Author's Note: The Hardy Boys are not owned by me but are owned by the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon and Schuster. Thanks for letting me borrow them for a few stories! Uncle James is mine but the rest are theirs.

The Most Wonderful Thing

EPILOGUE

The weather cleared that night and Christmas Day in stark contrast was calm, peaceful – and freezing. The clearing weather allowed the temperatures to plummet to below zero but the Hardy family packed up presents, bags for each of them and a bag for Frank and got on the road in Fenton Hardy's sedan to make the trek to Harford Memorial Hospital in the town closest to where Frank crashed - Havre De Grace, Maryland.

James kept his gaze out the window, listening to Joe's nervous conversation until the younger man put on a set of headphones and turned on one of those new fangled music players – an m3 player or some such thing. James missed the days of cassettes and record players, even with the convenience of the new devices.

The last phone call from Lieutenant Travis told them that Frank was in serious but stable condition at the Harford Memorial Hospital; he suffered from a couple of broken ribs, a broken leg and a mild concussion but, after they reinflated a collapsed lung, he stabilized. Right now they worried slightly more about exposure and the near hypothermic state in which the doctors received their patient.

The going, despite most of the main roads having been hit with a snowplow, went slow. Fenton kept to just under the speed limit and in places slowed down even more, intent on making it to Maryland in one piece. James found himself with little else to do besides think – and remember.

March 19, 1945

"Hardy, I need to see you in my office for a minute." James looked up at the general who worked at their base of operations and stood to attention, popping off an immediate salute to the older, gray-haired man who worked so closely with his squad.

"Yes, sir!" James agreed as he followed the general into the room connected to the single building in their advanced area and he stayed at attention in the office until the general motioned to a chair.

"Have a seat, son," the general ordered and James felt his heart rise to his throat as he thought of the times any of his mates came into this office and heard those fateful words. It never heralded good news, nor did that look of compassion in the general's eyes.

"I'm afraid we've received word from Stateside, Corporal," the general said in a measured tone. "There was an accident at home."

An accident at home. An accident at home. An accident at home. The words echoed through James' mind.

"My… my mother or father?" he asked, because somehow he thought he might be able to bear news about them but not, as he dreaded, about his Lou, his beautiful, beloved, wonderful Lou.

"No, James," the general used his first name for the first time in James' memory – not that he spoke often to the general. "I'm afraid it involves your wife, Mrs. Louisa Hardy."

Someone obviously just punched James in the stomach because he folded in on himself, unable to sit upright in the chair.

"She was hit by a car on her way home from work," the general continued in those same even tones, even as James' heart ripped asunder. "I'm afraid she didn't make it, son."

"No!" James protested as he sprang to his feet. "No, please…no…"

He knew it was the truth but he thought, if just maybe he denied it, he might be able to force the general to take those dreaded words back. Not my Lou, he thought viciously. Not my Lou!

"I'm so sorry, son." The general stood and came back around his desk. He put a hand on James' shoulder – and caught the young man as he fell, almost missing the chair from which he sprang earlier. "I'm so sorry. You've been granted benevolence leave. There's a transport that flies out tomorrow morning, I've already given orders they're to fly you to London and then stateside. You'll land at Fort McPherson and be given a lift home."

James heard very little else for the next three days that it took him to finally get home. He heard nothing his squad mates tried to tell him as he left.

When he was let out at his parents-in-law's house his parents met him and he fell into his mother's arms, sobbing. His mother sobbed as well, offering little in the way of solace as she led James into the Amesburys' home. Both Irvin and Elaine sat on a sofa near the fire, looking lost until Irvin looked up at James. Quickly, Lou's father sprang to his feet and reached for James, pulling him close.

"You're home safely." Tears spread down Irvin's cheeks again. "I'm so sorry you weren't here at the last, James. She…she had last words, before she died. She told me to tell you to remember – remember what she told you when you left for training – and every time you left since then."

James reached into his pocket – the lock of hair was still there, the ribbon frayed, the hair dirtier than when he received it, but he clenched it tightly in a fist.

"She said I'm never alone," he whispered. "Never alone. She'll always be with me…but, oh, God, it hurts…"

It still hurt. So very many years later – and it still hurt. In the rest of his tour of duty with the army, in his schooling, his many travels – no one ever matched Lou's beauty or fire in his mind. He saw things he knew she would want to see, trying to live a life for both of them.

Frank looked a mess when they were allowed, two at a time, into his room in the intensive care unit at the hospital. Two machines were connected to him and two other IVs but Frank looked peaceful and calm – and deeply asleep when James was allowed to look in at him shortly after arrival.

He looked handsome, his hair the same color as Fenton's – or Lou's. He walked quietly over to the young man and gently touched Frank's hair. It felt as Lou's did, that cold winter day so long ago when they said their first goodbyes.

James reached into his pocket and pulled out the frazzled lock of hair he always carried, even to this day, and he kissed it once and looked up at the sky.

"Thank you, Lord," he said again softly. "Thank you for bringing him through safely. And thank you, Father, for her. Always for Lou, my Lou, the greatest gift a man ever had…"

*endofstory*

Thanks so much for reading and for reviewing! I hope you enjoyed it.

Now on a not so fun note: I'm not going to get into a discussion about non-story related things via reviews. If you want to talk to me about something not related to the story, man-up and make an account OR contact me via the HDA mailbox. The whole not wanting to enter your birthdate thing is so much sophistry. I've already given people encouragement to post their stories here. Hopefully they will all do so.