For Alaina: Merry Christmas, my dear friend. If I could, I would wrap the Hardys up in a big box for you and have them flown to you in Tracy 1 under watcheful guard of rock salt and Winchesters… but I can't. This is the best I can do.
Pennies For Christmas
Six-year-old Joe Hardy was the most excited kid in all of Bayport. Today was Christmas Eve and after a whole year of working extra hard to be good, he was positive Santa Claus was going to bring him just what he'd been asking for all year. A brand new bike of his own. One that his big brother, Frank, had never even owned.
"What you smiling about?" his older brother asked as they trudged along the busy city street as their mother took along on some last minute shopping. It was cold outside and both boys were nicely bundled up against the weather. At seven, Frank had earned the right to walk by their mom's side while Joe still had to hold her hand. It didn't' stop him from trying to walk on the bigger piles of snow that the snowplows had pushed against the sidewalks though.
"Nothing," Joe beamed then scowled as his mother tugged him closer to her side again. His face light right back up again a second later as he elaborated, never able to keep a secret from Frank, "I just know what Santa's going to bring me this year, that's all."
"What?" Frank teased, his dark brown eyes dancing with mirth. "A lump of coal?"
"Nope," Joe was in too good a mood to let his brother bait him. "A brand new bike. And not one of yours this time!"
"What's wrong with one of my old ones?" Frank demanded, his face pinched from more than the cold.
"Nothing," the younger boy rushed to assure him (he hated it when Frank was mad at him). "Just this one will be mine and mine only. I've been extra good all year so he has to get it for me. He has to!"
Frank frowned as eyed the younger boy. "What about the gum you put in Iola Morton's hair last week?"
"What about it?" Joe asked trying to climb another bank, his mother's arm stretched as far as she'd let him.
"That'll put you on the naughty list for sure."
"Nuh uh," Joe denied, once again reigned back in. He really hated having to hold hands and wished their dad wasn't working so he could have stayed home with them instead of being dragged along boring shopping with their mom. "It was a dare. Dares don't count as being bad."
Frank raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I asked Tony who asked Biff who double checked with Chet. So I'm good."
This time the older boy looked confused. "And that makes it okay?
"Well, no," Joe explained with an exaggerated eye roll, he didn't understand Frank some days. His older brother was usually pretty smart. "But Iola's his sister and he said it was okay so that makes it okay."
Frank was quiet for a few minutes as they stopped on a street corner and waited for the light to change before crossing. Their mother smiled down at them and promised they were almost done.
Once they were on they across the street, he was looking at Joe again. "Well what about the paste eating thing yesterday?"
Joe was truly baffled. "What about it?"
"That wasn't good," Frank sounded triumphant. Didn't he want Joe to get his bike?
"Mom said we weren't going to talk about it. She didn't even tell Daddy when she was talking to him last night!" Their father, an up and coming detective was on a highly secret job right now and they hadn't seen him in three days. He did call each night though to say good-night and promise he'd be home before Christmas.
"It's still bad." Frank announced. "Probably even worse because we aren't supposed to talk about it."
Joe thought about that for a few moments. Frank did have a point. And it was definitely not something good little boys did but –
And then he grinned. "Yeah but if Mommy isn't going to talk about it then how is Santa going to know?"
"Because 'he sees you when you're good and he knows you when you've been bad," Frank singsonged and Joe really wanted to kick him but he'd have to wait until their Mom wasn't standing right there.
"Boys," their mother's voice softly warned. She'd probably picked up the hostility vibes Joe was shooting his brother.
"You're just jealous," Joe decided, his lip pulled out in a big pout.
"Jealous?" Frank started at him incredulously. "Of what?"
"Of me getting a new bike. What'd you ask for? Books?"
The sheepish look on his brother's face had the six year old laughing. "Really? Books? What's so cool about books? You can't ride a book!"
"I don't need to ride a book," Frank scoffed. "And they're not dumb."
"I didn't say they were dumb," Joe laughed.
"Yeah, well, at least I can read my books right away, you can't ride your bike in the snow!"
