Hank gazed out the kitchen window at the dreary day before he knew it. His hand absently reached for the rosemary plant, stroking it gentle to release the earthy scent. He could hear Clara and Josie in the sitting room, a mix of chatter and laughter. He fought the tug to join them for a few moments longer before letting his feet carry him down the hall.

"Henry! I didn't realize you were coming home for lunch," Clara's voice was lively.

"Well, I need to wait for a couple of parts to come in, so I figured I might as well head home to my girls." He slumped into his usual chair, feeling more tired than he should.

"Have you eaten? I could fix you something." Josie asked quietly, her eyes filled with a curious suspicion.

"No, I went to the diner before heading home." He attempted a smile, but it fell weak.

"Mm, what flavor pie today?" Josie's attempt at teasing also failed at the moment.

Hank couldn't even recall the flavor from just an hour before. "Apple?" He guessed, suddenly conscious of his distraction. He lurched forward, trying to shake away the shadows in his mind. "How are the photos coming?" He plucked one up from a past Christmas. He stared down at his younger self playing with a toy truck.

"Good, but it's exhausting." Clara faked a yawn. "I was thinking of lying down for a bit," she added with a wink to Hank.

"Oh, I was hoping for a game of cribbage." Hank's sudden awareness made him conscious of the neglect he had given to his mother recently, relying too heavily on Josie to entertain her.

"Oh, that would be lovely. Perhaps a little later." As she shifted to stand, Hank instinctively crossed the divide to assist her. His mind flickered to how frail she was as his hand caught her sharp elbow. Clara gave him a tender smile, which he returned with a kiss to her temple. "Such a good boy," she added as she patted his hand. "Spend some time with her," she whispered before she floated out the doorway and up the hall.

Hank's eyes fell on Josie, who was distinctly avoiding his gaze. "It's a nice day; would you like to go out to the garden?"

Josie absently stood. "I should get dinner started."

"It's two in the afternoon; don't you have a few minutes?"

"Fine." Her tone was curt, and she flinched slightly when his hand brushed the small of her back. Still, he took solace in her wearing the slippers.

"Are you upset with me?" Hank kept his voice low to diffuse a confrontation.

Josie let out a sigh. "No," a small crease developed between her brows. "Why did you lie?" Heat flushed through Hank. His mind flipped through the lies he had told over the past few days. At one point, he had such a simple, transparent life. "Why are you home? Don't you trust me?"

"What?" Hank again forced himself from his distractions once again.

"I would never hurt Clara or you," Pain saturated her words.

"No, I'm not..." Hank sucked in a heavy breath. "I'm home because I would be no use in the shop today and..." He stumbled a bit on his words, "I wanted to see you."

Josie's eyes widened. "Really?"

A chuckle bubbled from Hank's throat. "Josie, I always want to be near you." He had thought it was apparent. She tucked her head on his shoulder. He resolved to make fewer assumptions. "I had lunch with the police Chief today." Josie's head popped up to study his face. "He was the detective back when..."

After an awkward pause, Josie's impatience burst through, "and..."

"He said there was a witness that put my dad and your mom together during lunches." Hank let the words flow directly from his thoughts. "It explains how he was here every night."

Guilt filled Hank as his tone dripped with disappointment. He didn't want to offend Josie, but it disappointed him that his father had developed a romance outside of Clara. He had not always understood his mother, but since Josie had arrived, he had seen the side of her that explained his father's devotion. Josie pulled the muted tones to a new luster.

"It doesn't, though," Josie's tone was serious. "My mom was working as a long-term sub for a first-grade teacher. She couldn't leave at lunch."

"But the witness..."

"Was wrong, or lying." Hank's mind twisted around Josie's words. "Hank, it's my father. He needed to build up a motive."

Hank couldn't let himself believe so quickly. "Peter was my dad's best friend. I don't think he would have done that."

"Who else would have? It is the only way this makes sense. He was the one who had an affair."

Hank's thoughts drifted to why his father would kill himself if Peter were the criminal. He knew his father's loyalty, but it had to have been stronger for Clara and him than for Peter. Chief Fox's words echoed through Hank's mind; why would Henry Jr. kill himself?

"Hank, what are you thinking about?" Josie prodded with thinly veiled annoyance, "let me help."

