refuel and rest between trips.

The Centex rig came into sight, and he radioed down for permission to land. Standing more than fifty feet above the water on four massive pilings, the platform was crowded with huge pieces of equipment and multistoried buildings that housed the computers, gauges and controls, as well as the crew's living quarters. A derrick stretched skyward from its position on one corner of the rig, and a dragline's boom continuously raised and lowered as it positioned long, heavy sections of pipe for use in the drilling procedure.

Rusty headed for the yellow H that was painted in the center of an oversize bull's-eye on the small area that had been left clear for helicopter landings. It was always tricky to maneuver into and out of such a tight spot, but from years of experience, he settled the big chopper with ease. Because helicopters provided the main source of supply and mail deliveries, as well as crew transportation when the shifts changed, the arrival of one on the platform was a heralded event that drew curious crew members from every part of the operation.

Rusty was met by the rig's drilling supervisor, who took possession of the new bit and directed the loading of the two broken ones. Another supervisor took Rusty inside the office area, and while the necessary paperwork was being prepared, he provided the pilot with a cup of coffee and freshly baked cinnamon rolls that were still warm from the on-site bakery.

As usually happened, Rusty knew several members of the crew and spent the next hour renewing old acquaintances. He turned down an invitation to stay for lunch and finally returned to his helicopter for the trip back to shore. After tossing a bulging-mail bag onto the empty seat next to his, he climbed inside the cockpit and started the engine. He waited for the thumbs-up signal announcing it was all clear before lifting off the platform and banking to the left in a sharp U-turn that pointed the bird's nose toward the beach, which was more than eight miles away.

The controls of the Bell
JetRanger operated smoothly under his expert guidance. With his free hand, he reached for the microphone so he could report in to Kate. "This is helo number November604GolfAlpha calling base unit C-Breeze Two. Come in. Over." There was a moment of silence before a spurt of static announced she had received his message. Base unit One was in the office, but she was answering on the remote unit at her house.

"This is C-Breeze Two. I read you loud and clear.
Over."

"The delivery has been made. The Traveling Man is flying home and I'm starving. Is lunch still on?
Over."

"Lunch is not only still on, but it's almost ready. How do you like your brisket?
Over."

"Medium rare.
Over."

"What is your estimated time of arrival?
Over."

"E.T.A. is forty-five minutes. I have to drop some mail at the post office and leave the defective parts at the Centex warehouse.
Over."

"Roger, Traveling Man." There was slight pause before she added, "And thanks.
Over."

He hung the microphone back on its hook and checked his watch. Forty-five minutes. His stomach growled at the prospect of delicious barbecued ribs and brisket with all the trimmings. But his thoughts lingered on the woman who was doing the preparation.

The past few days had been interesting. In a relatively short period of time, he and Kate had struck up a comfortable business relationship that held all the possibilities of a genuine friendship. It was as if they had known each other for years instead of only a week.

He was touched that she had trusted him so quickly. Perhaps she was a little too gullible with business concerns, but if she was, it was more from a lack of experience than from an inability to grasp the situation. Rusty was impressed by her persistence and enthusiasm even though it must take more of an effort with each passing day for her to spend such long, hard hours at the office.

She was putting up a strong, brave front, but he knew she was having a difficult time adjusting. Even though he had known of her circumstances, or perhaps because he had known of them, Rusty had not expected Kate to be anything like she was. His mental image of a widow in her mid-thirties who was more than eight months pregnant and apparently too incompetent to handle her own business affairs had been nothing like the woman he had come to know.

He didn't have to spend much time with her to be positive that the business was not unsuccessful because of her. Rusty still had not figured out exactly why C-Breeze wasn't doing more business than it was. Even the temporary time off shouldn't have caused the bank balance to be as low as it was. Either Kate wasn't telling him all she knew about the business or her husband had been an extremely poor manager. Rusty suspected it was the latter. Kate seemed to be completely honest and hadn't tried to sugarcoat the situation.