Christmas Wishes

Chapter 1

Fenton Hardy sat back, looking from the computer to the stack of paperwork on his desk, and sighed. Why did everything always seem to happen at once? Hardy Investigations had seen a dramatic increase in business in the past two months, which, under normal circumstances, would be a good thing. However, with only himself, his two sons and his longtime friend and business partner, Sam Radley, to share the load, they had all been quickly overwhelmed with the workload.

Adding the serious car accident involving Frank's fiancée, Callie Shaw, just over three weeks ago, and Joe being diagnosed with a severe case of pneumonia and ordered to strict bed rest for the past two weeks, they were severely undermanned. At least Joe had been cleared to return to work part time, albeit on desk duty only; that helped a little. Almost as if he were aware that Fenton had been thinking about him, Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, Dad."

Fenton smiled at his younger son. Joe still looked pale and it was obvious he'd lost weight, but the cough wasn't nearly as bad as it had been and Joe's sense of humor had returned, indicating he was on the road to recovery. Still, he was only allowed to work three days a week and, even then, only half days. He'd missed having Joe around the office; it was much too quiet when he wasn't there. "Hey, yourself."

"I finished the final reports on the cases you guys wrapped up this weekend." Joe dropped into a chair in front of Fenton's desk, snuggled down and threw one leg over the arm of the chair, making himself comfortable. "And I updated the expense reports for you and Sam through yesterday. Frank still has to give me some receipts before I can do his. And I returned all those calls you wanted me to. What else have you got for me?"

Fenton glanced at the clock on his desk. It was just past lunch time. "Nothing. It's time for you to leave."

"Aw, come on Dad!" Joe quickly reverted to the ten year old Fenton remembered and loved, but who often tried his patience. "You must have something else for me to do? I feel fine. If you make me leave I'll be bored to tears and who knows what kind of trouble I'll get into then."

'Isn't that the truth!' Fenton thought, but he'd rather face a whining Joe than his wife Laura if she found out he didn't stick to the schedule issued by the doctor as far as how often and how long Joe could work, desk duty or not.

"Trouble? Really?" Fenton challenged him. "Because when I spoke to Frank this morning, he told me you were going to spend the rest of the day with Callie when you left here, just to be there in case she needed anything. Exactly how much trouble are you planning to get into at Frank and Callie's apartment?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "Thanks a lot, Frank," he muttered.

Fenton chuckled. "I'm sure you do feel fine right now. But you can't overdo it, Joe, no matter how good you feel. Besides, I like the idea of you spending time with Callie. You can't get into too much trouble at their place and she's still pretty fragile. I know Frank is worried about leaving her alone. He really appreciates you being there with her… just in case."

Joe reddened slightly and shrugged one shoulder. "No big deal. I like hanging out with her. And if I can't be here working, I might as well be there in case she needs anything."

Fenton nodded in agreement. "You know I'm very impressed with your work on these files."

Fenton had been impressed – and amused. Rather than the 'just the facts' approach he, Frank and Sam used when completing a closing report, Joe's summaries were infused with his unique brand of humor. Frank and Joe generally worked together, with Frank completing the paperwork when a case was closed. Given that division of labor, Fenton hadn't been treated to Joe's penchant for livening up the admittedly boring summaries until now. Joe's colorful descriptions of the criminal element and the problems caused by their 'unbelievable stupidity' had made those closing reports come alive; at times Fenton felt as if he were watching a movie play out in front of him instead of reading the final report on a closed case.

Joe sat up, grinning. "Yeah? You liked them?"

"Absolutely," Fenton agreed. "In fact, I may have to rethink things around here."

Joe became guarded. "What do you mean? What 'things'?"

"Well, you're obviously very good at this. I think, moving forward, once you get back here full time, we'll have you in charge of the closing summaries, the expense reports, you know, coordination of the paperwork in general. You have a real talent for it. " Fenton grinned inwardly at the stricken expression his son's face. Joe would always give 110% to whatever job he was assigned. Maybe it had to do with growing up in the shadows of Fenton and Frank, who were both high overachievers, but it seemed as if Joe was always trying to play catch up, trying to be good enough, even if it was only in his own mind. As it turned out, though, he excelled at just about anything he put his mind to. Still, as far as Joe was concerned, paperwork was worse than death.

"What?! NO! No way! Dad, tell me you're kidding… please!"

Fenton leaned forward, and stared at his son seriously. "Joe, you're just starting out in your career. You have a real flair for this, a natural talent. As both your father and your employer, I'd be doing you a huge disservice if I didn't provide you with every opportunity to grow and develop as an investigator." Joe's jaw dropped and Fenton found it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face.

"But Frank loves to do those things - the reports, the summaries, the expenses…" Joe's voice trailed off.

