The Ultimate Gift

by Rene Gutteridge

  And it was Christmas. Wasn’t it? He didn’t know. What was his family doing? Alexia? Emily?

  Slumping forward, Jason managed to lift his eyes, and when he did, he saw him, tied to a tree, his face bloodied, his clothes shredded. Flies swarmed his head. Amigo.

  Hands grabbed him by the shirt and he was pulled to his feet. “Vuélvalos a las jaulas! Mañana se mueren!” the leader shouted. Then they pulled Jason up the small hill and drove him back into his cage like an animal. The door slammed, and everything went quiet. Except a sound just outside his door.

  Jason looked. The guard was so drunk, he’d forgotten to lock the door.

  His mind, as numb as it had become, kept playing their words over in his mind. Vuélvalos. Las jaulas. Mañana. Mueren.

  What did it mean? The tone had been authoritative, instructive. Several men had looked at Jason and sneered. A few—the younger ones—looked away. He didn’t speak their language, but he knew something out of the ordinary had been spoken.

  Mueren. Mueren? Muerte . . . Muerte. “Death,” he whispered.

  Peeking out, Jason tried to see what was happening. A rare stillness covered the camp. The men, passed out from the alcohol, lay scattered around the camp. Their stench clung to the air.

  He listened carefully but couldn’t identify any sounds indicating anybody was awake or moving around. The bushes and trees made it hard to know for sure. He could see only a few yards. But the man who had been guarding the cells had slid down the wall he usually sat against. The tips of his boots pointed to the sky, and his body lay limp as he slumbered.

  Could he escape? He had to escape. This was his only chance. If he ran and got caught, he would surely die. But death was standing nearby anyway.

  He pushed the door forward, steadily and slowly. Creeping out, he glanced at the guard. His gun lay nearby, his bottle of beer cradled in his arm.

  Jason stepped carefully, trying not to make a sound. He kept himself low, breathed shallowly, watched with alert eyes for anyone who might spot him.

  A clearing in the brush looked to be the perfect escape, but where did it lead? Down the mountain or to a cliff?

  The time is now.

  Stepping over vines and branches, Jason tried not to rush, knowing that would only land him flat on his face. Instead, he watched his steps and hurried through the brush. Limbs scraped his body and he twisted his ankle in a hole, but up ahead he could see a patch of bright sunlight, indicating a clearing.

  The brush became less dense, and Jason began jumping over most of it as he headed toward the clearing. He splashed his way through a small creek. The water felt cold and fresh. But he kept running.

  And running.

  And . . . amigo.

  Jason slowed, then came to a stop, hardly able to breathe and drenched in sweat. He was free, far from their reach, but his friend was still there. Tied to a tree. Perhaps even being beaten again for Jason’s trespass.

  Jason looked back toward the steep mountain. He didn’t even know the man’s name. He hadn’t bothered to ask, not once.

  It didn’t matter. He called him friend, and if that’s what he was going to call him, then he couldn’t leave him.

  Jason stepped forward, and with more determination than he’d had going down the mountain, he went back up.

  When Jason reached the campsite again, he found all of the bandits passed out except for the man guarding his friend. Amigo, still tied to the tree, looked half dead, with his head leaning against a log and blood dripping down the side of his face.

  The guard sat on a crate but seemed to be struggling to stay alert. Jason looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. He noticed a stack of hardbound books sitting nearby.

  Grabbing one, Jason approached the guard, who was looking down, focused on lighting a cigar.

  You’ve got one chance. Don’t blow it.

  He swung the book squarely into the guard’s face, knocking him unconscious. Hurrying over to his friend, he shook him, trying to wake him.

  “Hey . . . hey . . . hey . . .”

  He opened his eyes, looking disoriented. Jason put a finger up. “Shhh.”

  Jason noticed one of the bandits lying near the fire shift, position, and slap at some mosquitoes on his face, then fall back asleep.

  He turned back to his friend. “Can you walk?” he asked, untying the rope that bound his wrists.

