Satisfied that Joe was indeed going to be okay now, Francis and Fenton told Cecil they wanted to talk to him…in private.

Gertrude fixed her eyes firmly on her father and brother as they turned to leave. “Be nice,” she warned them.

Fenton raised an eyebrow in playful indignation as Francis just scoffed, “Settle down, baby girl. We just want to talk with him – not tar and feather him…” he turned away from her and added, “that comes later!”

Cecil gave the woman a confident smile and then followed the other two men out of the room.

“What do you think that’s all about?” Gertrude asked her mother as soon as the door closed. She and Agnes stood at the foot of the bed, watching as Laura and little Frank spoke quietly to Joe. It didn’t seem to matter to either of them that the younger child had already drifted back to sleep; they continued speaking to him, Laura gently stroking his pale cheek as Frank continued to clasp the limp hand, his dark eyes gazing intently on his brother’s face.

“Don’t worry yourself about it dear,” Agnes said dismissively, “Your father likes Cecil—”

“What about Fenton?” Gertrude heard herself asking as she thought about Cecil’s trepidation in the car yesterday.

The older woman looked a bit surprised, “Fenton?”

“Yes. Does he blame Cecil for any of this? After all, if he hadn’t mentioned anything to this Rigado guy about Joey’s adoption, none of this would have ever happened,” she admitted, a bit afraid of her mother’s answer.

“Oh, Gertie,” Agnes smiled gently and shook her head. “If your brother blamed your friend in any way, do you honestly think he’d let Cecil anywhere near his children right now? You know how that boy can be about holding a grudge!”

The younger woman rolled her eyes – oh yeah, did she ever! Smiling, she nodded and turned her attention back on her nephews, knowing her mother was right. Of course she had known that herself, but hearing it from someone else allayed the irrational concern that had been tugging at her.

“Gertrude,” Agnes reached out a bit awkwardly and touched her daughter’s arm, drawing her attention back to herself. She spoke softly. “Are you okay with this – with Cecil’s condition, I mean? He’s going to die…”

Wincing inwardly at her mother’s bluntness, Gertrude sighed softly, “We’re all going to die someday, Mother.”

Agnes nodded but didn’t say anything. What could she say? Gertrude was right.

“But in spite of that—” the younger woman continued so softly her mother had to strain to hear what she was saying, “I do love him. I know that in the end, it’s going to hurt, but I – I can’t live life for the end….I have to live it for the now. And in the now, I have Cecil.”

The older woman felt a surge of pride rise in her chest for the remarkable young woman that her daughter had grown into. “You’re much wiser than I ever was at your age,” Agnes admitted, and then in an attempt to lighten up the seriousness of their conversation she added, “After all, I married your father!”

Gertrude laughed and shook her head. No matter how much she loved her mother, she didn’t think she would ever truly understand her. But there were just some things that didn’t require comprehension, and love, the young woman decided, was one of them.

* * *

Fenton and Francis led Cecil down to the end of the hall before turning to him.

Francis eyed him speculatively until the young man shifted under the scrutiny, than he just said rather gruffly, “If you break my baby girl’s heart, I’ll break both your legs.” Satisfied when Cecil paled, he nodded to his son – it was his turn. The detective looked at his father oddly for a moment and then just shook his head in disbelief.

“Cecil,” Fenton’s tone was a lot less formidable. “I want to say thank you for what you did last night – if you hadn’t been here, I’m not exactly sure what would have happened….But either way, thank you. I know it couldn’t have been an easy thing for you to do.”

Cecil nodded but didn’t say anything, sensing the other man was not finished yet.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve been very fair to you,” Fenton continued appraising the bingo caller through serious eyes, “and I just want to say I’m sorry for that. In the couple of days I’ve known you, you’ve helped open my eyes towards a lot of things – especially my sister, and I hope that over time, we’ll get to know each other a lot better. All of us—” he glared meaningfully at his father, not impressed with the gun-toting hillbilly-father routine Francis had pulled on Cecil.

“What?” the ex-cop asked innocently and then huffed loudly, “Oh fine. You’re just as bad as your mother, did you know that?” He addressed Cecil again. “You make my daughter happy, and you’ve stepped in to help my family a number of times now – that makes you okay in my books.” He glanced back at his son, “Satisfied?”

“That’ll do, Dad,” Fenton grinned and patted his father’s back patronizingly. “I wouldn’t want you to explode from all this mushiness or anything.”

“Good,” Francis said, brushing his son’s hands away and turning to go back to Joe’s room.  “Now come on, we got a New Year’s Eve party to plan.” He pursed his lips. “Hmmm…I wonder if it’ll be just as easy sneaking that past the security desk—”

* * *

The next time Joe woke up, he was more alert and barely remembered his earlier consciousness.

“Oh baby,” his mother immediately gushed, the smile on her face lighting up his soul as she bent over to kiss his forehead, “how are you feeling?”

“S-sore,” the child managed, licking his dry lips, “and thirsty.”

“I’ll check with the nurse to see if you can have some water,” Gertrude offered, quickly slipping into the hallway. Cecil smiled at Joe and then followed her.

“You’re going to be pretty sore for a while,” his father said, standing behind Laura and gazing down at him sympathetically.  “When you fell into the well, one of the slats of wood that had been used as a covering, pierced your side.”

Joe shivered at the reminder of what had happened, and felt Frank squeeze his hand. “That’s why it hurt so much,” he said, remembering the pain, the blood and the darkness…

“It’s okay though,” Frank said hurriedly, picking up on his brother’s growing anxiety, “the doctor fixed you all up and you can come home soon!”

“Today?” the younger boy asked hopefully, not wanting to be left alone in the hospital.

