It Happened at Christmas

by Christen Krumm

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  Message from Floyd Taylor (09:12 PM)

  Reworking the game. Should be ready for you in the next couple of days. Don’t expect to win so easily next time. *insert evil laugh*

  Chapter Eight

  How did Murphy get herself into this mess? Her mouth was bone dry, and she felt like she was about to pee her pants. She rubbed her damp palms against her jeans trying to process what Hank was explaining to her for the second time.

  “Clutch, brake, gas.” He pointed to the three pedals at the car’s floor. “You press the clutch in to change gears. Break and clutch together to stop. Gas to go. Got it?”

  Murphy swallowed — or tried to. “I thought there were only two pedals.”

  “Yeah, that’s an automatic. This is a standard. Much more fun to drive.” Hank looked into Murphy’s panicking eyes. “Hey. You got this. Really. I wouldn’t teach you to drive if I didn’t have all the faith that you could do it.” Hank smacked his hands together and slid out of the driver’s seat. “Your turn. Let’s go through the gears before we start her up and drive around.”

  Hank had picked Murphy up at noon sharp — of course he had been on time. Thankfully she’d just managed to get just enough done that Mrs. Potts let her have the afternoon off.

  The entire drive to the park, Murphy pressed her hands to her knees to keep them from bouncing. The city park was completely abandoned due to the cold, which Murphy found as a small blessing. At least there wouldn’t be any kids playing for her to accidentally run over.

  Murphy plunked into the driver’s seat, white knuckling the steering wheel. Hank opened the passenger side door in a burst of freezing air and slid into the seat. The scent of his cinnamon gum distracted her for half a second.

  Chuckling, Hank brushed her knuckles with a finger. “Ease up a bit.”

  As if she could ease up at all with the tingles shooting up her arm at his touch. Murphy flexed her hand and put it on the gear shift.

  “Okay. Before we start her up, let’s just practice going through the gears. Put one foot on the break and one on the clutch.” Hank turned in his seat, one hand on the dash, the other rested on the back of Murphy’s seat. He exuded confidence and always looked like he was ready to laugh at a joke or hold you while you cried.

  Murphy swallowed. Why was she thinking about Hank holding her while she cried? Taking a deep breath, she pressed in the break and clutch.

  “Ok. You’re in neutral, so move to first gear.”

  She froze. Where was first gear?

  Hank slid his hand over hers. “Here.” He pushed the stick up and over.

  Murphy’s brain froze, not able to comprehend anything Hank was saying. She stared down at their hands resting on the gear shift.

  “Got it? Your turn.” Hank moved his hand back to the dash, breaking Murphy out of her trance.

  She forced herself to move. First gear. Up and over. Second. Straight down and so on until she brought it back to rest in neutral.

  “Great. Now move to second again.”

  Hank had her move through the gears a couple more times before announcing it was time to start the car. He explained how, in order to move the car, she was going to have to feather between the clutch and the gas.

  Despite her hurting brain, Murphy thought she understood the general idea of what she was supposed to do.

  Sucking in another breath, she started the car. She eased her foot from the brake, and then the clutch while gently pushing the gas. The car lurched forward and ground to a halt.

  The sound Hank made from the passenger’s seat was a mix between a choke and chuckle.

  Murphy squeezed her eyes shut. Two seconds in and she’d already broken the car. Looked like even if there were kids playing at the park she wouldn’t have to worry about any accidents. She couldn’t even get the card to go forward.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay.” His reassurance was comforting but did nothing to stop her pounding heart.

  Murphy wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. “This is such a bad idea.”

  “No, it’s not. You’ll get it,” he encouraged. “Try again.”

  Not sure she really wanted to, Murphy started the car. With shaky legs, she managed to ease on the gas feeling a little brave at Hank’s confidence in her.

  This time the car moved a few feet before dying.

  After another hour and countless times of stalling the car, Murphy was able to drive around the parking lot, changing gears, without killing the engine.

  Her legs started to feel solid again, and she was sure her heart wasn’t about to thump out of her chest. She was doing it! She was actually driving!

