LITTLE BOY LOST
by
Phoenix
Chapter 5
The Chapters
The next time Joe opened his eyes the room was bright and – sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and then blinked hard – and not his.
It took his sleep-hazy mind a moment to realize he was in his parents’ huge bed. Alone.
“Daddy?” he whispered; a fleeting memory of his father putting him here marked his mind. And then he remembered something even more important – Frank was sick. Possibly dying…regardless of what his father said.
After all Daddy was a superhero, not a doctor!
Scurrying out of the bed, the child threw open the door and raced down the hallway, terrified by the silence in the house. What if something bad had happened while Joe was sleeping and they forgot to come and get him?
What if space aliens had given Frank some sort of space sickness and then beamed him up to their spaceship, and took Mommy too ‘cause she’s a good Mommy and put Daddy in space jail so he couldn’t save them, and –
Yanking his brother’s bedroom door open, the child stuck his sleep-tousled head into the doorway, horrified of the carnage he might, or might not, find, and –
And saw his dark-haired brother sleeping, curled up against their mother as Laura sat with her back against the wall, one hand resting protectively on her sick child’s forehead, the other lying limply at her side. The room smelled faintly of vomit but the little boy didn’t care. They were here. He let out a shaky breath. They didn’t look too dead…
“Joey?” his father’s voice, unusually quiet, echoed up from the bottom of the stairs, “Don’t wake your Mom or brother.”
The child scowled. Now how he was supposed to make sure they were alive?
But then his father’s words – ‘don’t wake’ – registered and he slouched in the doorway, relieved. They were only sleeping…and his Daddy wasn’t in space jail. Good, ‘cause it was just too early in the morning for him to have to save them all! Saving people was best done after breakfast.
Joe’s heart was still pounding in his chest. He wiped away any lingering sleepiness from his eyes as he yawned and then scratched an itch. If this kept up, he’d be old before lunchtime. Maybe even teenaged!
“Joey?” his father’s voice a little louder and more insistent this time called back up to him, “Did you hear me?”
“OKAY, DADDY!” he yelled back as he plodded towards the top of the stairs and hollered. “CAN I HAVE LUCKY CHARMS FOR BREAKFAST?!”
Once again his father’s speed amazed Joe as suddenly Fenton was in front of him, whispering harshly as he crouched down and took the youngster by his arms. The grip was firm but gentle, “Joey!” For a moment the child didn’t understand his father’s chastisement and just stared at the man with wide blue eyes. “Keep your voice down, bud.”
Enlightenment puckered Joe’s lips. “Oooh,” he lowered his voice. “Sorry, Daddy.”
“S’okay, squirt,” the man assured him as he straightened up and gave the child’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Wash your face and hands. Get dressed and come down stairs. I’ll see what I can do about getting you your sugar fix.”
Joe glanced back towards his brother’s door. “What about Frank? And Mommy?”
“I’m sorry, kiddo, but your brother won’t be going to school today, and your Mom was up all night with him so I think we should let her rest too, what do you say?”
He let his father usher him towards his own room even as he gave serious thought to what his father was saying. “Okay,” he finally agreed, his young face solemn. “But only if you think you can handle me all by yourself.” He was being very serious, knowing that his father didn’t have as much ‘perience as his mom, so he really didn’t appreciate it when his father laughed:
“Oooh…I think I can manage one breakfast by myself.”
Ten minutes later though, Joe’s father didn’t seem so sure…
…
“What does your Mom usually put in your lunch?” Fenton asked as he leaned over to look in the fridge. He could hear his son happily munching on a big bowl of way-too-sweet cereal and rolled his eyes at the food-muffled reply. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he automatically reprimanded.
He heard his son swallow before Joe answered. “A sandwich.”
“A sandwich – that doesn’t sound too difficult,” the detective decided. He was glad there was no one around to witness how sadly lacking his skills were when it came to preparing his child for a day at school. Laura usually took care of these things….Oh well, at least Joe wouldn’t give him a hard time. Now if it was Frank –
His older son was a good kid, but way too smart for his own good and with a memory like an elephant. Frank had a way of making Fenton feel inept at times, without giving him this as further ammunition.
