It Happened at Christmas

by Christen Krumm

  Murphy went to the bathroom, somehow holding her dress over her head to keep the back from dropping into the toilet and washed her hands. She pumped the Harrington rose lotion that was sitting on the counter into her hands. Sinking down into the circular couch, she relished in the quiet. Her ears were still ringing from the band—amazing as it was. She leaned her head back and let her eyes slid closed. She resolved to have fun and just enjoy being on the inside, so why was she not feeling it?

  “But did you see that one girl?”

  Murphy froze as two people walked into the bathroom. Who were they talking about?

  “Oh my gosh. Yes. She’s supposedly Tripp’s brother’s girlfriend, but what in the actual heck, where did he dig her up from?”

  Murphy held her breath. Willow and Charlotte hadn’t recognized her then, and once again she was mistaken for Hank’s girlfriend.

  “Her dress is so basic. I don’t even think it’s designer.” They had made it to the mirrors now. One look behind them and they would have seen Murphy sitting there, shock written all over her face. She moved slowly around the couch. Not trusting that close up, in full light, she wouldn’t be recognized.

  Charlotte smoothed lipstick over her bottom lip and smacked both lips together. “I know right? And she’s bare foot. Can you believe that? What does she think this is? A backyard shindig?”

  Murphy slipped her exposed feet back under the hem of her dress as if that would deny the fact that her feet were bare.

  “She hasn’t even been dancing with Hank. Just that old man and duppy girl. With a man like Hank, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Her loss. If I have my way, he’ll be mine before the end of the night. Daddy said his trust fund alone could set a girl for life.”

  Murphy could feel the red rising in her own face. Her fingers curling into fists. Who did she think she was? Hank was more than just a consolation prize.

  Willow tucked an imaginary hair back into place. “Did you catch her name? She doesn’t go to Iverson, does she?”

  If Murphy hadn’t already been holding her breath she would have now.

  “I don’t think so, and there’s no way she’s at Iverson. Too bad Tripp’s in a coma or we could have both brothers. Claire’s loss.”

  Her lungs started to burn. Maybe there was a plus side to being so invisible at school. She had been at Iverson for seven years and yet they still didn’t know who she was. This was who she wanted to be? A flimsy girl who’s only goal in life was to get hot guy with a big pay out. One who didn’t care if she hurt her best friend in the process of social ladder climbing. Murphy felt an ache behind her breastbone. That couldn’t be her.

  The girls finished their primping and stuffed everything back into their tiny wristlets.

  “Let’s go. Operation bag Hank Harrington commencing.” Both girls giggled their way out of the bathroom never even seeing Murphy huddling on the couch.

  She couldn’t move. For years she had put up with backhanded comments from the elite at Iverson, but it took two minutes in a bathroom listening to Charlotte and Willow to make her realize she didn’t really want to fit in at all. Not if it meant she had to be like that.

  Sounds of the party crescendoed and faded again with the opening and closing of the door. The room felt like it was folding in on top of her. She had to get out of there. Grabbing her bag, she slipped it back on her wrist and headed out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to the party, Murphy turned toward the outdoor balcony. She needed air.

  Cold air raced through her lungs, but she gulped it in anyways. The icy ground felt like it was shooting needles up her legs, but it was a welcome comfort, dulling the disappointment inside. She sagged against the balcony railing. Why had she really wanted to play this part? She did not fit in this crowd, nor did she really want to anymore. She was done. Emmaline had told her not to do anything rash at the party. To play the part. But she couldn’t take anymore. She pulled her phone out of bag. Even though she’d have to give it back tomorrow, tonight it was her saving grace.

  “There you are.” Hank walked toward her, hands in his pockets, Murphy’s heart beating fast with each step that brought him closer to her. “What are you doing out here?”

  Murphy dropped her phone back into her bag and turned to lean against railing. “I just needed some air, I guess.”

  “I totally get that,” Hank blew out a breath. They were both silent watching it dance in mid-air before disappearing.

