Hank was eager to get home. His hands twitched on the steering wheel of the roaring truck as he battled against the lack of power steering. He tried to welcome the required focus, but struggled with his distractions. The fear that had been permeating from Peter since Josie's arrival had evaporated with her supposed departure, nevertheless, the toll was heavy on Peter. There was a degree of pain that Hank felt for him. Peter, being a villain, suddenly felt absurd, but it was the only way the pieces fit. A lonely man mourning the loss of his only child, stuck in a loveless marriage, falls into the arms of another woman who called for more than he could offer. Still, Josie had said that Margaret was leaving; there was no need for her death. The thoughts swirled as he pulled into the garage.

Hank paused in the garden. Night drained the day of color. The milk sky cast a grey-scale around the last vestiges of vibrancy as early fall slipped to the decay of late fall. He found himself on the garden bench with his hands clutching at his hat to hide his face. The withering stems, unable to stand on their own in the season's decline, mirrored Peter's fading vitality. One brisk breeze or tapping rainfall and the stocks would crumple to the ground in defeat. There was no one left to nourish him, strengthen his moral position.

Josie slipped past him, placing a whisky on the swing arm. Hank looked up at her, feeling more like a child than a man. His lips parted to explain, but a gust of wind stole his words. Josie gave him a forgiving smile and let her hand glide over his thick shoulder as she returned to the house and him to his solitude. She was always a step ahead, but it was no longer unexpected nor frustrating. His lips twisted to a half-smile at the thought of her awareness. Perhaps that was the answer to it all; ask Josie how this all ends.

He sipped the whisky slowly, letting it roll around his mouth and drip down his throat. The smoke of the peat and oak of the barrel coated his tongue, but he was hardly aware. Peter was a clever and deliberate man. Repeated unexpected run-ins and requests to visit were a sign of his awareness. Hank saw no way but the direct approach. A needle in his brain pricked his thoughts; this is all Peter had been asking. His offers of help, patiently waiting to aid; this was the help he was offering. Hank drowned the last of his drink and returned to the garage. His mind calmed by his resolve.

Hank flipped the radio on as he settled into work. He hummed along to the songs of his father's youth as his hands worked absently. His mind did not wander to the infamous ghosts of his past; instead, his mind lingered on the Sunday afternoons with his father. Hank had never given much thought to what his father would think of him now; he had been too busy dodging proper mourning to conjecture on such things.

As the sunset, he wiped his hands of the day's work and headed inside to the utility sink to give them a solid scrub. The swirl of grey that circled to the drain soothed Hank's mind; it had been too long since he had gotten his hands truly dirty. Not all vestiges of life before Josie needed to be lost. He enjoyed his work, the tangible fruits of his labors.

Despite having her back to him, Hank could sense that Josie knew of his presence. He moved in close and gently brushed her auburn hair aside to kiss her neck softly.

"Feeling better?" Her head tucked toward him, recoiling from the tickle on her neck as she spoke.

"Much." He glanced down at the dishes in the sink. "I'll do those later. What's for dinner?"

"Well, I knew you were missing your slice of pie today, being that you were working from home; so, I made you a pork pie." Hank's face twisted in a visceral response to pork pie. "Don't worry, my recipe is neither cold nor with a hint of jellied pork broth. It's more of a pot pie with pork."

"Sounds great. How can I help?" Hank glanced around, looking for a task.

"You get the pie from the oven; I'll bring the plates."

The table's conversation drew Hank's attention, even eager to inquire about the stories of his mother's youth. His ease seemed to cause Josie to become stony with rigidity. Her tension was apparent as the meal drew to a close. There was the tempered air of confusion from Clara as she made her excuses and departed. The disconnect between him and Josie marred Hank's good mood.

"What's wrong?" Hank's voice came out like the bark of a chained dog.

"You seem to have a plan," she conjectured.

"I do. Do you want to hear it, or have you already set your opinion?" Hank knew his insult was unwarranted, but he had an unrelenting need to feed his annoyance.

Josie sucked in a thick breath as though the nourishment would revive her patience. "You're right." She nodded be for whispering, "open-mind." to herself.

"Leave these," Hank motioned to the dishes. "I'll do them in the morning."

Josie gave him a curt nod and headed towards the hallway, causing Hank to falter for a moment, surprised in her direction. He had expected to head to the garden. Still, he followed her up the stairs. Hank was not disappointed to have Josie in his arms, but feared his resolve would waver at her proximity. He felt guilty at the subtle accusation rolling in his brain that she had known the benefit of her choice.

"How was your day?" Josie began innocuously.

"Interesting, then conflicted, but I came out of it well." He brushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. "How was your day?"

"Worrisome and frustrating," her voice cracked like a shattering glass, causing Hank to lift her face to his gaze and inspect for tears.

"I am sorry, Josie, that's never my intent."

He cupped her face and allowed his thick thumbs to glide across the velvet skin of her cheeks. His tenderness seemed to draw the tears from her eyes. He pulled her deep into his chest, stroking her hair and showering kisses to the side of her face nearest his lips.

"I know you have to do this. But I can't condone it; it's too risky."

"I'm not afraid of Peter and I don't think he'll react with much more than relief. I think he's been waiting for this, almost hoping for it. If that makes any sense."

"Heavy is a guilty mind."

"Josie," Hank debated if he should continue, but curiosity drew the words to his tongue. "How does this end?"

Josie was quiet for a long time, "the way everything ends."

She left him pondering on her latest riddle as he settled into her silence. He didn't push for more. Her tone let him know her thoughts, and her silence sealed them tightly.