It had become Frank Hardy’s habit years ago: whenever something was too good or, on the contrary, too bad, he would go to the beach, which, in his opinion, was the best place not only in Bayport but in the whole world.

Barmet Bay indeed was a beauty spot. The town itself was situated between the bay and green hills that surrounded it. The population of Bayport was only 50.000 people and almost all those people lived in squat houses, which ran along the roads of the town -- only towards the City were there some taller buildings. The lucky people, who worked there, had a great view of the whole town and surrounding areas. Frank could only envy them, imagining the breathtaking view of the bay they had from their windows.

The Hardys’ house stood not far from the beach, so it took Frank mere minutes to arrive. By listening to the sound of crashing waves and the whistling wind, he almost always found the answers to his many questions.

At the present moment there were several questions.

One of them was, for example, what to tell parents upon going home later that day. He’d left home an hour ago for two main reasons: first of all, he needed to think about everything his father said earlier and, secondly, he just didn’t know how he should be behaving. Even thought Fenton and Laura had kept the truth hidden from Frank, he still had no reason to be angry or offended.

They just didn’t want to hurt their child.

Frank slowly walked down the beach on wet sand, trapped in his thoughts and wrapped in his parka, trying to forget about the drizzle which was now turning to full-blown rain.

Raindrops hit him in his face. Frank looked up to see a shelter and, to his surprise, saw, far away from where he was at the moment…his favorite swing. He’d found it many years ago when he was about four years old. There were nine swings at Bayport Beach, but that one was the first to be built, and Frank literally fell in love with it from the very first sight. Back then he was too little to be able to swing it high in the air by himself, so he always asked his father to do that for him. There were a lot of times when Frank would sit on Fenton’s knees while Mr. Hardy was swinging back and forth. Frank could still remember that unforgettable feeling when every move of the swing would take his breath away and his heart would sank into his boots, but the firm grip of his father’s hand around his waist made him forget about his fear and enjoy it.

At those moments Fenton, hearing his little son’s laughter, would start laughing himself. Now, almost fifteen years later, Frank hoped that, when Mr. Hardy was with him, he could feel a little bit better and forget his pain. Frank had never seen his parents crying, they never stopped thinking about their elder son. There were only a few days he could recall where they had all of a sudden become sad, taciturn and pensive. Those days were connected to Joe’s birthdays, his disappearance or times when Antoneskou would disappear again, leaving Fenton with nothing.

And suddenly Frank felt shame eating at him. He felt sorry for all those words he shouldn’t have said to his parents, for all those things he shouldn’t have done, for everything that could have hurt and offended Mr. and Mrs. Hardy.

Why wasn’t, by the way, Frank thinking about himself? Why wasn’t he thinking about how he felt now? He too was a member of a family that lost a child. What’s more, he was a brother of that child, and he didn’t think about his own feelings at all.

"Why?" He wondered to himself, still walking towards the swing with his head down. Only when he instinctively felt that one more step would result in him smashing against something did he stop. He hadn’t raised his head yet, but out the corner of his eye he caught sight of the bar of his beloved swing. His brain instantly switched Frank’s attention to what stood right in front of Frank’s nose and the young man’s thoughts stopped running though his head.

They stopped also because of another reason. Deep disappointment filled his heart when he saw that the swing was occupied.

But not only was it occupied, but occupied by someone whom Frank couldn’t see without aversion.

However, for a strange reason, which Frank didn’t understand, instead of taking measures in order to claim his swing for himself, he started staring at the guy on the swing instead.

He, in his turn, was staring back at Frank who looked more than strange. Frank had appeared, many yards away, staring at the sand and had never once raised his head since then. In fact, he thought Frank seemed almost depressed and that something was obviously bothering him greatly. And now that he was now just stood in front of him, eyeing him, he felt simply muddled.

"I wonder if my brother looks like him," was swirling in Frank’s mind all the time he was studying Joe’s face. "They’re of the same age, they have the same name, they’re both blue-eyed and they also…."

"What?" Joe finally asked, unable to stand Frank’s stare anymore. "Why are you staring at me like that? Am I occupying your favorite spot or something?"

Joe’s voice snapped Frank out of his and he came to his senses. He nodded in reply to Joe’s question.

"So I suppose you want me to leave, right?"

Frank only shrugged his shoulders and started walking past the swing, not feeling like arguing with anyone, even with a guy who’d been the pain in the neck for him during the last week or so.

Joe, startled by Frank’s odd behavior, only watched him go past the swing, very surprised.

Suddenly, Frank stopped and turned around. There was a question he wanted to ask Joe, but the moment he span around and saw Joe’s stunned face he forgot about it. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he demanded.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Joe asked. "Knowing your attitude to me, I fully expected you to order me from your favorite swing…."

Frank didn’t have anything to say in reply to that. Instead, he asked the question on his mind, "When’s your birthday?"

"Why do you ask?" Joe asked, thinking, in the back of his mind, that Frank definitely wasn’t well.

