The Ultimate Gift

by Rene Gutteridge

  “Alexia, there’s something I need to do.”

  “What?”

  His look turned serious. “For Emily.”

  Then he smiled, and before she could say anything, she found herself immersed in a kiss that absorbed all of her sensibilities— including the fact that her daughter was watching every second of it. But as her lips tingled with delight, she realized that was exactly the purpose of it all. She smiled and drew away from him, but he was apparently not prepared to stop.

  “And now for me.” He pulled her into another kiss, and Alexia let herself go. What should hold her back? All she had was now. “And now for Gus,” he said teasingly as he came up for air.

  And, she thought as she found his lips again, for me.

  “How ’bout that?” she heard Gus say from his horse.

  Yeah. How about that.

  Jason never thought he’d find himself in a rocker on a porch in the country, but here he was. Out on the lawn, just beyond the edge of the snow, Emily stood beneath the open sky where stars twinkled like they were calling her home. She studied them, her face drawn with curiosity.

  Jason pulled out the Conversay and pushed Play.

  Red’s picture came into view. “When I achieved my dreams, it was like going home to a place I’d never been before. You don’t know that feeling, do you? The first few gifts I gave you were practical. Show up, do this, do that. And then the gifts started needing you to provide input. They needed intuition.

  “Still, your average person is too weighted down. Jason, you need to be free—free to dream. You need to come up with a dream, then act on it. Jason, this is the time for you to dream.” Putting away the Conversay, Jason stood, walked down the porch steps, and joined Emily as she regarded the sky. “You thinking about butterflies?” he asked.

  “No, Jason,” she said adamantly. “I’m looking at the stars.”

  “You know,” Jason said, kneeling beside her, “I set this whole thing up because I thought you wanted to go horseback riding, not your mom.”

  “Get real. Horses are smelly and sweaty.”

  Jason smiled. “So, sweetie,” he asked, “what’s your dream? If you could dream of anything, anything, what would your dream be?”

  Jason halfway expected one of her quips, but instead, her eyes found the stars and she stood still for a moment, giving it serious thought. Then she said, “My dream . . . my dream was a perfect day.” She turned and looked down at him. “And I’m just finishing it. My dream was to be with people I love, that love each other, that love me.”

  Then she fell into his arms and buried her face into his shoulder. Jason scooped her up, wrapping every inch of his arms around her. She cried, and for the first time since he’d known her, she seemed like the tiny, fragile child she really was.

  And for the first time in his life, he felt like he could give something.

  Emily watched the fire crackle and roar in front of her and listened to her mom chat with Gus and his wife. Her body felt sleepy. That’s the only way she could describe it. Sometimes her mind would be wide awake but her body wanted to go to sleep. She noticed the Christmas tree twinkling nearby. The smell of apple cider and pumpkin pie floated past her. This was how Christmas was supposed to be. Exactly like this.

  Jason, wearing a silly Santa hat, plopped down beside her and planted another hat on her head. “You look silly,” she said.

  “All for you,” he replied and put his head on her shoulder.

  “What about you, Jason?” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “What’s your dream?”

  He thought for a minute. “I don’t know. For as long as I could remember, all I wanted to do was have fun. Now I don’t have a clue.”

  “It’s okay. Guys are clueless.”

  Jason laughed. She liked to make him laugh.

  “Hey, you have to know this: even if you don’t have a dream of your own, you gave me mine. That counts for something.”

  “Of course,” he whispered.

  Emily let him stare into the fire a moment longer, then prodded him, gesturing toward the staircase where her mom stood in those silly horse pajamas she’d bought for herself and Emily. Emily wore them just to be nice. She really, really didn’t like horses. But she liked her mom, and her mom was smiling, more than she could remember her smiling in a long time. Laughing too. And, she had to admit, horses were growing on her.

