214Thanks to max2013, MargaretA66, sm2003495, BMSH, Xenitha, Candylou, Jilsen, and all those who read and enjoyed but didn't review. (I do respond to everyone who does review, so feel free to drop me a line.)
I want to thank everyone for their patience while I finished this chapter. Most of it was done before the wedding, but between a last minute dance lesson, the wedding itself, and our lovely, relaxing honeymoon, it took a while to get the rest of it done to my satisfaction. I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I lied. There will be an epilogue, which (as usual) will be done as soon as I can get it written. :)
Chapter 21
It took a while for Tom to make his way to Bayport.
Joe had left three cryptic messages on Tom's voicemail asking him to get in touch – because who knew who else had access to it; despite what Joe had done for the office, the man's security was abysmal – before the man finally called back, and when he did, Tom had lazily said he was too wrapped up in preparing to fight Brad's hostile takeover of the company to leave the city at the moment, and perhaps Joe should stop by for dinner instead.
Once Joe tamped down his temper enough to speak – it took long enough that Tom had to say his name several times – he explained in no uncertain terms that if Tom wanted the information that could potentially stop his brother-in-law, he could truck his butt out to them. Or not. It was his choice.
Then he ended the call.
Pressing the red button on the touch screen was admittedly not as satisfying as slamming down a landline handset, but it still felt good.
An hour later, Tom texted to say he would be there the day after next, sometime in the early afternoon.
When Joe heard the car pull up outside the cottage, he made sure Frank was comfortable at the table with a fresh cup of coffee and some toast, then went out to meet their client and give him a heads up so he didn't say anything about Frank's condition.
"This is lovely scenery, Joe, but I'm not sure why you couldn't just tell me what you found out over the phone." There was a slight sneer on the man's face that Joe really wanted to punch off. "Or brought it to me. I mean, I realize interrupting your vacation..."
Joe cut him off, figuring saying something would be a better alternative than whacking their client in the face. "Have you been following the news?"
Tom took a half-step back, startled by the tone in Joe's voice. Or more likely the expression that's probably on my face right now.
"What news?" A wary note entered the man's voice, one hand ever-so-casually sliding into one of the front pockets of his trousers.
It took everything Joe had not to roll his eyes. "The news about Hargreaves Manor."
"Oh, yeah." Tom visibly relaxed. "Something about a missing patient? And that a doctor was murdered by a secretary or something. Sounds like a bad made-for-TV movie." He let out a snort.
Joe ground his teeth together, then relaxed his jaw, and let out a breath. "Yeah... That doctor? He was the one who treated your sister." A small sense of gratification wafted over him at the widening of Tom's eyes. "And the missing patient? That was Frank." He waited for the words to sink in.
"What? That was Ilse's doctor?" Tom's mouth stood open as his brain processed what he had just been told. "Wait… Frank. Your brother? What…?"
"My brother." Joe put more emphasis on the words than was probably needed, but he wanted to make sure Tom understood what Frank had done for his case. "He risked his life to find the information we have. We think it could convince a judge not to rule in Brad's favor about your company."
Tom took a few steps forward. "Let's see it." Excitement lit up his eyes.
Joe put up a hand. "Before we go in, you need to understand exactly what my brother did for you."
"Yeah, of course." The dismissive undercurrent in his words made Joe's anger flare up again.
"He got himself admitted as a patient."
"I gathered that from what you just said." Tom was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I get it. Let's go."
"I don't think you do get it," Joe said. "He put himself in harm's way to find..."
"Documents. You said that." Exasperation practically seeped from the man's pores. "Can we go in now so I can see if what he found will help me?"
Joe breathed in, then out. "Sure," he said, his voice flat, then he turned and entered the cottage, leaving the other man standing out in front alone. He says anything stupid, I'll let Frank hand him his ass on a platter, he thought. I'm through babysitting this moron.
Re-entering the kitchen he saw Frank holding his coffee in one hand, with the other one arranging Ilse's papers in a neat row on the table. The hand holding the mug was shaking slightly. A broken piece of burned crust and a few crumbs were all that remained of the toast.
