We stood in the hangar like teenagers, sharing a kiss that ended up becoming an annual Christmas tradition for us.
The next day, I looked for Gabe everywhere so that I could tell him everything that had happened and thank him for pushing me to go after what I wanted. But he was gone. I never saw him again. I think his work in Friendship was done. At least for me it was.
Christmas Encounter
R. J. PRESCOTT
For Mum, who showed me that
there is always magic in everything
if only you look for it.
Chapter One
Jensen
Paris, France
“Why don’t we take the party back to my place?” the woman next to me whispered suggestively. The shade of her lipstick matched perfectly with the color of her short, clingy red dress, and her heavily made-up face was flawless. Six months ago, I would have been flattered by her offer. Now, like everything else, it just seemed fake. I wondered if I’d even recognize her without all the cosmetics. Or if she’d bother to give me the time of day if I wasn’t Formula One’s newest rising star. I doubted it, given that we’d been talking for twenty minutes, and the only thing she seemed interested in was my salary.
My gaze drifted across the sea of partygoers, where celebrities and movie stars mingled either with the rich and powerful, or with those who wanted to be. I sighed deeply, preparing myself to brush her off and for the inevitable argument that would follow, just as my phone started buzzing.
“Sorry. I need to take this,” I replied, fishing it out of my pocket. The number was withheld, but I mentally high-fived whoever was calling for giving me an excuse to escape.
“Hello?” I said as I connected the call. A woman spoke to me, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. The conversation and sound of clinking glasses was loud, so I pushed my way through the throng of people to a set of French doors.
“Hang on a sec,” I said. Closing the doors behind me, I found myself alone on a small balcony. The tiny space had barely enough room for two chairs, but the view of the Paris skyline was spectacular.
“Sorry about that. I can hear you better now,” I said to the caller. After a few seconds of silence, I was beginning to wonder if we’d been disconnected.
“Is this Jensen Caldwell?” the voice asked.
“It is,” I replied suspiciously.
“Jensen, it’s Nancy Adler, Ronnie’s wife. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Ronnie passed away today,” she said, her voice cracking with unmasked grief.
The pain of hearing those words was physical. I sat down hard in the chair as my knees went out from under me. Hunched over, I ran my hand back and forth over my buzz cut, trying to process what she’d said.
“I don’t understand. How?” I asked, my words sticking in my throat.
“It was a massive heart attack,” she explained softly, her misery palpable. “He was out walking the dog when he had a cardiac arrest. The doctor said he was dead before he hit the ground.”
“But he was so fit and strong,” I replied. He didn’t drink or smoke. He exercised regularly. I mean things like this weren’t supposed to happen to people like that. It wasn’t fair.
“He always had heart problems, but he kept them to himself. His father died the same way,” she explained. I felt shame hearing that. The man who’d been like a father to me had health problems, and I had had no clue. I’d been too busy hopping from race to race and party to party around Europe to care.
“I’m so sorry,” I confessed. I was sorry for her loss, but my apology was for everything I’d done, everything I’d become over the last year. Now it was too late.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I know you’re a busy man, but the funeral will be held here next week most likely. I just thought you’d want to know, and I didn’t want you to hear the news from anyone else.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, and I would be. Nancy preferred to stay at home while Ronnie was on the circuit, so I’d only met her a handful of times, but Ronnie looked at her like she hung the moon. He worshipped her, and maybe it was too late to atone for the sins of my past, but standing next to his wife while she buried the love of her life was the least I could do.
“Thank you, Jensen. He would have liked knowing you were there,” she told me.
“Is there anything I can do? Anything that you need?” I asked.
“It’s kind of you to offer, but I have everything taken care of. I’m just trying to keep busy at the moment so I can get through the next few days. Perhaps … perhaps when you get here you’d like to stop by. I’d like to meet with you before the funeral if that would be okay with you?” she asked.