  His friend managed to sit up a little. “Save yourself!” he whispered.

  “Not on your life. Come on.” Jason pulled him up and swung an arm around his shoulder, helping him through the brush. Before long, his friend managed to walk without aid, limping and holding his side, but still going. They made it to the creek before they heard the gunfire and shouts in Spanish.

  “Hurry,” Jason breathed, and they hustled to the clearing, where they broke out into a run.

  They ran until dark. Jason could barely walk by the time they sat down near another small stream, cupping their hands to drink. Both reclined against trees, catching their breath. They didn’t speak a word. They didn’t have to. Both men knew the sacrifice the other had made.

  chapter 16

  alexia stood with the crowd, staring at the white corridor that should’ve delivered Jason minutes ago. People had streamed out from customs in droves, but Jason wasn’t among them. She watched as couples reunited, mothers held their children, fathers shook hands with their sons. Holding back tears, she made herself stand still and wait. He would be here. She knew it.

  And then he appeared, carrying a small black duffel bag. He didn’t see her at first. But when he did, his face lit with excitement. Rushing to him, she flung her arms around him and buried her face into his neck.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, holding her tightly.

  “I was scared to death.” She closed her eyes and blocked out all the fear. Instead, she let this moment saturate every ounce of her. She held nothing back. And neither did Jason. They melted into each other, and the noise of the airport faded. Alexia listened to Jason’s breath in her ear.

  Finally, Jason released her. “Where’s Emily?” he asked.

  “Um, she’s resting. She’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Jason’s eyes brightened as he took her in. “You guys have a good Christmas?”

  Alexia tried to hold back the tears. “We didn’t have one. How could we?”

  “You know what?” he said gently. “We’re going to have a fantastic one next year. I promise.”

  She stepped away from him and looked into his eyes. “We won’t have a next year.”

  The concrete, dark and wet, echoed his footsteps against the metal of the long strip of storage units. The security guard’s keys rattled next to his hip as Jason walked alongside the man.

  “Right up here,” the guard said, pointing to a unit on the right. He unlocked it and handed Jason a flashlight. “Lock it back when you’re done. Check out with me before you go.”

  Jason opened the door into blackness. Switching on his light, he guided himself through piles of boxes and other items. This was everything he owned. All crammed into boxes and locked away.

  He’d daydreamed about getting his stuff back. Now here it was and he couldn’t care less about it.

  The light’s beam bounced from one item to the next, but Jason was only looking for one thing, and he wasn’t going to leave until he found it. Squeezing his body between two towers of boxes, he finally spotted it in the corner. It was piled high with all of his junk, but the drawers were visible, and he reached for the top one and pulled it out. Shirts he hardly ever wore were folded neatly in the drawer. He slipped his hand under one and pulled out a stack of envelopes bound together by a rubber band.

  Unopened. Every single one.

  He thumbed through them. His first instinct had been to throw them away, but he never could. Instead, he’d hidden them away, like a nasty secret, and they hadn’t seen the light of day until now.

  He pointed the flashlight toward the first one
and tore open the envelope. It was time to hear what his grandfather had to say. This time he would listen.

  The only noise in the dimly lit conference room was the soft hum of the wall sconces shooting light upward every four feet on the wall. Miss Hastings had been kind enough to let him in and leave him alone. Clutching the letters he’d spent three hours reading and pondering, Jason slowly sat in one of the high-backed leather chairs and turned it to face the video screen.

  In letter after letter Red had begged Jason to forgive him, told him of the grief he’d endured, asked for the chance to explain. All tightly sealed away. Jason had never given him that chance. Until now.

  A soul-shattering tide of emotion broke through Jason. His grandfather had cared deeply for him and his father. What he could never say in person, he’d bared in ink. He’d spilled out his soul on those pages, and now he was gone. The finality of it all crushed Jason’s heart.

  As he punched Play, he saw it in his grandfather’s eyes. They were brown, like his dad’s, and glistening with desperation as he made his final attempt to reach Jason through words. The pain in his eyes, the quiver in his voice, told the whole story. He would go to his grave with a grief so deep that even death couldn’t release him from it.

