Written: March 2008
Disclaimer: I think the ball is in Simon & Schuster's court now...
Author's note: The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew are timeless, right? I figured they could fit into any time period after their debut in 1927.
Dedication: To John Knowles, for making this so amazing to write about.
Take Hold Of
By Pedal
Frank squeezed Nancy's shoulder briefly but tightly as he led her into the dark house. "Home sweet home," he murmured wearily, giving Nancy a tired smile. The Hardys' parents and their aunt Gertrude were presumably all asleep in bed, forcing the three young sleuths to remain as quiet as possible.
"Thank goodness we're done!" sighed Nancy as she collapsed into an overstuffed chair. It was so relaxing that she was tempted to drop off right there. Frank's younger brother Joe entered behind them, not bothering with the lamps since the moon already flooded the sitting room with a blue, almost shimmering light.
Joe joked as he took the sofa, "Don't get too comfortable, Nancy. You don't want to fall asleep in here."
"But it's so beautiful," she said dreamily, wrapped in the blue moonlight. Joe chuckled and reached over to nudge her knee.
"Stay awake a little longer with us. After all, there's no school to be up early for tomorrow," said Joe. Nancy and Frank had just graduated high school (Joe would be a senior next year), which was the main reason Nancy had come to visit. But a tangle of a mystery, to their excitement, had immediately manifested.
Nancy flashed a grin. "It feels so good to have it all over with, but I'm still too wound up from everything to sleep."
"That was a tough case, wasn't it?" Frank called softly from the foyer. He entered the sitting room flipping through a half dozen pieces of mail. Nancy admired the way his dark hair looked bluish black in the moonlight.
"I'm just glad Doctor Levinski didn't turn out to be a spy after all," she said, leaning forward.
Joe started in his seat, earning a giggle from Nancy. "I'm not!" he said, "Think of how exciting that would have been, to be chasing spies!"
Frank perched himself comfortably on the fat arm of Nancy's chair. He tossed the mail onto the radio for later, and reached down to fiddle with the dials. "I personally feel better knowing there are no spies in America," he said simply just before finding a live station.
Deep in argument, Joe spoke rapidly, "First of all, you don't know there aren't spies here. Second, we could have been the backing to a great and historic Allied success!"
"We'd have been in much more danger, and it would have taken ages to solve the case," said Nancy levelly.
"Not to mention all the times we would have been wrestled away from our course and progress," added Frank, and took the opportunity of their attention to turn up the volume on the radio gingerly. The three teenagers fell silent to hear the quiet broadcast.
Roosevelt's voice came through bright and clear. He was just finishing up an address when a newscaster cut him off. "That was President Roosevelt earlier today at a brief, informal address at the White House," he continued on for several minutes while the teens went on restively listening. The reporter went over the day's news, including the Allied forces bombing Central Europe for the first time. Frank turned it off when Joe yawned loudly.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, rubbing an eye. Frank only smiled and reached again for the mail. "I suppose we should start to get ready for bed, right?" Joe rose and stretched exaggeratedly.
"Frank told me you don't wear pajamas, Joe. It sounds like you won't need much getting ready for anything," teased Nancy.
"Of course I don't. Pajamas are unmilitary, didn't you know?" He rounded playfully on his brother, who was busy jamming a finger under the flap of an off-white envelope with typeset addresses. "Now what in the world made you tell Nancy about my bedtime habits?"
When Frank offered no answer, Joe peered down at his brother, squinting at his letter trough the dim light. He couldn't read it. Nancy had gotten up as well. "What is it, Frank?" prompted Joe.
With a clearer view in the moonlight, she gasped. "He's to report to an Induction Center in six days." Her tone fell dead center. Frank's blank face gazed up at them for a fleeting second before falling into his hands. Nancy's head spun, and her frantic heart had leapt up into her throat.
Frank rasped, unable to form words. Joe had paled and finally Frank spoke, "It's not that I don't want to serve. I've been excited to ever since I realized what good we're doing, but."
"I don't want you to go. Especially without me," mumbled Joe, and it was difficult to tell if he had started to cry or not. Frank stood and let Joe hug him.
Nancy stood alone, feeling suddenly frozen and yet unstable. She strained against every fiber of her being as they desperately tried to propel her towards Frank and hug him as well. Her wobbly common sense smothered the desire, forcing it back into a dusty corner of her mind. "Goodnight, Frank and Joe," she said weakly, and left the brothers for her guest room.
As she climbed the plush, quiet stairs and washed up for the night, Nancy remained transfixed on nothing. It didn't feel real; everything was so peaceful here. The newspapers and radio broadcasts could be feeding them fiction, for all she knew.
The bombs and fire were only from a fairy-tale, where places had beautiful names with too many consonants. Nazis were make-believe demons, and Roosevelt was Santa Claus himself. Only the Japanese were ever real, for one remarkable day that shocked them all.
Frank's draft was even harder to swallow than that, thought Nancy as she unfastened her garters and pulled off her long stockings. Her permanent-waved strawberry hair tumbled over her shoulders upon removing its plaid ribbon. She had never gotten the chance nor the courage to tell Frank how she felt about him. She had her sweetheart, thousands of miles away, but facing the situation, Nancy could no longer deny herself. How could she let Frank leave them without at least knowing that?
A soft knock on her door jarred her. "I'm coming," Nancy whispered.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be coming to your room like this," Frank said, eyes still glassy and distant. The hollowness and concern in his voice contradicted one another. "I should wait to talk to you tomorrow." After a pause, he added again, "I'm sorry."
"I'm taking the train back first thing tomorrow morning, Frank. We won't have any chances to talk before then. I mean, if you wanted to talk alone," Nancy blurted, suddenly having too many things to say. She peeked over Frank's shoulder and saw Joe slowly closing the door to his and Frank's bedroom. The younger Hardy flashed a grin, which confused her even further. She was too exhausted for any of this, she decided, and had begun seeing foolish things. "You should get to bed," Nancy admonished Frank, but it felt more like scolding herself.
"No," Frank began abruptly, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "I know you have Ned, but he's in Italy, and soon I'll be gone too. I may even get killed," he said firmly, and the lack of fear in his voice disturbed Nancy. Then she saw how badly his hands were shaking.
"Oh Frank," she started, tears welling in her eyes. He put up a hand to stop her from saying anything more.
"I just wanted to let you know before I go, before it's too late..." He took a deep breath, and Nancy almost expected him to cry out in pain with it. Instead, a nearly silent and strained voice came, "I wanted to let you know that I'm in love with you."
"Frank," she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck. Her voice was broken and yet musical. "Frank, I love you. I love you."
He gave Nancy a slow but innocent and trembling kiss before he pulled her to him. They held one another as if only in the eye of the storm.
They remained intertwined for several minutes, crying themselves calm. Even when they pulled back, neither could stand one second not touching. Nancy's hand remained on the back of Frank's neck as she steered him into her room before shutting the door behind them.