Page 3 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
Although planning to fly halfway around the world to a remote South African village by the end of summer surely accounted for something akin to bravery. Must be why the idea of sharing a house with a little old man didn’t bother her. Because she was so darn courageous.
Starting her rental car, Edith flipped her visor down to block the late-afternoon fireball threatening to blind her. Then gasped. “What? Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
She’d taken Benadryl as soon as she bit into the salad with blue cheese, but obviously it hadn’t helped. Angry welts rosein ugly red blotches all over her neck, taunting her from the visor mirror. No wonder the man who’d signed out her rental car seemed afraid to touch the same paper she’d signed. Probably thought she had leprosy.
Well, that’s what she got for not paying attention at the airport when she’d grabbed a quick bite to eat. Thankfully her allergy didn’t amount to anything more than some annoying hives. But man, they usually weren’t this bad. She scratched at a few, then forced her hands back on the steering wheel.
Edith met the gaze of the frowning reflection staring back at her from the visor mirror, the reflection that looked an awful lot like her mother when she went through her retro 1970s hairstyle phase. “Oh, what are you looking at?”
Edith flipped the visor back up, preferring to squint into the sun than be reminded of her mom. Thinking of her mom only led to thinking about her dad. Which led to thinking about regrets. And that sent her right back to thinking about her bangs.
Edith’s stomach grumbled, taking her mind off everything but the fact she’d had only one bite of salad for lunch. She grabbed her phone. After typing the address Kat sent for her “sweet uncle Henry”—which Edith knew full well meant stubborn old mule—Edith breathed a sigh of relief. Less than an hour’s drive. Good. Because a hamburger with all the trimmings was screaming her name. And according to the flight attendant, Westshire had one of the best mom-and-pop diners in all the Midwest.
If Edith was going to blow her diet, she might as well blow it big. Especially since she hadn’t actually started her diet.
Before Edith made it out of the airport parking lot, her phone trilled a piano jingle. Her shoulders tensed.No. Not already.She didn’t even have to look at the caller ID to know who was calling.Just ignore it.The piano continued its trill.You don’t owe him anything.The phone finally stopped ringing.
Only to start up again a few seconds later.
That’s it.She pulled to the side and threw the car into park. Better to get it over with now. She wasn’t about to listen to that piano jingle the entire drive to Westshire.
“Hey, Steve,” Edith said after a deep breath, relieved at the calm in her voice despite the trembling in her fingers.
A long stretch of silence followed. Then, “Are you insane?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks for asking. And you?”
“Knock it off, Edith. Why would you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Leave.”
“I’m a grown woman, in case you’ve forgotten.” She had the quarter-life crisis bangs to prove it.
Steve’s deep breaths filled her ear. She could picture him as easily as if he were standing right in front of her. Jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, the Sherman scowl stamped on his face. It must be an inherited trait. She’d seen her husband wear the same look often enough.
“The least you could have done was tell me you were leaving.”
She took a breath to respond, but he cut her off. “In person.”
Edith scrunched her eyes shut. “I know. I’m sorry.” So yeah. Maybe she’d taken the coward’s way out by leaving hima letter when she knew he was out of town. But the last thing she’d wanted was a face-off with her late husband’s brother. Especially since things between them had gotten so weird.
“When are you coming back?”
Edith looked to the ceiling of her car, blinking her bangs from her eyes as she prayed for the right words. “No.” Well, it was a word at least.
“No what? No, you’re not coming back?”
“I need to move on.”
“From me?”
“From... everything.” If Edith had any lingering doubts about her sudden decision to fly to Illinois until her passport arrived, this phone call laid them to rest. No way would she have survived an entire summer in Pittsburgh with Steve’s suffocating behavior.
Overhearing Ruthie mention her cousin’s crisis nursery house this past Sunday at church had to have been divine intervention. Sharon, the director, was over the moon when Edith contacted her about volunteering. And Edith was over the moon to place five hundred miles between her and Steve for the next several weeks.
“Look, Steve, it’s been a rough go. You know that. I just need a fresh start. On my own. I explained it all in the letter. You should have—”
