SNOWY WINTER'S CHILL
By PorscheDsgn
Chapter One – Forgive Me, Brother
This story does not take place in my normal Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Universe (I promise I have not rejected that universe – I will go back to it as soon as this story leaves my head). This is a Winter/Christmas ditty for all you Hardy Boys fans. At this point I don't plan to bring Nancy into the story – that may change in later chapters though.
SNOWYWINTER'SPASSINGSNOWYWINTER'SPASSING
"Frank, I don't want to talk to you," barely able to speak, Joe Hardy fought the urge to smash the phone receiver back onto the base and stalk back to his room where he could easily ignore the world around him.
"Joe, please!" Frank practically begged. Joe stopped walking, staring at the sparkling lights adoring the Christmas tree. Set in front of the large windows running the length of the Hardy's family room, the tree was nearly ten feet tall. One hundred percent real, this tree, unlike years before where they had a noble fir, was a beautiful Eastern Red Cedar. Beautifully shaped, his mother, aunt and brother had fun decorating it the day before, adorning each branch carefully with festive white lights, two strands of multi-colored lights and more ornaments than Joe could count. He missed the occasion of the tree decorating on purpose.
I didn't want to deal with it, Joe thought again with a sigh. Still don't.
"Frank, I'm still mad," Joe said. "Maybe I'll feel like talking to you later but not right now. You just remember, I didn't ask for this. You did."
"Joe, someone's following me," Frank whispered. Joe frowned, suddenly more angry than he could stand. He kicked something and winced, his toe connecting with the solid oak, six foot tall, entertainment center sitting about two feet away from the tree.
"Oh, come on, Frank, I wasn't born yesterday. Just go away and leave me alone!" with that, Joe hung up the phone, satisfied with his ending to that little conversation.
Joe very carefully sat the phone back onto the cradle and leaned against the blue-painted wall of the family's family room. He shook slightly, the anger coursing through him. He ignored the beauty around him, the full branches of garland that were strewn above the nearby doorway, the bows so festively tied to the garland and the scent of pinecones that mingled with the cinnamon and nutmeg from the kitchen.
His whole family wanted him to move on. It was time, they said, to let go of Iola. She would understand, they said. Her family, including his best friend Chet, would understand. It was time to start living life again.
Frank was the worst of the lot. Joe asked him politely yesterday to just leave him alone. He needed more time to get through some things. He would try, he said, to be more with it, to be more in the Christmas and Holiday spirit. He would try to join the family more and do more things with them but… he couldn't 'just get over it' like they wanted.
And I thought Frank accepted that, until this morning, Joe groused as he nursed his sore toe. He slumped back into his seat, his blue eyes staring at the lights of the tree that twinkled off of bright shiny ornaments. Christmas was Iola's favorite time of year. He remembered years before, when he and Iola were still in grade school and her eyes shown all the time from Thanksgiving onward. Everything about Christmas excited her, from the small things like hot chocolate by a fire or making a hand-made ornament to bigger things like buying presents, decorating a tree or reading the Christmas story from the Bible on Christmas Eve.
Joe wiped a single tear that fell down his cheek when he remembered their last Christmas together. They went on a hay ride around the Morton farm, the wagon driven by Iola's father. They had sat in the back, huddled close together under a large blanket to ward off the chill, sipping at mugs of hot cocoa with marshmallows. Frank and his girlfriend Callie sat at the other end of the hay wagon, along with other friends – Iola's brother, Chet, mutual friends Tony Prito, Biff Hooper, Phil Cohen and Liz Webling. Joe remembered not seeing much of the others though; his eyes were only for Iola. Pixie-faced, wearing a bright red parka that made her look brown eyes stand out. She had a bright red hat jammed down over her dark hair and her eyes looked into Joe's own.
Nothing else mattered in that moment but them.
And I'll never have moments like that with her again. She's gone.
Joe wiped more tears, still angry. Frank had brought it up again this morning. Maybe he hadn't meant to – it had been more of an offhand comment in fact but Joe, still sensitive from the night before, had taken it the wrong way and he had lashed out at Frank.
Suddenly Joe could remember the hurt and surprised expression on Frank's face as Joe railed at him. Joe didn't remember why he was so angry, why he wanted to rip Frank's hair out, but he was pretty sure he had been out of control.
