Her Billionaire Santa

by Allen, Jewel

  They came out of their rooms at the same time. There was no time to prepare herself to see Marcus. She had the faintest impression of him wearing a black windbreaker before she turned away.

  Through a mist of tears, she stumbled to the right toward the exit with him following behind. Why did she tell him they could be friends? She couldn’t even muster that much goodwill.

  A van waited for them at the curb. After confirming they were indeed their clients, the driver opened the side door. Katy slid in beside a black man and Marcus after her. The van door shut and returned them to darkness.

  Marcus offered the buckle of her seatbelt, and she accepted it, careful not to touch him. She clipped it in place and watched the road through the windshield.

  She thought about sleeping, but she didn’t want to fall asleep against anyone’s shoulder. She sat small and quiet, blinking at the night. On her lap, she kept her fists clenched.

  “Where are you from?” the man to her left asked.

  “Manhattan,” Katy said, turning toward him in the darkness.

  “I’m from Detroit,” he said. “My name is Drew. And you?”

  “Katy. And this is Marcus.”

  The men shook hands, reaching across from her. As Marcus pulled back, his hand brushed against her lap.

  She stiffened until he leaned back in his space.

  Introductions were made all around. There were six people in the group, including Katy and Marcus, a couple and their teen daughter, and Drew. Their tour guide driver was Erdo.

  It seemed they drove for the longest time until Erdo slowed outside a sign welcoming them to Tikal. Something wild and ferocious roared. Even with the windows all rolled up, the eerie sound entered the van.

  “What was that?” the mom said as she peered in the darkness and pulled her teen daughter closer.

  “It’s a howler monkey,” Erdo said.

  “So, you’ve been here before?” Drew asked Katy.

  “Yes, several times.”

  She turned her head and caught Marcus staring. Quickly, her glance slid away.

  Erdo got out, handed them flashlights, and motioned for them all to come. There were plenty of other tourists. Katy counted six van-loads. Everyone was quiet and respectful. Marcus made no attempt to hang out with her, and she was perfectly fine with that.

  ***

  MARCUS

  Was it a good idea for them to be super-quiet in a jungle full of wild animals? There went the howler monkey again. Along with dogs barking, birds cawing, and animals rattling.

  It was, apparently, cold by Guatemalan standards. Their guide wore a thick sweater, but he thought the weather pleasant. Marcus stripped his plaid polo shirt down to a white shirt and tied it around his waist.

  Katy, who was walking a little ahead, glanced back at him and then looked away.

  He didn’t know how to break the ice with her. Didn’t she agree to be his friend? She hadn’t exchanged more than a word or two with him that morning, if that.

  Marcus shook his head.

  There you go again, Marcus. Just thinking of yourself. Of course she’d still feel horrible after that selfish kiss.

  Since Katy was studiously not looking at him, Marcus allowed himself to observe her. Her hair was piled up on her head in a messy bun, and she was wearing a long-sleeved polo shirt over a shirt and pants. Sporty and athletic.

  He thought back to Amanda. She had been a southern belle, having grown up in Southern Virginia. She might have gone with him to Guatemala just to be with him, but she wouldn’t have initiated it. She was more of a Europe sort of gal. In fact, they’d talked about going to Italy, of riding a gondola, for their third anniversary. They would have left Caleb with her parents.

  Would Katy be interested in Italy? Or did she just go to third-world countries?

  Marcus stubbed his toe on a tree root and issued a quiet groan.

  Katy glanced back at him, looking concerned.

  Marcus smiled tentatively, but she didn’t reciprocate.

  He continued to feel like a dog.

  Drew monopolized her again.

  Marcus stuffed his hands in his pockets, peering into the jungle, imagining jaguars jumping out and boa constrictors hanging from trees and bears lunging at them. Until he realized he was thinking of India in The Jungle Book.

  He wasn’t the only one freaked out by all this. When a man emerged from a trail intersecting theirs, the mom screamed.

  “We climb up, then watch sunrise,” Erdo explained. “Okay?”

  With “yups” all around, they climbed as he promised, up railed stairs to Tikal IV temple. All of what seemed like a million steps in high altitude.

  Up ahead, Katy kept going while Marcus panted. It had been eight days since he’d worked out at the gym. No need to go all pansy-like now.

  “What was the deal with all these Mayan kings wanting their pyramids to be so high up?” Marcus wondered out loud.

  “They wanted to be as close as possible to God,” Erdo explained. “And they used the platforms for astronomy work.”

  Marcus lost count of the steps, but that was okay. As the sky lightened, so did his steps.

  When they reached the temple, everyone took to their own little nook and watched the sunrise. Marcus didn’t want to antagonize Katy, so he sat a few yards away. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to be close to her. To hold her as they watched the sunrise.

  Except there were clouds in the way.

  A mist rolled, bringing with it more clouds.

  “Are you disappointed?” Marcus heard Katy ask Drew in a hushed voice.

  “A little. Is that it?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Great. I want my money back.”

  Several minutes later, Marcus got restless watching a non-sunrise. He stood and started climbing the steps of the temple, which formed a striking pyramid over the jungle.