  He leaned over the railing next to her, their shoulders practically touching. Did she really want to give this up? To give Hank up?

  Tripp’s girl. Tripp’s girl. You want to be Tripp’s girl. Pounded through her head. She and Hank would never work out. Could never be. She knew this with every fiber of her being.

  “By the way,” Hank turned, one hip still leaning against the balcony. “I had a talk with my dad this morning.”

  “Yeah?” She was doing her best to ignore the pounding of her heart and the Jiminiy Cricket stuck in her head. She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. Maybe escaping to the balcony with no coat and no shoes in freezing temperatures hadn’t been the best of ideas.

  “Yeah. He agreed to let me switch my career path to music.”

  Murphy’s heart shoved against her chest. “Hank, that’s wonderful!”

  “Well,” Hank bumped her shoulder with his. “I owe it all to you.”

  “No, you don’t.” Murphy wasn’t going to let him give her all the credit. “You had it in you the whole time. You just needed,” she shivered, crossed her arms. “Needed a little point in the right direction.”

  “Oh, hey, you’re cold.”

  Before she could protest, Hank had slipped his jacket off and pulled it over her shoulders.

  Her feet, frozen numb, stumbled forward when Hank tugged the jacket closed. She stopped herself from falling with two hands on Hank’s solid chest.

  “Why d-do I always s-seem to f-fall around y-you?” Murphy chattered out. “I p-promise I’m n-not this cl-clumsy.”

  Hank wasn’t saying anything. Murphy fell silent feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. She stared at the perfect row of buttons on his shirt. Knowing that if she looked up, if she looked at Hank, it would be over. Everything would change, and there’d be no going back.

  “Murphy.” His voice was barely above a whisper shooting chills up and down Murphy’s back.

  She bit the inside of her lip acutely aware her hands were still pressed against him. She swallowed. The tingle down her spine had nothing to do with the cold anymore. Slowly she lifted her head. Hank’s eyes were blue, but in the dim light they looked almost black. What she saw reflected in his eyes stopped her. Passion. Desire. Questions. She couldn’t look away even though she knew what was coming. His gaze was a magnet drawing her closer. She should stop him. Needed to stop him. Kissing him was the point of no return. Her head tried to remind her she was supposed to be with Tripp. Her head was telling her this was all wrong. But her heart, with every beat, was screaming Hank’s name.

  Hank’s hands rose, light as a feather framing her face. Heat radiated more sparks up and down every part of her. He leaned in. Noses brushing now. Murphy slid her eyes closed. This shouldn’t be happening. This couldn’t happen, but oh how she wanted it to happen. She wrapped her arms around Hank pulling him just a little closer.

  “Hank, baby! Here you are.”

  Murphy pulled away as if she had been electrocuted. Hank’s gaze was pleading, wanting to draw her back in. She took a step back. What had she been about to do?

  “Cain,” Hank took a step toward her. Murphy put a hand up keeping him in place. She felt woozy.

  Charlotte sidled up to him, wrapping herself around one of his arms. Murphy sunk into the shadows, stomach churning.

  She turned and fled back into the house, dialing Lloyd’s number as she went. Without remembering how, she made it to the front hall. She slipped out of Hank’s jacket and
handed it to a surprised looking Jarvis.

  “This may be overstepping my bounds, but are you okay, Miss Cain?” Jarvis asked laying the wrap across Murphy’s shoulders.

  Murphy gave Jarvis a sad smile. She’d miss him. “I’m okay, Jarvis. Just ready to go home.”

  “Do I need to find Master Hank?”

  “No,” Murphy’s voice caught, she had to force down the tears before continuing. “I have a ride coming to pick me up.” A horn sounded from outside. “That would be it.”

  Jarvis opened the door for her, frowning slightly catching a glimpse of her bare feet. Still he escorted her down to the car, seeing her safely inside.

  Murphy watched as Jarvis headed back inside, turning at the top step and waving. Murphy lifted her hand in a wave. Lloyd handed her a wool blanket from the back seat, mumbling something about the heater not working that great.