That made Joe frown. He hadn't really thought about that… but before he could dwell on it for more than a moment, he saw an old man sitting on the cold ground in an open doorway. The man wore tattered clothes and held a small tin cup in his hand. Dark glassed concealed his eyes as a big sign saying 'BLIND' was propped near his feet.
Joe resisted his mother's pull on his hand, suddenly transfixed by the man.
"Don't stare," his mother hissed softly as she obviously saw what had caught his attention. "It isn't nice."
"What's he doing?" Joe asked quietly, never having seen a homeless person before. "Why's he sitting in the snow? His bum must be cold."
"Joe!" his mother scolded quietly and then sighed. "He's homeless, sweetie. He has no place to go."
"Why not?" the child demanded, his bright blue eyes still hung on the stranger. "Where's his family?"
"Not everyone has a family," it was Frank who answered, his voice sounding oddly uneasy. It made Joe look at him. "Or a place to go."
"Your brother's right," their mother's voice was sad.
As Joe watched, a man laden down with shopping bags paused by the old man and dropped something into the cup. The old man nodded his head and the child heard a very gravelly, "Thank you, sir."
"What'd he just give him?" the inquisitive child wanted to know. He was strangely bothered by the idea that this old man had no where to go on Christmas Eve.
"Spare change so he can get a coffee or something to eat," their mother tugged on his hand again. "C'mon, boys, we have to go."
"Wait," Joe persisted, digging his boots into the snow so his mother had trouble moving him. A strange feeling filled him. He tugged off a mitten with his teeth and dug his hand through his coat pockets.
"Joe?" Frank moved towards him to see what he was doing.
A bit more routing and Joe cried out, "Got it!" He opened his hand for his brother to see and in it were three shiny pennies.
Frank frowned. "Joe? What are you doing?"
"Sweetie," Laura Hardy crouched down eye level with her youngest son. "Those are your lucky pennies…."
Joe shrugged, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the money. It was true – they were his lucky pennies. He'd found one and been given the other two by his father a long time ago, and he carried them everywhere with him. They gave him good luck (or so he was sure or else Frank would have killed him when he accidentally flushed Frank's frog pet, Croaker, down the toilet in a bid to give the amphibian some 'pool time'). But – his gaze returned to the old blind man – maybe he could use Joe's lucky money more.
"Can I?" he asked, his blue eyes imploring his mom. "It's all I have – I want to give it to him."
A strange look followed his mother's smile, her eyes seemed to get brighter. She didn't say anything, just seemed to swallow funny before she nodded her head. "Okay, honey. You can give him your money." Her voice sounded odd but Joe shrugged it off as he stepped towards the old man and held out his money.
"It's all I got," he told the man who frowned and shook his head.
"He can't see you," Frank's voice whispered loudly in his ear.
"Oh! I'm sorry! Here," Joe felt his face flush. He bent down next to the man and dropped his three pennies into the cup. "Merry Christmas, mister," he said as he straightened up and turned to leave.
"Merry Christmas to you, youngster," the old man smiled and tipped his head. "And thank you very much."
Suddenly feeling as his chest would burst with warmth, Joe grabbed his mother's hand and held on tight, and the bright smile he had on his face for the rest of the day had nothing to do with the bike he was hoping to see under the tree come the following morning.
The homeless man watched the little boy practically skip back to his mother and take her hand. It was only once the woman and her two sons were out of sight did he pull the cup in close to his chest and take a look inside.
He saw the little pennies against a handful of silver coins and couldn't help the small smile that curled his lips. Reaching into the cup, he fished out the coppers and held them in his hand. He could still feel the warmth from the little boy's hand that had held them so tightly and he couldn't help the tears that prickled at his perfectly good eyes.
Men measured their wealth in money, and those three little pennies given to him straight from the kindness of a child's heart, made him the richest man in the world.
Standing up, he brushed the snow off the back of his pants, grabbed up the 'BLIND' sign, pulled off the glasses and shoved them into his shirt pocket. It was getting late and he had somewhere he needed to be.
Pocketing Joe's coins, the man dumped the other money he'd collected into a Salvation Army kettle and hurried away.
TBC
