J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! So, here we are at the final regular chapter. This is largely resolution to the more character-driven parts of the story. I've got to admit, it was a little hard to write, both because it's basically the end and because it was tough to decide what to include and what not to. There were a lot more conversations that could have happened, but at five thousand words already, I figured I'd better pare it down a little. There will several be questions concerning the mystery left over, which will be covered in the epilogue. Sort of. As you know, this is a series, so there will be some things that will remain a mystery into the next book. Because this chapter turned out so long, and the epilogue isn't quite as short as I was thinking it would be, I will actually hold off on posting the epilogue until Friday. Thank you to everyone who wrote reviews since I posted the previous chapter: Candylou, ErinJordan, max2013, angelicalkiss, BMSH, drogorath, and Bkworm4life4! As always, I appreciate all your reviews. Until Friday, enjoy!
Chapter XXIII
Resolution
Joe slept in late the next morning. His parents had already agreed to call the school about it, and the school was very understanding of the fact, in view of everything. Frank, too, had received permission to stay home from school that day, but he didn't use the time to sleep. He woke up just as early as usual and went down to sit at the table on the front porch and think for a while before breakfast. Fenton had already gone back down to police headquarters to continue working on the aftermath of the capture, while Laura and Gertrude seemed to have the same idea as Joe about using the opportunity to catch up on some sleep.
There was a lot to process from the past week, and Frank wasn't quite sure where to start. There were also several things he wanted to find out about before he was quite willing to call this case a wrap. He took out a notebook and pencil and started making a list of those things. The first thing he wrote down was to find out how much Lisa knew about Black Rose and School of Thought and whether she would be a little more willing to help now that Rudger had provided indisputable proof that the two organizations were one and the same. Also, he needed to ask Lisa to tell him what else was supposed to be in that jewelry box.
He hadn't gotten any further on the list before he saw Mario coming across the lawn. He waved to him and called, "Good morning! Aren't you up a little early after the late night we all put in?"
Mario yawned in response. "Maybe, yeah. I didn't sleep too well last night, to be honest. I don't think my brain has gotten with the program that there's nothing to worry about anymore."
Frank tapped the pencil against the table. "You sure about that?"
"Well, Evangeline's captured and from the looks of things, Black Rose really isn't interested in me at all, so I don't see how there's any danger left."
"Yeah, I guess so. Did you call your uncle and sister yet to tell them the good news?"
Mario smiled and nodded. "Yeah. They're already asking when I'm coming home. I told them I didn't know. I'm sure all of you would like to get me out of your hair as soon as possible, but the police probably need me to give a bunch of statements and who knows what else."
"Probably. As for getting out of our hair, I don't think there's any rush. We might even miss having you around."
"Hope so. I'd hate to think I was a pest this whole time." Mario yawned again, but then a more serious expression crossed his face. "I just wish it would have turned out better."
Frank's mind instantly flashed to Iola. They hadn't had any news about her since the previous evening, when they had heard that she was in stable condition. He'd thought about texting Chet, but he wasn't sure if Chet would appreciate that or not. His phone was probably already inundated with texts inquiring about his sister. "Yeah," Frank agreed.
"You think it was that Rudger guy who did it?" Mario asked.
"I think so," Frank said. "The only thing I don't get is why."
Mario shrugged. "These people don't seem like they mess around. If they thought you and Joe were getting too close and saw a chance to get Joe out of the investigation permanently…"
"I don't think it was that." Frank dropped the pencil on the table as he looked up suddenly. "That's what hasn't been working about this. If they were after Joe, he and Iola were far enough apart that they couldn't have missed Joe and hit Iola by mistake. They had to have been after Iola."
Mario furrowed his brow. "I don't get that. I mean, I haven't known any of you guys very long, but it seems to me that the whole detective thing is way more your and Joe's thing than Iola's."
"It is. All our friends help on case, but Joe and I always take the lead." Frank thought for a moment. "But Iola had to have been the target. Why? And there's another thing. If you're trying to take an investigator off a case, you don't lob a grenade at them. It's too big and too messy. You'd only use a grenade if you're trying to make a statement."