"Just interested."

"Wanting to congratulate me when on the day?"

Frank rolled his eyes and smiled meekly, "Just answer."

"The 25th of March."

"They were even born on the same day!" Rushed through Frank’s mind. He couldn’t help but feel some kind of connection. "No, he can’t be my brother, he’s got a father and…God, what if it is him?" Frank’s eyes went wide as he thought of it. He studied Joe from head to toe, feeling his heart racing.

"Frank?" Joe asked, absolutely taken aback by the guy’s behavior. "Frank? Are you sure you’re okay? Is there something wrong with the date of my birthday?"

"Dear Lord! What is happening to me? What am I thinking? I’m going crazy! I can’t start thinking that every stranger could be my lost brother! It’s just a coincidence! There are lots of 17-year-old, blue-eyed guys who were born on the 25th of March, and this guy is just one of them…. I don’t want him to be my brother! I don’t even like him, after all…."Then he suddenly realized what he was thinking. "Hardy, you a stupid idiot! Look at the guy in front of you, it’s obvious he has no connection with you and your family, except…."

Frank stepped closer to Joe, ignoring his concerned face, "Tell me, do you know who Luis Antoneskou is?"

"Yes, I do know who he is, but we’re not friends, if you want to know."

"I mean, do you know why he is after you and your father?"

"No, I don’t. Do you know why?"

Frank sighed, "I wish…."

"Why did you ask?" Joe asked, intrigued.

"Do you know why my Dad is looking for that man?" Frank shot another question.

"He’s a private investigator, it’s his job to catch bad guys," Joe replied.

"Kind of right, but there’s another reason," Frank swallowed. He looked at Joe, wanting to see his reaction. "He’s looking for his son."

Joe stopped swinging and stared at the guy in front of him, his eyes wide open, "His son?" he repeated.

"You heard it right."

"I assume his other son?" Joe defined more precisely.

"Of course, there’s no need for him to look for me."

"So he’s looking for your brother?" Joe asked again, never taking his eyes off Frank.

Frank nodded, "My little brother…. He was kidnapped by Antoneskou 17 years ago and my Dad’s been searching for them ever since."

"Kidnapped?" Joe whispered, shocked. "Dear God…. Frank….I'm so sorry…."

"Don’t," Frank waved his hand in the air. "My Dad only told me it earlier on today, and I still don’t know how to feel, so don’t say you’re sorry."

"I'm….." Joe wanted to say sorry again, but realized it wasn’t the right word. "What else can I say?"

"Just answer, what do you and your father have to do with Antoneskou?" Frank asked in a firm voice, his eyes narrow.

Joe didn’t like his tone, or his glare, "Frank, if we knew anything your father would now also know! I've never met that man, so, you can search me if you like, but I know nothing!" he snapped. "And neither does my father," he added. "So don’t you dare blame me or my father for anything!"

Frank took a deep breath to calm down; his emotions were getting the better of him. "I don’t blame you for anything, I just….

"…You know," he said quietly moments later, "I've never known him, my brother I mean, I was too little to really remember him and he, being even younger than me, wouldn’t remember me or our parents, period. So I can’t even say that I miss him, because I can’t miss someone I never knew, but…. But I swear, I'd give almost everything I owe just to see him standing right in front of me, where you are standing right now."

Joe instantly felt sorry for being so insensitive with Frank. "I am sorry, I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you, but I don’t like it when people blame me or my father over something we don’t know or haven’t done…."

"That’s understandable. I feel the same way about my family."

"I really don’t know what that man wants from us, and my Dad told the police and your father everything he knows - and I swear he’ll do his best to help your father find his son."

"I trust you," Frank nodded. "I don’t know why, but I trust you."

"Thank you…." Joe looked at him. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I think I am, but… I don’t know," he sighed. "I need time to accept everything…. Just to think I have a brother is confusing enough …. What is there to say? It’s impossible to describe. There’s only one thing I am sure of: I want to find him. He’s my brother after all, even if we don’t know each other…. Do you understand?" he hopefully asked. At that moment he needed somebody to confirm he was understood.

"If I say ‘yes’ it wouldn’t be completely true though, would it?" Joe apologetically smiled. "You know I have no siblings…. But if I were told that I have a brother I think I'd want to find him, too."

Frank leaned against a bar of the swing, "I just wonder if our family will ever be together again…. My Dad has been looking for him all these years and there’s still no ray of hope."

Joe watched the guy with sympathy, "And your father will find him," he quietly, but with determination in his voice said.

Frank looked at him. "How do you know?" he distrustfully asked.

"Your Dad looks like a nice man, he deserves to find his son. Good people always get what they deserve in the end."

"Why hasn’t my father already found him then?" Frank bitterly asked.

"If only things could happen the moment you want them to," Joe said.

Both of them went silent. Frank was thinking about Joe’s words and, to his utter surprise, they gave him some comfort.