  “Cain, I do believe you’re ready drive us home,” Hank declared leaning back in his chair, hands propped behind his head.

  Murphy’s heart plummeted back to the floorboard. “You aren’t serious.” The idea of driving ten minutes back to the Harrington house, with the possibility of traffic, even just one other car, was both exciting and terrifying. There was also one other little problem. “I don’t have my license, Hank. I probably shouldn’t actually drive on real roads.”

  Hank shrugged. “Meh. It’s not that far. We’re not going to get pulled over. If you see flashing lights, just floor it.”

  “What?” Murphy squeaked. Forgetting what she was supposed to do next, both feet slammed on the break bringing the car to a dead stop.

  Hank grinned. “Just kidding, Cain. You’re not going to get pulled over. Go the speed limit. Make sure you have your seat belt on. Drive in a straight line. You’ll be fine.”

  “You are so not funny,” Murphy deadpanned ignoring the way her heart soared at his belief in her. Against her better judgement, she started the car back up and pulled out on Major Bass Drive, pointing the car toward the Harrington House. It wasn’t like if she got caught driving without a license she would get in trouble with the police and be kicked out of Iverson. Actually, that’s exactly what it would be like. Try as she might, Murphy couldn’t stop thinking about getting kicked out of Iverson. Where would she go? What would happen to her then? By the time she turned off Major Bass, Murphy’s legs had turned back to mush and she was sucking in way too many breaths, way too fast.

  Nickleback Creek Hill was the only thing between her and getting out of the car. She was vaguely aware of Hank giving her some kind of instruction, but he sounded more like the teacher from the Charlie Brown Christmas special. Wa-wa-wa. She was halfway up the hill before she realized the car was slowing down despite the gas pedal being almost to the floor.

  The harder Murphy pushed the gas, the slower they seemed to be going. Creeping up the hill. The car kept sputtering as if it was about to die. She couldn’t let the car die. If it died, they’d roll backwards. “Hank! What’s going on with this car?”

  “You’re going to have to down shift, Cain. Just push in the clutch and move to second gear.”

  Murphy wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or infuriated by Hank’s calmness. This was definitely the time to panic. She hated driving. This was such a horrible, awful, no good — Murphy downshifted, trying not to completely panic when the car rolled backwards a few inches before she pushed the gas in. The car jumped forward like the twins after downing a Red Bull.

  “Great job, Cain.” Hank praised, patting her on the shoulder. “Hills are the hardest part.”

  Murphy was still too worked up to notice the tingles shooting down her arm from where Hank touched her. “I hate driving.” She remarked, probably much to Hank’s chagrin.

  “I’m never, ever, ever driving again.”

  Ten minutes later, Murphy finally got the car up the hill (three times because Hank made her go back and drive it again, and again, to make sure she knew what she was doing) and parked at the Harrington House. She couldn’t get out fast enough due to her jelly legs.

  “Come on, Cain. You’re slightly pale,” Hank playfully pushed at her shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”

 
Murphy shot him a look as she tried to pinch color back into her cheeks. As proud as she was that she finally could say she’d driven a car, she was in no hurry to try it again. The twins would never believe her and that was fine by her.

  “Ah, Master Hank,” Jarvis greeted them as they burst through the front door.

  Murphy shrugged out of her coat and handed it to his waiting arms. Biting her lip, she offered the butler a weak smile. She promised herself she wouldn’t come back here, and yet here she was once again.

  Hank rambled on, voice echoing off the high ceilings, about why she shouldn’t be giving up on the whole driving thing.

  “Tell her I’m right, Jarvis!” Hank said, desperately trying to find someone to back him up.

  “I wouldn’t know, sir,” her responded taking Hank’s coat and draping it on a hanger. Murphy warmed, Jarvis obviously taking her side.

  Hank pulled at his hair. “Can I get no love?”

  “However, sir,” Jarvis went on, ignoring Hank’s tantrum. “Madam Harrington’s father has arrived and is currently waiting in Master Tripp’s downstairs room.”

  “Grandpa Jack!” Hank clapped his hands together and started down the hall. “Awesome. Come on, Cain. If you won’t listen to reason, I know you’ll listen to Grandpa Jack.”