"Be nice to get out for a while and do something fun, won't it?" Frank had said that morning. They were both planning to hit the Bayport Galleria and do some shopping for Christmas. Joe had not been back to the mall since Iola died there four months before. He loved going to Mr. Pizza, managed by his friend Tony, but he hadn't been there either. It hurt too much to go there, where Iola had been killed by terrorists after Joe and Frank.
Joe passed into the dining room and saw a huge centerpiece sitting on the table. A large red candle in a beautiful glass and silver votive stretched high above more garland laced with red and gold ribbon. The tablecloth was one that his mother only pulled out on holidays, made of green with silver holly leaves embroidered throughout. Red chair covers laced with the same silver holly leaves were over each chair in the room tied in the back with silver ribbon and more sprigs of the living garland. Joe smiled as he saw the chandelier over the table had new shades over each light, made of red fabric with green holly leaves. He remembered helping to make those three years before, when his mother wanted to change out all of the decorations in the dining room and wanted a homemade touch. He blew on his fingers in memory of hot glue and closed his eyes.
Iola took his hands into her own later that evening and kissed each fingertip…
Joe stood for a moment blinking, fighting back the memory. He heard Frank's voice in his head now.
'Joe, someone's following me,' Joe heard his brother's voice clearly.
And no matter how much they might tease, or sometimes fight, or do silly things to get on each other's nerves, Frank wouldn't joke about something like that, not even to get Joe out of the house.
Joe's heart leapt into his chest and he raced back into the family room. He grabbed the phone and quickly dialed his brother's cell phone number as he tried to ease the racing in his chest.
"Joe?" Frank said before Joe had a chance to say anything.
"Yeah," Joe said. "You said someone was following you?" Joe stared out the window past the Christmas tree – there were white lights running all along the bushes in the front of the house and even in the large elm trees that lined the street.
"Right," Frank breathed and Joe heard the worry in his voice. "I've gone in and out of several stores. I think there's at least two people following me – it keeps changing but I've seen them both, through windows. One is blonde, about six-four, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket. The other one is Latino, shorter, wearing khaki's and a black parka of some kind. It's giving me the creeps, to be honest."
Joe inhaled sharply suddenly worried.
"How far are you from Mr. Pizza?" Joe asked softly.
"I'm on the third level, about a third of the way around from there," Frank said after a moment. Joe drew a picture of the mall in his head real quickly and frowned.
"You should go there," he said. "That's the safest place for you; Tony won't let anything happen. You should get on the elevator NOW – it's close, right? If you can't get on it, hit the escalators and keep going. I'll call Tony and tell him you're coming and to look out for you. Don't stop."
"Right," Frank agreed.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes if I hit all the lights, twenty if I don't," Joe continued. "Frank… I'm sorry I didn't talk to you earlier."
"It's okay," Frank said. "We have this under control now. I shouldn't have gotten so freaked out. I mean, it's not like I don't know how to get out of these situations."
Joe set his shoulders. "Sometimes you need back-up. Move. I'm going to call Tony. Twenty minutes, Frank. Hold on."
Joe hit the disconnect button and dialed Mr. Pizza.
"Tony, this is Joe," he said when his friend got on the phone. "Frank's in the mall, he's got two tails on him. Could you head out into the hallway and make sure he makes it to you okay? I'm leaving the house now."
"You got it, Joe," Tony said. "Where's he coming from?"
"Level three. Sounds like he was in section H," Joe said. "I told him to take the elevator if he could or to run the escalators if he couldn't get on it. Call me in five minutes if he's not there."
The sense of urgency filled Joe from head-to-toe. He had to make sure that Frank was safe.
He had to.
Joe sped out to his car, a newer model, black Saturn. He was glad that he no longer shared cars with his brother, it made it easier for them both to get to different places. He pulled out of the driveway into the street and headed toward the mall.
All along the street of his neighborhood, houses were decorated with a variety of decorations, from the modest – a few strings along the front and sides of the house – to the extreme – full-blown yard-filling and energy-bill killing displays. A large Santa Claus with a 'Ho, Ho, My Home', when it was dark out, shone much more brightly than any street lamp. He heard neighbors complain about it being a sleep hazard.
Joe hit the send on his phone when it rang a few minutes later, not wanting to hear what Tony was going to say.
"Joe, Frank didn't make it here yet," Tony said in a low voice. "I went down to the escalators and he's not there. Either he didn't make it on them or the elevator or he's stuck up on a higher floor. I'm going to go up and see if I can find him."
"Okay. Call me back."
Joe put the pedal to the medal and raced forward again. He had to find his brother; he had to!