"And he's very good at it. But you need to be well versed in every aspect of the business. I didn't build this company up to what it is today by ignoring the paperwork side of it."

"But… I…" Joe sank back in the chair, all the fight gone.

Fenton couldn't contain himself any longer and burst out laughing.

Joe frowned, his expression changing to one of chagrin and then amusement. "Okay, you got me. But seriously, you're not going to put me in charge of paperwork, are you?"

"Well, now that I've seen what you can do, I think you need to do your fair share. Frank may be very good at it, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it."

Joe shrugged good-naturedly. "Agreed. But you know if I offer and he insists he'd rather do it himself…"

Fenton smiled. "Nice try, but you'll still do it when it's your turn. You need the experience and he needs the break." He stood up and stretched. "And right now it's time for you to leave." Joe opened his mouth to protest but Fenton stopped him before he could utter a word. "No way. I am not going to face the wrath of your mother if she finds out I let you stay one second longer than the doctor allowed, even if you are just being a desk jockey."

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Joe knocked on the door of Frank and Callie's apartment an hour later. In one hand he balanced several of the files that he was supposed to be working on the rest of this week. This is Frank's line of work, he still thought ruefully. If it was up to him, he would be out in the field doing the dirty work, chasing down the bad guys and doing his best to avoid getting in serious trouble. It's only a week. I can do this. Besides, it would be nice to spend some time with Callie, and it made him happy to think that he would be making his brother feel better.

"Make sure you take care of each other," Frank had told him. Jokingly, he had told Frank that Callie wouldn't like being ordered to stay in one place. "It's not Callie I'm worried about," Frank had replied with a grin.

Within seconds, the door opened. "Hello there, Babysitter," Callie said with a smile, standing on her tiptoes and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come on in."

"You really ought to work on getting the place cleaned," Joe joked as he entered the impeccably arranged apartment. Unlike the home he shared with Vanessa, which was always in some sort of organized chaos, as he liked to term it, Callie and Frank's place reflected the exact opposite: warm and inviting, perfectly clean, totally organized, and impossibly neat.

He flung his papers on the sofa for good measure, and turned to Callie, eyes wide with innocence.

"So it starts," Callie replied wryly.

Joe winked at her. "I'll try to be on my best behavior, but this whole gig has to last for a week. I'm bound to eventually mess up."

"Oh. I see your strategy," Callie answered seriously. "Get the slob part out of the way so you're not under pressure to be neat all week. Interesting tactic." She suppressed a smile.

Joe turned around and squeezed her slim shoulders affectionately, sensitive to her injuries from the accident. He knew that beneath her joking demeanor, Callie was still dealing with the repercussions of some very serious injuries, and, as normal as she seemed, Frank had pretty much told him to ignore that and keep watch over her. He wasn't about to ignore his promise to his brother... but there was no need to make Callie aware of it.

"So what's the plan?" he asked her, eager to avoid work.

"Well, my plan is to do some cooking; a lot of cooking, actually. I thought yours was to do some paperwork and help with the open cases that Frank is working on." She raised an eyebrow.

"Wow. So Frank snitched, huh?"

Callie laughed, but Joe didn't miss the slight grimace on her face and the way her right hand, not in the cast, automatically covered her ribs. He pretended not to notice.

"Why are you cooking?" he asked, changing the subject.

Callie sighed, and motioned Joe to sit on the couch, which he did. She sat down slowly, opposite him, and smiled gently. "Okay, Buddy. Let's get this out of the way so we can both peacefully coexist over the next week. How are you feeling?"

Joe gave a questioning look. "You say I change the subject."

Callie's gaze didn't waver, and he wasn't used to her being so serious. It was like being in the reprimanding gaze of his brother.

"Okay, MOM," he emphasized.

"Joe, you have to let me know. And please be honest. Frank made me promise to check on you all week, and we both know that's not going to happen." She shook her head slightly, still grinning. "You're a big boy. Your girlfriend is my best friend and your brother is my fiancé. You don't need a third person grilling you every day. Well, maybe a fourth. I imagine your mom is on your case all day."

Joe was both shocked at Callie's candor and relieved by it. Before he could answer, Callie went on. "Tell me now, and I promise not to even ask you again unless I really think something is wrong. Just promise me you'll tell me if there is."

Joe looked at his longtime friend and future sister -in -law with affection. "I'm fine, Cal," he answered at last. "Really. I'm still coughing, but it's much better. My rib hurts," he continued, referring to the hairline fracture he had received after coughing so hard from his bout with pneumonia, "but it's mostly gone. I'm tired." He met her eyes and smiled. "But you'll be glad to know that my appetite is back, since you're cooking."

