Author's Name: Laurie Q
Title of Story: Safe Haven
Type of Story: Casefile, Holiday
Rating of Story: T
Characters in Story: F, J, Fe, L, OCs
Warnings: Reference to prior child abuse, not depicted in story
Date Story Originally Posted: December, 2011
Author's note: A little turkey, a little stuffing…. A little prayer that everybody makes it to the table in one piece… Gathering the family for Thanksgiving, then and now, reminds the Hardys that they are thankful for far more than pie. Another story making the transfer from the HDA. Angst and a Laura Hardy history lesson, as well as a bit of why my grown up Frank and Joe become, well, who they are
The younger Joe in the tale is based off a very real young man that I've had the privilege to know as one of my son's close friends and I admire his bravery in daring to trust others and be happy in spite of a rough introduction to this world. The similarities to his life are used with permission - and yes, he really did that with the mantle and clock - you'll see what I mean...
Thank you to all those who have been supportive of my initial postings here on FFN, it means the world to me!
I also want to extend a special thank you to Dawn for serving the invaluable role of beta on this, quite some time ago..
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CHAPTER 1
"Can you get that, Joe? I've sort of got my hands full!"
Joe shifted the third bag of groceries he was lugging from his right arm to his left, quickly bending his knee for balance as he felt everything slipping. He called out to his year older brother just as he reached for the ringing phone. "Sure, Frank, no problem. Not like I'm carrying anything...What is it you're carrying in, again? Cotton candy and rice cakes or something probably... don't strain yourself... You handed me fifty pounds of crud, by the way, but hey why not? I live to be your pack mule... Hardy residence, hello?"
"Hi, Joe." The amused voice coming through the phone line clearly indicated that more of that than 'hello' had been heard. "You and Frank doing ok?"
"Yeah, Dad, fine." Joe balanced the tip of his toe on the edge of the third step, resting the paper sacks on the impromptu shelf of his thigh. "What time are you going to be home?"
Private investigator Fenton Hardy paused a moment, presumably checking his watch, before answering his younger son. "I'm in Atlanta now, but I've got a five hour layover. I should be home by eight tonight, assuming everything runs more or less on time."
Joe laughed. "Like to see that happen the day before Thanksgiving."
Fenton's smile could almost be heard over the phone. "It doesn't hurt to ask for a holiday miracle now and then. Did you and your brother find everything on your mother's shopping list?"
"Frank spent about an hour looking for something called Durkee French fried onion rings, but yeah... eventually." Joe hesitated, then decided to come clean. "Ah, can you actually tell the difference between light and dark pitted canned cherries? 'Cause I might have fudged on that one a little."
"I'm sure your mother will forgive you, Joe." Fenton chuckled. "You could always put them in the back of the lazy susan and play dumb."
"Think that'll work?"
"Didn't when I tried it year before last."
Joe pondered that. "Ok, then. I'm going with Frank did it."
"Be nice to your brother."
"Hey, I am! I got the phone like he told me to, didn't I?" Joe managed to sound appropriately indignant.
"Are you implying that talking to me is an imposition, Joseph?"
"Ah, no, see... I, uh... my hands are every bit as full as his and... umm..." Joe stammered as he backtracked, finally bailed out by the ring of his father's laughter.
"It's ok, I heard you when you grabbed the phone. Anyway, I called Laura this morning and she'll be home around six. Make sure you pick her up at the airport; she's on Trans-American flight 4462."
"We will Dad. See you when you get here."
"See you tonight, Joe."
"Bye Dad."
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"It doesn't have to be perfect, Beth." Benjamin McCullough pulled his wife to his chest, stilling the slim fingers that restlessly skirted over everything on the table. He kissed her forehead, waiting until he felt the tension seep from her shoulders.
"I know." The tiny brunette looked up at him with nearly jet eyes, her deep chocolate locks pulled into a sleek ponytail while she worked. It made her look younger than her thirty eight years. "I just want them to enjoy it here."
"They'll have fun whether the flowers in the centerpiece are perfect or not." Benjamin kissed her again, then led her from the dining room. He perched on the arm of the overstuffed sofa in the living room, hoping she'd sit as well. A sad smile graced his face when she didn't. "It will be fine, honey."
"It's our first chance, though. I want the children to be happy, and I also want Mr. Alston to be happy." She dropped her chin, staring at the perfect chestnut pleats of her skirt. "That sounds awful, doesn't it? As long as the children have a good time, I shouldn't be thinking about anything else."
"It's not awful to want some happiness for yourself, Beth." Benjamin sighed at the wistful expression on her face. He was blessed with a beautiful wife, a fine home, and a career that was both lucrative and enjoyable. While not precisely rich, he'd always provided Beth with everything she really wanted, until a few years ago. Since then, it had become increasingly clear that the one thing Beth truly desired wasn't a thing at all. She desperately wanted a child, and if he was honest with himself, so did he; but no amount of wanting, or hoping, or praying had filled the nursery at the end of the hall.
Beth slid into her husband's lap, dropping her head to his shoulder. "Maybe not."
The phone rang, interrupting her doubts. She glanced at the caller ID before handing the phone to her husband. Somehow she didn't feel like speaking with the county's adoption coordinator right now.
