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The First Noel
Chapter 4
Two unhappy-looking faces greeted Fenton when he opened the door and went into the room the little boys were sharing. Joe was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest while Frank was standing by the door.
"Is everything okay?" the detective asked, moving into the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
"Who was that man?" Frank asked immediately, surprising his father by his abruptness. The children were obviously agitated and Fenton's heart rate picked up a bit – maybe Joe had recognized the stranger…
Ignoring Frank's question for the moment, the sleuth addressed the younger child: "Do you know him, Joey?"
The blond head shook slightly as the child bit his lip, anxiously.
"Are you sure you've never seen him around before?" Fenton pressed, wishing he could read the child a bit better. Was he being evasive or did he genuinely not recognize Joe Rigado?
"Yes sir," Joe answered quietly and then added, "but Poppy didn't seem to like him very much."
"And Poppy was all grumpy around the man," Frank put in, sitting down on the bed next to his brother and glaring at his father – obviously displeased not to have been answered. He repeated, "Who is he?"
"I don't know really," Fenton finally answered, "but your grandfather and I intend to find out." He looked intently at each child. He didn't want to say anything about Rigado's claim until he knew for sure whether or not it was true. No use getting everyone upset if the guy was lying. "In the meantime, if you see that man anywhere, you come tell me or Poppy right away. You don't go near him – no matter what he says, got it?" He knew that his father was saying the same basic thing to the women, admonishing them not to deal with the man themselves and to keep the children close. Neither man was naive or stupid – they knew there was a very good chance Mr. Rigado would be back.
"But—" Frank started.
Fenton cut him off: "No buts, Frankie." He touched the little boy's cheek and looked intently into the dark brown eyes, watching the flicker of defiance melting at the touch. "I don't want anything to happen to you or your brother. Is that understood?"
"Is he a b-bad man?" Joe's voice quivered slightly on the word 'bad' and Fenton knelt on the floor between the boys and reached out to brush a lock of golden hair out of the bright blue eyes, relieved when the child didn't flinch.
"I don't know yet," the detective admitted, although deep down in his gut, his instincts were screaming 'yes'. However if Rigado did turn out to be Joe's natural father, Fenton did not want to be badmouthing him in front of the child. "But we need to be careful. He is a stranger and you know you don't ever talk to or go with strangers, don't you?" He held Joe's gaze as he spoke, knowing Frank knew about strangers but not so sure about the younger boy – had anyone ever given him that talk?
After a moment Joe nodded his head. Satisfied, Fenton stood up. "So we're good on this, then? You boys will stay close to the house and get a grownup if you see that man anywhere?"
"We will, Daddy," Frank promised, his young face solemn, having taken to heart his father's warning. He glanced at his brother, "And we'll stick together too!"
"Like glue," Joe added, a slight smile replacing the anxiousness of moments before.
"Good," the detective nodded, "now why don't you come downstairs? It's a beautiful afternoon and I bet there's a snowman somewhere outside just begging to be built!"
Two pairs of eyes lit up, as did Fenton's heart. He added, "And if you'll let me, I'd love to help you make it."
He need not have asked and within minutes, Frank and Joe were getting bundled up in their new snow gear and babbling excitedly to the adults about how they were going to build the 'bestest snowman ever'.
"Best," Laura corrected, rolling her eyes and laughing as her husband defended the children's awful grammar.
"Bestest is a brand name, darling," he assured her as he escorted two boys and one excited Golden Retriever out into the white winter land, where they spent almost two hours constructing their 'snow person,' until finally Agnes called them back in for hot chocolate…and cookies.
------
Joe Rigado sat in the small diner and chain-smoked his way through two cups of coffee. In the back of his mind a plan was forming and he smiled to himself, stunned that he hadn't thought of it before.
He was just getting up to leave when he saw a distinguished-looking gray-haired man in his mid forties come into the diner and talk to one of the waitresses for a moment. Turning to leave, their eyes met, and the man stared at him in shock before hurrying forward, his hand extended in greeting.
"JR!" the man said, "I'm surprised to see you here. Merry Christmas, old friend."
"Merry Christmas yourself, Cecil," Rigado greeted, as he cursed his luck about this turn of events. After shaking hands, he indicated toward one of the empty chairs at the table – a wordless invitation for the older man to join him. "I thought you were staying in the city for the holidays."
"No, not this year," Cecil said, sitting down, "Gertie's been wanting me to meet her family for some time now, so I thought I would surprise her and just show up. Besides, she speaks of them so frequently, I just have to finally meet them. And you? I thought you were going to Stanton Island to visit your sister?"
"I did," the man lied, "and then drove her down here so we could spend the New Year's with a cousin of ours. Small world," he added.