"Why would he kill himself if Peter was the one at fault? No level of loyalty would escalate there."

"He shot himself, right?"

"Yeah, straight through the temple in Peter's office."

"Peter's office, why not his own?"

"He was at Peter's house. They had been talking about the case, all the options." As Hank spoke, he felt Josie stiffen.

"Hank, Peter killed him. It wasn't suicide."

The thought had been there, but he had been shuffling it down. His mind plucked another piece from Chief Fox's words, fingerprints on the gun. When Hank had asked about proof, Chief had gone straight to the suicide. The details fit; all the whys, the lone witness willing to talk, the delinquent behavior of Peter lately. The delinquent behavior of Peter lingered. He instinctively pulled Josie deeper into his arms.

"What is it?" Josie murmured into his chest.

"Stay here at the house."

"What?"

"I told Peter you had left. Stay here now, out of sight."

"Hank, he doesn't know who I am, not for certain"

"I don't think that's true, and I am not willing to risk it," he pulled her tighter to him. "Just stay close for a little while," he added before kissing her softly on the top of her head, causing a shudder through her.

"I can't stay hidden away forever," she murmured.

"Please, for a little while. Let me sort through this," there was a frantic pleading in Hank's voice.

Josie's alarm coursed through her, straightening her spine and pulling her from Hank. "We know. What else is there to sort through?" She punctuated the word 'we' with a heavier than needed force.

"We don't know. We have no proof."

"Proof, Hank, we don't need proof."

"What? We just let him get away with it?" Hank could feel anger rising in him, unlike he had ever felt before. "You want to just... what? What is it you want?"

"I want to move on." Josie's voice was quiet; Hank could barely hear her over the angry thoughts in his head. "I came here for closure, not proof."

Hank stared at where she stood but didn't see her. His mind was on Peter. After a long silence, Josie turned on her heel and swiftly paced back to the house. Hank knew he should go after her, but he froze. Knowing all the disconnects in the story should make it easy to move forward, uncovering the holes a desperate man hastily constructed it. Still, Hank couldn't stop analyzing all the angles, all the holes to enlarge. He couldn't ignore the duty to his father, to Clara, to himself.

"Josie," Hank's quiet tone let his exhaustion saturate him. But Josie didn't look up; she continued to hack away at a butternut squash. "Josie, I'm sorry," his sincere plea startled even himself. It was enough to get her to lift her gaze to him. "I want to move on; I'm just not there yet."

Josie let out a sigh and put the knife down. She moved close to him and brushed a curtain of dark hair from his face before letting her hand cup his cheek. Her tenderness pooled at the back of his eyes. He was desperate for closure, but it wasn't coming to him as it did for her.

"You look tired," her voice came soft as velvet, calming the lively peaks and valleys that typically accented her words. "Go lay down; I'll bring you some tea."

Josie was right; Hank could suddenly feel the weight of each day over the past 20-years. The creaking of the stairs matched the aches of his body. He stumbled out of his shoes and tossed his shirt aside before falling to the bed with a bulky swish. The pillow still smelled of Josie and lulled him into a content trance. He was subtly aware when Josie arrived, but it was not the usual tea she carried in with her.

"Rosemary," Hank murmured as he shifted to welcome her into his arms.

"I know you like it," she settled on his chest. "I figured you wouldn't be up for sipping."

"I love you," slipped innocently from his lips as he melted around her body. "I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you." The honesty flowed from him with unexpected ease.

Josie placed a gentle kiss on his neck that burrowed deep within him, clawing for more. He pulled her to him and kissed her with an urgency he hadn't allowed previously. After a moment, Josie pulled her lips from his, replacing them with her forehead. Hank let his lips sink into her soft skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Hank, do you want to stop being alone?" As she spoke, she let her face drop to his chest. The flutter of her eyelashes tickled his skin.

He thought of her question. He enjoyed his solitude; life had been more comfortable as a ghost. Still, the thought of not having her ripped deep into him.

"It's not a desire to be with someone. It's to be with you," Hank qualified.

Josie pulled herself up to his face again, giving him a long, satisfying kiss.

"No riddle?" He teased as they parted.

"I don't want any parlor tricks between us anymore." She rose momentarily from his chest to lift her dress off before sinking back into him.