LITTLE BOY LOST
by
Phoenix
Chapter 18
The Chapters
Dr. Scoffield met Fenton and Laura outside Joe’s hospital room. His face was grim. “Can I have a few minutes?” he asked needlessly as he tipped his head back at the closed door. “The boys will be fine.”
The worried parents nodded and followed him further down the hall where youthful ears wouldn’t accidentally overhear them but they could still see Joe’s room door.
“First I want to say your sons are an exceptional pair of boys,” the tall doctor wasted no time, “the bond between them is glaring even if Joe’s memories of his brother, and consequently the both of you, have been brutalized during his abduction.”
Laura paled and leaned into Fenton for support. The idea that her baby had been ‘brutalized’ twisted something sour in her stomach. Immediately her husband wrapped a strong arm around her slender frame and pulled her against him. He voiced their fears “Brutalized? Dr. Jared didn’t seem to feel Joe had been abused—”
“I’m sorry,” the child psychologist quickly inserted, “I don’t mean to imply that Joe was literally ‘injured’ per se, what I’m actually talking about was the mental work-over his abductor, his ‘daddy’ put him through… And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” The man waited until both Hardys nodded before continuing. “The man who took Joe terrified him into submission. He threatened horrible things on the three of you, and even Joe himself, if the child ever even thought about his old life. And that little boy is still running scared, confused and frightened that his ‘Daddy’ is going to make good on those threats.”
“Brain washing?” Fenton supplied, his brown eyes dark with unbridled anger. The arm around Laura tightened unconsciously.
“Yes,” the doctor didn’t deny it.
“That’s why he was adamant about being ‘Jason’,” Laura added sadly, her own body thrumming with a need to see both her boys again. It felt like so long since she’d left the room.
“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “Children Joe’s age are prime targets for brainwashing, unfortunately. Fear is a huge motivator especially in a young child as there is so little in their control, and unfortunately, the man who took your son was a very manipulative monster. He didn’t need to beat Joe, not when he could use your son’s love for his family as just a more effective weapon than his fists.”
“Okay,” Laura pressed, “what can we do to help Joe? How can we get our little boy back?”
“Laura—” Fenton’s voice was hesitant and she turned to him.
“Oh no you don’t, Fenton…” she shook her head and then narrowed her gaze at her husband. “You are not going to tell me it’s not possible,” Laura spared a glare for the other man, “neither of you! I am going to get my baby back. I am. I just need to know how to start.”
After a startled pause, a smile twisted the corner of Dr. Scoffield’s mouth. “An attitude like that will definitely help. Joe is going to need a lot of reassurance and, coddling if you will, to help regain his trust that being with you is forever. He’ll need constant reassurance that you love him and that he is safe. However,” he raised an eyebrow to stress this point, “you also need to remember that he isn’t the same little boy who disappeared from your lives two years ago, and to expect him to be would be putting an unfair amount of pressure on him in an already emotionally difficult situation. You’ll need to be there and be consistent and persistent while allowing him to be who he is now, and not who he was then.”
“We can do that,” Laura hurried out, willing to do or be whatever Joe needed.
“I’m sure you can,” the doctor agreed slowly, his eyes appraising the young mother, and then they sharpened and he asked, “but what about Frank? Can he? He’s only a child himself and I can already tell you he is expecting his little brother back the way he used to be.”
Fenton and Laura looked at each other. The doctor was right – Frank was only a child himself. How could he be expected to understand the ramifications of this and then adjust? Would that be asking too much?
“I-I dunno,” Laura finally stammered, suddenly finding herself questioning just how much they should expect from Frank. For two years they had thought about nothing except finding Joe and bringing him home, and now that it was happening, she was reminded that there were actually two little boys who had been lost in this. It wasn’t only Joe who had been reshaped by this. She turned to her husband again. “Fenton?”
The detective’s eyes took on a faraway look as he seemed to give his older son some serious thought and then slowly he nodded his head. “I think he can. As you’ve said yourself, our sons are exceptional and I can tell you this, the one thing Frank has never stopped being in all this time is Joe’s big brother, and I’m more than confident that if we sit down and explain this to Frank he’ll not only understand but be one of his brother’s biggest champions.”
