His First Christmas: The Lonely Billionaire - A Heart-Warming Romance Novel (8 page)

He started singing, off-key, “Lookin’ for life, lookin’ for life, lookin’ for life…”

His mother joined in, singing, “Lookin’ for a true heart, lookin’ for a true heart…”

They finished together, “But I ain’t getting any younger!”

They laughed. Jason laughed because he thought it was corny.

“Jason, you should sing too!
”
his mom said.

Jason shook his head vehemently. “No way,” he grinned.

“Well you should sing at least the chorus,” his father goaded.

Jason sighed. “Fine,” he relented.

When it came time to singing the chorus, Jason bellowed at the top of his lungs, “BUT I AIN’T GETTING ANY YOUNGER!”

His parents went silent. They blinked, turned, and stared at him.

“Is that how you sing, now?” his mom said, looking at Jason pointedly.

“Yep.”

“Well I think it sounds beautiful,” his dad said, chuckling.

His mom playfully hit his dad on the shoulder. “
Please
don’t encourage this screaming banshee behavior.”

Seeing his parents getting along for once, Jason smiled widely.
Maybe, from now on, it’ll always be like this,
he thought hopefully.

His mother swiveled in her seat and turned to Jason again, as if seeing him for the first time in a long time. “So you and Michael really aren’t friends anymore?” she asked.

“That’s correct,” Jason said nonchalantly.

“But you guys used to get along so well. You were best friends, weren’t you? What happened?”

Jason sighed. “Mom, that was three years ago. People change,” he shrugged. “Also, he thought I wasn’t “cool” enough, so there’s that,” he mumbled.

“Not cool enough?” his dad said, indignant. “Jason, there is no twelve-year-old that’s cooler.”

“You’re a great kid, Jason…” his mom said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Your father and I are very proud that you’re ours.”

“
Extremely
proud,” his father added, nodding.

“Thanks,” Jason mumbled, embarrassed. He knew it was lame that his parents were trying to convince him he was cool, but he felt warm fuzzy feelings despite himself.

“Do you want some of the sandwiches that Gordon made for us? his mom asked, as the storm outside continued to rage on.

Jason nodded, and his parents also helped themselves to some rations. Thus, the Hawthornes waited out the rest of the storm, eating and chatting.

“This week will be in the first time in a while that we’ve had to cook for ourselves… What are we going to do without Gordon’s amazing cooking?” his mom wondered.

“Not to worry,” Jason’s dad said. “I’ve got the cabin pre-filled with high quality food, and Gordon’s on call in case we have any gastronomic emergencies.” He laughed, before continuing. “I’ve actually taken a few cooking classes in preparation for this trip. You guys are going to be amazed by my new skills,” he said smugly.

Jason’s mom raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Well, I for one can’t wait to see these
amazing skills
in action,” she smirked.

“What are you planning to make, Dad?” Jason asked.

“Oh, everything,” he said. “Steaks, pastas…you name it.” He glanced at the now-empty sandwich box. “I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.”

“We just ate, Dad!”

His mom looked out the window. “Hey…it looks like the snow might be letting up,” she pointed out. Indeed, instead of the relentless flurry of moments before, the snow was moving in slow, lethargic clumps.

“Yes, it does…” Jackson said. “You know what, I think we can finally get going and get this Christmas started!” he said, starting the car.

Jason looked up as the engine roared into life, just as a huge blue truck up ahead careened out of its lane and started skidding towards them, out of control.

“MOM! DAD!” he screamed, as the deafening crash ripped through the air.

Time slowed to a halt as the force of the collision crushed Jason backwards into his seat.

He could follow individual specks of glass and blood drops as they moved through the air. Then time sped up, and there was no sound except for the beeping of the vehicles.

“M-mom…Dad?” Jason asked, voice shaking. No response.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to look. Feeling for the handle, he attempted to open the door, but it was jammed closed. He put his head between his knees, tears streaming from his tightly closed eyes.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that; he wasn’t sure if minutes or hours had passed when he heard someone banging on the outside of the wrecked car.