"Okay," Callie replied. "Good enough." She went to stand back up, gingerly, holding onto the arm of the chair.

"Nope," Joe replied, getting up and putting his arm around her to lower her back down. Callie winced but looked at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, as she sat.

"You told me to be honest with you. I was," he replied matter- of -factly. "It's your turn. And you'd better tell me the truth," he added. "I'll figure it out if you don't. You may have heard- I'm a detective."

"Joe, I-" she began.

"It's only fair," he responded, not letting her off the hook. He knew Callie was as stubborn as he was and normally almost never complained. However, now that she had brought it up, he figured it was much better if he knew what he was dealing with so that he could help her if need be. He had already promised Frank that he would take her to a follow up doctor's appointment in a day or so anyway.

He saw her face darken, and held her hand. "It's okay," he reassured her. "I promise not to bring it up, either, okay?"

Finally, after a few minutes, Callie answered slowly and carefully. "I have good days and bad days," she said, simply.

"Keep going," he encouraged her, squeezing her hand. Callie's bravery had always impressed him.

"The thing that is the worst is my ribs. I can't even sleep on my bed. Frank got me a recliner for now that I use. It's in the bedroom." Joe tried to maintain a neutral expression. Why hadn't he thought of that? He had also slept on his couch for the first few days with a hairline fracture. Callie had suffered five broken ribs; he could barely imagine.

"Yeah, they're not fun," he answered lightly, trying to make her smile.

"My wrist hurts, but it's more of a pain in the butt than anything." She chuckled. "Not to mix metaphors there."

"I can help you with anything around here, Cal. I'm useful sometimes."

"I know. Thanks," she replied. "It's been really hard weaning down my pain medications, but I'm basically off them. They were upsetting my stomach... and making me a little loopy."

"You've always been a little loopy," he teased.

Callie rolled her eyes but grinned. "The doctors are still most worried about the effects of the concussion. I..." She paused, then got to the point. "I feel fine, mostly. Sometimes I mix up my words, or get confused. Sometimes I get a little dizzy or lightheaded. Once in a great while I get a blinding, awful headache." She shuddered at the memory of it before finishing. "But, like I said, most of the time I'm okay. And I'm alive."

Joe's heart went out to her. Almost losing Callie had sent his family into a deep tailspin, and it was only by some miracle that she had survived. If she had died, he honestly didn't know if any of them would have recovered from her loss. He kissed the top of her head.

"Thanks for telling me, Sis," he answered sincerely. Then, breaking up the serious moment, he added, "Thankfully, you now have a strong man around the place to help you."

Callie looked around. "Where is he?" she asked, deadpan.

Joe burst out laughing. "Good one, Shaw," he teased. "And for the record, I'm glad you're not dead."

Callie smiled and stood up slowly. "I'm almost dying of boredom," she answered. "The concussion has prevented me from looking at computers and television, staring at phone screens, reading, being around overly bright places or loud noises... hence, the cooking."

"That sucks," Joe agreed. He'd had his share of concussions in the past and he knew what they entailed, but his had never been to the extent of Callie's injury.

"Well, I have a nice late lunch planned for us, and I already made dinner for you to take home to Vanessa for tomorrow. Between the two of us, I think she's getting a little sick of pizza."

"Gotcha," Joe replied with a thumbs up. "What did you make?"

"Roasted chicken and veggies. I also made potatoes and biscuits, lest I let you go without your carb fix." She smiled. "Well, I have to admit that your brother absolutely helped. It's really hard to cook one-handed!"

"That's awesome! Thanks!" Joe replied enthusiastically. Callie had always been a great cook. Things were looking up already.

"And before you ask, I - we- made chili for lunch, with yet more biscuits, and a salad. We also made brownies for you, with several extra for VANESSA. Not you- got it?" She teased.

"Yes, ma'am. Sounds great."

"Listen," she added. "You have work to do. I'm not letting my fiancé work until late at night covering for you if you're not going to help him." She gave Joe a quick squeeze on his shoulder. "Why don't we rest for an hour and then eat? We'll have lunch and I'll let you work til dinner. I'm not sure when Frank will be back, but probably not until at least 8:00. After dinner, then, we'll try out several new recipes of all things junk food that I'm thinking about making for Christmas. You can help me bake- in return, you get to eat. Then, we can actually talk and catch up until Frank gets home. It's been ages since we've done that. How does that sound?"

"Like a plan," Joe answered, happily. "Like a great plan."

As he watched Callie withdraw to her bedroom to rest, and he settled back on the couch and flipped on television, he couldn't help but to smile to himself. It would be nice to talk to Callie, especially because he could certainly use her advice about something very important. He trusted her honesty.

He had a feeling it was going to be a good week. For the first time in awhile, he felt truly at peace.