  She glanced at Jason, who was peeking over the back of the couch with her. “Look at her. Isn’t she beautiful? I mean, except for her choice in lipstick.” Much too pale for her skin tone. “But you have to admit, even if you got nothing else out of the deal but her, you’d still be a huge winner.”

  Emily pulled him down to below the back of the couch. “Don’t blow it. You’re likely to do it.”

  She eyed him, but he looked as though he understood. Completely.

  “Merry Christmas, Jason.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  He smiled and grazed the back of his pointer finger along her nose. “Merry Christmas.”

  Power suit. Power tie. Gold cuff links. Leather shoes. But for some reason, Jason Stevens didn’t feel powerful. In fact, he felt utterly helpless as he stood before the staff of the Hamilton Law Firm.

  He’d rehearsed over and over in his head what he wanted to say, but now the words weren’t flowing and nothing he said seemed to be coming out right. He stuttered, pronounced a word wrong, and felt perspiration break through his undershirt.

  This was nerve racking . . . but it wasn’t prison. He smiled. Come on, Stevens, get a grip. Finish strong.

  “Up until now, I’ve only existed. I’ve . . . um . . . I’ve drifted through life day to day, thinking that was enough. And honestly, I don’t know if I have my own dream. But I do know I can help others fulfill theirs. I know it.”

  Jason studied the faces in the room, all sitting in judgment over him.

  Finally, Mr. Hamilton spoke up. “Jason, will you excuse us for a few minutes?”

  Miss Hastings escorted Jason out, then closed the door. A secretary sat typing at her desk. Several lush chairs offered him a place to sit, but he couldn’t. He could only pace, think, hope . . . pray.

  Never had there been a time in his life when he’d bared more of his soul. He had nothing left to give. But had it been enough?

  “Jason.” Miss Hastings stood in the doorway, beckoning him back in. Jason’s fingertips were slick with sweat as he reentered the room. The team looked as though they hadn’t moved. They each watched him carefully as he stood again before them.

  “We’ve deliberated and evaluated whether or not your answer conforms with the expressed desires of Red Stevens,” Mr. Hamilton said. “And we find that your answer does.”

  Surprise and relief slipped out by way of a smile.

  “Therefore, we are releasing the amount allocated for you at this time. That is, one hundred million dollars, to do with whatever you please.”

  One hundred million dollars? Million? Hamilton slid a check across the table. The simple piece of paper held a powerful set of numbers.

  “All of us at the firm want to congratulate you, Jason, for sticking it out, putting up with some very harsh conditions, and prevailing. Congratulations, Jason.”

  Applause. Applause? For him? Jason didn’t know what to say, so he glanced at Miss Hastings, who always seemed to know just what to do. She clasped her hands together and nodded her approval. He didn’t have to do anything. He just had to . . . be.

  The applause died down, leaving Jason with the strangest feeling. It wasn’t that he wasn’t overjoyed. It was just that he felt . . . underwhelmed.

  “So that’s it?” he asked.

  “Yes. I think so,” Mr. Hamilton said with a small smile.

  “No, don’t get me wrong,” Jason said, looking at all of them. “It’s not the amount. It’s . . . uh, it’s just . . . I don’t know. I was expecting a different feeling or something.”

  Miss Hastings stepped up beside him and patted him
on the shoulder. “I think that’s because now you are a different person,” she said gently.

  “And, no,” Mr. Hamilton said with a mischievous smile, “we won’t cash that check for you.”

  chapter 18

  jason had worked most of the day, barely taking time to eat or even enjoy the fact that his penthouse had been restored. Before, he couldn’t wait for it all to be moved back, but now that it was here, it wasn’t really worth the time to stop and admire. He had a plan, and he wasn’t about to let a one-of-a-kind sofa get in his way.

  He’d spent hours talking to architects, bankers, real-estate agents. It was well into the evening and he was now on the phone with a property developer who specialized in parking garages.

  “Well,” the man was saying, “that would depend on how many vehicles you were talking about.”

  His other line buzzed. “I’m sorry, can you hold on?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Yeah?” Jason said.