“Anyone in there?” a man outside bellowed.

Jason looked up alarmed. “M-me… Me! I am!”

“Okay,” the voice outside yelled. “I’m going to cut you out! Try to stay down!”

Slowly, dim light from the outside made its way into the car as the jaws cut through, and finally, the fireman was able to pull Jason out. The fireman took in the scene of the scared boy and the destruction behind him, piecing together what happened without needing to ask.

He took off his helmet, and kneeled to Jason’s height. “I’m so sorry for your loss, kid,” he said somberly. “Is there anyone we can contact for you?”

Jason was silent as the words
sorry for your loss
rang through his head. It was a confirmation that what just happened was real, and it struck him forcefully. It was a while before he could say anything, but finally he looked up at the fireman.

“Lucy Mamai…” he said quietly.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Having concluded his story, Jason inhaled his glass of whiskey. Anna too felt the need to take a swig. She was reaching for her glass when she remembered that she couldn’t drink in case the snow let up, freeing her to drive home. Glancing outside, she saw the snow was easily five feet deep.
Okay…there’s no way I’m going to make the drive back tonight,
she reasoned, and took a swig, her eyes widening as soon as the liquor touched her lips.
He wasn’t kidding about this being good whiskey
.

“Everything was taken care of for me, in accordance with my parents’ will. I spent the rest of my childhood in boarding school then went straight off to college. And when I graduated, at 21, I inherited the company,” he sighed. “Every Christmas since, I’ve come up to the cabin to protect myself. It would just be too painful to be reminded of what happened, being surrounded by families and festivities.”

Anna was quiet for a while as she let everything Jason had said sink in.

“Jason,” she started, looking at him. “I just want to…apologize. I thought you were a tyrant. But I was so wrong about you,” she said, shaking her head. “Here I was, complaining to everyone about you—”

“It’s okay,” Jason said, interrupting her. “I wouldn’t like me either if I were you. I was rude and indifferent. I expected you to manage a huge workload during the holidays. I should have acted better.” He looked up, meeting her eyes for a long time. “Anna, if you’re willing to let me, I’ll make it up to you…”

In the haze of the fire, Anna took the opportunity to simply gaze at Jason and admire him.
He has really, really nice eyes…
she thought.

Anna found herself leaning in towards Jason, almost involuntarily. Her heart started beating faster.
What are you doing…
she warned herself, as she glanced between Jason’s lips and his eyes.
Don’t do this, Anna. Not smart. Don’t do it.

Before she knew it, her lips were on his. She felt his mouth for scarcely a second before pulling back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…” she said, embarrassed.

Jason brushed it off, chuckling. “Don’t worry about it. Alcohol makes people do strange things.”

Anna’s face was flushed.
I can’t believe I did that,
she groaned internally.
And I can’t even blame the booze, he’s just being nice.
To make things worse, Anna already, secretly, wanted to do it again.

Anna changed the subject, face still burning. “Here’s what I don’t get… You come up here to avoid thinking about what happened, but this is…
where
it happened. Wouldn’t it make more sense to go be secluded in a different location?” She bit her lip, wondering if her question had crossed a line.

“You know…I never really thought about it like that. My reasoning for coming here is simply that I needed a place that’s in the middle of nowhere, where I can hide away and think “Screw the world,” for a fortnight.”

Anna lay down flat on the floor and turned her face to the ceiling. “Maybe, subconsciously, you feel the need to confront your demons,” she suggested.

Jason was quiet for a minute then laughed. “If that’s the case…it’s too bad it hasn’t worked,” he said ruefully. “How come you’re so knowledgeable about demons, anyway, do you have experience yourself?” he asked, turning towards her.

Anna focused on staring at the implausibly high ceilings. “Actually, I do, yes. In fact, I wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t,” she said. Jason looked at her, intrigued.