Good, he thought, at least that's one less thing I need to be angry about. Walking behind his brother, he moved to the side of the table, took up a standing position, and waited for the other man to make his way inside.
After a few seconds, they heard the cottage's front door close, and Tom walked into the small kitchen.
Joe heard the sharp intake of breath as the man's eyes fell on Frank's pallor and obvious weight loss. There was a gulping noise, then a tentative throat clearing. "Uh..."
Frank looked up. "Mr. Ryckman. You're here. Good. Sit." He indicated Tom should sit in the other chair without rising from his own. Ignoring the stunned look on the younger man's face, he continued. "I'm sure my brother has filled you in on what we found."
Tom's eyes found Joe's, and Joe found himself almost feeling sorry for him. Almost.
"These are papers your sister wrote and stashed in her room at the Manor," he said, trying to cut the tension forming in the room with the words. Shifting from one foot to the next, and trying to stifle the need to start bouncing on his toes, he said, "We got lucky. Frank was put in the same room she had been in and found them." He slid one of the pages out of the stack and across the table. Pointing to a few areas, he explained what Ilse had written on them.
Every few seconds, Tom would look down at the scribbles, but his gaze kept moving back to Frank, his attention obviously drawn by the dramatic change in his appearance since they had last met. Finally, in the middle of one of Joe's explanations, he blurted out. "Are you all right?"
Frank put the coffee mug down on the table. Rather than its usual soft click as the porcelain met the tabletop, it landed with a soft thudding sound.
With a look of concern, Joe glanced down at Frank. His brother was obviously tired, his eyes the dull color of mud rather than their usual sparkling chocolate, and there were lines around them as well as his mouth. He looked as though he should be lying down, yet he resolutely held Tom's gaze for a long minute.
"I will be. Given time."
Tom raked a hand through his hair, putting it in complete disarray. "I didn't mean… I didn't know…"
"You didn't visit your sister when she was at Hargreaves, did you Mr. Ryckman?" Despite his evident weariness, Frank's voice was strong, the tone bordering, yet not quite reaching, critical.
The younger man shook his head, his eyes never leaving Frank's. "I told you. We weren't… close."
"I see. And yet you were concerned enough about her to want to know how she died, yes? Or was it mostly the business aspect that worried you?" Joe was impressed that his brother managed to keep the second question free of sarcasm and recrimination.
Tom squirmed, his lips pressing together and his jaw clenching. "A little of both," he said, his lips barely parting to let the words out.
Frank raised an eyebrow at him, held his gaze, and waited.
"Mostly the business," he finally admitted.
Joe let out the breath he had been holding, words exploding out of him. "You let my brother risk his life for a business deal?" His voice rose with each word. "Are you aware of what…?" Frank shook his head, and he stopped himself mid-sentence. His restraint crumbled, and he started bouncing on the balls of his feet, needing to rid himself of some excess energy.
There was silence for a few seconds, then Frank spoke. "These papers should sway the judge in your favor. Take them, and go. Our office will mail you the remaining bill for our services."
Standing, Tom shuffled the papers together and turned away from the table.
As he was about to leave the room, Frank called out. "Mr. Ryckman."
Tom turned back to them, his face ashen, his gaze unable to meet either of theirs.
"We weren't able to discover how your sister died. Her involuntary commitment to Hargreaves probably contributed to her death, but whether she was a victim of Doctor Nash or took her own life, is something we will never know. For what it's worth, your sister loved you. She wrote that in several places. I thought you should know that."
Tom swallowed and nodded once, his eyes troubled, his face pale. Then he fled the room. They heard the cottage door slam and seconds later the screech of tires.
Frank reached for the coffee mug again and took a sip, wrinkling his nose at the temperature. "If he drives like that the whole way back to the city, he'll be lucky if he doesn't get into an accident."
Joe shook his head, his right leg still convulsively tapping against the floor. "He'll be even luckier if Chief Collig doesn't get him for speeding before he passes the town line." A faint smile touched his lips. "I would pay money to see that happen…" He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the fantasy, then shook his head, stilled his foot, and made himself focus on the present. "You look done in. Back to bed for you."
