Chapter 22
Hank wished he had something to do with his hands; as it was, he watched himself knot and unknot his fingers. Josie stayed curled in a ball for a few long moments before breaking the silence with a simple request that still took Hank by surprise.
"Tell me about your father," her voice was distant.
Hank sat back in the chair, causing it to groan beneath his shifting weight. His mind flipped through memories of his father, looking for a foothold to start. "He liked people," he began. "And people liked him, but he wasn't obtrusive. I guess that my mother was the star of the show, and he was content with paying the light bill."
A distant smile spread across Hank's face as he recalled the enchanting glow of his mother at dinner parties, and always right at her elbow was his father.
"They danced often," he began again. He lifted his eyes to find Josie now sitting on the bed, gazing back at him. "I'm sure you could guess that from the many requests of Clara." He let a chuckle pass his lips and watched it catch on Josie's face and blossom into a smile. "They were a good pair. I guess I never really noticed how well suited they were for each other. He loved music, and she loved to dance." His mind shifted to the duties of a lawyer's wife. "I don't recall a single night they spent apart. Clara would always travel with him if he had to go away for business." Hank's mind shifted deeper still. "I'm not even sure if they ever missed a dinner together. If he had a business dinner, it was either with her at home or out with her. He told me once she was so captivating that entire restaurants would hush when she walked in."
"I could see that." Josie's recent experiences with Clara tugged at her focus. "Even now, you can still see the glimmers when she smiles or laughs. I couldn't imagine her when she was..." She let her words drop, but Hank knew where her thoughts would lead.
"You brought that back. I'm afraid I am not one to bring out a person's shine." Hank filled with the anxiety of having let his father down by extinguishing the light that had been Clara.
"You don't see yourself very clearly," Josie murmured, almost to herself.
Hank registered the words but did not process their meaning; he was already thinking of the hindsight view of Clara. "You know, a lot of people were surprised when my father chose Clara." Hank's mind skipped to all the whispers and chatter that had occurred around him as a child. Talk of Clara's self-absorption and how the Carroll boy must have chosen her out of pity. "He loved her," his voice was defiant to the ghosts in his head. Josie recoiled a bit from the tone. Her jump brought him back; softened his words again. "He loved her; revolved around her. He was always most at ease when she was by his side."
"He loved you too," Josie's voice was soft and tender.
Hank smiled at Josie feeling the need to include him. "He did; I was lucky. Many fathers have many expectations in this town, but little patience and even less time to listen. My father was the reverse; he always made time." Hank thought of all the cub scout meetings and ball games his father would shepherd him to and from in his old Mustang. "I always assumed that I would be a lawyer because that is what he was and his father before him. I wonder..." Hank's mind wandered to all the weekends in the garage working on cars.
"He'd be very proud," Josie answered, startling Hank.
Hank wasn't so convinced, but her words brought him back to the room and the sudden silence that surrounded them. He rose and flipped the record. When he turned, she was there, so close, expecting. They fell into each other like two magnets that were tired of bucking science.
"I love this song," Josie murmured.
Hank smiled to himself, "everyone always needs someone to stand by them."
They were words he'd hear his father often say when people questioned his choice of cases. Hank had never correlated them to Stand By Me, but this was one of his father's favorite songs. An album often spun while tinkering in the garage. The memories of his father and mother gathered Hank's thoughts as he turned absently with Josie. The words floated through him while the bass led his heartbeats. He almost didn't notice her saucer eyes gazing up at him. In the yellowed light of the lamp, they looked like deep pools of chocolate brown. Hank knew the music kept playing, and their feet continued to shuffle. Rationally, he even knew the storm continued outside with its erratic beat of raindrops, but she focused all his senses, muting the rest of the world.
"Hank," her voice was a labored choke.
"Josie," they were close now. Hank could feel her breath flowing over his lips. His shoulders bowed, willing him to be closer to her. "Will you stay?"
"I have to."
"Will you stay with me?"
She gazed up at him as their feet stopped. They were just there, holding each other, "yes."
It was a quiet yes, but it struck through Hank like a lightning bolt. The gravity of the yes shrunk him further, bringing him even closer to her face. Still, he couldn't get himself to push forward; instead, he pulled her into him. She clung to him as though she were afraid the storm raging outside would burst into the room and try to rip them apart. Hank wouldn't let it happen. He suddenly knew why his father was always there at Clara's elbow, always ready to protect her and be protected by her.
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