Page 88 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“I know. I am. I will be. I...” Henry realized he still had Edith pinned against the door, her palms resting against his chest, fanning embers that hadn’t nearly died out. He opened some space between them. “Invite me inside.”
She lifted a brow.
“To talk.”
Seated a few minutes later in Kat’s kitchen with a glass of iced tea, Henry met Edith’s questioning gaze. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of Charles Henderson.”
Edith’s brow wrinkled. “Isn’t he that old actor guy who went to prison, then afterward became some sort of philanthropist, starting up a bunch of halfway houses?
“Exactly.” Edith knew more about him than Henry had. “And he was here. Today. In Westshire.”
“For real? What did he want?”
Henry swiped his thumb across the condensation on his glass, still trying to process the answer to that question himself. “Me, if you can believe it. He has this idea for one of those refuge ranches—you know the kind of place I’m talking about, where troubled kids learn how to take care of horses—and initially it was going to be funded through some sort of grant, which is how he heard about me. Peg sent in an application. I don’t know what she said, but whatever it was caught his attention.”
Henry heard himself rambling but couldn’t stop his words or excitement racing out even faster. “Instead of using the grant money, he’s going to fund the project entirely himself. And he wants me, Edith.Me.On the plot of land I’ve always dreamed about. It’s like I’ve always known in my bones that land and I were meant to do something good, and here it is. The opportunity I’ve been waiting for. A chance to do something big. From scratch. He wants housing, stables, a recreation center, everything. And he wants me as his contractor. Not his painter. Not his kitchen cabinetmaker. His contractor. This is...”
Henry took a deep breath. “This is huge, Edith. And I haven’t even told you one of the best parts. A camera crew is going to film the whole thing for his YouTube channel, which has over a million followers or something crazy like that. Talk about great exposure for Westshire.”
The ice maker in the freezer churned the next several seconds. He waited for Edith to say something.Please say something.
Henry scooted his chair closer to the table, wanting to reach for her hand. Touch her. Somehow keep her connected to him and this life they could both share.
“Wow,” Edith finally said. “You’re right. That certainly is amazing.”
She rose from her chair, turning to face the sink as she emptied the remainder of her tea down the drain. Henry watched her rinse her cup, wash it, rinse it again, then take her time drying it before she turned to face him with a brave smile. “Henry, I’m so happy for you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you.”
“Think so?”
Nodding, smile wavering, tears spilling over, Edith whispered, “Yes.”
His chair scraped back. He rounded the table and tugged her into his arms. “Hey,” he said. Her muffled sobs pressed into his shoulder. “We can figure this out. Maybe... maybe... I don’t know.”Dang it.Now he was choking back tears. “But we’ll figure it out.”
Edith stepped out of his arms and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her face. “What’s to figure out?” She pointed to the counter, where a thick envelope sat. “My passport arrived. If that’s not a sign that it’s time for me to go...” She inhaled a shaky breath. “We’re both going to be helping people. We’re both going to be chasing after our dreams. Let’s not turn this into something sad.”
Henry couldn’t have gotten any words out past the thickness of his throat even if he’d had the right words to say. Why didn’t he ever have the right words to say?
So he just nodded. Followed her to the front door. Lether talk, say things like “Thanks for a memorable summer” and “I’ll never forget you” and something about being busy packing. Then “Goodbye” as she closed the door on him.
He wasn’t sure what he managed to mumble back. In a trance, he climbed into his pickup truck and drove home, his mind placing a roadblock on any messages sent from his heart.
Don’t think about it. It’s what she wants. Can’t make her stay. This is for the best. Let her go. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
He made it past the front door of his house. Stood in the middle of his empty living room. Then he covered his face and cried.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SIX MONTHS LATER
In the distance, a dog barked. Outside the window, a chicken clucked. Next to her ear, three tiny voices giggled.“Molweni, iibhokhwe,”Edith said without opening her eyes.
More giggles followed. It took her a second to realize it was likely because she’d just called Kaya’s three childrengoatsinstead ofchildren.
“Abantwana,”Edith quickly amended. “Hello,abantwana.”
Edith cracked open one eye to discover the three mischievous grins staring back at her had nothing to do with her butchered attempts to speak Xhosa. And everything to do with the giant hairy spider resting on the oldest sibling’s palm.
“Look who’s joining us for school today,” Theo said.
