Hank let his fingers comb through Josie's hair as she lay on his chest. She slightly stirred as though the thought of getting up was swirling in her mind. He used his free hand to pull the sheet up around her before letting it settle back into the small of her back. She nestled back into him, allowing him a few more minutes to let her proximity roll over him.

"I should get up; I need to start dinner now." Josie had propped her head on Hank's chest. His focus on his other senses made him not noticed her shifting.

His hand smoothed her hair as he gazed down at her face. "Just another minute." He requested. She smiled at him and again rested her cheek on his chest as he continued to smooth her hair. Hank felt the moment slipping from him despite his attempt to hold on to it. He pulled her tighter to him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she lifted her face to him as she spoke.

"I know," he smiled down at her, feeling unsteady.

Josie pulled from his arms and dressed as Hank continued to gaze at her. "You staying in bed?"

"No," he shyly returned as he diverted his eyes from her and pulled on his pants.

"Hey," he looked up at her, calling to find her close again.

Without notice, her lips were on his. He leaned back, letting her spill on top of him as they both broke apart amidst laughter.

"I think you might be a keeper, Hank Carroll. At least that's what your momma keeps telling me." She gave him a wink as she detangled her body from his and headed to the door.

Hank let her go ahead of him, while slumped back to the bed, allowing the lingering feel of her to sink in further, closing his eyes tightly and focusing on the enduring heat of her touch and the haunting of her scent. He'd gladly welcome blindness to maintain these other senses. He finished dressing slowly with a content smile gracing his face.

Clara was in the sitting room when he arrived. He slumped back to his usual chair. "Still up for some cribbage?'

"Of course," Clara's excitement was warming.

Hank dealt the cards as Clara settled herself deeper into her chair. "So," her attempt at casual failed, "tell me about Josie."

Hank let out a laugh as he glanced at the hand he was dealt and selected his lay-away cards. "I feel like I should ask you that question. You two seem thick as thieves."

"She is a delight," Clara admitted, adding her cards to the crib before Hank tucked them to the side of the table.

"I would have to agree," he feigned, inspecting his cards.

"Oh, Henry, you are as maddening as your father." Clara waved her free hand in the air to exaggerate her words.

"I've been compared to worse," he continued to tease.

Clara let out a sigh. "Henry, you've been alone far too long." Hank's eyes snapped to Clara's at her newly serious tone. "Sometimes I worry you've had far too much time to think," she shook her head at the thought. "Your father was that way, instinctively serious." Her eyes connected with Hank's now, "you deserve better than this life."

Hank reached out a hand to grasp her. "Mom, I'm fine. This life isn't all bad."

"I know I have pushed everyone away; I relied on you too much."

"I haven't exactly been drawing people in."

"But Josie," a smile flickered across her face. "The way you two look at each other. You're connected."

Hank dropped his face as it reddened. They were connected, but not just by love. "I am quite fond of her."

"Henry, don't be coy. Tell her you love her."

"I have." His eyes twitched to her face.

"You have?" There was an erupting excitement from her. "And..." she continued.

"Ask Josie."

"Ask Josie what?" Josie glided in the doorway. Hank caught her hand as she passed and tugged her to fall to his lap. She landed with a giggle at the unexpected display of affection.

"Clara is on to us." Hank dipped his face into her neck to refill his nose with her earthy-sweet scent.

"I think it's marvelous," Clara declared.

"Well, I suppose I can't argue." Josie kissed Hank's cheek before slipping from his arms and into her own chair. "Clara, how did you and your Henry meet?" Hank searched his mind for the story but realized he did not know.

"We were lucky. We met as school children. Although it wasn't until high school that we joined seriously." Clara's face flushed as she let her eye drop to her hands in a moment of shyness. "Peter had sent him over to see If I would be interested in attending a dance with him."

"Wait with Peter?" Hank's voice came gruffer than the light story needed, but the reminder of Peter and his potential betrayal clouded his tone.

"Oh, yes. So, I asked your father what Peter offered." Clara let out a mischievous laugh. "Your father, in the most serious of tones, listed Peter's most redeeming quality as his handsome and charming best friend. So, of course, I went with the best friend and never looked away from his captivating eyes again."

"Aw, that's so sweet," Josie had a distant smile on her face. "The Carroll men share those eyes."

"They do." Clara let her eyes fall to Hank. "You look so much like your father." She added wistfully.

"It must have been hard when he went to college," Josie prodded the story further.

"Practically unbearable," Clara agreed. "When he finished at the university, we agreed never to spend another night apart."

"That's impressive," Josie smiled warmly.

"Oh, not really. Your father hated the formality of most things. Another trait the Carroll men share." Hank's mouth twisted to an offset smile. "We complemented each other. I was always better at socializing, knowing the names of the wives and children." Clara's mind drifted from the words of the conversation briefly before she added, "we were fortunate."

Hank's mind drowned in the assertion. It was ridiculous to say anyone in the room had been lucky after the scandal that scarred each of them. As bonded as they were, part of the threads that linked them were the biting bits of pain.

As if Josie could sense Hank sinking back to distraction, she chirped up with, "well, dinner is ready."

Josie and Clara rose, prompting Hank to pivot to Clara's elbow again. As he assisted his mother, he caught a serene smile on Josie's face that caused a warmth to rush through his body.

Dinner was a lively affair, bolstered by the equally good moods surrounding the table. Hank found it easy to ignore the calls of distraction. Even stories of Clara and Henry entertained versus the typical pull to mourning. Knowing it was a one-dimensional thought, Hank gave Josie mental praise for the dynamic's positive evolution.

Clara excused herself to bed as Hank and Josie settled into the quiet of the garden swing. The cold evening pretense caused them to huddle closer together, with Hank supplying a slight sway to the bench with one leg. As much as he tried to cling to the world in his arms, he failed at fighting off the interruptions of his mind.

"I'm going to Peter's office tomorrow. I want to talk to Nancy." The words spilled with urgency the way honesty often flows.

Josie pulled away, holding her breath as she tried to work through the assertion. "Why?"

Hank didn't want to disappoint Josie, but he couldn't let go without more answers. "I need to know more. I know you disagree, but I don't have my closure yet. I need that. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise, you will remain disembodied."

"It's jarring when you do that," he sat back, pulling her to his side.

"You're not as intricate as you think you are."

Hank pondered her statement for a moment. "That should offend me, but I find it..."

"Mm, simplicity is the goal. People spend their whole lives trying to unravel complications to get back to simplicity." There was silence while the comment sunk in before Josie added, "who is Nancy?"

"She runs the office; has for 30-years." Hank's mind flipped to the petite woman that instilled so much fear in him as a child. She commanded the office with a level of uncomfortable rigidity, although Hank suspected it was necessary. His recollection of his father was that he could be as equally distracted as Hank, another characteristic of the Carroll men.

"Can we go to bed now?" Hank had a sudden consuming need for warmth and comfort.

Josie gave him a gentle smile. "Of course."

Hank's body ached with relief as he sunk into the bed, with Josie curling to his side. The warring within him was taking its toll. He longed for the end of his morbid curiosity. His desire to focus on the future, on Josie, was nearly enough to extinguish the near-constant angles spinning his head.

"Be patient with me," he murmured. The actual victim of his active obsession was Josie, a cruel reality, as her safety was the root of his fixation.

Josie responded with a gentle caress of his face. His body sunk further into relief. For a few moments, gazing at Josie was all Hank needed. Her serene smile was slipping up innocently to fill her mosaic eyes. He longed for that tranquility. He let his lips slip to her forehead before surrendering to sleep.