Joe didn’t pay attention in quite the same way…
“Frank doesn’t like butter on his sandwich,” Joe added, before taking a large mouthful of milk and then wiping his ‘moustache’ off on his light blue sweater sleeve.
“Oh, he doesn’t?” Fenton feigned surprise though his older boy’s dislike of butter was an already pretty well known family fact. Joe liked to remind them about it at every meal, though. The detective spied a small container of ham in the back of the fridge. He pulled out the container and put it on the counter. “How does a ham sandwich sound?”
“I don’t like ham,” came the blunt announcement. Now that one was genuinely shocking. Fenton wasn’t aware that there was any food Joe didn’t like.
“Why not?” he had to ask.
“’Cause hams comes from pigs,” his young son informed him. He had shoveled in another mouthful of cereal but Fenton let it go…this time. Besides, he was interested in hearing Joe’s explanation. “And pigs are pigs so they roll in the mud and mud is dirty and dirty is unclean and Ishmael says we can’t eat unclean food ‘cause we’ll go to hell.”
Okay. That was not what the investigator was expecting, and for one long moment he just stared at his son, stunned, and then managed, “Excuse me?”
Joe shrugged and stared down at his now cereal empty bowl. He still had milk. “Can I have more cereal?”
And in that exact moment, Fenton Hardy gained a new appreciation for his wife.
“Who is Ishmael?” he finally had to ask.
“He’s the new kid,” Joe said in that exasperated tone children reserve for a parent who has obviously been told something but has forgotten it. “Remember?”
“Oh yeah….That Ishmael,” Fenton recovered smoothly although he still had no idea who his son was talking about and made a mental note to grill Frank later; preferably once the kid’s fever dropped and he stopped puking every other hour.
Joe picked up the cereal box and gave his father a significant look. Fenton was once again awed by the sheer eloquence the six year old could project with just a mere gaze.
“Daddy?” Apparently Joe took his amazement as incomprehension. “Can I have more? Please?”
The detective nodded and then turned back to the fridge. “Okay, so no ham. What about peanut butter and jam? You like that.”
“We can’t have peanuts in our school. Some kids are ‘llergic. There’s a girl – yuck – in Biff’s class that swells up like a grape, a big purple grape, if she eats one,” Joe screwed up his nose in distaste but his father had no idea which ‘grossed’ the child out more: girls or a big purple grape girl. Either or, there was definitely a common factor. Girls. He couldn’t help but chuckle, wondering how long that would last….Joe mistook his humor and reprimanded. “That’s not funny, Daddy! Frank says she could die!”
“O-kay,” the man drawled out as he bit his lip to keep from laughing at his son’s indignant tone. “No peanut butter then. Are you sure you need a sandwich?” he turned back to the child who sent him a disbelieving look and he amended. “I’m just kidding. Tell you what,” he straightened up, “Why don’t you just tell me how Mommy makes your sandwich and I’ll make it the same way?”
Without missing a beat, his precocious child just deadpanned. “She makes it with love, Daddy…can you do that?”
Fenton just stood there stunned. Exactly what was he supposed to say to that?
Sure son, just tell me where in the fridge your mom keeps that container…
But before he could respond, a blond angel swooped down from the heavens (or the upstairs, whatever you prefer) and saved the day –
“Good morning, sweetie,” Laura smiled as she came into the kitchen and stooped down to kiss the top of her baby’s head.
Joe blushed and rolled his eyes. “Aww Mommy…”
“Hey, big guy,” she reserved a more husky greeting for Fenton as she wrapped her slender arms around his neck and gave him a gentle kiss. She saw the container of ham and added. “Ishmael giving you a hard time?”
Fenton chuckled softly. “You have no idea.”
“Oh I think I do,” she purred, gave him a wink and then pressed past him and towards the fridge. “Can you grab Joey’s bookbag from the side of the stairs and make sure he put his homework in it? I’ll finish making his lunch.”
She didn’t even have to offer twice…
And Joe thought his father was the superhero.
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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.