"Then maybe they were just trying to scare you off the case."
"Maybe." Frank rubbed his chin. Unless Rudger suddenly became a lot more talkative, they'd just have to assume that that was what it had been about. Still, why Iola? Had she just been a random choice and they would have picked on any of the Hardys' friends, or was there a reason she was the target?
He shook his head and stood up. "You know what? I think I'm going to get some breakfast. How about you?"
"Sure thing," Mario agreed.
Neither felt the inclination to cook anything, so Frank pulled out some cold cereal and milk and each poured himself a bowl. Frank was just sitting down to his when the front door was flung open and he heard someone enter. For a moment, he tensed, wondering whether Black Rose had sent someone to finish the job from last night, but then the person appeared in the door of the kitchen. It was only Jones.
"Frank! I just heard what happened! Are you all right?" she burst out.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Frank told her. "How did you find out?"
"I've been trying to call Iola since yesterday afternoon," Jones explained. "Obviously, she didn't answer, so I called Chet this morning." She shook her head. "I can't believe it."
"You talked to Chet?" Frank repeated. "Did he say how Iola's doing?"
"He said she's still stable and the doctor says she isn't any danger. He doesn't think there's any chance that she'll even get any feeling back in her legs."
Frank sighed and shook his head. He really didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to have something like that happen.
"Did he say how she is emotionally?" Mario asked.
"Not really," Jones said. "I don't know Iola well enough to know how she'd take something like this. But the doctor did say that he thinks she could handle some visitors today. Not like all her friends coming in to see her at once, but he thought maybe one or two might be a good thing later this afternoon. In the meantime, I thought I'd go over to the Mortons' place. Chet's parents sent him home since all they're doing is waiting around anyway. Apparently some relatives are there, but sometimes you need other company besides relatives."
"Yeah, probably a good idea," Frank agreed. "I'll go with you if you don't mind. See you later, Mario."
"You might as well finish breakfast," Jones told him with a grin. "It's not a big rush."
"Oh, yeah, right." Frank looked back at his cereal which he had nearly forgotten about.
Mario picked up his own bowl. "I think I'll go eat out on the porch."
As soon as he had left, Jones sat down. She looked at Frank for a minute or two, trying to decide what he was thinking. "You sure you're okay?" she asked finally.
"Sure I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I didn't get too many details out of Chet. I didn't feel like I should press him too hard. But I figured you were probably in the middle of it all somehow."
"Oh, not…Well, sort of," Frank replied. In between bites of cereal, he recounted the events of the day before as briefly as he could.
By the time he had finished both the story and the cereal, Laura and Gertrude had both awakened and come down to the kitchen. Laura offered to make them both a more substantial breakfast, but they turned her down. They were both eager to be off to the Morton house and do something that would feel like it was helping.
HBHBHBHBHB
Joe hadn't really slept in as late as the rest of the family supposed. He hadn't actually gotten to sleep at until nearly seven in the morning when he finally dozed off out of pure exhaustion. Before that, all he could do was toss and turn and worry about Iola. He woke up again a little after nine and decided it was probably about time to crawl out of bed.
He took a shower first and then went downstairs where he found his mother frying eggs in the kitchen.
"I heard you in the shower and thought I'd make you some breakfast," she explained.
"You didn't have to do that." Joe listlessly sat in one of the chairs at the table. "I'm not that hungry."
"I think you'd better eat anyway," Laura told him. "Is your hand all right?"
Joe shrugged. "I guess so. Have…have you heard anything?"
"We have had a little news about Iola. Frank's over at the Mortons' now. After he left, I got a call from Molly. The doctor has cleared Iola to have a couple of visitors outside her family later this afternoon. She asked to see you especially."
"She…she did?"
Laura put the lid on the pan of eggs and then came to sit next to her son. "You really like Iola, don't you?"