“No, I’m sorry baby,” Laura said gently, “you’re going to need to stay in here for a couple [of] more days so the doctors can make sure that you’re getting better before you can come home.” She paused and then added, “So we’ll be staying at your grandparents’ for a little bit longer – we don’t want to be driving back to Bayport until you’re feeling better.”

“Oh,” Joe said softly, looking down at the white sheet lying across his chest. He couldn’t see the bandages that wrapped his midsection but he could feel their tugging with each breath he took.

“But don’t you worry your little head about any of that.”  It was his Poppy who spoke this time and Joe glanced up, a bit startled to hear his voice. In all truth he hadn’t noticed that his grandparents were there. Francis moved closer and squeezed his shoulder gently. “You won’t be alone, champ. One of us will be here with you at all times. Just like we’ve been all along…”

Joe blushed and smiled shyly. He still wasn’t used to this kind of attention…but he liked it – not the being fawned over because he was in the hospital part, just the feeling that they did care part. It made him feel very safe…and loved.

When Gertrude and Cecil came back into the room, Gert was holding a cup of ice chips. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “you can’t have water yet but you can suck on these.” She gave the cup to Laura and watched as the young mother passed a chip to the child.

Joe sucked it, grateful for the instant relief it offered his parched mouth. He looked at his aunt – a fleeting memory of her in the well washed over him, and swallowing the ice chip he said, “You were there.”

Now it was Gertrude’s turn to blush. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

The child smiled at her – his brilliant blue eyes shining in his pale face. “I do. A little bit—” he paused and then added, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Gertrude said, her voice huskier than usual.

With an unforeseen wisdom in his voice, Joe just said, “Yes. I do.”

For one brief moment Gertrude wondered if she had done anything to make him realize her own fear in that dark hole. But then, shaking her head, she doubted it. ‘Nah, he’s just an intuitive kid,’ she decided.

The sound of the door opening made the Hardys turn to see a nurse coming into the room. The nurse looked at Frank as she moved past the family to check on Joe.

She just shook her head slightly, tended her patient and then moved to leave the room. Pausing briefly at the door, the nurse smiled at the dark-haired boy. “I have a sister, so I know what it’s like.” And then she was gone.

Frank let go of Joe’s hand, stood up and faced his family. Looking more somber than he had ever in his young life, he said softly but firmly, “Can I talk to Joey…alone?” His eyes roamed over the faces of the adults in the room, stopping when they got to his grandfather’s. His Poppy would understand…and he did.

With a few brief words, Francis ushered his family into the hallway to give the two little boys their time alone. He promised to explain but when he got them out of the room, he just shrugged and said, “It’s a brother thing…”

* * *

“Frankie?” Joe was worried, having no idea why his brother wanted to talk to him alone. What was he going to say? Was he mad at Joe for something? He still didn’t know for sure what had happened to Frank after he fell in the hole – maybe Frank blamed him for that!

Frank sat back down on the edge of Joe’s bed and looked at him.

The blond boy felt his heart just about pounding out of his chest as he waited for his brother to begin. And when Frank finally did, Joe was shocked. The first words out of Frank’s mouth was an apology.

“I’m sorry Joey,” the older boy said, his voice quivering a bit, “I made a promise to you – a sacred, big-brother promise – and I broke it!”

Joe didn’t understand but Frank continued before he could ask. “I promised I’d never leave you and – and I did! I didn’t want to! But that bad man grabbed me and stuck something in my face that made me fall asleep and then when I woke up I was sick and scared and I couldn’t get back to you and—” he was crying now – rambling – his words barely understandable through his upset and grief.

“Frankie—” Joe interrupted, shaken to see his big brother like this. A stirring in the pit of his stomach demanded that he do something to stop this. “It’s okay! I’m okay, big brother – look at me!”

The dark-haired boy was looking at him and just shook his head.  “How can you say it’s okay? I made you a promise, Joey – my very first promise to you – and then I broke it!”

“No you didn’t!” Joe firmly rebutted. “You didn’t leave me….You were taken away. That’s different, Frankie – very, very different.” An acute understanding of the difference lurked behind the blue eyes. “I’m just so happy you’re okay. I don’t know what I would do without you!”

Frank reached out and took his hand again, squeezing warmth into the cooler fingers. “Me neither.” He sniffed and scrubbed at his face, embarrassed by his display and relieved that his brother wasn’t blaming him for not being there – for not being able to save him; for not being able to keep his promise.

The two boys sat together for a few moments without saying anything until Joe broke the silence. He sighed, “We never got to build that snow fort…”

“I know,” Frank admitted, sounding just as glum, “and it would have really been something, too.”

“Yeah, the best one ever,” the younger boy agreed. He closed his eyes and lay back against the pillow; he was tired again and his side was really aching. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Frank’s hold on his hand tightened briefly, “Me too. You can go to sleep if you want to. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Joe mumbled, already mostly asleep.

“I promise,” the older boy assured him, a surprising amount of ferocity in his voice. If he had to hide under the bed, in the closet or the bathroom to do so, this was one promise he was not going to break!

It might not be a sacred big-brother promise, but it was still a big-brother promise nonetheless. And those were a serious thing…

 

Later that night when the clock struck twelve and the world welcomed in a brand new year, Fenton Hardy smiled down at his sleeping children – Joe in the hospital bed and Frank curled up in his arms; he shook his head at the twisted irony of the situation. He had hoped that Joe’s first Christmas with them would be one he would never forget…and it was; just not in the way Fenton had been expecting.

The young father just hoped that next year’s holidays would be a lot less eventful…but then again, who was he to know?

A belated Happy New Year to everyone!

The End

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.