J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read! Thank you especially to caseykam, MargaretA66, Candylou, ErinJordan, and angelicalkiss for your reviews! This chapter is the moment of truth: does Frank live or die? Of course, there's still two more chapters and an epilogue after this, so none of the Hardys are really safe yet, no matter what happens in this chapter. I hope to have the rest of the story out within the next week. The last two actual chapters aren't going to require too much revision, but I think I'm going to basically completely rewrite the epilogue, so I'm not sure how long it will take. In any case, enjoy and God bless!
Chapter XXXI
Fenton tried to brace himself for what he might find at the end of the tunnel, but there was no bracing for something like that. Joe and Angelo had both insisted that Frank had been killed. Fenton might have believed that Angelo was lying to torment him, but Joe had been certain. There could be very little doubt, then. Fenton wondered exactly how Angelo had done it. He hadn't asked. He hadn't thought of it, but even if he had, Angelo couldn't have been trust to give a truthful answer and Joe had been in no condition to go over it so soon.
Sam had insisted that if either of them had to go on and check, it would have been better if Fenton had stayed with Evangeline and her companion and had let Sam go on. He had only given in because he could see that persuading Fenton was useful. Even so, a part of Fenton begged him to go back. He didn't want to see whatever Angelo had done to his son. But not seeing it wouldn't change what had been done. Joe had seen it. He'd seen it done. If nothing else, Fenton needed to know for his sake.
He wasn't far from the end of the tunnel. The door was no secret on this side, and Fenton had no difficulty opening it. He took in a deep breath before he could work up the nerve to step through and when he finally did, it took him a moment before he dared to look up. When he did, he stared in bewilderment at Black Rose's erstwhile throne room, with all its medieval weaponry hanging on the walls. The lights were still on, so the eerie red light didn't add to the scene. But the room was empty, except for a woman lying on the floor.
Cautiously, Fenton stepped farther in, looking around. It was a small room and bare of furniture or anything on the floor, so he had to conclude that there really was no one else there. He bent over the woman and checked her for any sign of life, recognizing her as Alyssa as he did. She was clearly gone.
Fenton took one more look around the room and he noticed one thing that gave him pause. There was a pillar supporting the ceiling and a few inches of some kind of lance was deeply embedded into it. The lance had been cut off, but what remained was covered in blood. Fenton stepped toward it and examined it in puzzlement.
He had initially been relieved to see that Frank wasn't there and had permitted himself a hope that Angelo was lying and Joe was mistaken, but when he saw the blood, his hopes were dashed. He felt his stomach churn as his mind worked out the only way that lance could have gotten in that position.
"Why would they take the body away?" he asked aloud in a hollow voice.
There was no one to answer, and even if there was, what answer could be given? These Black Rose people were sick. Who knew what they might have done? The one thing he felt sure of was that the blood belonged to his son. It fit with what he had been told by Joe, Angelo, and Evangeline. More than that, he just knew it.
Fenton's first inclination was to search the rest of the house. Joe had said this was the basement of some kind of mansion. Maybe Frank was somewhere else in it. Fenton would search it from top to bottom to find him. He couldn't leave him here. Then he looked at the lance and the blood again. How could anyone have possibly survived that? Even if he found Frank, it would be too late. And there was still the living to ten to. He didn't know how badly Joe was injured, and he had left him and Laura and Gertrude alone with Angelo, who was clearly a very dangerous man. Sam was injured, too, and he was alone, guarding Evangeline and her surviving companion, both of whom needed medical attention themselves.
Defeated, Fenton sighed bitterly and went back the way he had come.
HBHBHBHBHB
Laura held Joe tightly as he leaned against her shoulder. She wasn't sure if he was asleep exactly or just overwhelmed with exhaustion and grief. She was glad he was here. If it had been her and Gertrude alone while Gertrude tried to console her, Laura would have been the one collapsed from grief. She had to be strong for Joe, and so she found that she could.
At least, she wasn't crying and voicing her complaints out loud. For anyone to look at her, she would have looked composed, if a little pale and teary-eyed. Inside, she felt anything but strong. She felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on her, suffocating her. She felt that she couldn't bear to go on another second. If Joe hadn't been there, she probably would have been screaming and beating her head against the floor.
Gertrude was making no pretense even of outward silence. She was too busy telling their prisoner exactly what she thought of him. She had quite a string of adjectives and phrases to use to describe him, but even in her fury, it wasn't in her nature to use outright foul language. The resulting euphemisms and comparisons would have had Laura laughing if the situation hadn't been so tragic.
