Parlor Tricks

Chapter 27

Hank finished the gutters, lost in his thoughts, but this time he was more focused on Josie. Love was the complication he could not place in the past. He could imagine dying for someone you love; it felt like a duty of love, and Hank understood responsibility. He would die in place of Clara and, although he felt foolish, he would die in place of Josie. There was a loyalty tied to the emotions surrounding her that he could not ignore.

Still, as he rinsed the now cleared gutters, he wondered how thin the line was between love and hate. Was there a betrayal that Josie could bestow upon him that would turn him to hate? Not just an unpleasant distaste, but murderous hatred? He couldn't imagine betrayal so deep that it would turn him against the carefully curated courtesies that embodied him, that embodied his father.

The thoughts of betrayal and destruction put Hank on edge. He didn't care for his mind-twisting his thoughts of Josie to this dark path. There was a quickening to his pace as he coiled the hose; a need to be close to her again, to protect her. But he was uncertain from what or who he was protecting her. History would say that he was in the villain's role, the son of her mother's killer. They were the reflection of the past playing out in the present. Why did he pull slippers from his truck to protect her delicate feet from the cold if this was true?

A calming hum fell over his chest when he finally stepped inside the house. Wafts of roasting chicken ebb by him as the peaks of a lively conversation rolled out from the sitting room. He washed his hands, knowing that it would not purge the muck and sweat of the day from him. The clock glowed from the stovetop, telling him he should have enough time for a shower.

Neither of the ladies noticed him as he entered the sitting-room; both were too focused on the smattering of photos spread across the coffee table.

"Hello," his voice came tentatively, hoping to avoid startling them.

"Oh Henry," Clara's eyes were distant in the memories each photo brought forth. "Josie talked me into taking care of the old photo albums." As Clara spoke, both backed away from the table, settling deeper into their chairs.

Absently, Hank moved to see the photos they were enjoying; he didn't notice his hand settle on Josie's shoulder. She lifted a hand to lie on his, causing a soothing warmth to spread through him. He was aware of the tender moment he had triggered and fought the urge to lift to his mother's gaze. Instead, he focused on the photos of his childhood. A few were flipped over, showing carefully written descriptions of the memory.

"I thought it would be nice to document the who's who," Hank noted caution in Josie's voice, as though she were afraid it would upset him.

Hank's lack of upset was a surprise to him. A part of him pushed him to a dark path. Josie was only doing this to unravel the mystery that had been lingering all these years, but Hank couldn't commit to it. He lifted his eyes to Josie to find her return the look with complete sincerity.

"I think it's a great idea." He leaned in, drawn to her. "Thank you," his voice came as a whisper as he tenderly kissed the crown of her head. He felt her squeeze his hand as he did so. "I'm going to shower before dinner, but I would like to see what you have done. Maybe tonight after dinner?" He finally dared to lift his eyes to his mother to find her looking adoringly at them.

Clara faltered for a moment before realizing it was her cue in the conversation. "Yes, that would be marvelous. You may remember things this foggy brain of mine had long forgotten."

"Oh, I doubt that, mom. Your mind is as sharp as a knife." Hank leaned over to her next, placing a kiss on her forehead before heading off to the shower.

There was a buzz of energy coming from Clara at dinner that night. She continued down meandering paths of memories. Hank enjoyed hearing her recollections; some moments he had forgotten, others he had just seen with a different focus. He tried to concentrate on the conversation despite his mind wanting to wander down the differing perceptions between him and his mother. Perhaps this was why he had not been sure of a night his parents had spent apart.

Hank was grateful for a few moments in the kitchen with Josie. He was happy to share some tender moments, nevertheless, he did not want to push the limits to vulgarity. Hank preferred a world where the romance scene cut away to the fluttering window curtain versus some gratuitous sexual moment and, while a few stolen kisses were neither vulgar nor gratuitous, he wanted this same respectful regard for Josie. He pulled her close to him at his first opportunity and gave her a long, slow kiss. He then allowed himself to linger in her space for a few moments, taking in her heady presence before returning to the mundane dishes.

Sleep put off the promised walk down memory lane. After the kitchen was clean, all three determine they were far too tired from the day. Hank could feel the stiffness setting into his back and knew the stylish yet entirely uncomfortable chairs in the sitting room would not give him any relief. Instead, he found himself in bed with his arms curled around Josie, unable to stay awake.