  It was his doorman. “Mr. Stevens, a young lady to see you.”

  “Great. Send her up.” Jason clicked back to his other call. “I’m sorry.”

  “Will there be a large number of—”

  “Yeah. There are gonna be plenty of cars.”

  “Okay, we’ll have someone look into it and let you know.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Jason hung up the phone. He picked up the check, studying it. Soon he heard footsteps behind him and turned. He was surprised to find Caitlin walking toward him. He hadn’t even heard her get off the elevator. And now he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Dressed to kill in vintage, Caitlin owned it with a nice dose of cleavage.

  He stood to greet her.

  She looked around and grinned. “I like the remodel. Where have you been?”

  Jason averted his eyes as she moved into his space. “In and out of prison.”

  “Good to hear.” She stepped closer, her face just inches from his. Then she pulled the collar of his shirt down, tracing his chest with her finger. “No visible tattoos. I’ve missed you.” Her eyes sliced sideways, and she noticed the paper on the desk. “What’s this?”

  “It’s nothing,” Jason said, snatching it off the desk.

  Her eyebrows climbed high on her forehead. “That’s a nice round number. Somehow I don’t think you’ll be having any more credit-card problems, will you?” Her smile teased him. “You know, you still owe me dinner.”

  “How could I ever forget?”

  “I missed you,” she said again. And then she kissed him. Jason didn’t pull away. She slid away from him and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I think I still remember my way around. Why don’t you meet me in a few minutes?” And with that, she headed to Jason’s bedroom, slinging what was apparently a night bag over her shoulder. Jason knew from experience, she wasn’t going to be coming out in pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

  As soon as he heard the door click, he hightailed it to the elevator and hit the down button.

  Downstairs he called for his driver and jumped into the limo, where he blew out a very loud sigh.

  Jim glanced in the rearview mirror. “You okay there, Mr. Stevens?”

  “Fine.”

  “Where to?”

  “The park.”

  “The park?”

  “The park.”

  And it was there that he met his old friend, the park bench. Sitting with his arms folded over its backrest, Jason had the perfect view. And perspective. Here at the park bench it all came full circle, under a starry night. It was time to make his dreams a reality.

  Mornings invigorated Jason, which was why he’d scheduled the meeting for nine a.m. He gathered his things from the limo. Jim, his driver, asked, “Shall I keep the limo running, Mr. Stevens?” Jason smiled as he marched forward, hearing Jim say, “Maybe not.”

  In a large conference room he’d reserved, he set the stage for what he knew was going to be quite a show. And soon enough, ten bankers arrived—serious and skeptical, no doubt. They were business associates of his grandfather’s, and judging by their expressions, they weren’t quite expecting . . . him.

  Thankfully he recognized an ally. Two! Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings entered, both looking at least mildly impressed.

  A surge of confidence made him stand tall. “Ah, Mr. Hamilton. Miss Hastings. I’m so happy you came.”

  They both glanced around the room. Miss Hastings asked, “Jason . . . what’s going on?”

  “Have a seat. Please. I insist.”

  As they did, Jason turned. It was his turn to command the room. “Thank you all for joining me today. May I direct your attention to . . .” Jason lifted the blue sheet covering the canvas that held his . . . dream.

  Sketched in subdued colors was what they were sure to perceive as an urban project. And indeed it was. But it was so much more, as evidenced by the lovely woman who had slipped in at the back. Jason met Alexia’s eyes, which reassured him that this was what he was born for.

  Jason turned his attention to the rest of the room. “It’s called Emily’s Home. It’s for a dozen or more families experiencing extraordinary health challenges. Now, over here will be the homes.” He revealed another part of the plan. “They’re part of the same complex, yet individual dwellings. Families are going to be able to live together while they face their problems. Obviously there’s going to be plenty of parking. Over here,” he continued, pulling off the third sheet, “is going to be a state-of-the-art employment center catering to parents, single or married, who need to earn some sort of income while their child undergoes treatment.”

