She watched him. She always watched him. Even though he seldom saw her, she was always there.

Sometimes he suspected that she was – he caught a glimpse like a whisper against his cheek. And then his vibrant blue eyes would cloud over in sorrow and she would withdraw. She had not meant to cause him pain, only feel what it was like to be loved by him again…even if only for a heartbeat.

Tonight was different, though…. And as she glided across the room towards him, she wondered if he had any idea of how special tonight was – for on the eve of Christmas, at the stroke of midnight, the heavens released her angels – but only for one moment…one precious, Christmas moment….

But it was for those sixty seconds that the angels lived.

* * *

Joe Hardy sat on the edge of the overstuffed chair and gazed deeply into the twinkling little lights, bewitched by their simple beauty as they graced the large fir tree that sat in the Hardys’ living room this Christmas Eve.

Outside, fat white snowflakes fell steadily from the dark sky, covering Bayport in a fine Christmas blanket of white, as inside the house, and around him people milled; their hearts lightened with much mirth and good cheer. Every few moments someone would squeeze his shoulder, pat him on the back or wish him a merry Christmas. And as always he would nod, smile in return and reply with his own pre-rehearsed greeting, ‘Same to you!’ He had the words, if not the heart.

The seventeen-year-old closed his eyes briefly and smiled – sadly – as the smell of vanilla caressed his senses. His mother was burning candles again and the aroma filled his head and weighed down his heart. It was her favorite perfume….

Her. Not his mother.

Her. His first love.

* * *

“Is Joe okay?” Blond-haired Callie Shaw asked her dark-haired handsome boyfriend after liberating him from an intense database chat with his best friend, Phil Cohen. Phil had nabbed Frank the moment he had arrived, pulling the older Hardy boy towards the fireplace to pick his brain on a compilation problem he had – that was almost an hour and a half ago now!

At the mention of his brother, Frank’s dark eyes saddened and he sought out the blond-haired figure, sighing when he saw the younger boy just staring at the festive tree. To see the normally hyper-animated Joe sitting so still was rather eerie, and another blatant reminder of how much he had changed in the past few months.

Frank slipped an arm around Callie’s slender waist and drew her close, her back against his chest, as he rested his cheek atop her silky hair for a moment, inhaling her shampoo and the comfort of her closeness. “No…he’s not,” he said softly after a long moment. “It’s the first Christmas since – well since…” his voice trailed off. He did not need to say the words for both of them to know. This was the first Christmas since Iola Morton died.

* * *

Joe felt a single tear, hot and precious, track unbidden down his cheek but he hastened to wipe it away. Letting out a heavy sigh, he stood up and moved away from the tree – the scent of the candle driving his melancholy. He was torn as he plastered a smile on his face and nodded to the spirit-filled guests at his parents’ Christmas Eve party. He wanted to stay and share in their jubilance, but at the same time, being with them, watching them smile, laugh, breathe, chewed a hole through his soul.

‘She should be here’, he thought and turned away, his decision made. He couldn’t stay.

“Joe, honey, are you okay?”  His mother’s voice, soft but anxiety-filled, caught him on the stairs, and he turned and smiled, masking his grief from her even as he vaguely wondered when he had gotten so good at concealing himself from those who loved him most.

“I’m okay,” he lied, “just a bit tired. I’ll be back down in a bit.” An even bigger lie.

“Well…”  Her voice was hesitant as she reached out and gently touched his face, brushing the wetness left by the tear. She saw right through him but said nothing.  “if you’re sure.”

Joe nodded and started to move away but his mother gripped his forearm, squeezing it tenderly, her voice betraying her knowledge.  “You know where we are if you need us?”

Another nod and then the teen was free.

He almost flew to his room, closed the door and then stood there, his head pounding painfully with life.

‘Now what?’ he wondered. He looked at the time. It was almost midnight….

* * *

Laura Hardy watched her son practically flee up the stairs and away from the party. She turned when she felt someone’s gaze upon her, and saw her husband looking at her. She crossed the room in a few steps and welcomed the warmth of his embrace.

“Iola?” Fenton murmured as he pulled her close and nuzzled her neck.

“Iola,” she confirmed softly, pressing her face against his strong chest. “He’s in so much pain.” She felt her husband’s sigh more than heard it. “I wish I knew what to do to help him.”

“Nothing but time can do that,” came the sage reply. Laura felt warm fingers on her chin tilting her head up so she looked into the compassionate dark brown ones staring down at her.  “Joe knows we’re here for him and I think that is the best we can do right now…”

Closing her eyes, she acquiesced, but decided she didn’t have to like it.

* * *

Frank saw his brother leave and started to follow him. ‘No one should be alone on Christmas Eve’, he thought, especially no one in the amount of pain he knew Joe was in, but Callie snagged his arm, stopping him.

“Give him time, Frank,” she implored quietly, “sometimes you just need to be alone with things like this.” The eighteen-year old looked deeply into her brown eyes and then slowly nodded. Sometimes he forgot how hard this was for Callie too – Iola had been her best friend. If anyone was close to understanding the pain Joe was feeling, it was her. “Trust me on this, okay?” she continued softly, her fingers gently rubbing the arm they held.

“I just want to help him,” the teen said, glancing forlornly at the stairs after his brother.

“I know,” Callie said and then added, “but sometimes the best way to help is to give space. He needs to breathe Frank, even when he’s hurting…especially when he’s hurting.” When he turned back to her, the girl smiled at him, her eyes suspiciously bright with their own grieving, “and he knows you’re here for him…”

“I’m here for you too,” Frank said, putting a hand overtop of the one holding his arm. Gently he squeezed and then pulled her in tight for a hug.  “You know that, too, don’t you?”

Callie nodded in his embrace but never said anything; in truth because she couldn’t. Instead she held on tightly until it got a little easier, and then she pulled away and smiled. “I love you, Frank Hardy, do you know that?” She reached up on her tippy-toes and kissed his cheek.

Frank smiled at her and held her just a little tighter. He knew.

* * *

Joe lay on his bed and sighed. He closed his eyes and waited. For what he had no idea, he just knew he was waiting for something.

Exhaling loudly, he slowly turned onto his back and gazed at the luminous dial of the clock next to his bed as it counted down to Christmas Day. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Each one mocked him.

Tick – She’s… Tock – Gone…

At the stroke of midnight, Joe closed his eyes and didn’t bother to try and hold back the tears that burned his cheeks.

“She should be here,” he whispered and then sniffled loudly as the scent of vanilla once again filled his nose. His heart broke…

And then he felt her touch.

 

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.