  Murphy knew for sure she wasn’t at all ready to meet any more of the Harrington family. That would be taking it too far. Meeting extended family felt a little too intimate. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and straightened her rumpled Iverson sweatshirt. Seeing her hesitation, Jarvis held Murphy’s coat out to her, with raised eyebrows.

  “I should just go,” Murphy tugged the coat on, pulling her hair from her collar.

  “Wait. What?” Hank stopped midway down the hall and turned back. “You’re leaving? Why? Mother has been prepping for Tripp’s arrival all morning. Now Grandpa Jack’s here.”

  “Right. Your grandfather is here.” Murphy motioned up the hall. “You should go visit him. You don’t need me hanging around.”

  Even though she really would have liked to see Tripp. She’d visit tomorrow. It meant another trip to the Harrington House. She already made the decision not to stay away. Already had a fight with Emmaline over the issue. This is what she wanted. “It’s fine. I’ll be back tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Or something.”

  Twisting the bronze nob at the front door, Murphy was already preparing herself for the cold walk over the hill to Iverson. Two miles really wasn’t that bad, she told herself. It was balmy outside, at least a good four degrees warmer than it had been most days that week.

  “Cain, if you don’t stop being ridiculous, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you in to meet Grandpa Jack.” Hank’s teasing stopped her.

  Her eyes slid closed. She leaned her forehead on the door. If he only knew who she really was, he wouldn’t think she was being ridiculous. But wasn’t this what she really wanted? She did say she wanted to be one of the in crowd—hot boyfriend and all. Even if it would only be for a little while. She would prove to everyone that she could be this person. She turned back around, letting the door close.

  “I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” She said taking her coat back off, and handing it over once again. “Besides, I did want to see Tripp.”

  “Perfect. Jarvis, could you have some coffee sent up for Murphy? Extra hot and extra delicious. She deserves it.” Hank started back down the hall, talking over his shoulder as he went. “Oh, Jarvis, did everything go okay with Tripp’s arrival? No complications?”

  The butler appeared from around the corner. “Yes, sir. He and his nurses arrived within the last hour. And, sir,” he paused as if not sure he should go on. “Madam Harrington does not yet know of Mr. Jones’ arrival.”

  Hank winced. “Oh. This is going to be a good one. Come on, Cain, if you’re here the fall out won’t be quite as bad.”

  Murphy had to double-time to catch up with Hank’s long strides down the hall. “Fall out? What do you mean?” She suddenly had the feeling she should be wearing battle armor to meet Grandpa Jack.

  Pausing at the door to Tripp’s room, Hank turned back, eyebrows raised. “You’ll see.” He winked and disappeared through the door.

  Chapter Nine

  The first thing Murphy noticed about Grandpa Jack was his size. Not that he was a particularly large man, he wasn’t. In fact, he wasn’t that much taller than Murphy. The hair on top of his head stood straight up and was snowy white giving Einstein a run for his money. His blue eyes had the same mischievous sparkle as Hank’s. And if Murphy thought Hank was loud before, Grandpa Jack only increased the volume.

  “Oh! My boy! My boy!” Grandpa Jack had jumped up from the wingback chair he was sitting in next to Tripp’s bed and pulled Hank into a hug. Hank dwarfed his Grandfather who took a step back, holding Hank at arm’s length. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen your face. Let me take a look at you.” He put one hand on either side of Hank’s face and moved it back and forth in the light as if trying to find a blemish. “See what that Scottish air’s been doing to ye.” He chuckled at his fake (terrible) Scottish accent.

  “Murphy!” Eloise, who had been sitting in a wingback chair next to Grandpa Jack’s, jumped up when she spotted Murphy behind Hank. Stepping around a card table between their chairs, she threw her arms around Murphy. A little taken aback at Eloise’s affection, Murphy returned the hug.

  Murphy had hoped to stay in the background. She imagined visiting Tripp while Hank chatted with his Grandfather. They would be lost in conversation and Murphy would slip out and head home.

  So much for that plan.

