The sun did not wake Hank; it was a rustle by his side in the darkness that woke him. Despite the surprise, his eyes adjusted quickly in the dark to see her figure hovering over him. He didn't stir at first; he assumed it was a dream. Perhaps the entire week had been a dream. But there was a gentle pull of his sheets that moved him back to the physical. Impulsively he released his clutch of the covers and slid over, but he did not intend it as an invitation; he had no intention at all. Still, Josie slid in next to him. His body stiffened as her head and hand settled on his bare chest. His lungs ached for breath, but he remained still. He felt her other arm beside him. Her tiny fist balled along his ribcage; it was not unpleasant, nor was the sticky humidity between her soft cheek and his chest unwanted. Her breath coursed down him until the blankets absorbed the sensation.

He felt a breath ease out of him as his body melted around her. His arms tucked her closer to him. He even dared to take a small sip of her scent in his mouthful of air. His mind tugged at his nakedness. He felt the warmth of her smooth cotton nightdress against him. She must know his vulnerable state. Even so, she clung to him. For a moment, a glimmer that she needed him surged through him, but the spark was much too faint to ignite anything more. Her fingers remained still on his chest. He longed to feel the burn of a fingertip floating over his skin again, but it was too much to expect. Instead, he focused on the slow fill and release of her lungs, the rise and fall of her ribs with the occasional flutter of an eyelash against his skin. It was enough for a starving man.

"Are you lonely, Hank?" She didn't lift her head as she spoke; she just continued to cling to him.

"Yes," he wanted to say more, but his years of solitude had stolen his eloquence.

"When I was little, my momma used to read me that story about the boy and the tree. The tree gives up everything. Do you know it?" Her voice was quiet but dripped with direction.

"Yes, my father read that one to me as well." His body wanted to glance around the room as though he could lay his eyes on the book in the darkness. It was a senseless attempt that his mind shut down. Josie was too close; the movement must remain delicate, or she may scatter like birds in a breeze.

"I always thought I was a giver; I thought that was what my momma wanted in reading me that story. Then I met you." For a single instant, her fingertips flexed against the skin of his chest, reminding him they were there. "You make an honest woman a thief." He had neither words nor breath. The giver should be happy with the release, but this felt painful. "I think that might be your parlor trick."

After a few silent moments, he felt her breath become easy and knew she was closer to the moon than the sun. His arms still cradled her despite his longing to lift a hand to her hair. He closed his eyes painfully hard and imagined her auburn hair fluttering in a breeze; how it would whisper red in the sunlight. He felt his chest heave a bit as his mind tried to gulp in the moment's warmth, but it caused a stir from Josie pulling him back to the bed. Having her in his arms, even for one night, was enough.

Hank did not blink the entire night through. Only when Josie stirred in his arms did he close his eyes. He felt her gaze on him and was rewarded again with a lone fingertip sliding down his cheek. Hank let his face remain slack, allowing her that moment before she slipped away. He lay there as his body cooled from her warmth, wishing he could linger at the moment all day. But the thought of his obligations chased away the memories of Josie.

Hank was alone as he started the tea and toast. He was preparing himself for the silence again. Peals of laughter from the sitting room shattering the quiet. Hank loaded up the tray and carried it to the women. He didn't bother to fix toast for himself; he knew he wouldn't be able to eat with the knot in his stomach. Hank dispensed the tea before settling in his chair. The ladies chatted around him, but he was content with the swirl of his tea bag.

"I should have your car fixed up today," he offered with a false smile that he was certain landed as a wince. "I just need to flatten the hood and give it a polish."

"Should I join you today, so you don't have to leave your truck stranded?" Josie's previously light tone now dropped to meet his.

"Oh, don't leave this poor old woman alone," Clara's voice was dripping with great despair, but there was truth behind it.

"Well, how about I join you this morning, then we can come back here, and you can give her a good polish in this garage?" Josie gave a friendly nod to Clara.

"I don't know. I like to keep my work out of the house," even Hank didn't believe himself. It was not like he was a surgeon slicing someone open on the dining room table. His eyes fell on his mother and the sadness that was creeping back into her face. "I suppose I can make an exception." He let a faint smile extend to her.

"It's settled," an open beam spread across Josie's face. "I'll head in with you this morning and grace you with more of my plucking, and then this afternoon," she turned her attention to Clara, "you owe me a rematch. I believe I'm two sets behind, and I intend to make them up and win." A smile spread across Clara's face at the declaration.

"Well, we should get going if I am going to get everything smoothed out this morning," Hank rose and absently extended a hand to Josie. He hadn't noticed the motion until her hand was sliding into his, and he was lifting her. She let herself slip to his side, bracing herself on his waist. It was an unnecessary steadying, but Hank welcomed it all the same.

He hoped for it again when he opened his truck door to her and let his arm linger to assist her scale. Again, she braced herself on him as she climbed in, sending a silent surge through him.