Page 97 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
The boy shrugged again. “Mom says every person we meet has a chance to teach us something.”
“Can’t argue with that. What did Edith teach you?”
“Funny stories,” the little girl said.
The older boy grinned. “Our favorite was about the lady who swallowed a hot pepper.”
Henry dipped his head with a soft laugh. “Yeah, Edith has some pretty great stories, doesn’t she?” Slowly his head rose, an idea sparking to life. “What kind of supplies do you have available, saying we do build something?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Edith figured she must be dreaming again. Henry sat in the chair next to her bed, his arms folded across his chest and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Instead of looking at her lovingly and whispering words of encouragement next to her ear, he appeared to be sleeping.
Man, her dreams had lost a lot of luster ever since she started feeling better.
She closed her eyes. Opened them. He was still there.
When she reached out to touch him, a folded sheet of paper rustled beneath her hand. She lifted it in front of her face.
Dear Edith,
I love you.
Henry
A faint whistle sounded with each of his breaths. She might not trust her eyes, but she believed her ears. This wasn’t a dream. Henry was here. Snoring. Next to her. In South Africa. And he loved her.
“Henry,” she whispered, despite the urge to shout with joy. “Wake up.”
The whistling stopped. Slowly he reached up and tipped the bill of his cap away from his face, allowing her full access to those blue eyes that had captured her from the first moment she saw him.
Except it wasn’t his eyes that drew her attention this time.
“What happened to your forehead?” A bruise spread above his left eyebrow.
He shifted forward as a smile lifted his lips. “A little misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about.’”
“We seem to have a lot of those in our lives, don’t we?”
He nodded, his gaze never wavering from her eyes. “But hopefully not when it came to what I wrote.” He tapped the note in her hand. “Because I meant every word.”
Edith reread the note, then folded the paper in half with a contented sigh. “Maybe we should always try to keep things short and simple. Seems to be working better already.”
Henry’s eyes crinkled in a smile as his calloused palm slid against hers and wrapped around her fingers. “Short and simple. I like the sound of that.” He squeezed her hand, staring into her eyes like he’d never get tired of the view. Like he could gaze upon her face the rest of his life and never get bored. Like he could remain rooted to her side and—
“I have to go.”
—never have to go. Wait. What?
Henry released her hand and stood. “I have a few messages I’m supposed to relay to you first.”
Edith blinked up at him.He had to go?
“Let’s see.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Amahle said to tell you she likes your man on the bench. Not really sure what that means. Her brother Junior said to tell you he can get you more chickens if that changes your mind. I might have an idea what that means. And last but not least, the Reddy children said to be sure to look under the sheets for the surprise they left you.”
Edith jerked her knees up as she flung off the sheets, certain they’d left a horde of spiders or vipers or frogs or—a splash of color caught her attention.
Edith stared. Frozen. Then slowly straightened her legs.
