FAITH, HOPE, CHARITY
by
CQB
CHAPTER
2
THE CHAPTERS
She walked beside her mama through the doors of St. Paul’s Mission,
The only welcome she would know come this Christmas Eve.
She bowed her head and listened to the preacher give the blessing;
He was reading from the Good Book, ‘If you ask you shall receive.’*
* * *
Joe dug the spoon into the mashed potatoes for what seemed like the hundredth time and dumped a scoop onto the plate of an older man in a grimy army jacket.
“There you go, sir,” the blond youth gave the man a warm smile.
“Ain’t nobody called me ‘sir’ in a long time,” the man replied. His red rimmed eyes focused on Joe’s deep blue ones. “Thank you,” the man whispered, his voice strained with emotion.
Joe fought to control the emotions he felt welling up. He swallowed hard and focused on the next foam plate that came along the line. This plate was different. It was much lower than the others had been.
Joe looked at the small hands that held the plate, and then at the small face framed with a dirty stocking cap that had once been bright green.
“Hi mister,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Hi yourself,” Joe replied. “Do you want some of these awesome potatoes? I’m sure they’re really good ‘cause I didn’t make them.”
The child giggled and said, “You’re funny! I like ‘tatoes.”
Joe spooned a generous portion onto the child’s plate. He wanted to talk to her some more, but the line pushed forward. Now a young woman stood across from him.
“Is she your daughter?” Joe asked the woman. She was only about twenty-five. A few strands of dark curly hair fell around her face and her eyes were much like the child’s – the same green-brown with dark, thick lashes.
“Yes,” she said softly. “She’s a good girl. She deserves better than this.”
Joe didn’t know what to say, but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Sister Margaret stepped up. “Joe, could you help Father Minnetti in the back please? I’ll take over for you here.”
Joe went to the back room and helped the priest carry another large platter of sliced ham to the serving counter.
“Father, may I ask you something?” Joe said as he and the priest washed the ham juice from their hands.
“Certainly Joe,” Father Minnetti replied.
“The little girl you call ‘Mary’,” Joe began, “what do you know about their situation?”
“She’s tugged on your heartstrings, hasn’t she?” the priest smiled. Joe felt his face grow warm.
“Yes, Father, I guess she has.”
Father Minnetti placed his hand on Joe’s arm and led him to an alcove away from the bustling activities. The priest told Joe what he knew. “I don’t know a lot. As I mentioned before, I don’t even know their real names.
“The first time they showed up was about three weeks ago, shortly after we opened the mission. They were looking for food. We gave them soup, bread and a quart of milk that day.
“I asked them to stay, but ‘Martha’ refused. Said they had a place of their own. I didn’t believe it for a minute. The child had twigs in her hair. I knew they were sleeping outside.
“Anyway, they showed up again last week. I fed them and asked a few questions. The father of the child has disappeared, and while they were poor before, without his meager income they have nothing.”
“But can’t they get on welfare or something? There are all kinds of local and federal programs for people in her situation,” Joe questioned.
“I think she’s afraid that if she goes to some government agency for help, that they would take the child from her,” the priest replied sadly. “It seems like all they have is each other.”
* * *
As he helped clean up the kitchen, Joe couldn’t stop watching the little girl and her mother. The child didn’t seem to know that she was a homeless waif and her joyful attitude made everyone around her smile.
“Okay, what gives, little brother?” Frank asked after noticing how unusually quiet Joe had been for the past hour or so. He carefully studied Joe’s eyes and noticed a profound sadness in their depth.
“No child should have to spend Christmas sleeping on the street,” Joe told his brother. “We have tons of gifts under our tree, a warm house to return to tonight and we’ll eat ‘til we’re ready to explode on Mom and Aunt Gertrude’s feast tomorrow,” Joe continued, “while that little girl is holed up in a cardboard box with no gifts and probably nothing but today’s leftovers to eat.”
“I know it’s hard for you Joe, but you can’t save the world,” Frank replied gently. “We helped take care of them tonight and you made her laugh. That’s something, little brother.”
“Maybe I can’t save the world, but maybe I can make her world a little better,” the younger Hardy answered.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Will you help?” Joe asked, watching his brother closely.
Frank only hesitated for a second. “Okay, count me in. What’s the plan?”
“Well, it will all start with a phone call…” Joe began. As he listened, Frank gave his brother an encouraging smile.
* * *
A few miles away, an old, but well kept house on the corner of Elm and High streets appeared unusually dark - at first glance. But, upon closer examination, anyone viewing the back of the house would notice a soft, flickering light coming from the family room window.
Fenton and Laura Hardy sat snugly in each others arms on the sofa in front of a slow-burning fire. They were clearly taking advantage of the absence of their teenage sons and Fenton’s sister this Christmas Eve.
The only other illumination came from the tiny white lights that covered a large blue spruce in the corner of the room, and several gingerbread scented candles placed on the mantel.
“M-m-m,” Laura purred as she nuzzled Fenton’s neck. She kissed him and tenderly whispered in his ear, “I love you, Fenton.” He murmured an ‘I love you, too’ as he buried his face in her silky blond hair.
Fenton had begun planning the evening ever since he’d spoken with his son Frank earlier that day. Frank told him of their plans to help out Tony’s priest at the homeless shelter. Fenton knew his sister Gertrude was spending Christmas Eve with her fiancé, Tigh Cassidy , and while Fenton admired Frank and Joe’s generous benevolence, his thoughts had immediately shifted to his beautiful wife and a house all to themselves for several hours.
He had arrived at the house before Laura got home from her work as the administrative assistant of the local Red Cross organization. He had prepared a simple meal of tomato bisque soup with basil, a Romaine and cucumber salad and he’d picked up two chocolate scones for dessert.
By the time he heard Laura’s car in the driveway, he’d turned the family room into a romantic getaway. Christmas music played softly in the background, the Christmas tree sparkled like stars in the night sky and the fire crackled in the hearth.
His efforts brought the response Fenton hoped for as Laura came into the house. Although she was just happy to see him, the preparations he had made for her arrival nearly took her breath away.
They had finished eating long ago, and felt the usual sleepiness that a full stomach often brings; they curled up together on the sofa, contently dozing in each other’s arms.
It hadn’t taken long at all for the drowsiness to pass and the passion to build. Though both in their early forties, they suddenly felt like newlyweds again as they lay intertwined in love’s embrace.
About an hour later, Laura turned to face Fenton. “When did we move to the floor?” she asked, her face glistening in the firelight.
Fenton smiled and brushed a long, blond curl off her shoulder before kissing the soft hollow of her neck. “I don’t know,” he throatily replied, “but I like it.”
Suddenly, their romantic interlude was interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. Fenton sighed. He stretched to reach the portable phone on the coffee table.
“Hardy residence,” he said.
“Hey Dad!” Joe’s voice happily called out on the other end of the line, “Glad you’re home!”
Joe would never know just what his phone call interrupted that night, but as Fenton and Laura listened to their son’s hasty conversation, both of them felt their hearts swell with pride.
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The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.