"Mr. Alston, hello." Benjamin's greeting was cordial, although he was hoping Beth wasn't about to be disappointed. While they were likely a year away from adopting an infant of their own, they'd agreed on two girls living in the Montgomery Home for Children spending Thanksgiving with them. Todd Alston wanted every child in the county's care to spend the holiday break in a real home, and he had recruited every prospective adoptive parent to bring that hope to fruition.
"No, a third child wouldn't be a problem." Ben raised an inquiring eyebrow at Beth, who quickly nodded. "Yes, that's fine... How much younger?... No, I don't see any trouble with that... You remember that we're going to a cabin for the weekend, right?... We could stay here... Oh, that's good then... We'll see Mary in a half-hour... Alright... Goodbye."
Beth smiled broadly, the momentary apprehension that something had fallen through gone. "I take it we're having another guest?"
"Yes. The girls we were expecting are going to go to another family that couldn't accommodate three kids. Todd is sending us three children that were in foster care until yesterday. Apparently something went wrong and they ended up back at the county home."
"Something like what?" Beth wondered who would turn kids out the day before a holiday, but any number of circumstances could have arisen, she supposed. She ran through the one sided conversation again in her head, realizing the cabin wasn't stocked for an infant. "And how much younger?"
Ben chuckled, having had the same thought. "All he said was that foster parents had a medical issue of some sort and the youngest one is four. No need to run out for diapers."
"Well, that should work out fine, then." Beth was halfway back to the kitchen, packing another snack bag for the hour's drive to her parent's woodland cabin, not that snacking right after Thanksgiving dinner was terribly likely. By the time the doorbell rang twenty-five minutes later, she'd readjusted everything on the table seven times. Possibly eight.
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"Frank?... Frank?... Frank!?" Joe shouted up the stairs, struggling to make himself heard over the football game on TV. "Frank?! Can you hear me?!"
A brunette head peered over the railing from the upper hallway. "Be darned hard not to, Joe. What are you bellowing about?"
"I'm not bellowing."
"You are."
"Not my fault that you're old and deaf so I have to shout. Anyway, I asked if you saw that last catch. This game was ninety nine percent over, and now Virginia Tech's right back in it. That was an awesome throw!" Joe grinned as he mimicked a perfect spiral toss, the prospects for his current favorite team looking up.
Frank faked a bewildered frown. "You do know that having a cousin that goes there doesn't obligate you to root for a team that calls itself the Hokies, right? What the heck is a Hokie, anyhow?"
"It's a gobbler, as you well know from the last thirty seven times you asked me that. What exactly is your problem with the Hokies?" Joe knew he was being goaded on purpose, but didn't care.
"I don't have a problem." Frank smirked, coming about halfway down the steps. "Just saying, Thanksgiving weekend may not be the best time to declare yourself a giant turkey..."
Joe responded to the jibe in the mature fashion known to teenage boys everywhere. He stuck his tongue out as far as he could while lobbing a sofa cushion at his brother.
Frank caught it one handed and launched it back over the stair railing with a laugh before darting back up the steps.
"Hey! I thought you were going to come down and watch the game." Joe gestured vaguely at the still blaring TV.
"I will in a bit. I'm just going to finish off proof reading this essay so I don't have to think about it the whole school break." Frank called over his shoulder as he retreated back to his bedroom. He glanced at the photo frames on the wall over the banister, convinced they were vibrating with the sound waves. "Besides, it's not like I can't listen to it from here. Blasting it will not make it seem like you're actually there, you know, and I'm not sure we have earthquake insurance."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." Joe retrieved the cushion and tucked it under his arm, pondering how much of the haul from the grocery store he could eat before anyone noticed. A couple of apples, two touchdowns, a field goal, and a bowl of ice cream later, his attention was once more completely riveted to the television.
"Frank! You have got to come down here!" Joe's call followed a dramatic groan. "UVA got a safety. Who the heck gets a safety!? They're killing me down here... Frank!? Are you coming?"
"Yeah, I just need a few more minutes. The fifth paragraph of this still reads like slop..." Frank's voice trailed off as his focus shifted back to comparing and contrasting the thought of Rousseau and Locke.
"You said that an hour ago! Quit being a geek and come watch the game." Somehow geek came across as affectionate.
"I'll get done faster without interruptions, and I want to be able to watch all the important games tomorrow. The ones that don't involve giant turkeys." Frank's tone was primarily amused, but a faint hint of exasperation was sneaking in. It wasn't like he wanted to work on an essay. Unlike Joe, he simply didn't think the best time to start his over-the-school-break assignments was Sunday night at ten p.m.
"Fine, be that way." Joe wandered back through the kitchen, commandeering a few ginger snaps. "It's a really good game though."
Half time ended and the third quarter was well underway when another yell went up the stairs.
"Frank! FRANK! Get down here!"
Frank scraped his chair backward over the hardwood floor of his room and headed for the stair railing again, his patience worn thin. "For goodness sake, Joe, I said I would be down as soon as I finished this! Now leave me alone and-" He never completed the thought.
"NO! FRANK! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"
Frank darted down the stairs, only to freeze at the bottom. Joe stood chalk white in front of the television, the game gone, replaced by the drone of a news anchor.
"Trans-American Flight 4462 has crashed on takeoff at Chicago's O'Hare airport. One hundred and twenty four passengers and crew were aboard..."
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To be continued...
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So, let me know what you think... unless you're not a Hokie fan, of course, in which case I don't need to know that part!