“When I was eight years old, my house burned down—”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. What?” Jason said.

Anna laughed. “
Yes,
” she said.

“But you just said you had a standard childhood!”

“Okay… Standard childhood, plus fire, I guess.”

“Right,” Jason said. “And the wrestling of demons part of it?”

“Well… the fire was, you know, traumatic for my whole family. I developed a huge fear of fire. Even candle flames freaked me out—”

“Oh God, really? Are you sure this fire here is okay?” Jason said, making a motion towards dimming the flames.

Anna turned on her side and put a hand on his arm to halt him. They caught each other’s eyes, illuminated by the orange glow.

“No, really, I’m fine,” she insisted with a smile, lying back down to face the ceiling. “I wrestled with my demons, and now they’re not my demons anymore. My friends recommended that I go see somebody after I flipped out at a party that I didn’t know was a bonfire. I started seeing a therapist not long after, and it helped,” Anna said simply. “It was mostly learning to re-associate fire with things that weren’t horrible, life-changing events—hypnosis, talking things out. You know, the usual,” she explained.

“Hypnosis, huh? I don’t think I could ever do that,” Jason said skeptically.

Anna shrugged, her shoulders brushing up against the soft white carpet. “I mean… personally, I don’t think it matters
what
you do to work out your issues, as long as you do
something.
”

“Got you,” Jason said. “You have your hypnosis, and me, I have my whiskey,” he said wryly, raising his glass.

“I’m not sure that’s the most constructive way of dealing with things,” Anna said lightly. “But saying that, pour me another glass, will you? You weren’t kidding when you said this is good whiskey,” she said, shifting her weight to her side.

Jason obliged. “That’s one good thing about being rich,” he started, “good alcohol.” Passing over her refilled glass, he said, “I take it, then, that you’re not going to make the drive back today?”

“No,” Anna sighed. “You’re right. There was never any chance I could drive back in this weather. I was just being optimistic because I was so keen to get back to my family.”

There was a brief silence as they drank. Now lying facing each other, in the glow of the fire, Anna began to feel uncomfortable with the unacknowledged romantic subtext—especially after she had inappropriately kissed him.

She sat up abruptly, clearing her throat. “You know, the weirdest effect of the fire was that it resulted in an intense love of Christmas for me,” she said. “After our house burned down, the community and neighbors rallied for my family, and helped us out tremendously.” Having finished her glass, Anna put it down on the floor beside her. “We were really poor back then, and the fire could have easily have made us homeless. Our neighbors who took us in for a month… they’re like family to us now.  Our stay at their house ended in a huge Christmas dinner with all the families from the neighborhood. After the food, the community presented my family with a ten thousand dollar check that they’d fundraised, to help them get back on their feet.”

“Wow,” Jason commented. “I’ve never been part of a community like that. That’s an incredible story.”

Anna smiled wistfully. “Yeah, it was an amazing thing for them to do—I don’t know that I fully understood it at the time. The thing was, my neighbors weren’t exactly well-off either. In fact, they all might have been as poor as us. So it’s even more incredible when you consider that,” she said. “And you know, the best thing for me, personally, was seeing my parents be the happiest I’d ever seen them—even after everything that had happened.”

Jason shook his head in awe. “A fire? Growing up poor? Clearly your childhood wasn’t as average as you made out. What was it like, growing up poor?” he asked.

Anna mulled it over. “I guess you could say it was rough. My parents were always overworked, stressed. There were times when we couldn't afford food and had to go to food banks. It was only after the fire that my parents managed to get less menial jobs—again, with help from our neighbors.”

“Growing up, there was never any “spare money”—I could never really go to the movies or anything like that. I always had shabby clothes. I worked two jobs during high school but still managed to get good grades. My mom had always told me that good grades were a ticket out of poverty, and of course she was right,” Anna laughed. “As you can probably guess, being the overworked, unstylish geek didn’t win me many friends, but it’s not like I had much time for a social life, anyway. It was kind of…a lonely time, but thankfully I won enough scholarships to be able to afford college, and from there my life improved exponentially,” she concluded.

