Frank couldn’t stay away any longer. He understood the wisdom of Callie’s words and that his brother did need time to himself, sometimes, but as everyone exchanged ‘Merry Christmas’ greetings and warm hugs, he wanted Joe to be part of this. So after leaving Callie talking to his parents, the older boy silently disappeared upstairs, the soft tones of a melancholy carol a backdrop to his mission.

He paused outside his brother’s door and wondered what he was going to say and how he was going to be received. Sometimes his comfort was craved by the younger boy and other times he was driven away – rejected – oftentimes with much bitterness.  A bitterness born from heart-aching pain.…

Frank had no idea how his brother felt and he freely admitted that. Callie was still fine – happy, healthy.  Alive.  Iola was not. There was no way the older boy could understand and he never tried to convince Joe otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, Frank knocked softly on the door and prayed for divine intervention. Someone to give him the wisdom and the strength to offer his brother what he needed right now.

There was no answer. Knocking a bit harder, the dark-haired teen slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“Joe?” he called softly, not really sure what to expect. He saw the forlorn figure curled up on the bed and slowly approached him, the steady thump-thump-thump of his own heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears.

“Joe,” he repeated and then a gentle sadness filled his face as Frank realized his brother was asleep. He saw the wetness on the pale cheeks and heaved a heavy sigh. Reaching to the end of the bed, he slowly drew up the warm knitted blanket and pulled it over the slumbering blond boy, careful not to disturb him. Joe looked oddly at peace and he was reluctant to take that from him, as the younger Hardy found serenity in so few places these days.

“I love you, kiddo,” Frank whispered and then turned and left the room. He paused at the door and turned around. “Merry Christmas, little brother.” And then he was gone, each footstep weighted with sorrow.

 

Joe opened his eyes as the door closed. He had had the weirdest dreams….

Slowly sitting up, he looked at the clock, only a bit surprised to find it was a couple of minutes after midnight. He was sure it was later than that, as his body felt oddly refreshed and rather lightened.

Pushing the blanket off his body, the teen stood up and stretched. His gaze fell on the picture he kept by his bedside. Picking it up, he looked down at the smiling faces of himself, Frank, Callie and…and Iola. Reaching out with almost hesitant fingers, he gently traced the outline of her face, pleasantly surprised to find that instead of the burning pain he usually felt when he looked at her, he felt something else. Not quite a peace or acceptance, just an ease of grief somehow. His blue eyes locked briefly on Callie and he frowned for a moment before shifting to look at Frank.

…I love you, kiddo… Merry Christmas, little brother… the words floated around him and Joe smiled and put down the picture, suddenly filled with an intense desire to be around people who loved him.  Not just an intense desire…a craving.

* * *

“How’s your brother?” Laura Hardy asked as her older son joined them, slipping his arms around his girlfriend and pulling her close for a quick hug. She had seen Frank go up the stairs and come down only a moment later. Her question was fueled by her concern and her anxiety – why had Frank come back so quickly? Had Joe shut himself up again and driven his brother away?

Frank sighed and offered a bleak little smile.  “He’s sleeping. Peacefully,” the boy added after a moment.

Laura felt relief – it seemed her younger son, her baby – was seldom afforded that privilege anymore, still waking on occasion in a cold sweat or even, though less frequently, in a gut-wrenching scream.

Iola…

Before she could comment, her husband touched her cheek gently and indicated the stairs with a mere glance. Turning, she saw Joe coming down, and then sucked in a breath when the blond boy looked at them…and smiled.

In quick steps, Joe crossed the room and almost flew into his mother’s embrace, trembling lightly at her comfort.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he heard her whisper, a trace of tears behind the words even as he felt the strong, reassuring grasp of his father’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Merry Christmas, son.”  Fenton’s voice was strangely husky, and Joe looked up, a bit surprised to see the flickering emotion on the normally staid man’s face. He graced his father with a warm smile and then looked from one parent to the other, his blue eyes bright and sincere.

