THE FIRST NOEL
by
Mellon
CHAPTER
4
THE CHAPTERS
The next couple of days passed in a blur of turkey and
snow for Joe and Frank. A storm had settled over the area on Christmas Day
and dumped over a foot of snow on them in less than twenty-four hours; and
by the time it had snowed itself out, the land lay under a fresh blanket of
two feet – deeper in some areas.
It was very picturesque and the brothers were anxious
to get outside and enjoy it. Amongst a king’s ransom in gifts, Santa had
brought them new snowsuits – red for Frank, blue for Joe – new
snowboots, hats, mittens, scarves…apparently the jolly old elf was very
well aware of the impending weather!
Joe was still amazed by it all; the genuine caring and
affection he received from his new family – both immediate and extended;
the bountiful gifts and good cheer that enveloped the restored old house
twenty-four hours a day; and the snow. It wasn’t the first time the child
had seen the stuff, but it was definitely the most he had ever seen! And as
he grew more comfortable with his family, they began to see the real child
that lurked inside the little blond boy they called ‘Joey;’ a
mischievous light-hearted spirit, with an infectious giggle and wonderful
sense of humor.
Fenton’s father had taken to the child particularly,
endeared by the sparks of wariness and fear that he sometimes glimpsed in
the vibrant blue eyes, and spent hours with both him and Frank, talking,
tormenting…teaching; recognizing and respecting the comfort zone the
older boy represented to Joe.
The old man was awed as he watched the beginning of an
intense bond being formed as a blossoming protectiveness by Frank was
tempered by the genuine hero worship of him by Joe. The sun rose and set on
the dark-haired boy, as far as the younger boy was concerned.
‘Soul brothers,’
the old man mused as he watched the children putting together a puzzle that
Joe had gotten from him and Agnes. Frank seemed to have limitless patience
for the younger boy, and the old man was amused to see the calming
influence he had over Joe, as evident when the blond boy became very
frustrated with the puzzle they were working on… but a few soothing words
of ‘Calm down. We can do this’ from Frank were enough. Joe didn’t
look very happy but he did definitely take a deep breath and settle down.
‘They give each other
patience and perseverance,’ he realized, startled yet unabashedly proud of the boys – these were his
grandsons. And handsome, to boot!
His thoughts were interrupted when Sam started to bark
and ran towards the front door. The ex-cop was a bit surprised, as Fenton
had taken the women-folk into town for shopping and they weren’t expected
back yet.
“Stay here,” he instructed the boys as he stood up
and slowly made his way to the front door in time to see a silver sedan
pull up out front and a man Francis had never seen before, step out. The
man was about Fenton’s age but a bit heavier set with curly black hair
and a ruddy face. He rubbed his hands together briskly against the biting
cold as he hurried towards the door.
“Hello,” Francis greeted the newcomer, “Can I
help you?”
“You most certainly can,” the younger man said
pleasantly, even as he glanced around. His apparent nervousness set off
warning bells for the ex-cop. “I’m
looking for Fenton Hardy.”
“He’s my son,” the old man said a bit curtly,
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“Well no, I don’t think so,” the stranger said,
still not meeting Francis’ gaze. “Is
your son home?”
“No, he’s not.” Francis was going to make this
guy work for every piece of information he gave.
“Oh.” The
younger man seemed a bit taken back by his reception. “Well, can you tell
me then, when he’ll be home?”
“Poppy, who is it?” Frank asked, coming up behind
his grandfather. Francis grabbed his shoulder gently to keep the boy from
going any further.
“Frank, go back in the kitchen,” the old man said,
a bit more harshly than he intended, but he didn’t want his grandson
anywhere near this guy.
“This must be Fenton’s son,” the man said
quickly before Frank had a chance to leave, “he looks just like him.”
He flashed a smile that sent a shiver down Francis’s back. “Funny
thing how some boys look just like their dads and others don’t.”
“Yeah, real funny,” Francis said, relieved when
Frank listened to him and left the room. The boy shot him an
uncomprehending look as he left, obviously confused by his grandfather’s
abruptness. Francis returned his full attention to the newcomer. “Fenton
isn’t here. If you’ll leave your name and a number he can reach you at,
I’ll let him know you dropped by.”
“Actually that won’t work for me,” the man said,
shifting on his feet – it was damn cold out! “Do
you mind if I come in to wait? It’s very important.”
Francis was hesitant, his every instinct telling him
not to trust this guy, but then he sighed and stepped back, allowing the
man to come inside. Sam growled softly and kept an unblinking eye on the
man. “You can wait here,” Francis indicated the bench next to the door.
He was not going to let the stranger into the house any further than that,
“with the dog.” The ex-cop glanced at the dog, “Sam. Stay.”
Instantly the animal sat down, his brown eyes still fixed on the man.
“That’s mighty nice of you,“ the stranger said
– they both knew he didn’t mean it. He struck out his hand, “Name’s
Joe Rigado, friends call me JR…sorry, I never got yours.”
“I never gave it,” Francis said, a shiver going
down his spine at the name. ‘Coincidence
surely’, he thought, ‘Joe’s
a pretty common name.’ Changing tactics, he shook the other man’s
hand briefly and when he spoke, his tone was much more friendly, “Nice to
meet you JR – my name’s Frank.”
“Ah, like your grandson,” JR said as he undid his
coat and then sat down on the bench, “guess it’s pretty common for
people to name their kids after their dads – or granddads, in your
case.”
“Possibly,” Francis said. He heard Joe laughing in
the kitchen and felt torn. He wanted to go back with the boys, but didn’t
want to leave Mr. Rigado alone, either. His dilemma was solved a moment
later when the boys came out of the kitchen and headed towards the tree,
obviously to choose something else to play with, as Joe was carrying the
puzzle box. The old man started to send them back to the kitchen but
realized that would be unfair. Not wanting to upset the children, he
decided this might work out best. He could be with the boys AND keep an eye
on the stranger.
“What are you boys doing?” he asked them as he saw
the younger child slide the puzzle box back under the tree. Frank was lost
from view for a few moments as he crawled amongst the gifts, and then
popped up with a book.
“Found it,” the older boy said and then plopped
down in the big chair next to the fireplace. He looked at his grandfather,
a bit surprised to notice the stranger sitting on the bench next to the
door. Neither boy had noticed him until now. “We wanted to look at my new
book,” he answered the question as Joe slid into the chair next to him,
his blue eyes large in his face and looking slightly alarmed to see the man
next to his grandfather. “So I’m going to read it to Joey.”
“Joey,” JR whispered, his dark eyes fixed on the
little blond boy who seemed to shrivel under his gaze. Francis suddenly
regretted letting this man into his house – he did not like the way
Rigado was staring at the children.
“Boys, upstairs. Now. Frank, take the book and your
brother. Read in your room.” Francis’
tone was curt and brooked no nonsense. Though shocked – as that was the
tone his grandfather reserved for when he did something wrong – the older
boy did what he was told. And within moments the two children, and the
book, were upstairs and the door was heard closing.
Francis winced – they’d slammed it. ‘Oh
well’, he thought, ‘I can
make things right with them later. First things first.’ He glared at
the stranger. “Okay, Mr.
Rigado. Enough of this. I want to know why you’re here and why you want
to speak to my son. And I want to know now.”
The younger man looked at him and then shrugged. For
the first time he met Francis’s gaze; his eyes were dark and cold. “You
son has something that belongs to me. And I want it back.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” the ex-cop demanded,
although he suspected he already knew the answer. He was right.
Rigado looked towards the stairs where the children
had disappeared. He said only two words: “My son.”
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Disclaimer
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.