  “I do not blame you for this,” his grandfather said into the camera. “The events of that day play in my mind over and over and over again. I’m so sorry. If your father hadn’t died while working for me . . . Please give me a chance to explain. Ever since that day, my life has been filled with grief. It is apparent that you will never forgive me. It’s also something I cannot do for myself. I loved your father so much . . .”

  Red looked down, trying to gather himself, rubbing his knuckles and trying to push through the emotion that was obviously taking him over. “A parent should never have a child precede him in death. It is the most painful experience imaginable . . .”

  Suddenly Hamilton stepped behind Red. Jason watched as Red’s longtime friend took him by the shoulders and addressed the men behind the camera. “That’s enough for today, gentlemen.”

  The friendship between the men was apparent. His stoic and steely eyed grandfather melted under the hands of his faithful friend. It was a bond Jason couldn’t identify with, but wanted. Desperately.

  Jason took a deep breath as he came around the corner into Emily’s room. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he wanted to bring a smile to her face. He stood in the doorway a moment and studied her. She was propped up with pillows, her face turned away from him. She looked thinner and paler. He knocked on the open door.

  Emily turned toward him, and a faint smile crossed her lips. “Welcome back, stranger.”

  “Hey.” He smiled and glanced at Alexia, who was knitting in a chair in the corner. She looked pleased to see him.

  Jason stepped into the room and reclined across the end of Emily’s bed. Her eyes had lost some of their sparkle, and dark circles clung to the skin beneath them. She seemed to be waiting for something, so Jason produced from behind his back the doll he’d bought at the airport in South America. “Ta-da.”

  The doll was colorful enough, but Emily didn’t look impressed. “Wow. An airport gift-shop gift.” Her expression overemphasized the du in dull. “How thoughtful. Does it come with needles?”

  Jason looked to Alexia for help, but she only chuckled and went back to knitting, shrugging as though she couldn’t help him through this one.

  Emily studied him intently and said, “Yeah, you can kiss me, even though you’re a guy.”

  Jason leaned in and kissed her as gently as a butterfly landing on a flower. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

  “Whatever,” Emily said, spinning up the attitude. “Let’s cut to the chase: you really blew it with us this Christmas.”

  Jason feigned a serious expression. “I was unavoidably detained.”

  She seemed to concede that point. “Okay, yeah. But I want Christmas.” Then she grabbed Jason’s shirt and pulled him close to her. “I want to ride a horse,” she whispered.

  “Uh, I’ve got like a week or two left with this other thing, but, um . . . let me make a call and we’ll see—”

  “Jason,” Emily said, her eyes desperate and vulnerable. “Now.”

  Miss Hastings normally wouldn’t interrupt, but there was an urgency in Jason’s voice she’d never heard before. She knocked on Mr. Hamilton’s door and peeked her head in. “Excuse me, sir.” Several people surrounding the table with the speakerphone turned to look at her. “It’s Jason on line two.”

  Mr. Hamilton looked at his staff members. “Will you all excuse me? I have to take this call.”

  The employees quickly gathered their things and stood to leave. Miss Hastings shut the door as Mr. Hamilton punched on the speakerphone.

  “Go ahead, Jason.”

  “Mr. Hamilton, look, one way or another, this is over. Either I was in South America way too long, or I missed the deadline, or whatever. But what I’m about to do is way more important, and I know you have no reason whatsoever to trust me, but I need to borrow my grandfather’s jet, and I need it now.”

  Mr. Hamilton glanced at Miss Hastings, who tried to encourage him to keep listening with a gentle nod.

  Jason continued, “I want to take Alexia and Emily to Gus’s ranch for a late Christmas.”