“M-Merry Christmas to both of you, Mom and Dad.”  Joe was a bit surprised to hear the quiver in his own voice, having thought he had recomposed himself better than this. He paused and then added, “I don’t really have the words to properly say what I want to you…” he shrugged, “so ‘I love you’ will have to be enough…”

In an instant his mother’s arms tightened around him, quickly joined by his father’s and as Joe was cocooned by his parents’ affection, he felt some of the pain that had taken up residence in his soul dissipate in the presence of their great love, as he heard their murmured responses; twin voices as shaky as his own.

After a few priceless moments, Joe gently pulled away, favored his parents with another treasured smile, and then turned to face his brother.

At some time Callie had moved away to join her own parents across the room as the guests were still celebrating around them. The air was thick with festivity and as the words of the playing carol filled Joe’s head, he had no idea what to say to his brother….Frank had been his pillar of strength…his shoulder to cry on…a voice to help him refocus when he got lost…and sometimes, yes, even his punching bag since Iola died. And the older boy took it all in stride – or so it seemed to Joe…

‘…Have yourself a merry little Christmas….Let your heart be light,
From now on our troubles…Will be out of sight…’

Without saying anything, Joe reached out and grabbed Frank in a tight hug. He felt the older boy respond in kind and for a few long moments, the two brothers were locked in an intensity that blocked out the world around them.

‘…Here we are as in olden days…Happy golden days of yore,
Faithful friends who are dear to us…Gather near to us once more…’.

And then Joe whispered, “Merry Christmas, big brother…”  He paused a heart beat, and added, “and I love you too.” Joe felt his brother tremble and smiled, knowing the older boy was struggling with his response. He decided to save him. No response was needed or expected.

Pulling away, he winked at Frank, not surprised to see the brightness in the dark brown eyes looking down at him with unabashed affection, “But if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll have you in a half-nelson, screaming for Mom in a heartbeat.”

“My – my lips are sealed, “Frank managed to gasp through his broadening smile, obviously overwhelmed to hear Joe’s easy admittance.

And then Joe felt a sadness tugging away his smile as the words of the next Christmas carol filled the room. His eyes sought her out and found her standing next to the tree. As his gaze fell on her, she reached out and tentatively touched a hanging decoration. His soul burned and he closed his eyes briefly as he recognized the small white, lace ornament that she held. It was an angel…

‘I'll have a blue Christmas…without you;
I'll be so blue thinking about you…Decorations of red
on a green Christmas tree…Won't mean a thing if
you're not here with me…’

Excusing himself from his family, Joe moved towards Callie and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. He felt her shaking and heard the shuddery words that broke his heart as she turned her wet face to his.

“She should be here Joe,” she whispered; her words mirroring his own from such a short time ago.

Smiling gently, he took her hand and pulled her away from the tree. Wrapping one arm loosely around her slender waist, they slowly swayed together, locked in cadence of the mournful song…

‘…I'll have a blue Christmas, that's certain;
And when that blue heartache starts hurting,
You'll be doing all right…with your Christmas of white,
but I'll have a blue, blue Christmas….’

“She is,” he somehow managed, and then sucked in a breath as the scent of vanilla filled his nose….

Callie pressed her cheek in against Joe’s chest and nodded, not trusting her voice to say anything, and they stayed this way through the next song as well.

* * *

The angel spread her arms around them, invisible to their eyes but not their hearts. Her moment had passed but she had not. She never could and never would…she was an immortal now. And because of that, so were they.

‘Merry Christmas…’ she whispered, her voice a scent of vanilla….

As Joe and Callie drew apart, the angel graced them with one more gentle look and then was gone. For it was now Christmas Day and as did all the ethereal legions of Heaven…she had something else to do….

 

The End

 

*Blue Christmas written by B.Hayes, J.Johnson ©1948

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.