  Jason pointed to the final drawing. “Now at this state-of-the-art hospital . . .” He paused. “Excuse me, what’s missing? Oh, yeah. A church.” He smiled at Alexia. “A worship center.” That had been Emily’s idea.

  Nobody snickered, at least outwardly. But he could tell by the amused looks on their faces that nobody was taking him seriously. One banker held up a finger. “How much is this going to cost exactly?”

  “If you look at the prospectus in front of you, page five, the total initial outlay will be $350 million.” That drew a few gasps. “Your part will be to underwrite the financing and a loan guarantee of $250 million.” That drew stunned silence. “I’m going to be putting up the first $100 million of my own money.”

  Jason couldn’t help but look at Mr. Hamilton, who nodded his approval.

  “Mr. Stevens,” one banker said, “this is all well and fine. We did business with your grandfather for many years. But—”

  “Excuse me for interrupting, but I didn’t phrase this as a question. You are going to do this. You made this much off my grandfather in a typical year.”

  Jason heard the faint ring of a cell phone. The bankers turned to each other. Jason focused on Alexia. Her cell phone rang again just as Mr. Hamilton spoke up.

  “And, gentlemen, this project has the full resources of the Hamilton Law Firm backing it. Pro bono, as I’m sure you will be too.”

  The murmuring began again, but Jason became distracted when he noticed Alexia talking on her cell phone. She was trying to speak in a hushed voice, but her expression did all the talking. Before Jason could do anything, she had rushed from the room.

  “Wrap up the details for me, will you, Hamilton?” he asked.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Thank you all. I appreciate it,” Jason said. He slipped out of the conference room and stepped out the front doors of the office building just in time to see Alexia speed away in a taxi. “Hey! Whoa!” But it was too late. She was gone. Jason jumped into his limo and ordered his driver to follow.

  Please . . . no . . . not now. Not now.

  Jason knew his way there well now. He’d visited Emily every single day since their Christmas together. He raced up the stairs because the elevators took a long time during the day, and he took the west, not the east, stairwell because there were fewer turns to get there.

  He rounded the corner, but before he reached her room,
he heard Alexia’s anguished cry. It was the cry of a mother whose child had been ripped from her arms by death. Jason had never heard a cry like it before, and it made his knees weak and his heart shatter instantly. He couldn’t comfort her.

  All he wanted to do was save her, help her, get Emily back somehow. They’d known they had little time left, but now time had snapped its jaws shut, ending all hope for any more words, any more minutes, any more songs, jokes, laughter . . .

  Jason slammed his hand against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut but allowing himself to feel every ounce of the pain. It was the pain Alexia felt, and he wanted to feel it with her. His entire life he’d closed himself off to anything that could hurt him. Now was the time to let himself be wounded by love. There was no greater pain than this, he imagined. None deeper. None so purifying.

  Blistering tears ran down his face as all of the memories he had with Emily scourged his heart. He clutched his chest, helpless to do anything but let his soul be cut deeply by this little girl who’d seen past every wall he put up, every flaw he had, and loved him anyway.

  With all his might, he tried to stop his tears, tried to compose himself to be strong for Alexia, but he couldn’t. All he could offer her was love, and so as nothing but a broken man, he rounded the corner.

  Through her tears, Alexia looked into his face and said, “She wanted me to be there. It was so important to her. She wanted me to be there . . .”

  Jason wasn’t sure how much time passed, but finally Alexia took his hand and led him out of the room.

  They walked, clutching each other, down to the chapel Emily loved so much.

  He held Alexia, but deep in his heart he knew somewhere, somehow, Emily held them both.

  chapter 19

  jason and Alexia, as mayor of Charlotte, it is my extreme honor and privilege to preside over the groundbreaking for Emily’s Home. But it is also a sad day, in that the namesake and the inspiration for this incredible project is not here with us today. But her spirit will always be with us all . . .”