"Very much so," Cecil admitted agreeably and then started to stand up again, "Anyway JR, I can't stay – though I'd love it. I just stopped in to get some directions to her parents' place; I'm staying at the Wander Inn, room 204; look me up before you take off and we'll have a drink or something together."
"Will do," Rigado said, also standing up.
"I'll bring Gertrude," Cecil added before leaving. "You two haven't met yet but I know you'll get along just famously."
"I'm sure we will," the younger man said, walking his friend to the door. "You've certainly told me enough about her!" Without further ado, Cecil bid him good-bye and then hurried back outside.
After paying his bill, Joe Rigado left as well. He needed to buy rope. Thin rope. After all, if his plan was going to work he'd need something a small child could not get out of…handcuffs would just not do.
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"It sure is a terrific snowman," Joe said to Frank as the children left the kitchen, bellies contentedly warm again from their grandmother's treat. The adults were still chattering away about things that didn't interest little boys, so they had gone into the living room.
"Yeah, the bestest ever," Frank agreed and then they both laughed and corrected, "best ever."
"Come on," Joe started to walk towards the front door, "I want to see him again." With Sam at their heels, the two children quickly made their way to the door, opened it up and peered out into the darkening late afternoon. The snowman looked magnificent and the blond boy inadvertently stepped out onto the porch in his excitement to see it. But as his stocking feet hit a patch of ice a hand grabbed his arm.
Staring up into the face of a stranger, the little boy let out a terrified scream!
"Whoa, little one!" the stranger said, quickly releasing the child as the dog growled and started to bark, putting himself between the man and the child. Almost instantly two other men were right there, shielding the children; it wasn't hard to see the family resemblance between them. Both had dark hair and dark eyes, like the older boy.
"Joey, are you okay?" Fenton demanded, without turning around, as he sized up the newcomer; his face hardened and his breathing was a bit heavy after the sprint he'd just done from the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," the man apologized before the child could answer. His face paled and he stammered – obviously unnerved by Joe's reaction. "I – I didn't mean to scare him. He—"
"Cecil? Cecil Mouland?" Gertrude called out as she saw the man at the door. She moved by her mother and sister-in-law to get to the door, as a badly shaken Joe fled to Laura for comfort, Frank right behind him. "What in heaven's name are you doing here?"
"You know this man?" Fenton was confused and glanced at his father. The senior Hardy shrugged his shoulders, having no more idea than his son, as Sam stood beside them, growling softly in warning. A mere shake of Francis's head and the dog quieted.
"Of course I do," the woman scoffed as she pushed past her brother. "This is my male friend Cecil."
"I was planning to surprise you," the man replied, his face twisted in regret as he looked at the upset little boy. "I was just getting ready to knock on the door when it opened…I didn't mean to scare the child—" he repeated, "but I don't think he saw me standing there…"
"Why'd you grab him then?" Frank's voice interrupted. He was standing next to his mother and brother, his dark eyes narrowed in anger and suspicion; his hands on his hips…a picture of six-year-old formidability.
"I didn't want him to fall," Cecil defended as he glanced back towards the landing behind him, "the footing is a bit slippery and he's nothing on his feet but socks."
"Okay," Agnes said, having heard enough to figure out what had actually happened…an unfortunate misunderstanding. Taking charge of the situation she instructed briskly, "Laura, take Joey and Frankie into the kitchen. A warm glass of milk and one more cookie should help remedy the problem without ruining their bellies for supper."
As her daughter-in-law ushered the children out of the room, the older woman continued; her tone brooked no nonsense: "The rest of you come into the living room and close that door. I'm not paying to heat the whole state. Gertrude, don't be rude, take your guest's hat and coat – I'll get some fresh coffee and we can properly greet Mr. Mouland." She glanced once more at her husband and added, "And for pity's sake, Francis, let that dog outside before he soils the flooring!"
Gertrude flashed her mother an appreciative look as the older woman hurried out of the living room.
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"Cecil?" Fenton whispered to father, as he stood by the door and waited with the older man for Sam to finish his business and come back inside. "Who's Cecil?"
"I dunno," the ex-cop whispered back, glancing over his shoulder at his daughter, who was fussing over this 'Cecil' character, "I was hoping you could tell me."
"A male friend?" Fenton raised his eyebrows suggestively – using Gertrude's words – and his father frowned at him.
"Mind out of the gutter, son. Your sister's not like that." he chastised.
"Oh, and why not?" Fenton asked, arching his eyebrow and barely keeping from grinning at his father's horrified look.
"Because she's my baby girl and I say so, that's why." Francis snapped softly. "This conversation is over…right now."
Fenton stifled a snicker at his father's indignation and pressed – he loved goading the old man, as it was an opportunity so seldom afforded him. "So you think Mom knows who Cecil is?"
"Undoubtedly," Francis assured him as Sam came charging back into the house, shook himself and then hurried into the kitchen to find the children.