  “Jason,” Mr. Hamilton said, “do you know what you’re doing? Look, I have no control—”

  Miss Hastings couldn’t help herself. She leaned toward the speakerphone and for the first time that she could remember actually interrupted her boss. “What, um, Mr. Hamilton was saying was that he’ll be sending along Red’s next gift on your Conversay. You have your bags packed within the hour, and, uh—” She glanced at Mr. Hamilton’s skeptical expression. “—he will have the jet fueled and ready to go.”

  “Thank you,” Jason said. His voice was, for once, full of cheer. “This means so much to me. And Hamilton, I promise I’m going to take back all those nasty thoughts about you being the grinch.” Miss Hastings couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Thanks again. Merry Christmas!”

  Jason had always had a strong aversion to Christmas carols, but Emily won him over, and he sang “Jingle Bells” like an out-of-control jovial elf who couldn’t carry a tune if his life depended on it. But it kept Emily giggling for a good hour. He was willing to look like a complete idiot just to see that little girl smile.

  It was night by the time they arrived at Gus’s ranch. Jason thought he’d never want to see this place again, but here he was, and it almost felt like he was coming home.

  Alexia gazed out the front windshield of the SUV, her eyes wide with awe. Jason had to admit that he was a little in awe too.

  Jason hopped out of the car, and Gus came right out the front door, grinning like Santa Claus.

  “Hey, Gus!” Jason called to him, pointing to the lawn. “What is this? Snow in Texas?”

  Gus walked down the front steps and across the white lawn. “Had it trucked in. Ho, ho, ho! All right, Hector! Hit it!”

  Every inch of his house, including trees, bushes, and the trim on his roof, suddenly glowed with bright, dazzling Christmas lights. “Merry Christmas,” Gus said, approaching them.

  “Gus, this is Emily.”

  “Hi, Emily.” He shook her hand. “Welcome.”

  “And Alexia.”

  “Alexia. How’re ya doin’?”

  Gus looked back at Jason. “And there he is.” He smiled, then pulled him into a hug.

  Jason couldn’t help but smile back.

  “I’ll get your bags,” Gus said.

  Jason watched Emily walk toward the house, her eyes tracing every light. All the colors danced in her eyes. She stooped to scoop up some snow. Alexia moved up next to Jason and leaned into his shoulder. “I see why you chose this place,” she said, smiling.

  “I wish I could take the credit. Emily said her wish was to go horseback riding.”

  “What?” Obviously surprised, Alexia shook her head,
trying to explain, but her words were choked by sudden emotion.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  Through a sob, Alexia said, “She’s—she’s terrified of horses. I’m the one who loves horses.”

  Jason pulled her close as they regarded the sight before them—a tiny angel playing in the pure white snow.

  “Oh, Jason,” she said, clutching him, “it’s so beautiful. Thank you.”

  More than anything, he wanted to thank them.

  chapter 17

  alexia couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this much peace. The country spread far and wide: the grass yellow, the trees one-by-one dropping their leaves, the water still and smooth and sparkling in the morning sun. Cattle wandered from place to place. Alexia put her hand on her horse’s neck, feeling the animal’s muscles as it carried her along this slice of heaven.

  Nearby, Emily rode with Gus right behind her. He gently guided their horse in a slow walk. He’d decorated the horse with antlers in an attempt to put Emily at ease.

  “Well,” Gus said, gesturing toward land that seemed to roll past the horizon, “this is what I was telling you about. Pretty, huh?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Jason said.

  Alexia was afraid her heart wasn’t big enough to take it all in. Everywhere she looked there was beauty, from the breathtaking surroundings to her fragile daughter putting on a brave face to make her mom smile. She never wanted to forget this moment. She tried her best to feel all of the emotions swirling inside her, to remember every word her daughter spoke, every smile she gave.

  “Hey, come here,” Jason said to Alexia as he dismounted his horse. “I want to show you something.”

  Alexia hesitated. She didn’t want to leave Emily. “Gonna be okay, sweetie?”

  Emily smiled and leaned into Gus, who gave Alexia a reassuring wink. She dismounted and followed Jason, who walked a few paces and then stopped, fixated on the water hole below. Alexia stood silently next to him. Then he turned to her.