"Not yet," Frank said, shaking his head. "I need to make a couple of calls." He glanced at the table, looking for something, then closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "I left my phone on the nightstand. Can you get it for me? I'd rather do this sitting up."
That in itself told Joe how exhausted his brother was. Immediately, he slid his own phone from his back pocket. "Just use mine. I'm gonna head outside for a minute. I want to see if Tom ripped up the lawn. If he did, I'm adding it to his bill." He slipped out the door to give his brother some privacy.
The privacy didn't last as long as he had hoped. Within a few minutes of leaving the cottage, it started to rain, a sprinkle at first which turned almost immediately into a wall of water falling down on him, soaking him to the skin.
He sprinted around the side of the tiny house, reaching the door as the wind picked up, forcing the rain sideways. Skidding into the kitchen, he heard his brother say, "I'll check with Chet. He may be able to bring you up Sunday night, then we can go home together. Love you." He set the phone on the table, set his elbows on the surface, and lowered his head so it rested on his palms.
"Check with Chet about what?" Joe reached for the dishtowel, hoping to limit the amount of water he was dripping on the floor. "Was that Anna?"
Frank wiped a hand over his face. "Yeah," he said, his shoulders drooping further down. "She's filming through the weekend but should be done by Sunday night. Chet's going to be in the city visiting Marisol, so I thought we could ask if he minded driving her up here."
Joe continued mopping water off of his face and head. "And you're okay with her seeing you like this?" The gesture he made left droplets on the table.
A faint blush spread over his brother's face as his eyes swept over the beads of water. "I miss her." His voice was raw, almost as if he had gravel stuck in his throat.
The depth of emotion in the words came as a surprise to Joe as it wasn't often his brother allowed anyone else to see a demeanor that was anything but composed and unflappable. He opened his mouth, then immediately closed it again, not wanting to say anything that might shut Frank down. Switching gears, he said, "So, resting time now?" He made sure there was no indication of surprise in his voice.
"Not yet." Frank let out a long sigh. "I'll let you talk to Chet about Anna, but I have one more call I have to make." He lifted his head from his hands, picked up the phone, and swiped across its surface a few times.
Joe could hear the ringing on the other end of the line suddenly cut out as the phone was answered.
Frank's lips tightened slightly as he listened. "No, Dad. It's me." There was a long silence. From the look on his brother's face, Joe guessed their father was letting his older son know just how little he appreciated having to keep information from their mother. "I.. I know. And I'm sorry." Something that sounded like a loud snort came through the speaker.
At this point, Joe decided finding some dry clothes would be a truly excellent idea. He was just turning to leave when he heard his brother's falsely cheerful voice say, "Sure, Mom. We'd love to come for brunch on Sunday." After a short pause, Frank continued. "No. Just the two of us. I have to go now, but we'll see you then." He disconnected the call.
For a few seconds, the only sound was the dripping of water on the kitchen floor.
"So… We're having brunch with Mom and Dad on Sunday?" Joe pushed a wet strand of blond hair out of his eyes.
"And Aunt Gertrude." Frank was looking down at his hands. "She's home from whatever trip she's been on. Got back yesterday."
"You're sure this is a good idea?"
Frank sighed. "She was going to find out sooner or later. We might as well make it sooner…" He pushed the phone back toward Joe. "And on that note, some rest sounds like an extremely good idea. Since, apparently, I have only four days to get myself back into something resembling me."
Joe's lips twisted. "She's going to kill us. You know that, right?"
His only answer was another sigh.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
By the time Sunday rolled around, Frank had made more gains than Joe had thought possible. He no longer looked like a wax statue, he was able to stay awake longer during the day, and his eyes had regained a small portion of their sparkle.
But he was still too thin and still thought too much about when to eat and how much he consumed. This, Joe knew, would not go over well with their mother. Or Aunt Gertrude, he thought. She's going to completely flip out.
Their father was waiting outside when they arrived at the house. The tightening of his lips told Joe right off that the changes in his brother had been noted. Fenton hugged both his sons, then turned to the elder. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Getting better every day!" The false chirpiness in Frank's voice made Joe wince. From the look their father gave him, he realized he wasn't the only one who wasn't buying the response.