Joe felt tears threatening to form, but he cleared his throat and fought them. "Yeah, I mean she's one of my oldest friends."
"There's more to it than that, isn't there?"
"I asked her out on a date yesterday," Joe admitted. He paused. "Why do you think she asked to see me? Do you think she's mad at me?"
Laura put an arm about her son's shoulders. "Why on earth would she be mad at you?"
"Well, what happened…Maybe she's blaming me for it. It was my fault, in a way."
"No, it wasn't your fault in any way," Laura assured him. "You can't blame yourself for it, and I'm sure Iola isn't blaming you. The only person to blame is the one who threw that grenade."
"Maybe."
"There are no maybes about it. I think those eggs are done. Why don't you just eat and take it easy until it's time to go see Iola?"
HBHBHBHBHB
There wasn't much learning going on at Bayport High that morning. The absences of five students—both Hardys, both Mortons, and Lisa Prito—were the subject of a lot of speculation from those who didn't know what had transpired the day before and gossip among those who did. Tony had been offered to stay home from school that day as well, but he hadn't seen any point in sitting around and doing nothing, and maybe school would take his mind off things. It didn't. He mostly just spent his class periods staring off into space.
He wasn't the only student with that problem, either. Callie also caught herself lost in thought while a teacher was talking vaguely in the background of her consciousness. She was horribly worried about Iola, who was her closest friend, despite the fact that Callie was a senior and Iola a freshman. Even so, Iola had been the first person in the whole school to approach Callie with a friendly welcome when she had transferred there last year. Since then, Callie had made a lot of other friends, but she hadn't neglected to keep up the friendship with Iola.
As soon as they had their first break between classes, Callie rushed up to Tony to talk to talk to him at his locker. Phil Cohen had beaten her to it by a few seconds when he asked Tony what all was going on.
Tony let out a long sigh. "I don't really know where to start. How much do you guys know?"
"We heard something about Iola being in the hospital," Phil said.
"How is she?" Callie interjected.
Tony bit his lip. "Is that all the more you've heard?"
Both Callie and Phil nodded.
"Oh. Well, it's not too good. Someone tried to kill her and Joe. Uh, apparently she's paralyzed."
"What?" Callie burst out and Phil stared in surprise.
"Yeah." Tony turned to his locker to put a book in and take another one out. "We got a call from the police this morning, though. They caught the guy who probably did it. He's also the leader of that School of Thought thing, so that's something."
"Yeah, that's good news, I guess," Phil replied.
Callie said nothing. She didn't care so very much about capturing criminals. Oh sure, she was glad that they wouldn't be able to do any more harm, but that didn't right the wrongs they had already done.
"I guess Lisa probably realizes what School of Thought was now," Phil went on.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Lisa. Who knows what she really thinks. She'd rather die than admit she was wrong about anything. I don't know what to do about her. I thought proving to her that this cult thing was not what she thought it was would help, but it hasn't. Now she just refuses to speak to any of us."
"Maybe she just needs some time," Phil suggested.
"I don't see why you should be so nice to her," Tony muttered.
Phil shrugged. "Why not? To be honest, I feel kind of sorry for her. It must be the pits to have everybody think you're some kind of nut and then not even have the satisfaction of thinking you're right."
"Tony," Callie interrupted. She hadn't been paying any attention whatsoever to the conversation since it had turned to Lisa, and she hardly realized that she was interrupting. "Do you know if they're letting Iola have visitors?"
"I don't really know," Tony admitted. "Maybe we should go and see after school."
"Good idea," Phil agreed. "Let's gather up all the rest of the gang, too."
HBHBHBHBHB
The hospital waiting room was busy that afternoon. Not only were the Mortons there, but also the Hardys and most of Iola's other friends. There was a dismal, somber air in the room and nobody said very much. Jones had arrived with Frank, but they parted ways when Frank went to talk to Joe. Jones came to sit by Callie.
"Hey," she greeted her.
"Hi," Callie said, although she didn't try to force herself to sound cheerful. She was much too worried for that.