"What makes you so sure she does?" the young detective challenged, his dark brown eyes sparking in the dim light of the doorway.
"Because," now it was the older Hardy's turn to smirk, "your mother knows everything."
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"Are you okay?" Laura asked the boys after she got them settled at the table with two glasses of milk.
Frank looked at Joe who just shrugged and took a small sip of the hastily-warmed milk. "We are," he answered for them both and then scowled, "but he shouldn't have grabbed Joey."
"Would you have rather your brother slipped and maybe hurt himself?" Agnes's voice came from behind them, much softer than was usual for her. She had come into the kitchen in time to hear her grandson's admonition.
Frank frowned and the older woman continued as she moved towards the cookie jar and liberated two large, round chocolate chip treats. She offered one to each child. "The entranceway was slippery and with socks on, Joey would have fallen if Mr. Mouland hadn't 'grabbed' him – as you say." She smiled softly at Joe and then crouched down at the table next to them, speaking to Frank, "Your brother might have gotten hurt. You wouldn't have wanted that would you?"
"No!" Frank immediately answered, his eyes as large as saucers at the mere prospect of that happening.
"Well then, I think Mr. Mouland did the right thing, don't you?" she asked the children pointedly and then waited for an answer.
"Well," Frank looked at Joe again and then sighed, "when you say it like that—"
"When your Nanny says it like that—" Laura said as she sat down at the table across from her sons, "I think we owe him a thank you for keeping Joey safe and an apology for our hostility."
"It's just so tricky—" Joe sighed, speaking for the first time since the incident, "this stranger thing…."
"Yeah, it is!" Frank jumped in. The two women exchanged amused glances, surprised by the previously unseen protective streak in the older boy. "How are we supposed to know when a stranger is a good stranger or a bad stranger? We gotta thank this one – and 'pologize? How are we supposed to know?"
"I'm not saying that how Joey reacted was wrong," Laura clarified immediately, seeing the children's dilemma. "What he did was right – someone he didn't know grabbed him so he yelled for help—"
"Screamed like a baby," the five-year-old grumbled, his face flushing in obvious embarrassment. His mother smiled gently and reached across the table to grasp his cold hand.
"You did the right thing," she assured him and then continued. "It is very hard to tell whether or not someone is nice when you don't know them, but that is what Mommy, Daddy, Poppy, Nanny and Auntie Gertrude are for. We'll let you know if the stranger is a good stranger or a bad stranger and how you should act around them." She saw the children's faces fill with understanding.
"In this case the man didn't mean to scare you," Agnes added, "but the next time, it could be a bad man." She looked from one boy to the next. "So if this kind of thing ever happens again, I want you to do the same thing. Okay?"
"Okay," the boys chorused as their grandmother stood.
"Good," she said, and then moved towards the coffee pot and started putting mugs on the large serving tray. Laura moved away from the table to stand beside her.
"Gertrude's 'male friend'?" the young blond woman commented quietly to her mother-in-law, surprised when she saw a sad smile grace the older woman's face as she stopped what she was doing and nodded.
"Yeah," Agnes admitted. "He's been courting Gertie for about three years now."
"We've never heard of him before," Laura said, masking her surprise that Fenton's sister had had a boyfriend for so long and it had been kept a secret.
"No, you wouldn't have known," Agnes said and then sighed, "and neither did Francis. That's the way Gertrude wanted it…"
"Oh." Laura had no idea what else to say. Her mind was flooded with questions but she didn't feel it was her place to ask them.
Agnes suddenly looked very tired and old as she sagged against the counter and let out a heavy sigh. Her eyes roamed over the children as she spoke. They were talking quietly between themselves and not paying any attention to what the woman were saying. "Laura, have you ever wondered why Gertrude never seemed to be interested in boys? Why she never married and had children?"
"I just thought she hadn't met Mr. Right yet, to be honest," Laura admitted. Although Gertrude wasn't what anyone would call beautiful, in the traditional sense, she wasn't homely either, so the younger woman had just thought it was a case of being unlucky in love.
"Well, that might have something to do with it," Agnes conceded. She paused and for a moment Laura thought she wasn't going to say anything else. But then she did. "Gertrude hasn't wanted to get involved with anyone – she feels she can't offer a man the proper chance at a loving family so she's shut herself off in self-imposed spinsterhood, instead of taking the risk of falling in love, only to be rejected in the end." The old woman snorted softly, "Until Cecil Mouland came along, that was."
"I don't think I understand," the young mother admitted and she didn't, but as Agnes continued, a horrific comprehension filled Laura…and a new understanding of her sister-in-law seared her heart.
"When Gertrude was a young girl, she was badly injured in an accident," Agnes paused and then finally admitted the secret truth about her daughter: "Laura, because of that accident, Gertie can never have children. She has no womb."
TBC