Finally, the tirade was interrupted by the trapdoor opening again. Joe raised his head and Laura held him all the tighter, trying to brace herself for what was to come. When the unpleasant thought that such a day as this might come had occurred to her before, she had always convinced herself that she was prepared. Now that the day was here, she found how horribly she had deceived herself.
Sam led the procession, supporting Evangeline on his good arm, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. Angelo shrank back slightly at the sight of her. Clearly, he was a bit afraid of her even now, when she was clearly in need of assistance to walk. Next came Fenton, carrying someone over his shoulder. Laura looked away before she even really saw them, sobs threatening to choke her.
"It isn't Frank," Sam said quickly. "It's a friend of Evangeline's. And he isn't dead, but he will be if we don't get him to a hospital."
"Then where is Frank?" Gertrude demanded. "Surely you didn't bring that hoodlum back and just leave Frank lying there?"
"Frank wasn't there," Fenton announced simply and quietly.
"That's impossible," Joe spoke up. "I saw…" He paused, unable to go on.
"We have a pretty good idea what you must have seen," Sam told him sympathetically. "But he wasn't there. Someone must have taken him away."
"Why would anyone do that?" Gertrude retorted. Then her face softened with hope. "Unless…unless he isn't dead and they were taking him to get help."
Laura tried to smother the spark of hope that instantly leapt in her soul. If what Gertrude was saying was true, it wouldn't change it by not indulging herself in hope, and if Gertrude was wrong, it would be easier to accept if she hadn't allowed herself that one final hope.
"I don't know why anyone would do it," Fenton replied. "But from what I saw, it would take a miracle for what you're saying to have happened."
HBHBHBHBHB
Callie was kneeling in the chapel at the Gresham hospital, praying for that very miracle. As soon as Iola and the others had gotten into cell reception, they had called 911 and had an ambulance come to meet them. Then Chet had called Callie. Fortunately, he had thought of it to ask her to turn her phone on speaker so that Phil and the others would be able to hear at the same time. Even before he had given the news Callie had guessed right off that something was wrong, since he hadn't reacted at all to Phil having arrived from California. Those few moments of warning, together with the foreboding she had had even before that, did little to prepare her for what the news really was. If it hadn't been for Phil and his friends, she wasn't sure how she would have made it through that moment.
They had gotten her to the hospital, and they had met the ambulance there. Callie had barely gotten a glimpse of Frank before he had been whisked into an emergency operating room. It was a glimpse that she felt was going to haunt her for the rest of her life. He was so pale and drawn as if he was already…No, she couldn't permit herself to even think it, out of some superstitious fear that thinking it would make it happen. So all she could do was kneel there and pray that it wouldn't.
She was grateful to Iola for recognizing that she needed to be alone. She knew that Iola had posted herself right outside the door and would be ready to come running if Callie called for her. She also would be ready to relay any news the instant she heard it. Callie was glad of that. None of the medical staff had seemed very hopeful—or was it that Callie was imagining the worst?—and it seemed to her that it would be easier to take any ill news if it came from Iola instead of some stranger.
Yet the very thought of having ill news that she would have to hear tore at her painfully. She couldn't cry. Iola and Maria had been crying when they arrived. Even the boys had looked like they could cry, but Callie had been in too much shock at first. She had simply been numb then. Now she wasn't numb anymore. She could feel the pain and it was crushing her, but still all she could do was kneel and stare at the large crucifix and mentally plead in what sounded like a whisper even in her own mind that Frank would be all right.
HBHBHBHBHB
Iola felt bad being such an emotional mess. She felt like everyone must think she was trying to take all the attention for herself away from Callie, who deserved everyone's sympathy more than Iola did. Yet Iola couldn't stop herself. The whole world was being dashed to pieces at her feet and she was powerless to stop it. The rescue party hadn't found Joe. They had found Frank, but he was dying. Chances were good that Joe was dead, too. Angelo didn't seem like the sort who would be merciful to his prisoners. But maybe killing Joe would be the most merciful thing. If Frank was going to die...Iola hated herself for even thinking it. She couldn't give into despair like that. As long as there was some hope, she had to hold onto it. But at the same time, she didn't see how she could.
In a way, Iola almost wished she was in Callie's position. Callie knew where Frank was, and if he survived, she would have him back. Even if he didn't, she had had several years of happiness with him. What did Iola have, other than the knowledge that she had broken Joe's heart and given up any chance of happiness they might have had together just because she felt sorry for herself and had been unable to imagine that anyone could have more noble feeling toward her than pity?
"Iola?"