"This is really rough," Jones said with a sigh. "Do you want to talk about it or do you want to talk about something else?"
Callie blinked and gave her head a little shake. "What?"
"I thought you looked like you needed someone to talk to, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about this in particular."
Callie looked around at all the people gathered there. "Thanks. I think I would rather talk about something else, actually. Did…did you have to do school today?" It was the first thing that came to mind to ask about.
"No. My mom let me off the hook today. She figured I wouldn't be able to concentrate anyhow."
"Yeah, same here. What did you do, then?"
"Frank and I went over to the Mortons' and hung out with Chet. Poor guy. He's taking this pretty hard. I can't really blame him, though."
Callie felt an annoying little sting of jealousy. It was a ridiculous way to feel, in view of everything, and she tried to ignore it. "That was nice of you two."
Jones bit her lip. "To tell the truth, I feel a little guilty. I've caused quite a bit of trouble lately, including for Iola. Makes me really feel like some kind of a jerk now, or at least an idiot."
"Hey, it's okay. None of it was really that big of a deal when you think about it, and we were all being kind of silly about it."
"Yeah. You know, I think I'm cured of minding other people's business about who they're dating or not dating or want to date or whatever. Figuring out my love life is hard enough. I'm thinking I'm going to hold off on dating for awhile."
Callie sat up straighter. "Huh? But what about you and Frank?"
Jones shrugged and looked away. "What about me and Frank? There isn't anything there. There never really was except plain, old friendship. That's why we broke up. Although, since we never were really boyfriend-girlfriend status, was it really a break-up? I'm still trying to sort that one out."
"You broke up? But I thought…I mean, I'm sorry."
"Oh, don't be," Jones assured her. "I'd been figuring it was only a matter of time anyway, so we're both better off in the long run this way. Besides now…" She stopped herself, remembering what she had just said a minute before about not minding other people's business when it came to dating.
Callie waited a few seconds for Jones to finish her sentence and when she didn't, she asked, "Besides now what?"
"Uh…" Jones scratched the back of her neck as she tried to think of something plausible. "Now I'm going to have a lot more free time. You know, having a sort-of-boyfriend takes up a lot of your time."
Callie gave her a searching look. "You're sure you didn't break up because of…No, that's silly. Of course you didn't." She had been going to ask if Jones had broken up with Frank because she suspected Callie's crush on him, but that was no reason to break up with somebody.
Jones, however, guessed what Callie was thinking, since that really was closer to the real reason than Jones was willing to admit out loud. She really did like Frank, but if he wasn't interested in her, it was none of her business who he did go out with, and she didn't want to mess up anyone else's love lives. She cleared her throat. "You know, I think I'm going to go get a drink of water."
"Sure." Callie tried to muster a smile at her, but she couldn't quite manage it.
HBHBHBHBHB
Laura had arrived with Joe only a few minutes earlier. As soon as they had arrived, Frank had come to talk to Joe. Laura was glad to see that. She really didn't know what else to say to her younger son, and anyway, she was always glad to see her sons comforting one another, though they both had an unfortunate tendency, like many teenage boys, to try to ignore and not discuss emotional issues. It worried her sometimes, and so moments like this were cheering.
Just now, though, Laura was suddenly finding herself having a very hard time feeling cheery. She was just sitting here, not talking to anyone, anyway, so she got up and hurried outside where she would be alone, or so she thought. It just so happened that she met Fenton just coming into the hospital.
"Laura!" he said, clearly surprised. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just felt like I'd like to go for a walk."
"Are the boys all right?"
"I think so. They're together and they have a lot of friends in there."
Fenton nodded. He could tell that his wife was upset or worried, and from the sounds of it, she needed him a little more than even his sons did just now. "Would you care for some company on your walk?"
"Yes, I would," Laura agreed.
They walked out together into the late summer sunshine, and neither said anything until they had crossed the street into the next block.
Then Fenton asked, "What's wrong?"