  He turned at the top and looked down, feeling woozy. The steps had been carved close to the façade, which had the effect of narrow ledges possibly leading to one’s death.

  As though by order of the Mayan ghost king, the clouds parted, and the sun peeped through. It wasn’t a lot of sun. The clouds gobbled it up straight away, but it was sun nonetheless.

  The blue dullness of the landscape turned emerald in the sun’s masterful hand.

  Marcus’s eyes sought out Katy below and found that she was looking up at him.

  Despite every inane thing he’d done to botch their friendship, she flashed him a beautiful smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  KATY

  “How much longer to Conchilla, do you think?” Marcus asked Katy after they boarded the bus at Flores.

  Marcus was trying to be friendly. Katy granted him that much. She could be equally civil too, even if her heart didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

  “Another hour, probably,” she said.

  “Explain something to me,” Marcus said. “Why is it that Conchilla was leveled by this earthquake while all these other places are intact?”

  “Probably because they are on different tectonic plates.”

  “How would you like that?” he said, shaking his head. “Just because of your zip code, you got the short end of the stick.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.”

  “How did you find out about Conchilla? It’s quite a trek to get here.”

  “One of my parents’ friends is a doctor. He travels and donates his services all the time. He told us about Conchilla. He likes to find out-of-the-way places. He figures at least they get a check-up every five years.”

  Outside, the relentless green of the jungle thickened even more. Their bus of chickens, goats, and people meandered along winding roads.

  She heard a soft groan.

  Beside her, Marcus was turning the same shade of green as his olive shorts.

  “Did you take motion sickness pills?” she asked.

  He shook his head and shut his eyes. In an ins
tant, he opened them and barreled down the aisle to the front. The driver spoke little English, but he must have understood Marcus’s motions perfectly. The driver slammed on the brakes and opened it for Marcus. He ran down the steps and out of the bus.

  He came back rumpled-looking but not as green as before. The bus bumped on as before.

  “The joys of traveling,” Marcus said.

  She smiled and nodded.

  He studied her. “I was wondering this morning where else is on your bucket list.”

  “Africa, probably. Thailand. More of South America.”

  His heart thudded in his chest. “How about Europe?” He paused. “Italy.”

  “I’ve already been there,” she said. “I wouldn’’t mind going back.”

  “What did you think of Italy?”

  “I think it’s one of the most romantic places in the world, but I don’t want to go back there alone.”

  “Alone?” he echoed.

  She nodded. “Without a boyfriend or a husband.”

  “Why,” he teased, “they have a thing against single people?”

  “Well, everything is so romantic there: the Roman Steps, Tuscany, the vineyards, Venice at night, a gondola ride.” Her voice had deepened at the memory, and he felt transported by it.

  ”I’ve been to Italy,” he said, “but I haven’’t gone on a gondola ride. Even so, I did think it was romantic.”

  “It is, and don’t get me wrong. I would love to go back, single or not, but it’s hard on a diet, all that pasta.”

  Their eyes met as they smiled, and something warm leaped between them. Katy wondered if this was the start of her road to forgiving him.

  “I go there all the time,” he said. “I have a partnership with a Principality off the coast of Spain. Italy is a favorite stopping point.”

  “Did you take Amanda there?” she asked.

  “No. She wanted to go, though. We should have, while she was alive.”

  “You didn’t take her there for your honeymoon?”

  “No. We went to Turks and Caicos.”

  “Oh. Makes sense.”

  “Have you been?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “We’re lucky, aren’t we,” she said, “to be able to travel freely?”

  “Have visa, will travel,” he quipped.

  “Which kind, the credit card kind?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he chuckled. “That too, but, yes, agreed. It’s great, when you have time to sightsee.” He massaged his temples. “That’s the rub, eh? Having money doesn’t mean squat if you can’t enjoy it.”

  “That’s why I just travel for service nowadays.”

  “You can help the Italians make pasta. That’s a worthwhile charity.”

  She just blinked at him.

  “Just kidding. It was a joke.”

  She gave him a wry smile.

  “I think you’re cool,” he said. There, he said it. “Serving people all the time. You put the rest of us to shame.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t like the spotlight on her for service, but her cheeks warmed.

  ***

  MARCUS

  “We’re here,” Katy said, as the bus slowed down.

  “Where will we stay here?” Marcus asked as they gathered their things.

  “Like everyone else.” Katy gazed at him innocently. “Under the stars.”

  He wasn’t a wuss, but the thought of sleeping under the stars made him think of all sorts of possibilities under the Guatemalan night sky.

  A volcanic eruption, landslide, downpour…

  There was still some light left, a glorious sunset, in fact, casting an orange, eerie glow on Conchilla.

  The city looked like one large rubble heap with a tent city all over stone blocks. It was an undulating city, pulsating with life. No sense of sorrow or misery. Several of the makeshift shelters had a stove going, with their flames visible and a delicious aroma filling the air.

  “Come,” Katy said. “Let me introduce you to some people.”

  He was glad she was talking to him again, even though he wasn’t under any illusion she’d forgiven him.