"You know," he said moments later, "he, my brother I mean, he has your name and you were both born on the same day, and he’s also blue-eyed. For a brief second I thought you could be him," he weakly smiled. "That’s so silly, isn’t it?"

"Definitely! It’s just a coincidence," Joe replied with a smile on his face. "I already have a family and there’s no other elsewhere. Besides, I don’t want an elder brother who hates me."

"It’s not that I hate you, it’s just…. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, sometimes I’m selfish…." He admitted. "Moreover, I can’t like everyone, can I?"

Joe, smirked and nodded.

"Can I ask you another question?" Frank asked.

"Shoot."

"Where were you born? In New York?"

Joe shook his head, "No, Los Angeles."

"Then you’re definitely not him."

"Thank God!" Joe crossed himself, grinning. "See? Miracles do happen."

Frank looked up at Joe and suddenly knitted his eyebrows into a frown, "God, what am I doing? Why am I telling you all this?"
"Maybe because you just need to talk to someone?" Joe suggested.

"Maybe, but why am I talking to you though? I’m no one to you and you’re no one to me. Not only that, but we never talked before and suddenly here I am, disclosing my family mystery to you. Do you think I’m going nuts? I've never done this before."

"It’s because I’ve occupied your favorite spot," Joe joked. "Probably, you really wanted to say something else like…‘get the hell out of my favorite swing!!’ and then something came over you."

Frank smiled in reply, "Speaking of that, what are you doing on my favorite swing?"

"I've lived in Bayport for a whole week and hadn’t been to the beach yet. So thought it was the right time to visit, so when I came across the swing I just sat down to feast my eyes upon the bay," Joe said, looking at the ocean. "Beautiful."

"Yeah, this is the best place in Bayport," Frank said, turning his head to look at the bay, too.

"Yeah, I noticed that," Joe sarcastically replied. "There isn’t anything else as beautiful and interesting in this town."

"Don’t you like Bayport?"

Joe shook his head, "No, I definitely don’t. I want to go back to Chicago."

"I was born in New York and I also wanted to go back, but I’ve changed my mind. Sometimes smaller cities are better than huge ones," Frank replied.

"Why do you think that?"

"In Chicago and New York, there are millions of decent people who live and work there. But there are also plenty of creeps as well and you don’t know who is who in a crowd. You don’t even think about it until they come and almost destroy your family…. Did anything really bad ever happen to you or your family? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."

"Well, once, two years ago, my wallet was stolen. There was almost four hundred bucks in it. Such a nuisance," Joe smiled.

"I wish I had your problems," Frank sighed. "That wasn’t such a misfortune."

"True," Joe nodded, "and I’m glad to say it’s the worst thing that’s happened in my life, yet."

"You’ve had a good life, then."

"Haven’t you?"

Frank thought about that. "Yes, there weren’t any real problems in my life, until today. My folks are great people, who did everything to keep me happy when they were sad themselves."

"And my Dad could always find time for me, even when he didn’t really have it. You know, he worked up to ten hours a day and, say, ten years ago he would sometimes work sixteen hours, which left little time for his little family, but when I needed him he would give up everything just to be there for me…. I didn’t see much of him, but I always knew he cared for me."

"You don’t have a mother, right?" Frank asked.

Joe nodded, "She died the minute I was born."

"I’m sorry…."

"It’s okay. I'm almost in the same situation as you. I had a mother and she was kind of taken from me from an age when I wouldn’t remember her. Only you have chances of finding your brother and I will never know my Mom…." Joe shook his blond head. "Strange, I know she’s gone but I still miss her, it’s like she’s here with me."

"Who knows, maybe she is," Frank said. "I had a grandmother, I loved her very much and when she died six years ago I could always feel she was with me."

Joe only smiled in reply. He didn’t like talking about his feelings, but since Frank obviously needed somebody to talk to, he’d said things to keep up with the conversation. But he wasn’t going to let Frank any deeper into his private life, especially the part about his long dead mother.

"Joe? Can I ask you one further question?"

"Another one??" Joe raised his eyebrows. "What is this? An interrogation?"

"I swear this is the last question…. Do you really think I will ever get my brother back?"

Joe looked at him, not really sure of what to say. He thought for some moments, searching for the right words to say to Frank.

"If you keep looking for him, then you will," he finally said, knowing that it was what Frank wanted to hear. He didn’t want to disappoint the guy by telling him that he couldn’t know about that. But deep inside he hoped that his words were true. Mr. Hardy did look like a nice man and Frank had turned out to be a normal guy. And so, Joe silently said a little prayer for the Hardys.

Frank, glad to know that at least someone believed in wonders, looked back at the ocean, having nothing to say in reply to Joe’s words.

Only then did he notice that the rain had stopped and clouds were clearing. He could now see blue strips of the sky between them, and right in the middle, he saw a golden ray of the sun.

To him, it was a sign from Heaven.

It was Frank Hardy’s ray of hope.