Parlor Tricks

Chapter 23

Hank felt he was made of stone as Josie fell in around him. She rested her head on his chest as though this were a well-traveled path. Her warmth and sweet, earthy scent engulfed him like a wildfire. Before he knew it, his lungs were screaming for a fresh breath. He eased the battling air out slowly and then just as carefully sucked in a fresh breath. He was acutely aware of every slight move for fear he would disturb her.

"Hank," Josie murmured without lifting her head. He held his breath again. "Breathe." Her hand flex, causing her fingertips to dig into his ribs.

He let his lungs deflate and then took a full, unencumbered breath. "Sorry," he added in a whisper.

Josie propped her head on his chest and met his eyes. "You stop breathing and then apologize to me about it." She was teasing him. Even so, Hank couldn't bring himself to relax fully. "Do I make you nervous, Hank?"

"Very."

"My momma used to say the only people that should make you nervous are the ones that own a piece of you." She kept her eyes trained on Hank, watching his mind work through her most recent riddle. She let a hand brush his dark hair from his face. The passing touch of fingertips gracing his forehead lingered well after she once again tucked her hand beneath her chin.

"What do you want from me, Josie?"

She smiled in a small way, but her diverted eyes told him it was her genuine smile. "You don't say my name often. It sounds different from your lips."

"I'm sorry."

She met his gaze and lifted a fingertip to his lower lip, brushing it gently. "I didn't say I don't like the way it sounds." An unbound smile spread across his face. A more profound smile spread across Josie's to match. "When you smile, a full smile, your face lights up. Not just the dimples on your cheeks," her tiny finger dipped into one of his dimples. "You smile with your nose," her finger glided down the bridge of his nose. "And your chin." Her fingertip dipped away to tuck beneath his chin as her thumb caught the top of it.

Josie's hand fell to Hank's shoulder as she pulled her body up closer to his face. Hank felt her warmth shift up his body in the most appealing way. She rested her head in the crux of his neck. Her warm breath coursed over his collarbone as her hand came to lie across his chest again.

"You asked me to stay; now, what do you want?" It was an alluring tease, and he knew where she was trying to pull him.

A small voice in Hank's head wanted to protest that she had not answered his question. The temptation of her was surprisingly easy to resist with her so close, "just stay with me."

The years of solitude that had once been his armor now felt like a prison. Josie, so close in his arms, was like a breath of fresh air, fulfilling after years of stifled stale air. Hank felt bold with the new strength she was giving him. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, pulling her deeper into his chest. He let his lips fall to the crown of her head and took another slow intake of her alluring scent.

"What can I offer you?" He offered back.

A sigh fell from Josie, and for a moment, Hank stiffened in fright that he had offended. "Oh, Hank, why can't you think of you?" But she was speaking to herself; he could tell from her wistful tone, "tell me about my father."

Hank thought back for a moment to the Peter he knew as a kid, the distant Peter. "When I was a kid, he always seemed sad. At least I always thought he was sad. When Bella passed," Hank paused for a moment, trying to collect the right words, "we were all sad. I was so young, I didn't understand everything, but I knew the grief, and I think I painted over a lot of the more nuanced emotions with it." Hank pondered this for a moment. "Just like my parents seemed to grow closer, lean on each other, Peter and Elise fractured. There was always space between them. I suppose it wasn't grief the whole time. As the years passed, I think he was, I guess, still is, lonely."

Hank let his thoughts wander through his memories of Peter as his lips instinctively met the top of Josie's head again before he continued. "I don't remember Peter and Elise before Bella's death, but I can say that I don't recall warmth between them since. But Peter has had moments. The Pinewood Derby always sticks out. As I mentioned, Peter never spent much time with me, just a polite greeting in passing. But he got into the Pinewood Derby. I'm not sure what made him want to spend so much time with a seven-year-old."

"I do," Josie shifted uncomfortably. Hank loosened his arms to aid in her comfort. "You were seven in 88, right?"

"Yeah, I was." Hank hadn't made the connection yet.

"That was the year I was born. April 1988."

Hank's head swam as the pieces fell into place. Peter seemed different during those weeks because he was; he was hopeful, excited even. Hank wondered if he had planned to leave Elise; make a family with Josie and her mother. The dots were still not connecting, though. How did Josie's mom end up dead, and why would his father kill himself unless the story they knew was true? Hank's father must have killed Margaret. It is the only way Henry Jr. would have killed himself. The thoughts made Hank's body stiffen with tension.

"What is it?" Josie lifted her face to meet his gaze.

When Hank's eyes fell on his face, he couldn't help but see her delicate features. She was fragile, like the porcelain dolls his mother collected. He let a hand lift to her cheek. Josie leaned into the caress.

"I'm worried about what my father may have done to your life. How could he have done it?" Hank's words came out strained to the point they were hardly more than a breath.

"I still don't think he did," Josie's tone matched his.

"It makes little sense, though. Why else would he kill himself?"

"I don't know, but we will figure it out." She turned her face in his hand, allowing her velvet lips to press against the thick skin of his palm.

Hank pulled her towards him, needing more. It was a carnal instinct, an admission of desire that he had been stifling for too long. He took care to notice if she resisted, but she did not. Josie allowed him to pull her close willingly, wantonly.

"Say no," he cautioned, his voice rough with need.

But Josie didn't say no; she only propelled forward further, crashing into his lips with her own. They tangled in each other's limbs. Hank savored the moment, knowing he would not let it escalate beyond this. He couldn't, not when there were so many unanswered questions.