The Murphys were having their own problems about that time. The business was doing well. Connor was 17 and eagerly helping his da fix the cars. Bria was 10 and still too young to help, but spent all of her freetime in the garage, watching and learning. Rory was 12 and had, much to his chagrine, just made Sive very proud by winning another medal for step dancing and was sulking and throwing himself into helping his older brother and da with the cars.
Things were grand, absolutely brilliant, and Sive thought so every time poor Corrigan had dinner with them. 'It's good we can treat the poor boy like family,' she thought, 'He could use a different one than the one he has.' She was very blessed, she decided, to have a job she loved, a wonderful husband, and three beautiful children.
Then came the bombshell.
Not long after Corrigan's mother left for London, Danny was out in the shop talking to Connor about a car they'd picked up to restore.
"Black would look nice on it, wouldn't it?" Danny asked, leaning down to take a long look at the engine, which he had been doing off and on since they'd hauled the car inside.
"Red." Connor replied stubbornly.
Danny raised an eyebrow and turned his head to glance at him. "White interior?"
"Black."
"Hmm. . . " He stuck his head back under the bonnet. He only looked for a moment this time before he went over to his toolbox.
Connor smiled and shook his head, walking over to take his turn getting a look at the engine. He put his hands on the back of the car and leaned down to look. "Do you think it will b ehard to get it to run on regular gas? . . . Da? . . . Da?" He peared around the edge of the car and frowned when he saw him. "Rory, Bria! Get ma!"
Danny had come back around before Sive ever made it to the garage. A concerned Connor was helping him to his feet when she came rushing in. "I'm fine," he said as she asked, "What's wrong?"
He patted Connor on the back and leaned against a cabinet. "It's nothing."
He brushed aside their worries and continued on with work as usual, but days later when it happened again, he lost the argument and was taken to a doctor. The tests took days that seemed like ages, but finally the doctor called Sive and Danny into his office to talk about the results. They met with the kids that night in the tension-filled dining room.
Danny held Sive's hand as she sat next to him, pale and quiet, and gave it a nervous squeeze. All three of his children looked at him, Connor fearful with a half-defiant expression trying to mask his worry, Rory uncertain and afraid, and Bria with a guarded sort of caution.
"It's cancer," Danny said softly, not knowing any way to soften the blow.
There was a moment of stunned silence and finally Rory asked, "What's going to happen?"
"We're going to help Connor fix his car. And we might fix a few we're actually hired to fix, I suppose," Danny replied with false bravato and a light-hearted attitude he didn't quite believe himself. "And everything will be fine, won't it? So don't worry." He ruffled Rory's hair and gave Bria a quick squeeze.