Something inside calmed and Laura squeezed her husband’s arm as she smiled. Of course Frank could handle this. If there was one thing her first born had proven himself adept in, it was anything Joe.
“All right then,” the doctor nodded, “let’s go see your boys.”
…
“So,” Frank hedged as he leaned against the side of the bed and glanced at his brother, “you don’t like butter, huh?”
Joe shrugged as he picked at a loose strand on the hem of his t-shirt. “I guess.”
“You guess?” the older boy crinkled up his nose, “either you do or you don’t. I don’t like it at all. It’s slimy!”
“Slimy?” the blond boy actually giggled. “Worms are slimy.”
“Yeah and so’s butter,” Frank persisted unable to keep from grinning at his brother.
“I like butter,” Joe admitted shyly after a moment. A quick dart of blue eyes met Frank’s dark one’s briefly before the little boy glanced back down at his hands as they continued to fiddle with his t-shirt. “And salt.”
“Salt’s bad for your blood pressure,” Frank reprimanded and then scowled, “how come you said you didn’t like butter if you do?”
“I dunno,” Joe shrugged again. “Sometimes I get confused.”
“Because of your,” Frank choked on the word, “Daddy?”
“I guess,” the blond boy’s voice dropped and then he glanced up at Frank, shyly. “I used to dream that I had a big brother.”
“Really?” Frank perked up, “And what we’d do?”
“Oh, lots of stuff,” Joe was suddenly animated, his blue eyes wide with excitement as he rushed out, “we’d go swimming and play on the monkey-bars. We’d play hide-n-go-seek and make paper airplanes and—” the child suddenly clammed up.
“And?” Frank persisted. “What else?”
“And,” Joe dropped his eyes again and blushed, “you took care of me when I was afraid.”
“Well duh,” the older boy stated matter-of-factly, “That’s what good big brothers do.”
“But,” the blond boy challenged as he sized up his ‘big’ brother, “you’re not much bigger than me!”
Frank immediately straightened up, folded his arms across his chest and glared at his brother. “How old are you?”
“What?” Joe asked, taken aback.
“How old are you?” the older boy repeated and then indicated impatiently, “it’s not a hard question, Joe!”
Joe frowned. “I’m eight.”
“And I’m nine so that makes me the big brother,” Frank asserted, his dark eyes shining with sudden intensity, “always…”
The blond boy seemed to consider that for a few moments and then he slowly nodded, “Okay.” He cocked his head to the side and then grinned. “But if I get bigger than you one day can I be the big brother?”
“Nope,” Frank shook his head vehemently, “you’ll just be the bigger brother!” And for some reason that made Joe burst out laughing. His laughter was infectious and the older boy soon found himself laughing along, although for the life of him he had no idea what was so funny, and then their parents opened the room door.
“Boys?” their mother smiled warmly at them, “you ready to go home?”
“Yes!” Frank shouted as he bolted away from the bed and towards the door and then stopped and looked back at his brother. “Joe?”
Joe just stood there. Frank chewed his lip as he glanced at his parents. They shared a worried look but before either could say anything else, he’d already made a big brother decision.
“C’mon, little brother,” he encouraged as he held out his hand, “we’ll do this together…just like in your dreams.”
Another moment of uncertainty flickered across the younger boy’s face and then Joe latched onto Frank’s hand and nodded. His voice, when he spoke, was a mere whisper but the nine year old had no trouble hearing him. “Just like in my dreams…”
Frank beamed up at his relieved looking parents as he escorted Joe out of the room. “Mom? Dad? Can we get some ice cream on the way home?”
…
Dr. Scoffield watched the young family leave the hospital. He chewed on the end of his pencil as he considered them. The road ahead of them was definitely going to be a rocky one but he had a very good feeling that if anyone was up to the challenge, it was the Hardys.
Dr. Jared came to stand beside him. He glanced at his colleague. “You know,” the young doctor, “sometimes there are happy endings.”
“Hmmm,” the taller man mused, “depends on your definition of happy…c’mon, I’ll let you buy me a coffee…”
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.