Parlor Tricks

Chapter 21

Hank settled in the chair facing his bed, but instead of gazing in front of him, Josie pulled his eyes to her as she flipping through his records. She spun through them quickly, only stopping on a few of his more obscure albums to assess. When she got through them, she shifted back to the beginning and began flipping again; this time, she had equal speed, and a more focused intent. Hank deliberately diverted his eyes when she completed her search. He smiled to himself at his silly desire to be surprised by her selection. He expected something quiet and sad; instead, Chuck Berry Is on Top spun. Hank attempted to stifle his laugh with a cough but knew his failure without glancing at Josie.

Josie settled on his bed, perched like an imp in the middle of a forest clearing. Hank's eyes fell to her as she tucked the skirt of her dress beneath her curled legs. The lamp's yellow light didn't suit her; Josie belonged in the sun's natural light or the moon's. She felt too organic for artificial light. He shook the thought from his mind as her gaze met his.

"What did you want to discuss?" Her tone let on that she already knew the answer.

"I think we should start at the beginning," Hank leaned in, letting his elbows brace on his knees.

"Well, I'm not sure when your story starts, but mine starts when my momma took a temp job in a law office."

Josie paused in case Hank was slow to make the connection. He was not, but the pause allowed him to wander to his father's office in his mind. Many had updated their offices with the brighter colors that were more in vogue in the 80s, but Henry and Peter had opted for the same deep dark wood and leather that Henry Sr. had selected. The musk of stale engulfed Hank's senses as his eyes blurred with the image of his father standing in front of the oversized window that overlooked Main Street.

"The office was closing down for a couple of weeks; they just needed someone to take messages," Josie continued.

Hank remembered this as well, although his firsthand experience tainted the recollections. It was the first year after Bella had passed. The feeling of loss and sadness still clouded both families, but his parents had another layer of guilt and gratefulness that their son was with them. It was the first time the families had vacationed apart. The Carrolls returned to the beach house on the shore. Hank recalled sunny days on the beach, punctuated by quiet moments when his parents would gaze at him in a way that made him feel fragile.

"Peter," Josie stuttered a moment, "my father returned after a week. The vacation hadn't been relaxing. My momma always said he was like one of Peter Pan's lost boys when she first met him; sad and looking for someone to love him." A flicker of a sad smile tempted a v between her eyes. Hank had the urge to reach for her, smooth the v, but he needed her to continue. "That was when it all began. He was a broken man hiding in his office with a bottle. She couldn't leave him that way." Josie's eyes were distant now. "It was just a sandwich, almost as pitiful as he was. Surely she wouldn't let him eat alone." Her words drifted as she played the story through in her mind. It surprised Hank at how comfortable the tale was, as though it had been a lullaby of her youth and not the undoing of three families.

"His wife was leaving him, told him she couldn't bear this life anymore in the shadow of baby Bella. I couldn't imagine losing a child." Hank wanted to agree, but he had been there for Bella, seen the rippling scars. "My momma stayed his confidant long after her time at the office, and they just grew together." Hank could see it happening in his mind, finding someone to hold on to when all else seemed lost. He could see himself doing the same. "I wasn't planned, of course, but neither made me feel like a mistake."

Hank's breath caught; she said neither. It couldn't be; he must have misheard her, "neither?"

A giggle slipped from Josie. "He'd come around when I was young." She picked at a spot on her dress, avoiding his stare. Hank was thankful for this as he knew unkind horror twisted his face. "Never on the big days; birthdays or holidays. He would show up on a random Thursday and take us to the zoo or out for ice cream. My momma used to say that the big days were ours. He didn't need them because he could make the small days big." There was a tenderness in these memories that made Hank uncomfortable.

"But he didn't recognize you?"

"Well, it's been 20-years. I've changed a bit; changed my name."

"Why did you change your name?" Hank was pressing now.

"Felt like a wound that wouldn't heal. Why do you go by Hank?"

Hank certainly understood. "He stopped coming?" Hank needed to push her forward; he needed more.

"Oh yeah. I was still young. I think it was when they both realized that he was never leaving his wife." There was sadness in her voice again; clouds had rolled into her sunny memories. "My momma changed then too; lost her sparkle, I suppose."

Hank's curiosity got the best of him. He cleared his throat to ensure his words could come tender. "May I see a picture of your mother?"

Josie's eyes snapped to Hank's, but they weren't defensive as he expected. "Of course," she smiled and leaped from the bed like a child.

She vanished for only an instant before returning with a swish of her dress. She grabbed at Hank's clasped hands, pulling on him. He obliged and joined her on the bed. She thrust the tattered photo into his hands as he settled on the corner. A woman, so like Josie, smiled up at him in a simple grey turtleneck accented with a black vest. Josie got her natural smile from her mother. Two thin lips spread wide enough to tickle her deep chocolate eyes. Josie had gotten her mosaic eyes from Peter, but the touches of red in her hair came from her mother, as did her pronounced cheekbones. Still, Hank could not miss the loneliness; he saw the same hollowing in his reflection.

Hank was suddenly aware of Josie's eyes on him. "She's beautiful," he lifted his eyes to hers and, without a thought, added, "just like her daughter." His face flushed as he realized his departure from the goal at hand.

Josie gave him a sympathetic smile before plucking the photo from his hand. She lined it up on the bed next to the one he had seen of a young Josie and Peter from the car. The third was a surprise; it had come from the box downstairs, hidden away from albums. Bella sat perched on her father's lap. The pictures of Josie and Bella side by side made the similarities painfully undeniable.

Hank's eyes twitched back and forth between the images. Rosie has seen these similarities. Was Bella still that impactful of a presence in the Dillard house? An excuse for Elise, most likely unaware of Josie's existence, but how did Peter not recognize his own daughter? Or had he? Had he seen the resemblance but required proof before acknowledging it. It would explain the sudden illness.

"So," Hank needed to get them back on track before he grew too indulgent, "do you know what brought them back together?"

Josie sighed. Hank could tell this had been a question she had mulled. "I suspect it was me. I was getting older and asking questions. My momma always painted my daddy as a kind man that would be with us if he could but was a victim of obligation." Hank's head clung to her last words, 'victim of obligation,' the definition of his own life. "Still," she continued, "I wanted more. I wanted to know who he was. My questions must have stung. I don't know why I didn't just let it go." Her head swung from side to side like she had bitten into a tart lemon.

"It wasn't your fault." Hank was so close he couldn't stop his hand from catching a loose tendril of her auburn hair and tucking it behind her ear.

She lifted her face to him with two shattered eyes. Instinct kicked in as he let his hand cup her face. Energy erupted up his hand, a burning. He let it engulf him for as long as he could; he even allowed himself the small invention of his mind that she leaned into his touch.

But she pulled away with a shrug and hid her eyes from him again. "Just after Christmas, the car showed up." Hank knew this part. "We were planning to go south to my Gram's, but I was the only one that made it," Josie let herself fall to the bed in a small ball and closed her eyes for a moment.

Hank knew he was stealing for the gaze he didn't remove from her, but she entranced him. "And she told you Peter, err- your father, gave her the car?" Hank needed to know. Josie responded with a subtle nod of confirmation.

Hank heaved himself up and shifted through the albums, taking solace in mimicking Josie's earlier movement. Ben E. King seemed to fit his mind. He settled into his chair, intent on giving Josie space while Don't Play that Song filled the room. Hank closed his eyes, trying to focus on the Consul and his father instead of his urge to move to Josie's side. He knew he could not comfort her. So, he let the music swirl with his thoughts, attempting to drive her pain from his mind.