  “Are you ok, Murph?” Floyd was staring hard at her.

  “I am, Floyd. Just please take me home.” Murphy blinked, hoping the car was too dark for him to see the tears swimming in her eyes.

  “Murph, if we need to go rough up that Harring—”

  “Please,” Murphy cut him off. “I just want to go home.”

  Floyd studied her for a minute more before putting the car into gear and heading back to Iverson.

  Thoughts of Hank whirled through her head leaving her lightheaded and heartsick. She vaguely thought her night had ended way too close to Cinderella’s, shoes and all. She really hated that fairy tale.

  Text Notifications

  From Eloise Harrington (01:34 AM)

  What happened to you tonight? I couldn’t find you!

  From Eloise Harrington (01:35 AM)

  Hello?

  From Eloise Harrington (01:47 AM)

  Oooh it’s late. I bet you’re sleeping. Hope I didn’t wake you!! Sorry!

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I think I’m in love.”

  Murphy had closed herself in her room once they reached home. The twins, to give them credit, didn’t follow or press her for answers. She only hoped they wouldn’t return to the Harrington house and give Hank a piece of their mind for whatever they thought happened. The second she finished changing out of her dress, she video called Emmaline knowing that she’d be up waiting for all the details.

  “Hello, to you, too. I had a great day, thanks for asking. Glad you had a wonderful time at the party, and that your neighborhood friendly fairy godmother made all your dreams come true. So, you think you’re in love with a half dead guy? How does that happen?”

  Murphy shook her head, eyes swimming. She knew she looked a mess. She ran a finger under her eyes trying to smear away the mascara, knowing it was already a lost cause. She hoped Emmaline couldn’t see the dress in a heap where she had left it after her quick change into her holey sweats and old Yale t-shirt.

  “If not with Tripp, then …” Emmaline trailed off. She smiled sadly, her voice kinder when she figured it out. “Hank? I knew you were falling for him.”

  “I didn’t mean to, Ems, it just kind of happened.”

  “Isn’t that how all the good love stories happen?”

  “Ems, he’s so kind and funny. He’s always taking care of his little sister. It’s sweet, but there can’t be anything there.” Murphy twisted her hair up into a knot on top her head.

  “Why not?”

  Murphy rolled her eyes, forcing out a laughed around her sobs. “Because I’m not even in the same class as he his. I scrub toilets. Clean his brother’s room. I’m always making a mess of things—look at the past two weeks!”

  “You’re just going to have to tell them the entire story, Murphy.”

  Murphy’s stomach dropped. She knew that was going to be her only choice. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if they hate me?” She finally pinpointed why she couldn’t ever get the words out. The realization made her cry harder.

  “But what if they don’t? Hank sounds like a really great guy. Maybe you should just give him a chance.”

  Murphy pressed her lips together. Swiped at the tears and snot running down her face. Just thinking about Hank made her chest tighten. The thought of telling him the truth and the disappointment she knew would come — she wouldn’t be able to take it. Murphy would once again be the sad little orphan girl to be pitied. She’d rather not say anything and just fade away. That way she’d have a good memory. She’d be a good memory. “Even if he did forgive me, I don’t belong in that world. Tonight was a complete disaster. I can’t do that to him.”

  “That is just a bunch of bull—"

  “Just leave it, Ems.”

  “Murph, you’re breaking my heart.” Emmaline looked like she was crying now too.

  Murphy relished the ache behind her ribs. This is what she deserved. She had done this to herself. Mind spiraling it landed on Hank. Hank who smelled of cinnamon and sunshine. Who could make the piano sing with his long-tapered fingers. Who’s smile could defuse unease almost instantly. Something in Murphy stirred when she thought of their almost kiss. The way he held her. That meant he felt something too, right? Maybe he was warring inside just as much as she was.

  But why would he think of her that way? She could offer him nothing but scandal. She didn’t come from money. She was awkward. Apparently more fit for “backyard shindigs” than parties and galas.

