Parlor Tricks

Chapter 38

"Is my pursuit ruffling your closure?" Hank spoke into the top of Josie's head as they swayed hypnotically on the garden swing.

"Who's the one a step ahead now." The words were playful, but seriousness tangled her tone.

They had spoken little since Hank came in from the garage. Nerves had spread like a disease through Hank's mind and body. The truth and his desire to make Josie happy bit at him.

"He asked for you." Hank wasn't sure if she would want to know. Josie pulled away and studied his face. "He suspects our connection."

"Is that what this is, a connection?"

"This is the only connection," Hank kissed her on her forehead.

"I wish that were true," her hope bit at Hank with a smarting sting.

"He thought, or maybe hoped; I called him here to ask about you."

"Me?"

"A gentleman's request." The words had lingered in Hank's head all afternoon. Josie let out a sigh and slumped back to Hank's side. "I didn't get what I needed; he either didn't have or wouldn't share any details."

"You think he didn't have them?" Hank could feel Josie shaking her head incredulously.

"I could tell that he loved your mother," Hank gauged her response before adding, "and you." Josie remained stoic, concealing her thoughts from him. "He called her Maggie."

"Maggie Mae, Maggie Mae; please come along and play." It was a rudimentary rhyme, but there was a tender warmth as she whispered the words. "He would tease my mother with that when she was spoiling our fun."

"He said you lit up the room just like your mother," Hank continued, but was cut off.

Josie kicked off his chest, darting from the swing requiring Hank to stamp a foot down to halt the sway.

"Stop, Hank. I don't want this." Her eyes widened with developing fury he had never seen nor thought her capable of conjuring. "This is all his fault. My mother, your father; their blood is on his hands. This rotting life is at his feet."

"Rotting life?" Hank knew she was referring to the 20-years of muted days, but they brought him to her, or rather, her to him.

"He's a terrible man. It's bad enough that he is a part of me, coursing through my veins. I'll be damned if I invite him into my head as well."

"Josie," Hank stood and reached out to her in comfort, but she coiled away. The rejection stung.

She softened at his pain. "I'm sorry, Hank. I love you. I just..." Her eyes dropped to the ground before flickering back up to him. "Can I have a few moments? I need to clear my head."

"Of course," he let a hand slide down her arm, catching her hand. He gave it a tender squeeze before letting it drop and heading into the house.

The bed felt empty as Hank's impatience grew. He knew he needed to give her space; she deserved space, but he wanted her near him. Something felt off. He slipped back downstairs as she was coming in.

"Hey," his voice was hardly above a whisper.

She didn't speak; she just crossed to him and stood on her toes as she wrapped her arms around his thick neck, drawing him down to her for a kiss. It was wanting and hungry. Hank instinctively pulled her closer to him, lifting her slightly to ease the burden of her toes. She pushed for more without unlocking their lips. In a swift movement, he pulled her from her feet entirely and into his arms, cradling her carefully without separating.

"Take me upstairs," she murmured before returning her lips to his.

Hank eased to his room, feeling each step carefully with his feet to avoid any missteps. He laid Josie tenderly on the bed, content to gaze down on her for a moment, but she was too fast, pulling him down to her. He landed heavier on her than he would have liked, but she did not seem to notice. There was an urgency to her he had not experienced before.

He twisted to free her from his weight. She scrambled on top of him.

"I love you, Hank." Her words were apologetic and urgent, as if they were the last few grains of sand slipping through an hourglass.

The tone made him falter in his return, but he caught her as she plunged back to his chest. Against all his carnal desires, he pushed her up again.

"I love you too, Josie." As he spoke, he brushed her hair from her face.

There was a pain that he had missed before. He let his hand cup her cheek for a moment before Josie dove back to him. His heart was barely settling as he combed his fingers through her hair. She was back in his arms, her head resting on his chest. Still, there was a disconnect. Hank's mind sorted through the divide. Josie's inviting warmth was depleting. She was so closed, wrapped within him, but he had the unmistakable feeling of her pulling away from him.

"Josie, are you ok?" His voice sounded rough in the still of the surrounding night.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I need a good night's sleep. It'll settle my mind." She pulled herself up to his body to give him a long, lingering kiss before settling back into his side. "We should have danced tonight," she added somberly.

"Tomorrow," Hank promised.

He stroked her hair as he waited for sleep to drift over him. It was still early, but he could feel the heaviness soaking into his mind and body. He drifted faster than he expected, despite the twisting thoughts running through his head.

Hank's dreams disturbed. Disembodied emotions and thoughts whirled together as haunting apparitions. The visions twisted into nightmares. Hank was not afraid of physical pain; it was the loneliness that was creeping closer and closer. A forced return to silent solitude threatened him as the ghosts evaporated one by one.

He awoke in a sweat, reaching out to Josie for solace, but the bed was empty. Panic ripped through him as he tore himself from the sheets. He stumbled to the hallway, hoping to see the light from the bathroom, but the hallway was deserted. He staggered down the stairs, skipping more than he hit, and darted to the backdoor, but the garden was also abandoned. She was gone.