  Marcus hefted his backpack on his shoulder and grabbed his suitcase before following her. She picked her way through a cleared trail to a settlement with wood poles and a tarp. It was kind of funny to see Katy wheeling her suitcase on such an uneven mess.

  Someone was playing an Indian flute and stopped at their approach.

  “Mi amiga!” An old man stepped out of the tent and kissed Katy on the cheeks. He embraced Marcus too.

  “This is Sammy,” Katy told Marcus. “He’s Conchilla’’s mayor.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sammy said. “Would you like some dinner?”

  Marcus suddenly realized they would be at the mercy of these people. He couldn’t exactly see any restaurants around to provide them with food.

  “That would be so wonderful,” Katy said. “A little money for your troubles.” She pressed quetzal bills into his hand.

  Sammy pushed her hand away. “None of that, now.”

  When Sammy turned, she passed it to a woman whom Katy introduced as his wife.

  There were no chairs. Marcus and Katy improvised by sitting on what used to be the foundation of a house.

  “My home, before,” Sammy said, his eyes twinkling. He handed Marcus a steaming bowl of stew. It was slightly burned with a kick. Delicious.

  Over his adult life, Marcus had sat at meals al fresco, overlooking the sunset, but this was the first time he’d done it at an earthquake-leveled city overlooking a peaceful lake.

  Despite the troubles of the people here, the world still seemed like a beautiful place.

  Katy nudged his leg with hers. “What are you thinking?”

  “That this stew is delicious.” He looked at her intently as her face burnished with the sunset.

  That you’re beautiful. The words crossed his mind, but he didn’t dare say them.

  Her coloring deepened, and she turned her attention to her bowl. She ate a few more bites of stew and started a conversation with Sammy, taking pains to involve Marcus.

  With dinner done, there wasn’t any clearing up to speak of. Someone went down to a common washing space—huge bottles of water and basins—to wash dishes.

  Katy excused Marcus and herself and told Marcus they would see others. They made rounds among families with little children, a blind woman with her grown daughter, and people who opened their arms to Katy and Marcus and invited them to eat of their meager meals.

  At their last stop, a boy about eight years old ran toward his family’s rubble and grabbed a soccer ball that was partially deflated. He gestured at Marcus and kicked the ball down the hill.

  Marcus glanced at Katy, and they both followed the boy down to where it was somewhat level. The boy spoke no English, but his smile said volumes. They kicked the ball around, with Katy playing goalie.

  Marcus ruffled the boy’s hair before the kid took off and returned to his family.

  Katy walked over to where Marcus was standing, and her eyes shone as she smiled at him.

  They turned toward the lake over which the moon rose, leaving a swath of light on the surface. The peaceful image imprinted itself on Marcus’s heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  KATY

  Katy wondered what Marcus thought of Conchilla. She knew she felt impatient on behalf of her friends to start bringing Conchilla back.

  “What will it take to rebuild this village?” Marcus asked.

  Katy took a deep breath and exhaled it. “Their biggest challenge is getting all the supplies here. Transporting cement and concrete blocks can get expensive fast.”

  “They’re going to rebuild, great, but in another few years, an earthquake would take their village down again?”

  “They can’t exactly build earthquake-proof homes.” Her voice came out sharply, and she was ashamed. “Sorry. I know what you’re asking. You mean, what’s the point?”


  “Kind of, but more importantly, I just think they’d need something more lasting. It’s a lot of work to start over every time.” He gazed at what used to be Conchilla. “Have they thought about moving away?”

  She nodded. “There’s been some talk. There’s no place for them to go. Other places will sell them houses or rent them a space to rest their head. They don’t have that kind of money, and there’s no gasoline to get around. They would need bus fare.”

  Marcus nodded. “So if they get a million, who would divvy it up?”

  “The mayor would be the best person,” she said. “I am happy to help in whatever way I can.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You would stay here?”

  “My job back home is flexible. I could ask for a temporary leave.”

  “You said they need schools?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes gleamed. “That would be one of the best gifts to Conchilla. Maybe the school could be earthquake-proof. So if something like this were to happen again,” she gestured at the rubble, “they could get out of the elements and have shelter. A central spot for emergencies.”

  “How’s their water and sewer?”

  “They pump a well from a spring. They have a good strong source here, thank goodness. There’s a rudimentary sewer. It could be better, but at least they aren’t pumping it into the lake.”

  Marcus didn’t speak for a long moment. Katy could have gone on and on about Conchilla, but she didn’t want to overwhelm him. She said a silent prayer in her heart that whatever she lacked in eloquence, he could see and feel for himself as he stood there on the banks of the lake.

  As the sun dipped lower in the horizon, the temperatures dropped. Katy shivered.

  “Cold?” Marcus asked.

  “A little.”

  “I have a jacket in my bag,” he offered.

  “I do too,” she said quickly. “I’m just too lazy to get it.”

  “Want me to?”

  “No, it’s okay. We can get our stuff together.”

  In their little makeshift luggage “hotel” out in the open, they opened their suitcases and took out their gear.

  “There aren’t trees to string hammocks on this time,” Marcus observed, shrugging on his jacket.