  No. It would never in a million years work. Even if they both wished it. And the sooner her heart caught up with her head the sooner she could stop feeling like someone punched her in the gut.

  Murphy pulled in a deep, icy breath letting the cold air burn her lungs. It felt so good to run — and it had been at least three weeks since her last run. She could feel the stiffness in her muscles. Seven miles probably was too much to jump back into.

  She looped around the park and headed back toward Iverson. Had it been just last week Hank taught her to drive here?

  For a split second she thought about changing her route, head to the Harrington House. Her thoughts echoed with the pounding of her feet.

  Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

  Last night, after her chat with Emmaline, she’d resolved to disappear from the Harrington’s lives, for real this time. It would be less painful for everyone that way. Still she wrestled with her decision. What if Emmaline was right about the Harrington’s—Hank—forgiving her? Should she give them the chance?

  She ran faster. Trying to outrun the thoughts ping ponging in her brain. She couldn’t tell Hank. If he hated her, she would never be able to forgive herself. Wasn’t having good memories with no goodbyes better than shattered hearts?

  Murphy had totally and completely fallen for Hank. How could that have happened? She had been crushing on Tripp for as long as she could remember.

  She should tell Hank—the entire story. It was Hank. He would understand. But if he didn’t ….

  Murphy felt like pulling out her hair. There was no way she and Hank would ever work. Tripp was eventually going to wake up, and everyone would see her the way she was. A nobody. They could never accept her. She was not of the Harrington’s world, she was pretty sure the train wreck that was last night confirmed that even more. Each heartbeat and footfall pounded that truth into Murphy’s thoughts.

  The phone in her pocket vibrated. Lloyd. She sent it to voice mail, the past two weeks settling like a rock on her chest.

  Tears burned the back of her eyes — more than just from the pain of the run. Why did she have to find herself in this situation? Why did she have to meet Hank at all? She should never have waited at the hospital.

  Feeling like smoke was slowly filling her lungs, she stopped running. Bending over, hands on her knees, she sucked in frozen air. She choked in a sob and swiped a hand over her face smearing snot and tears all over the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  "Murphy?"

  Murphy’s breath hitched. Hank. She didn’t even hear him drive up. His voice restarted the ache in her midsection. Why him
? Why now? Maybe she should pretend that she didn't hear him. Keep running. Murphy picked her pace back up. Praying that he would get the hint, get back in his car and drive away. He didn't.

  “Cain, wait up!"

  It didn't take Hank long to catch up with her. He hadn’t been running at a ridiculous pace for seven miles. He grabbed her elbow and turned her toward him. If she was running any faster, she would have splatted on the pavement. Murphy hung her head, trying to keep Hank from seeing the tears flowing down her face.

  Hank bent, eyes searching for hers. “Murphy?”

  She glanced at him through watery eyes. Confusion painting every corner of his face.

  “Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on?” Using his thumbs, he wiped at Murphy’s tears. She tried to smile at him, to show him she was fine, but she just started crying harder. Why did he have to be so wonderful?

  “Come here.” Hank pulled Murphy to him. She inhaled the spice and citrus smell lingering on his coat, letting it warm her if only for a minute. Hank trapped her to his chest with his arms encircled around her back, his chin resting on her head. “Is this about last night? Listen. I’m really sorry about that. It was inappropriate,” he growled frustration. “I’m not like that. I don’t go after another man’s girl, but I’ve never been so envious of my brother. That doesn’t excuse my behavior, no matter how much I like you,” Hank blew out a hot breath. “I promise I will be the perfect gentleman. You don’t have to worry about me trying to put any moves on you. When Tripp wakes up, I’ll step into the background and I won’t get in the way.”

  His words came out like one big run on sentence, but Murphy could only concentrate on the part about him being envious of his brother. About him liking her. Emotions pressed in the space behind her breastbone. She shook her head, fingers gripping his stupid puffy jacket. If he knew who she really was he wouldn’t have those same feelings.

  “Tripp will pull through. He’s a fighter.”