"I'd tone that down if I were you," Fenton Hardy said, a small sigh escaping from his mouth. "Your mother is many things, Frank. Stupid is not one of them." He waved a hand up the path toward the door. "Go on. She's waiting for you." As Joe started to follow, Fenton reached out and grabbed his arm. "Let your brother go first, Joe."
"But, Dad, Frank needs…"
"Your brother is a grown man, Joseph. He can handle getting yelled at by his mother all by himself." The sudden light tone was at odds with the serious look on his face. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Is he really all right?"
Joe shook his arm free from his father's grasp, his shoulders sagging. "I think so? He's worlds better than he was." Running a hand through his hair, he blew out a breath. "For obvious reasons – other than the usual he thinks he's invincible crap – he's not all that keen on the idea of seeing a doctor, and, honestly, this time I really can't blame him."
"What about that psychiatrist in Massachusetts? Doctor Finely, was it?"
"Finley," Joe corrected. "I've got him on the back burner if it looks like Frank isn't getting better on his own."
Fenton nodded, his lips pressed together. "As long as you think he's going in the right direction." He let out a sigh. "Okay, it's probably safe for us to..."
"You. Did. What?!"
There was a slamming noise as the screen door, its hinges screeching, crashed into the side of the house. Laura Hardy stood in the entrance, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at her younger son. "You let him do this?" Without waiting for an answer or even taking a breath, she turned on her husband, the hand with the pointed finger swinging wildly in his direction. "And you. You knew about this, and didn't tell me?!" She let out a sound of primal rage and turned back inside, letting the door slam behind her.
Joe looked up at his father, blue eyes wide and nervous. "Let? She's met Frank, hasn't she? No one lets him do anything." They stood there for a long moment waiting to see if the house was about to explode. The silence was interrupted by a loud growl from Joe's stomach. Placing a hand over his midriff, he turned to his father. "Any chance she'll feed us before she kills us? I haven't had breakfast yet, and I'd rather not die on an empty stomach."
Fenton shook his head, a somewhat mournful expression on his face. "It's not looking hopeful." Then he clapped his son's shoulder. "On the other hand, you get see where you get your temper from. Come on. Let's get our lumps over with. If we're lucky, there will be pancakes at the end."
Once their mother had calmed down a little, the visit went smoothly. There had indeed been pancakes for breakfast, and Joe had been relieved to see Frank eating without hesitation or needing to measure out serving sizes. While they ate, Aunt Gertrude had immediately started baking oatmeal cookies, liberally tossing in both white and dark chocolate chips as well as handfuls of dried cranberries, for them to take back to the cottage. Once they were in the oven, she turned to them and said, "Most of these are for your brother." She gave Joe a very pointed look. "Don't eat them all yourself."
Joe had to swallow back the automatic, "Aunt Gertrude, would I do that?" question that threatened to pop out of his mouth. He knew his aunt didn't joke about her cookies. He also knew Frank needed the calories, so he clamped his lips shut and simply nodded.
By early afternoon, he could see his brother was starting to fade. His eyes were now too bright, and he was blinking more often than usual. Joe checked the time on his phone. If they left now, Frank would have a chance to get in a nap before Chet dropped Anna off at the cottage. With promises of frequent updates and a visit before they headed back to the city, he bundled his brother into the SUV, carefully grabbed the bag of still-warm cookies, and turned the vehicle toward their temporary home.
Frank was asleep before they turned on to the main road.
Absently, Joe fished inside the bag, grabbed a cookie, and took a bite, mentally calculating how many Frank might notice were missing before shaking his head, closing the bag, and placing it on the back seat, where it slid out of reach after the next turn. He had been hoping Frank would stay awake long enough to get back to the cottage. Waking his brother up to get him inside wasn't something he was looking forward to.
As they turned down the dirt road toward the cottages, he noticed a car parked out in front of the one they were renting. It wasn't Tom's sports car, but a small four-wheel drive Subaru. He pulled up to one of the other cottages, unoccupied due to renovations going on inside, and turned off the ignition. Locking the doors behind him, he slowly made his way over to their cottage. As he started to circle the building, the front door opened.
