CHAPTER THIRTY
MARCUS
Marcus climbed in the helicopter after Alessandra and her cameraman, Victor. Katy’s rejection still stung. He thought she would think better of him.
After spending a magical night snuggled in each other’s arms and their conversation this morning, he expected more sweetness. That she would give him another chance.
It had been too much to expect.
Katy had said goodbye, and they would never see each other again.
Wasn’t that what he wanted all along? To keep Amanda’s memory pristine?
He tried to conjure up Amanda’s beautiful face, but Katy’s floated in his consciousness instead. Yearning and pain squeezed his heart. He had been a fool to allow himself to fall in love again.
Alessandra’s voice crackled through his headpiece. “Have you seen much of our beautiful country, Marcus?”
“Just Flores and Tikal. A couple of hikes to the volcanoes too.”
“I have a cousin who runs a tour group. He’d be happy to show you around.”
He looked out the window at the speck that was Conchilla. Somewhere down there, stubborn Katy Stevens was on her way to catching a bus.
“Thanks,” he said, “but I’ve seen about all I want to see here. I also need to head back to the States. I have a Christmas benefit I need to put on.”
“Can you please tell me about this benefit?” Alessandra sat with her notebook on her lap and a pen poised in the air.
“It started out as an idea brainstormed by our marketing team,” Marcus said, his mind going back to that day in the boardroom. “The Christmas sales projections had come in, not as…robust as we would like. Someone suggested a Christmas charity. A million dollars, to be exact.”
The reporter gasped and stopped writing. She gazed at him, her eyes sparkling. She was a beautiful woman, but there was an off-putting hardness in her eyes. She would push someone in the path of harm if it got her ahead.
“That’s a lot of money,” she said.
“We also wanted to do the most good.” He made an impatient noise. “Actually, can I tell you the real story?”
Alessandra’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Of course.”
“I don’t believe in Christmas. I haven’t in five years.”
Her pen made scratching noises as she scribbled.
“I hated the idea,” Marcus continued. “I didn’t want to spend this kind of money on a feel-good activity. Even if it was for charity.”
“Why not?”
“I argued that we could do it any other time of the year but Christmas. I was outvoted. Many on my board liked the Christmas idea.”
Alessandra pursed her lips. “But you are CEO. Yes?”
“Yes. I still listen to my board, though. So we went ahead with what they wanted.”
“Can I ask why you no longer believe in Christmas?”
He hesitated. “My wife and unborn child were killed by a drunk driver on Christmas Day five years ago.”
She made a silent o with her mouth.
“I usually don’t go anywhere for Christmas, but look at me now.” He whispered the words mostly to himself, but she was nodding.
“And what do you think of Christmas so far?”
He sighed. “I think it’s still an overrated commercial holiday…but I have seen the power of giving.”
“What do you mean?”
“You met Katy Stevens.”
She nodded.
“She’s been coming now to Guatemala all these years, and she cares deeply for these people. She came to my office and invited me to see Conchilla for myself.”
“What did you learn?” Alessandra coaxed.
“That money can’t buy you happiness, but love is key. Alessandra, I saw the happiest people in Conchilla. People who have nothing but a simple tin roof lean-to, and they still give of themselves.”
“Do you believe in Christmas once again?”
He thought of Katy. He had hoped…what had he hoped? He thought he’d found love. Could he truly say that his faith in the holiday was restored? In the end, everything ended in heartbreak.
“Maybe that’s a bit of a stretch,” he admitted.
When they landed in Flores, Alessandra handed him a business card.
“May I visit you again to interview you?”
“Sure, why not?”
***
KATY
The bus arrived in Flores that evening. There were, thankfully, no mishaps. It was almost a boring journey, even though Katy tried to distract herself by watching the passing scenery when she wasn’t dozing off.
A woman sat beside her during the bus ride, smelling distinctly of onions. She smiled and was nice, even though she didn’t speak a lick of English.
Katy had several hours to think about what had happened in Conchilla. She really had been hard on Marcus. He had invited the media so the people of Conchilla could get more exposure for their plight. He had kept his promise and gone to see it himself.
Imagining him as a billionaire Santa, she smiled.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful for Conchilla to get the million dollars?
Please, please Lord, she prayed. Please bless Marcus with guidance and wisdom so he can pick the best recipient of his award.
Yes, she felt better about it all. She would leave it up to God.
She would leave her heart in His hands too.
What would you like me to do, Lord? All arrows seem to point to Marcus, but I just rejected him. Again.
Then go to him, came the reply.
But my pride won’t allow it…
Then you must repent.
Katy nodded to herself.
The bus shook as the driver applied the brakes, and Katy collected her things and stepped into the cool Guatemalan December air. She had already arranged to stay with the Paredes family before flying back to New York. She would go from Flores to Antigua next.
The thought of flying back home filled her with gladness, but her heart also contracted with sorrow.
Unless…
She bit her lip. It was a crazy idea. One that she’d have to humble herself to do.
The babe was born in a humble manger.
Katy could humble herself too.
After depositing her things in her cheap hotel room, she took a taxi ride to Las Lagunas.
She gazed at the lovely resort façade. Her stomach churned with apprehension. Maybe he wasn’t staying there. Maybe he’d gone back to the States.
At the resort desk, the attendant recognized her. “Buenas tardes, señorita.”
“Buenas tardes,” she said. “Is Marcus James staying here?”
The employee turned to the computer. “Ah, yes. He is staying in the same room.”
“Gracias.”
Now what? Katy wiped her palms on her pants and checked her reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her jeans, and her hair was kind of flat from not having been washed for two days.
That would have to do. She walked down the hallway to the wing where she’d stayed before and stood in front of his door.
No. She couldn’t do it.
Katy, do it.
Before she could chicken out, she knocked on the door.
At first, Katy thought it was the wrong door because she heard a girl’s voice.
The thought grew in her mind. Something unsettling, but not totally surprising.
The door opened to the stunning reporter who had helicoptered into Conchilla to cover Marcus’s charitable work. Her hair was up in a messy, sexy bun, and she was wearing a white resort bathrobe.
“Pardon me,” Katy said, her world collapsing around her.
Behind the reporter, Marcus was standing in the jacuzzi, gaping at her, his face red.
Katy fled.