I hope everyone has a wonderful season and an even more wonderful New Year. Phoenix
Pennies For Christmas
Chapter 3
Joe's eyes popped open –
He held his breath for a moment –
His heart pounded in his chest –
And then he was tearing out of bed, the covers, a blur of color, as they were flung onto the floor.
"Frank!" he yelled slamming through the bathroom and into his brother's bedroom on the other side. "It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"
A shapeless lump under his own covers, Frank's head peeked out, his dark hair mostly standing straight up as Joe practically danced on the spot in front of him. "C'mon! C'mon!" the younger boy hollered, reaching out to yank on his brother's arm. "It's Christmas!"
"Joe?" Frank blinked at him blurrily, and then Joe's words must have hit home because the seven-year-old's face suddenly lit up as he struggled to get out of the bedclothes, gangly arms and legs all akimbo. "Gah!" he cried out when he rolled off the bed and onto the floor only to quickly scramble back to his feet, his covers shoved halfway under the bed.
"Frank?" Joe started to ask if his brother was okay but Frank grabbed his arm and was towing him towards the door.
"Boys?" Their father's voice met them in the hallway, a raspy half yawn. "It's kind of early," Fenton grumbled as he rubbed at his face.
"Oh, Fenton," their mother pushed past him, hastily tying the belt on her housecoat as she smiled at the boys but spoke to their father. "Stop being such a grown-up – it's Christmas!" She leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Darling."
Joe rolled his eyes, he was going to say something but Frank jabbed him in the side and gave him a 'keep quiet' glare.
"Ow," Joe muttered and rubbed at his ribs, shooting his brother a look of his own.
"Boys," their mother warned as she looked at them both and then smiled. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas!" two voices chorused as they dove towards their parents, pajama clad arms wrapping tightly around their mother and father's waists. The hugs returned with warmth and strength.
"Okay, okay," Fenton grinned, his hands skimming the tops of his sons' heads. "Last one down has to – cook breakfast!" The last two words spoken as he made a dash for the stairs, grabbing at Frank and Joe to keep them from pushing past him.
Their mother's laughter followed them down the stairs where Joe suddenly stopped, dumb struck with awe as he saw all the presents under the festively glowing Christmas tree. Just a step ahead of him, Frank was equally affected and for a long moment, neither boy moved and then the spell was broken and the children were under the tree.
"Hold up, hold up," Fenton's voice and strong arm gently pulled Joe backwards and onto his lap. "Frank, wait." The seven-year-old had been reaching for a gift but stopped and looked back. "Let's wait for your mom."
Joe immediately twisted towards the stairs, his body thrumming with excitement as his mother finally entered the room.
"Daddy," he whined, his gaze darting back to the tree and all the wonderfulness underneath it. "Can we now?"
His father's chuckle reverberated against his back as the man relaxed his grip. "Have at it, boys." Then he moved to sit on the couch and watch.
Frank took over, making sure to hand everyone a gift before starting to open his own.
Within minutes the living room was awash in brightly colored wrapping paper, crinkled bows and discarded ribbon as the Hardys' opened their gifts, until everything was unwrapped, except for one.
It was small box wrapped in gold.
And for Joe.
The little boy tried to keep from looking sad when Frank handed him the box. There was no way there'd be a bike in there.
Next to Joe there was a small pile of Transformers, racing cars, coloring books and puzzles and he tried to be grateful and remember all the kids in the world who would get less, but it was hard. So instead he thought about the blind homeless man with a cold bum and nowhere to go, and swallowed down the self-pity as his eyes lit briefly across the expectant faces of his family as they watched.
To Frank, brown eyes shiny with excitement, as if the gift was for him; to his mother, gazing at him warmly, her lips turned up gently as she smiled; and to his father, leaning forward, intensity settling something unreadable on his face.
It made Joe shiver as he started to unwrap the pretty paper on the box. He'd just have to work harder next year he decided and wondered if maybe dares did really count after all.
The breath caught in Joe's throat as he lifted the lid and looked inside –
In the bottom, lying out flat on a fluffy pillow of white cotton, were three shiny pennies…
And a handwritten note.
"Joe?" Frank's voice was next to his ear. "What'd ya get?"
Confused, Joe reached into the box and picked up the coins. He frowned and stared at them closely. They looked like –
"Sweetie?" his mother's voice made him look up and he held out his hand.
"Mommy?" his bottom lip trembled as he didn't understand. How was it possible?
"Your lucky pennies!" Frank cried out taking hold of Joe's wrist and looking intently at the coins. "Santa gave them back?"
Instantly Joe's mother was right there next to him, her fingers warm on his own.
"Is there anything else in the box?" his father's voice was quiet. "A note or anything?"
Tears wobbled in Joe's eyes, his heart pounding hard as he just stared at the pennies he'd wanted the homeless man to have. It was Frank who picked up the note.
"Do you want me to read it?" he asked.
