Frank very slowly rolled over on his right side, being careful not to disturb the IV line or the cast that encased his left arm. This was day six in the hospital and his first day out of Intensive Care. His lung had completely collapsed three days ago, setting his recovery back about a week. It had been the strangest sensation too, barely able to draw breath and gasping for what little oxygen he could get. The supremely uncomfortable chest tube had gone back in to bleed the air from his chest cavity, and an oxygen mask over his face, and after the four longest hours of his life he could breathe again.

He closed his eyes just as the door to him room opened. He recognized his father’s footsteps, but not the other set.

“You awake, son?” Fenton asked, standing next to the bed.

“Sort of.” Frank forced his eyes open and saw Agent Newhouse behind his father.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing and apologize for our mess-up that let him in.”

“Thanks,” Frank replied. Stefan was dead now and apologies wouldn’t fix Frank’s real wounds, the ones that were deep inside next to the small hope that a part of Stefan really did want a little brother.

Then he noticed that Newhouse was holding a blue leather-bound book. “What’s that?”

Newhouse handed it to Frank. “The FSB found it in Stefan’s study. There was a letter inside that said it was to be given to you. The letter appears to be in Stefan’s handwriting.”

Frank opened the book to try and hide his shock. Why would Stefan do that? Make sure Frank got the book? That made no sense.

His eyes fell onto the first entry and he blinked quickly to keep the tears from spilling out onto the pages. This was his mother’s journal. He flipped through the pages and noticed that about halfway through, the handwriting changed to that of a man. Frank didn’t even hear Newhouse leave as he began to read.

I have just committed an unforgivable sin and killed the mother of my children. How could I let greed blind me to the point where I would take an innocent life? A life that I loved with all of my heart. And now I’ve lost my boys. My little Semyon is gone now, adopted they said, and in another country. I hope his new family will care for him and keep him away from the path that has destroyed me.

The words seemed to go straight into Frank’s soul, turning his entire childhood upside down. He slowly flipped through the pages, aware that Fenton had sat down beside him.

Many of the entries contained musings about him- Frank. Yuri imagining what his son’s life was like. One entry revealed Yuri’s find that his son was in America , another wondered if he was a typical American teenage. That brought a smile to Frank’s face. Typical American teens didn’t solve mysteries and see most of the world before they even finished high school. Except for that, I guess I was pretty typical.

Fenton sat quietly as Frank looked through the journal, putting together another piece of his family history. The words looked like chicken scratches to Fenton. Russian truly had a strange alphabet in the eyes of this Westerner.

Frank closed the journal suddenly and yawned so big that Fenton heard his jaw pop. Taking the book, Fenton helped his son slide back down in the bed. “Do you want me to take it home?” he asked.

“Yeah, home,” Frank mumbled, his eyes sliding closed.

Fenton did just that; took the journal and put it in Frank’s room. He would be coming home in a few more days and could finish it then.

***

Frank closed the journal and sighed. He’d been home for two days now, but hadn’t done anything more adventurous than going up and down the stairs. The day before had been spent lazing on the couch and directing Joe, Callie and Vanessa as they decorated the Christmas tree. Sasha and Anton had dropped by for a little while as well, to see how Frank was doing.

He smiled as he thought about the whispered conversation he’d had with Sasha. He counted her as a dear friend, one who understood him in a way no else could, not even Joe. She was Russian, and he was too.

The journal had revealed a man very different from the man Frank remembered. Losing his children had changed him, softened him. Yuri Gregov was not the monster Frank had imagined him to be, but neither was a candidate for “Father of the Year”.

Comparing the Stefan Frank had known to the Stefan Yuri wrote about revealed a young man, who to Frank, was terribly confused and utterly lost. Yuri had no idea how to handle the boy and his mood swings and had sent him to a string of boarding schools. Stefan invariably managed to get himself expelled and Yuri had finally given up and retreated to the house in Siberia . He didn’t go into any detail about how or why Stefan was expelled, leaving Frank intensely curious.

Frank set the journal on his nightstand and slid down in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you hate him, Frank?”

“No.”

Joe walked in and stretched out on the bed, propping his head on one hand so he could look at Frank.

“He really loved her, Joe. Half of the entries are him wondering about me. I didn’t think he cared.”

“How could he not care at least a little?” Joe asked.

Frank shrugged. “I had a revelation at the cemetery.”

Joe just waited for Frank to finish. This was one of those times where he just needed to be silent and let Frank meander his way to whatever he wanted to say.

“If I had never come here, I would be completely alone. You’re the reason I am who I am. You are the person that pushed and pulled me out of my comfort zone. I can’t help thinking Mama knew how much I need you.”

For once in his life, Joe Hardy had no idea what to say. So he just reached over and grasped his brother’s hand. “She knew I needed you too. I’ll always be here, Frank.”

Frank smiled.

 

Laura peeked into the room two hours later and saw they were asleep. Frank was snuggled up to Joe, and Joe had his arms protectively around his brother. She smiled and quietly entered the room to spread a blanket over the sleeping pair.

The dreams and memories of that last six months would haunt Frank for years to come, of that she was sure. But he would always have a home to retreat to, a home full of the people who loved him.

***

The letter that had been tucked inside the journal stayed there, unread, waiting patiently for the time when it would reveal its secret and rock Frank’s world yet again.

 

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.