  “Grandpa Jack, you have to meet Murphy.” Eloise tugged on Murphy’s arm practically dragging her from her hiding place behind Hank.

  “Who do we have here?” Grandpa Jack clasped his hands together behind his back. “Murphy was it? You are simply beautiful.”

  “Good ol’ Tripp had been keeping her a secret from us. Found out in the hospital it was actually her quick thinking that saved his life.”

  Eloise sighed and tucked her hands under her chin. “It’s so romantic.”

  Murphy ducked her head not used to flattery. “Really, it was nothing. I was just doing what anyone would do.”

  “Whether or not they would have, I’m grateful that you were able to think quickly and save our Tripp’s life,” Grandpa Jack pulled her into an embrace. He smelled of peppermint and tobacco.

  “Daddy?” Tabitha Harrington’s splutter broke apart their hug, but not before Grandpa Jack mumbled something about sending out the cannons and girding your loins. Murphy bit her lip to keep from smiling. She liked him already.

  “Tabitha, my darling girl.” Grandpa Jack, not waiting for an invitation, hugged his daughter — if one could call hugging a board a hug. Tabitha looked even more ridged than normal.

  “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  Grandpa Jack stuffed his hands into his sweater pockets. “Well, Tabitha, my grandson is in a coma, and I hadn’t seen my family in over two years. Besides it’s Christmas time. And Christmas time is family time.”

  Tabitha blinked. “Tripp is just fine, Daddy. I would have called if it was something serious.”

  Grandpa Jack, Hank, Murphy, and Eloise all stared at Tabitha. Fine? Nothing serious? Murphy would like to know what Tabitha Harrington considered serious.

  “Be that as it may,” Grandpa Jack said patting Tabitha on the shoulder and pulling a pipe out of his back pocket. “I’m here to visit my daughter and grandchildren for Christmas. I hope you don’t mind. I’m staying down the hall in the … what do you call it?” He looked over for help from Eloise.

  “The Maple room, Grandpa.”

  “Yes, the Maple room.” He put the pipe to his lips and chewed on the end.

  “Daddy, I absolutely refuse to let you smoke in the house, and definitely not in the same room as Tripp.” Tabitha squared her shoulders pulling back some of her composure.

  Grandpa Jack tapped his daughter o
n the shoulder with the bowl of his pipe. “Tabitha, I haven’t lit this thing in thirty-five years. It’s only here for show.”

  “Yes, well, see that it is.” Tabitha turned on her heel and click-clacked out the door and back down the hall.

  “How in the world did my daughter end up like that?” Grandpa Jack asked staring at the empty door she had just walked through. “But enough of that. Come on, Hank, Murphy, I’m currently smearing your brother and sister in the game of rummy.” He turned back to their card game, pipe still firmly between his lips.

  “You are not! I was so beating you that time,” Eloise protested swiping her cards from the table before her grandfather could peek at them. “And Tripp hardly counts!”

  “Tripp really is a terrible card player.” He agreed, grabbing the cards that had been placed in Tripp’s hand and stacking them on the main deck. He proceeded to shuffle before holding his hand out for Eloise’s cards as well. She rolled her eyes and smacked them on top of the deck.

  Murphy sat on the end of Tripp’s bed, careful not bounce too much. Not like it would matter. It was a very stiff California King and Tripp laid in the middle of it. It made him look more like a little boy than the teenager he was. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead and Murphy fought the urge to lean over and brush it back. For once, Murphy hoped Tripp wouldn’t wake up. The realization startled her. She really had been enjoying hanging out with Hank and Eloise and knew that Grandpa Jack was going to be just as fun. Besides, Murphy had a feeling this was going to be an epic card game and she really didn’t want to miss it.

  Hank sat beside her while Grandpa Jack moved the card table to the center of their awkwardly seated circle.

  Dealing out the cards, Grandpa Jack, after double checking to make sure the door behind them was still closed, nodded to Eloise. She reached down and pulled out a pipe from the side of the chair, while Grandpa Jack produced three extras. He handed one to each of the card players and reached over and propped one in Tripp’s mouth. “Gotta have the right tools to play cards,” he said in way of explanation.