Mutely Joe nodded, his fingers closing tightly around the coins. He barely felt his mother pull him into her lap and start to stroke his hair as he leaned back against her.
Frank opened the note and started to read:
"Three little pennies were all that you had, but you gave them freely, so I gave them back.
Three little pennies, not much of a gift… your bike is outside because you learned how to give.*"
"Oh my God," his mother's hands flew to her mouth as Joe's eyes fixed on his brother for a moment and then he was up and running for the door, Frank right behind him.
Flinging the door open, he raced outside, ignoring his mother's call to 'wait, put your shoes on' and then stopped and stared. There, leaning against his father's car, with a big blue ribbon wrapped around it, was the most perfect bike Joe had ever seen. Shivering, his feet already feeling like icicles as he stood on the wooden porch, Joe just continued to stare.
"Wow."
Frank's soft exhalation broke Joe's trance. He shivered and turned around, his hand still clenched in a fist. "Santa knew," he whispered in awe, opening his fingers and looking down at the coins. "He really knew."
"Well, duh," his older brother scoffed, grabbing his arm and starting to drag him back inside. "He is Santa."
Joe tried to pull back, unwilling to leave his new bike but then his father was brushing past them, a coat over his shoulders, heavy boots on his feet. "Get inside, boys," Fenton told them then fixed Joe with a soft look, "I'll get the bike."
Still reluctant but starting to shiver hard, Joe let himself be tugged towards the warmth of the house. Inside his mother was shaking her head but surprisingly said nothing about it. Instead she gave him a hug and kissed the top of his head. "Go to the kitchen," she said. "I'll be right in to get you some breakfast. How does pancakes, sausage and bacon sound?"
Joe's rumbling stomach and Frank's enthusiastic "Yah!" were answer enough. Pennies held reverently in his fist, Joe followed his brother and wondered about the homeless man. If Santa gave Joe back his money, what did he give him?
"You don't think Santa robbed him, do you?" Joe wondered aloud.
"Who?" Frank asked as he pushed open the door to the kitchen and led them inside. The table was already set, their mother had gotten it ready the night before. He opened the fridge to get the orange juice out.
Joe sat at the table, his lips pursed in consideration. "The man without a home."
"Nah. Santa doesn't take. He gives," reminded Frank as he carefully poured two glasses of juice, frowned at the other two glasses on the table, then poured juice into them as well.
Reassured by his brother's answer (Frank was really smart about these kinds of things after all), Joe took a sip of the juice and watched as Frank drank his own. He thought about his lucky pennies and how it had felt to give them away. Then he thought about his family and how lucky he was and joy curled around Joe's heart and it threatened to burst. That was the true feeling of Christmas and one he'd hold onto all day.
He glanced down once again at the pennies and a smile tugged at his lips. He had one thing left to do.
Laura Hardy waited until her husband brought the bike into the living room. She watched him, one eyebrow raised in question, her arms folded loosely across her chest.
Fenton leaned the bike against the back of the couch, took one look at his wife and grimaced. "Uh, yeah," he scratched at the back of his neck absently. "Guess, you're wondering about the bike, huh?"
"Actually, no," Laura admitted honestly. "Not about the bike." Although they had decided they couldn't really afford to give Joe such a gift this year, she wasn't completely surprised that her generous husband had somehow come up with one. But that wasn't what she was curious about now. "How'd you know about the pennies?" Laura hadn't told Fenton about the homeless man yet.
"Oh," Fenton slowly started to smile. "About that."
"Yeah." Laura moved closer to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him in for a slow and passionate kiss. "That," she breathed out as she pulled back for a moment and then she gave him a look. Comprehension softening her already affectionate look as emotion brightened her eyes with tears. "You… were the blind man?"
Fenton smiled, his own gaze suspiciously bright. "Yeah," he admitted, compassion roughening his voice. "I was working… undercover. And when I saw you guys – oh God, Laura, and Joe gave me his money?" He pulled her in more tightly and buried his face against his neck. "I- I-" his words were a lost muffle but she understood.
"I know," she admitted, having been touched just as much by the generosity of their child. "Me too…"
They stayed like that for a few moments and then Fenton slowly pulled away. He rubbed at his eyes and shook his head as if to clear it. His gaze moved towards the kitchen door where the boys were. "We are so damn lucky."
"Yes," she admitted, smiling wide and happy. "We are. Now c'mon, before the boys decide to start making breakfast themselves. You know how Frank is…"
Fenton laughed, pulled her in against his side and walked her towards the kitchen. "Yeah," he chuckled, "and I wonder where he got that from?"
"Certainly, not from you," Laura teased back, tickled at his ribs, then dashed just out of reach. The wealth of their family was waiting for them in the kitchen, working their way through a second glass of juice.
While next to each plate, Joe had placed a shiny penny. One that he'd found and two from his Dad…
Merry Christmas, Alaina. Red. Red Hardy.
The End
*This story and the song Lyrics were based on the Christmas song "Three Little Pennies" by Doug Stone.
