Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Revelation

My eyes flew open and my legs gave out, dropping me rather sharply onto the stair beneath me. Pain seared up through my rear and my already-aching body protested, but I ignored it. I stared wide-eyed down the steps, as if I could somehow see Mom’s face and weigh her words.

Not her son-

There was silence downstairs; Joe must be as stunned as I.

I’m not her son? Then... that explains it. That’s why she doesn’t like me. That’s why I look so much like Dad and not like her; that’s why Joe and I are so close in age. She isn’t really my mother. Dad must’ve... But that’s insane! Dad would never cheat on Mom! But how else-

“What?” Joe’s question came out in a gasp. “What do you mean? Dad wouldn’t- he’d- he couldn’t!”

“I mean what I said.” Mom’s voice was low and rather tired. “Frank isn’t my son, or your father’s son. Or-”

Oh, no, no, don’t, please don’t-

“Or your brother, for that matter.”

I squeezed my eyes shut again and wrapped my arms around myself, my head bowing, my shoulders slumping.

Joe...my brother...my little brother...

It hurt worse than any physical pain I’d ever felt.

I’d rather be shot again. I’d rather die! God, why didn’t I just die? Why?

“He is!” Joe shouted, sounding more scared than anything. “What are you saying, of course he’s my brother!”

“Your father had a brother, a twin brother- your uncle Stanton. He was older than your father by about twenty minutes. I didn’t get to know him well until I’d been dating your father for nearly a year, because they lived in separate apartments. Fenton’s schedule with the New York police department was erratic at times, and it was easier for him not to worry about disturbing his roommate- his twin- at odd hours. And I think Stan resented me taking so much of your father's time, at first, and avoided me... When your father and I married, Stan was best man, and during the reception he met a dear friend of mine- my roommate from college, Phoebe Clark. They began dating, and got married two years later. Phoebe...almost exactly a year after their wedding, Stan and Phoebe had a child. A boy. They named him Franklin after Stan and Fenton’s father, your grandfather.” She paused. Joe was silent; I could imagine his stunned expression.

“Frank was just three months old when his parents brought him over to our home one evening. Stan and Phoebe were going to attend a concert. Your father and I had planned to go with them, but I wasn’t feeling very well, so we stayed home and looked after Frank- cancelled Phoebe’s babysitter. Stan and Phoebe...never came home. The concert hall caught fire, and they didn’t get out in time. The fire department soon discovered that the fire had been deliberately set. Your father- I thought Fenton would go mad, losing his twin like that. He worked on the case obsessively, it was the only thing he seemed to care about- except for Frank. Frank was the only thing that put any life into Fenton’s eyes. Six months later, Joe, you were born.”

“So you allowed him to keep Frank,” my brother hissed. “Because having him around helped Dad deal- no wonder Dad cares about Frank and you don’t.”

“I do care about him!” Mom protested. “Do you think I would have kept the child if I didn’t?”

“Did you adopt him?” Joe challenged.

“No, we didn’t. What point would there be? We were his legal guardians, and he was already family-”

“But not a son. Not a real son, like me, who had the misfortune to get born to you!”

“Joe!”

“What? Why do you think I should be glad to be the son of somebody as nasty as you? Someone who couldn’t be bothered to make a three-month-old orphan their legal son, even though you were his guardians- his only family! Was it because you didn’t love him, even then? Or were you hoping that after Dad got over his twin’s death, you’d be able to give the baby away?”

I forced myself to my feet, clutching the handrail. My legs were shaking so much I was afraid I’d fall, but I was determined to get back to my room. Nothing on Earth could force me down those steps now; I’d deal with whatever pain came rather than hear any more of Joe’s biting accusations and Mom’s feeble-sounding explanations. I had to brace myself against the wall as I trudged back to my room, and when I reached it and shut the door, I slumped down on my bed in relief. My head was spinning with wild emotions and fragments of voices. I lay down, pulled the pillow over my head, and wished with all my might that I would wake up from this nightmare.

Naturally, I didn’t.

I had never so much as dreamed that Joe’s parents weren’t mine. It was worse than a shock, worse than a struggle to understand; it made my entire life a falsity. I wasn’t who I thought I was, who I’d always been told I was. I felt as though all my sixteen years as Fenton and Laura Hardy’s son were being wrenched out of me, ripped from my grasp, reeling out of my control.

Stanton and Phoebe’s son… Fenton and Laura’s nephew…Joe’s…cousin. Not my brother. Not my brother! Oh, Joey!

I pulled the pillow off my head with a groan. Nothing could stop or negate or erase the truth, now that I knew it. I’d do better to face it than try to hide from it, but it hurt so much. It was bad enough to learn that our parents weren’t mine, that I was an orphan, that my entire life was a lie- but why did it have to cost me my brother, the person I most loved, as well?

He must be horror-stricken. Oh, he must be hating Mom as much as I do right now. No! Not Mom. She’s not my mother, they’re not my parents. My parents died sixteen years ago.

I felt a sudden, terrible yearning for my own parents to be alive. I wanted to know them, to know that they loved and wanted me- not like the woman I’d called ‘Mom’ all my ignorant life. But I couldn’t, and that was pain on top of pain. ‘Insult to injury,’ I thought dazedly, staring at the wall. But which was insult and which was injury, I couldn’t have said. I sat up, stared out the window at the overcast sky, wrapped the sheets around my inexplicably cold, shaking body, and tried to blank my overtaxed mind.

Naturally, my gift for blotting out my surroundings didn’t work- not now, when I needed it most.