"Oh, good. You're back." A small, brunette figure launched itself at him, pulling his face down for a long and involved kiss. "And you taste like chocolate. I'm not sure why, but I like it."
Joe could only stand and blink. "Kara?"
With a quirk of her lips, she smiled up at him. "Oh, good. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."
He grinned back at her before picking her up, twirling her around, and kissing her soundly. When they broke apart, he cupped her face in his hands. "Never." As she reached around to hug him, he asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Anna said Chet was supposed to bring her up tonight, and I missed you, so I told him not to bother, that I'd bring her up." She looked up at him, her brown eyes dancing. "I didn't think you'd mind." Then she kissed him again.
Something she had said tickled at his brain, and he disengaged from her so he wouldn't forget it. "Anna," he said, his breath ragged. "You said Anna's here?"
Her breathing was also none too steady. "Oh, yeah. She's in the main room. I should…" She blinked at him once or twice. "I should go get her. Be right back." In an instant, she was gone.
Figuring Frank would be all right in the SUV for another few minutes, he followed her inside.
Anna was sitting on the couch, a book in hand, her glasses perched on her head. Her hair had started growing out and was feathering just above her shoulders. Her dark eyes ignored Kara, meeting his with an unspoken question.
"He's fine," Joe said. "He fell asleep on the way back from our parents'." Fishing the keys out of his pockets, he said, "Here. You can be the one to wake him up and get him back in here. It'll make him happy. He's missed you."
The tall girl blushed a delicate pink, then grabbed the keys, making a beeline for the door.
"There are cookies in the back seat," Joe yelled after her. "Get him to bring them in."
He and Kara made small talk until Frank was back in the house, blinking like an owl with Anna under his shoulder guiding him as he walked.
Joe took over from Anna, guiding his brother into the bedroom, then folding him into bed. He gave Anna a quick hug, pulled the chair up closer to the bedside, then left the room, closing the door to give them some privacy. As he walked back into the main area, he held out his hand to Kara and nodded at the door, mouthing, "Let's take a walk."
Once outside, Joe steered them toward the bay. When they got to the water's edge, he sat on the ground, pulling Kara onto his lap and kissing her deeply. "I missed you," he said, holding her close to his chest. Then he stilled. "Wait. How did you get in to the cottage?"
She leaned back so she could look up at him, and threw one of his feral grins at him. "Secret Special Agent skills. I'd tell you how, but then I'd have to kill you, and you're too pretty to kill"
He smiled. "You know, I said that same thing to someone not all that long ago."
"That they were too pretty to kill?" There was a teasing glint in her eyes.
"Yes," he said, laughing. It felt so good to laugh, to feel so relaxed. He had missed it more than he had realized. Squeezing her tight, he said, "I think we'll be able to come home in a few days."
"Are you sure Frank will be strong enough?" Her voice was muffled in his chest, but her could feel the sudden tension thrum throughout her whole body.
He nodded, kissing the top of her head, the scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils. "I don't think he'll be back full-time for a while, but after today, I think he's good to go home. We just need to finish up a few things here. Chief Collig has some questions for us, and we promised Liz an interview."
Kara chuckled. "I'm surprised she's let you wait this long."
"Chet told her he wouldn't bake for her if she didn't leave Frank alone until he was ready." The memory of the look on her face when Chet had uttered the words brought another smile to his lips, then he sobered. Chet, he thought. We owe him so much after this…
"Hey." Kara had reached up and was tapping his cheek. "Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere," he said. "Just thinking for a moment." She shivered in his arms, the motion making him look up. The sun had started going down, and the air by the Bay was starting to cool. Gently, he lifted her from his lap and helped her to her feet. "Let's head back. I don't want you to catch a cold." He captured her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. "Maybe we can get a pizza for dinner."
"Dinner is already taken care of." She started walking, leading him back toward the cabin. "I called Tony," she said, a smile lighting up her face. "I love you, but his cooking's better than yours." She glanced at her wristwatch. "As a matter of fact, he should be showing up any time now. Race you." She dropped his hand and took off running.
For a split-second, Joe was shocked into stillness. Then a smile spread over his face. "I can still beat you!"
He raced after her, laughing as he ran.