"What isn't wrong?" Laura brushed a strand of blond hair from her forehead. "It's just…suddenly everything seems so awful and…I don't know."
Fenton took her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. "I know. It isn't fair, what happened to Iola."
Laura looked away for a moment and then looked up at him. "Is it horribly selfish of me that that's only part of what's troubling me? That woman would have killed you, if she'd gotten the chance, and we could have lost both the boys yesterday. Why do we even let them do it?"
"Three reasons, I guess." Fenton squeezed her hand. "First, if we didn't let them solve mysteries, they would anyway. I mean, Frank and Joe are good boys, and they wouldn't want to disobey us, but this is something that's important to them, and neither of them are the type of person to let anything stand in the way of something they think is more important. And if they did have to go behind our backs to solve mysteries, they would be afraid to come to us when they get into trouble, and that would be even worse. Second, as much as we'd like to, we can't protect them all the time, and we'd be doing more harm than good in trying. You can't be safe all the time in life, and sometimes you've got to put something else ahead of your own safety. When you let someone think they can go through life and let other people take all the risks, then they never develop the ability to take risks, or they might even lose that ability if they already have it. And third…"
"Because that's who they are," Laura finished the sentence for him. "It's what they love to do and not letting them do it would suffocate them. Besides that, they don't just do it for themselves. They always take on cases to help others or to right some wrong or see justice done, and the last thing we'd want to do is let them think they can leave all that sort of thing to other people. I know all that. We've talked about it before. But it doesn't change the fact that detective work is dangerous. Are we bad parents for letting them do it?"
Fenton thought about this a little while. It was something he had grappled with before. He and Laura both had. Every time, sooner or later, he went back to thinking about his own parents and how they had handled the same situation.
"When I was a kid, all I ever wanted to do was be a police officer," he said. "After what happened to my dad, Gertrude was so against that idea. You know, I practically had to bribe her to get her to come to my graduation from police academy. My mom could have been the same way. She had every right to be."
"Wasn't she?" Laura asked.
"No." Fenton felt his throat tighten. It had been so many years before, but it still hurt to think about. His father had been a police officer in their small hometown of Northrop, Maine, but he had been killed in the line of duty when Fenton was twelve. "No. Instead, she told me, only a few months after it happened, that no one who's afraid of dying can ever change the world." He smiled softly. "She also said that if your main goal in life is to not die, you'll fail. It's the people who want to grow old but are willing to die young if they have to that make the world worth living in."
"I just wish the boys weren't so willing to risk their lives so very young," Laura said. She sighed. "I suppose if I had sons who were selfish and wouldn't raise a finger to help anyone if it was too much trouble to them, I wouldn't be any happier."
"No, I think we'd both be a great deal less happy," Fenton agreed.
HBHBHBHBHB
At the same time, Joe was almost wishing he didn't have so many friends. At least, not so many friends that were here right now. Phil had done exactly what he had said about rounding up the gang after school. He and Tony and Callie were all there, along with Jerry Gilroy, Biff Hooper, Jim Foy, and Sally Marsh, as well as about a dozen other high school students who weren't as close of friends, though Joe knew all their names. The only good thing about it was that most of them were hovering around Chet rather than him, but enough had asked him about his hand and about what had happened that he was feeling suffocated. Then it didn't help that Frank, Jones, and Callie were all paying particular attention to Joe. They must have realized that Chet had enough people bothering him, and they were probably the only people who realized quite how Joe felt about Iola and just how much this was affecting him. Finally, he managed to excuse himself and hurried off in the direction of the bathrooms, but as soon as he had turned the corner, he leaned his back against the wall and just breathed with his eyes closed.
He was trying hard not to think and was doing fairly well at that, but then Chet came around the corner and stopped when he saw him.
"Oh," Chet said. "I was hoping to get a minute alone. No offense."
"None taken," Joe replied, opening one eye to look at him. "I was hoping for the same thing."