She looked up when she heard her brother call her name. Chet and the others had had to talk to the police. Only Iola had managed to avoid getting held up by insisting that she had to see to Callie. Biff was right behind Chet, but the others had evidently gone somewhere else. As soon as Chet was close enough, Iola got up and threw her arms around him.
"Are you okay?" Chet asked, apparently a bit surprised by Iola's appearance.
"No," Iola admitted, still clinging to him.
"Did you hear anything?" Biff asked in concern.
Iola knew exactly what he was trying to ask, and she shook her head. "He's in surgery. We haven't heard anything else, but those doctors didn't seem very hopeful."
"Where's Callie?" Chet asked.
"She wanted to be alone, so she's in the chapel."
"How's she taking it?" Biff asked, dropping his voice.
Iola let go of Chet as she shook her head again. She started to say that she didn't think Callie was taking it very well at all but her voice petered out when she saw a small group approaching from behind the two boys. It was the Hardys: Aunt Gertrude, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy and…Joe. Iola's mouth dropped open as she caught sight of Joe. For a second or two, all she could do was stare. Biff and Chet turned to look as well, and they, too, froze in shock. Then Iola was running towards him, not even thinking of it that this was the first time in years that she had actually run.
Joe caught her in his arms and held her tightly for a few seconds before anyone spoke. It was Biff who finally broke the silence.
"You're…You're all right?" he said, almost more as a question than a statement.
"I'm not sure," Joe replied in a husky voice, as if he had a sore throat. He didn't look all right, now that Iola realized it. He was pale and had a cut on his forehead that still needed to be bandaged. His nose was bruised and swollen and there were also several ugly bruises on his throat.
"The receptionist told us Callie was here," Gertrude said.
Iola suddenly let go of Joe as she realized that he had come to see Callie, not her. Callie was his sister-in-law, after all. Iola was just his ex-girlfriend who had acted like a fool all this time. Yet, as she backed away, Iola thought she detected a look of regret in Joe's eyes.
"She's in the chapel," Iola said.
"Has she heard?" Laura asked, her voice unusually choked up.
Chet wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "About what?"
Pained looks passed across all the Hardys' faces and it was clear they didn't want to use any definite terms.
"About Frank," Fenton managed to say.
"Of course she did," Chet replied. "We called her as soon as we could while we were bringing him here. We tried to call you, Mr. Hardy, but you were still out of cell service."
"You brought him here? Joe asked sharply.
"Sure. What did you think we were doing here?" Chet said.
"We didn't have any…But you brought him here?" Joe repeated. "So that means he's…"
"In surgery," Chet finished.
All the Hardys looked almost visibly shaken. Tears sprang into Laura's eyes, which up until then had been dull and lifeless.
"So he's alive?" she asked in a barely audible voice.
Chet glanced at Biff who cleared his throat.
"He was in pretty rough shape," Biff warned them. "Iola was just telling us that the doctors didn't seem very hopeful."
"But there is some room for hope now," Laura replied. "Thank God."
HBHBHBHBHB
At the same time, Jerry and Maria were exchanging stories with Phil, Shaun, and Jenna. They were glad to hear about the capture of Shun. At least, they were as glad as they could be in that moment.
"There's one thing I don't understand," Jenna said. "You said that Frank was in some kind of secret room. How did you find it?"
Maria turned toward Jerry. "How did you and Iola find it? With everything that was happening, I never even thought to ask."
Jerry pursed his lips thoughtfully, glancing first to Maria and then to Phil. He wasn't sure how much he should say. He had his own private suspicions, but he wasn't sure enough to just put it out there. "We met someone who showed us where to look."
"You mean that spy person?" Maria asked. "He said he didn't know where Frank could be."
"No, it wasn't Wight," Jerry replied. "Someone else."
"Another member of Black Rose?" Phil asked.
Jerry shook his head. "I don't think so."
"You can't be sure," Jenna said. "Did you tell the police? If there was a member of Black Rose who survived and was willing to help you, maybe he could give some other helpful information or be a witness or something."
"No, I'm almost positive he wasn't part of Black Rose," Jerry insisted.
"Who else would have been in that house?" Maria asked.
"This is going to sound crazy…" Jerry stopped himself "Iola saw him, too. I think I want to talk to her about it before anyone else."
HBHBHBHBHB
There had never been a time that Joe could recall that he had been in such a miserable state of anticipation as right now. It had almost been better when he thought Frank was dead. Then he hadn't felt much of anything. Now the hope that Frank might yet survive had breathed just enough life into him that he could feel it all. But he didn't really wish for those hours that he had been deceived. Maybe they had been almost better, but that didn't mean they had been better. They had just been free of some of the pains he was feeling now. They had also been free of the hope that was assuaging that pain.
