Page 45 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“Edith.”
“Why can’t Henry have Edith? I thought they were already together.”
The short, squat man stepped forward, using a corn dog to point back and forth between Henry and Steve as they struggled against each other on the pavement. “Yeah, but see, Steve’s her brother. And he’s always been real protective, see.”
“Oh yes.” The woman who had bragged about solving the murder dinner theater jumped forward. “Ever since their parents died of the consumption, it’s just been the two of them. Orphans. They used to survive by hiding on trains.” She snapped her fingers. “With the circus! They traveled with the circus!”
“You guys,” Edith said, pointing to Henry and Steve. “Do you not see what’s happening here?” Steve and Henry were latched on to one another in a weird sort of battle that mainly involved lots of rolling and grunting.
The crowd backed up to give them more space. “Remember when the circus came through here years ago? I was probably no more than five.”
Edith inhaled a deep breath and released it. Where was the ambulance? Any longer and Henry was going to need it too. She spotted a police officer. He thankfully noticed the commotion. His footsteps faltered for a second, as if not sure what he was seeing, before taking off toward them at a run.
“What’s going on?” he demanded as he parted the crowd.
“Oh, neat. James is in on this too.” Julie clapped her hands. “Sharon has really outdone herself this year.”
“Hey, break it up, break it up.” The officer crouched down, trying to separate Henry from Steve. “What’s the meaning of this?” When he got a look at Steve, he grabbed him by the shirt. “I should have known I hadn’t seen the last of you.” He hauled Steve to his feet.
“Let go of me. I haven’t done anything.” Steve staggered and took a swing at the officer.
The women in the crowd gasped. “Arrest him,” someone shouted.
“Taser him,” Julie shouted.
“This is better than Netflix,” a boy slurping on a snow cone said.
The sound of sirens grew closer. “Think they’ll let us push any buttons? Maybe lie down on the gurney? That might be fun,” Julie said.
Edith knelt next to Henry. He was still sitting on the pavement, his bad leg straight in front of him, the other bent with his arms propped against it. A frown and a few scrapes spotted his handsome face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Do you need help getting up?”
Two EMTs nudged her aside. She recognized the man from her first night at the diner. “We’ll take it from here,” his partner, a female paramedic with a tight bun, said. “Are you in pain?” She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his left arm.
“I’m not—”
“Quiet,” she said, wearing a stethoscope and pumping up the cuff on his arm.
The EMT on the other side, Frank if she remembered correctly, held up two fingers in front of Henry’s face. “How many fingers do you see?”
“Two. But I’m not the one who—”
“Quiet,” the woman said again.
Henry glanced at Edith before dropping his gaze andshaking his head. Was he mad? Well, why wouldn’t he be? “Excuse me,” Edith said, tapping Frank on the shoulder. “He’s not the one we called an ambulance for.”
“You sure? He looks a little rough. I’m not sure all that paint is going to come out of his pants either.”
Air deflated from the blood pressure cuff. “Blood pressure’s high.”
Yeah, Edith imagined hers was a little on the high side too. “That’s the man we called an ambulance for.” She pointed at Steve, who continued to dodge and weave around the officer with about as much stealth as an inebriated boxer.
“I have rights,” Steve said, his speech slurred.
“Yes, you do. They’re called the Miranda rights. And I’m going to state them to you right now.” The crowd applauded when the officer pulled out his handcuffs.