Jason paused briefly before responding. “Wow. I’m so humbled, hearing your story, Anna. I guess this explains your charitable side,” he mused. “I have to admit, I was puzzled as to why someone would go through the trouble of organizing a charity appeal, on top of all their normal work—but now it makes total sense.”

And I was puzzled over why you seemed so against the holidays. But now I think I understand
. Anna kept the thought to herself, not wanting to unnecessarily bring up the subject of Jason’s childhood trauma.

“Yeah—about the trouble of going through a charity appeal,” she said instead, “I would appreciate it if you could make it a little less
trouble.
You know…a little less red tape, and all that,” she smiled sweetly.

“Oh,” Jason said, abashed. “I’m sorry about that, Anna. I swear it wasn’t because of any vendetta against you or charity or…Christmas itself, even. I think the bureaucracy may have been a vestige of how my parents ran things…”

Anna pursed her lips. She had tried to avoid bringing up the subject of his parents, but it ended up happening anyway.

Jason gazed at her closely, as if searching for something. “I would never have guessed that you grew up poor, Anna… You don’t strike me as the type.”

Anna raised an eyebrow and flashed a sardonic smile. “And what, exactly,
is
the type?” she asked.

“Um,” Jason said, flushing. “I didn’t mean it in a
bad
way…”

Anna interrupted him, feeling bad about making him sweat. “It’s okay. I’m kind of defensive about it. People at school—at college, even—gave me so much flack for being poor. It’s almost as if they saw it as a character flaw, or failure, when really, it’s just bad luck. Like, my parents were smart. They just didn't have many opportunities. I think success is just…hard work plus a lot of good luck.”

Jason nodded. “Or maybe pure luck, in my case,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “Hearing about your struggles just reminds me of how ridiculous rich people can be. We have fewer problems, and yet most of us are still unhappy, because we become slaves to our lifestyles…”

“Slaves to your lifestyles?” Anna said. “They don’t sound like the words of someone who’s been successful thanks to pure good luck. Sure, you inherited wealth, but that’s not the same thing. I mean, keeping a real estate company profitable throughout and after a financial crisis is no mean feat.”

Jason smiled. “Thanks for your encouragement, Anna, but what I do is a drop in the ocean—I owe so much to my employees.”

“Yeah, you do,” she teased, smiling back. Anna reached for the bottle and poured herself another glass of whiskey. “Now you’ve asked me, it’s only fair that I ask you… What was it like growing up rich?” she took a sip—the liquid burned less this time. “I have to admit, when I’m in the company of millionaire clients—even now, right here in this cabin—I feel like I’m in an alien world. The blue-collar girl inside of me can never seem to get over that culture shock.” She ran her fingers over the ornate Persian rug they were seated on.

“You know…” Jason started. “I’ve never really thought about what it meant to grow up rich. It just seemed like the default.  I found it hard to relate to stories of people being impoverished, or living with less.”

“That’s as much as I expected,” Anna smirked.

“Ah…the
classic
hating on rich people,” Jason shot back teasingly. “I did
grow out of that mindset eventually, thank you very much,” he laughed. “There are two sides to it, though. Sometimes growing up rich can be really fun. The extracurriculars in school include helicopter flying and scuba diving, and every summer break you get to go somewhere cool,” Jason said, reminiscing with a faint smile. “But there’s also an unbelievable amount of pressure. There’s an expectation that you’ll become as successful as your parents; perfect grades, perfect co-curriculars, perfect college application, and a perfect job at the end of it. Everyone’s constantly trying to one-up each other,” Jason said. “It can be a toxic environment. You would not believe the amount of drug and alcohol abuse in prep schools—I’m sure it’s directly related to all the stress.”