"Yeah, well, I get it that they all just want to cheer me up, but I think I'd rather not be cheered up for a little while." Chet leaned against the wall beside Joe, mimicking his position exactly. "It's…It's just a lot to take in."
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, Chet. I feel like it's my fault. I mean, that guy who threw the grenade was probably aiming at me."
Chet shrugged. "Yeah, and if he'd hit you, we wouldn't all be going around saying it was your fault."
"Maybe, but it wouldn't have happened to Iola if she hadn't been hanging around me."
"It's not like you have to twist her arm to get her to hang around you."
Joe opened both his eyes and looked at Chet. He started to ask what Chet meant by that, but then he stopped himself. If Chet didn't know about the situation between Joe and Iola, maybe right now wasn't the best time to reveal it. And who knew? Everything else had changed since yesterday; maybe the way Iola felt had, too.
However, Chet broached the subject himself. "Hey, Joe, Iola asked to see you first of any of her friends. I don't know for sure what's it's about. She could just be worried about you with the explosion and everything. We've had kind of a hard time convincing her that you're all right. But I don't think that's the only thing. I don't know if you realize it, but Iola's had a crush on you for, like, forever. Not that she told me about it. She wrote about it in her diary."
Joe raised an eyebrow. "Why were you looking in her diary?"
"I was thirteen," Chet defended himself. "You do a lot of stuff like that when you're that young. So, you see, it really has been practically forever."
"Yeah." Joe bit his lip. "I did know about that, actually. Iola and I talked about yesterday and, well…" He stopped talking. He still wasn't comfortable talking about this to his friends.
Chet seemed to understand and possibly feel just as uncomfortable about it, so he stopped talking. They stayed there, both a little glad for the silence for a few minutes.
Then Molly Morton came to tell them that she had just been told that Iola could have visitors now, and that she was still saying she wanted to see Joe alone first. He felt awkward, going into the room with all the rest of the Mortons standing by. He knew that they had already gotten to visit Iola the day before as well as earlier today, but he still felt like he was encroaching. Worse still, he wasn't sure what Iola would say or what he would say to her, and so he had to pause in front of the door to take a deep breath.
Then he went in. Iola was lying in the bed there with her eyes closed. There were several nasty bruises on her face, but otherwise her face was terribly pale. She had several IVs and monitors attached to her. Altogether, she looked so different from the vibrant girl that Joe knew that he was almost a little frightened.
That only lasted a moment before she opened her eyes and said softly, "Joe."
Joe took a couple of timid steps forward. "Iola? How…how are you?" It was a silly question in a way, and Joe wished he would have thought of something more intelligent to ask.
"Okay." Iola's voice was barely above a whisper. "At least, as much as I can be. I'm glad you're here."
"You are?"
"Of course. Are you okay? You weren't hurt yesterday, were you?"
"Nothing major." Joe hurried forward and grasped Iola's hand. "I'm so sorry, Iola. I…" He couldn't finish the sentence because tears came to his eyes and his throat tightened. He pressed her hand against his forehead and started to cry.
"Joe, it's all right. It's not your fault." Iola wished she could reach over with her other hand to comfort him, but there was an IV in that arm and she knew she couldn't risk tearing it out. "It's okay."
Joe tried to stop crying, but he wasn't having any luck in that endeavor. All he could manage was to sob, "I know. I know."
Iola bit her lip. She was trying very hard not to cry herself. She had had about twenty-four hours now to grapple with the news about her condition. She was trying to face it bravely, and was having more success than she might have otherwise because the full meaning of it hadn't had time to sink in. "Joe, I'm so glad you're okay, and I want you to know I don't blame you for what happened at all."
Joe nodded in acknowledgement.
"I also want to tell you that I don't know how things are going to work out now, but I want it to work out, if…if you still feel the same way about me." Iola paused, watching Joe closely.
He wiped away some of his tears. "Of course, I do."
Iola breathed in a sigh of relief and smiled. "Well, then, I think I can face anything, as long as you're with me."
Joe tried to smile back at her. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."