After checking on Callie and being updated on everything that had happened by his friends, his parents and Aunt Gertrude had insisted that he go and get checked out by a doctor. At first, Joe hadn't understood why, but after the examination had taken place, he did. He had more cuts and bruises and aches than he had realized, in addition to being dehydrated. He was currently lying in a hospital bed, patched up to an IV and waiting for the sedative they had given him to take effect. If he had had more of a will to resist, he wouldn't have agreed to the sedative, but he'd been too tired to argue.
He was trying to distract himself from worrying about Frank by trying to work out the last few angles of the case that remained to be solved when there was a soft knock at the door. He called to the person to come in, thinking it was probably his mother or aunt. He was a little surprised to see that it was Chet.
"Hi," Chet said, almost a little sheepishly.
"Hi," Joe replied in his raspy voice. He instinctively tried to clear it. "Sorry. Angelo tried to strangle me."
"I heard," Chet said. He closely the door softly behind him. "They said you're not supposed to have visitors now, but I thought…
"Thanks," Joe replied, guessing that Chet had thought Joe shouldn't be alone right now. Joe agreed.
Chet came and sat on the edge of the bed. "You okay?"
"I'll be better when we hear something."
Chet nodded. "No kidding." He looked down at his hands for a second and then back up. "Joe, this might not be the most important thing at the moment and it seems like a lifetime ago, but I really wanted to say I'm sorry."
"For what?" Joe wrinkle his forehead in honest confusion.
"I haven't been much of a friend to you for some time now."
"Oh." Joe could feel the sedative starting to kick in and his eyelids were heavy. "It's okay. Prob'ly deserve it after Iola."
"What?" Chet asked.
Joe couldn't keep his eye open any longer. He thought he tried to explain further, but he never remembered what he said before he drifted into the consolation of oblivious and dreamless sleep.
HBHBHBHBHB
Hours were passing, and Callie wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. The doctors would tell them right away if anything happened to Frank, so since Callie hadn't heard a word, she could only assume he was still alive. If he had lived this long, maybe he would survive. Maybe everything would be all right after all.
She was sitting in a waiting room with the rest of her family now. Most of them, anyway. Joe was in one of the hospital rooms, resting and forbidden from having visitors for a few hours. His parents were there, though, and Callie's parents had driven there, despite the bad weather, as soon as they heard. Callie was glad to be sitting there with her mom holding her hand and letting her rest her head against her shoulder while her dad sat on the other side of her, close enough that she knew he was there even when she had her eyes closed. Her friends were all still there, too. Even Jenna and Shaun, who barely knew Callie or Frank, had stayed. Chet had disappeared somewhere, but now he had come back, looking very thoughtful. Jerry and Iola were discussing something in hushed tones that they seemed very intent on not having anyone else overhear. The others were all quiet as they waited.
Callie was drifting toward sleep when she felt someone enter the room. She opened her eyes and saw that it was the doctor who had been attending to Frank. Immediately, she jumped to her feet and hurried toward him. Her parents and Frank's were close behind, while everyone else listened intently.
"You're Frank Hardy's wife?" the doctor asked.
"Yes," Callie said. "Is he…"
"It's still early to tell, but I think he's going to be all right."
Callie wasn't sure whether her knees were going to hold up under the sudden rush of relief. She managed to hold herself, although she couldn't hold back tears. "He is?"
The doctor smiled kindly. "He is. He's very lucky and quite the fighter. It's going to take some time for a full recovery."
"Can I see him?" Callie asked.
"He's still unconscious right now, but you can see him for a little while."
HBHBHBHBHB
Two days later
Callie was sitting next to Frank's bed. He still hadn't woken up, but the doctor still insisted that he was likely to be all right. A nurse was also in the room, monitoring him, but otherwise they were alone. The doctor had thought that too many people present would overwhelm him if he woke up, and so everyone had agreed that Callie ought to stay with him as much as she liked. She was scrolling through the many sympathetic texts she had gotten in the last couple days from friends when she glanced up at Frank and saw his eyelids move slightly.
"Frank?" she said, hardly daring to hope that she had seen aright.
He turned his head almost imperceptibly toward her and just barely opened his eyes.
Callie grasped his hand, emotion threatening to overwhelm her yet again. "Frank, it's all right. I'm right here."
His lips moved, but no sound came out. Callie leaned closer to try to hear.
"What was that, darling?"
Frank took in a breath and tried again. This time, Callie could just make out the words: "Love you, Callie."