Page 39 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
So why did he lie about being Henry?
She rubbed her forehead. This was already starting to give her a headache. She grabbed a couple of Tylenols out of her purse and swallowed them dry.
Then she hurried back upstairs to her room and pulled up Kat’s original email. She read it. Then read it again. Yes, he was an uncle. Yes, he needed physical therapy. Yes, his name was Henry. But clearly there was no mention of him being a little old man.
Edith looked through the notes and letters Henry had written to her, reading them now with a different perspective. And that’s when it hit her. His admiration for the women of her generation. His concern over her using the back stepsand breaking a hip. Kat’s comment just now about the Red Hat Society.
Edith slapped a hand over her mouth. She could see it now like three cherries lining up on a slot machine—Edith, widow, volunteer work.Ping, ping, ping.
All that time Henry had assumedshewas old.
Edith placed her cool hands against her flushed cheeks, not sure who she felt more embarrassed for—Henry, who must have died when he realized he was sharing cartons of ice cream with the woman who saw him choking on his own saliva the first time they ever met. Or herself, who not only aired all her dirty laundry in front of him on paper but couldn’t keep her lips off him in person.
Oh, Edith had a pretty good idea who she was more embarrassed for.
“This isn’t good,” she whispered. “This is the opposite of good. This is... this is awkward.” Just thinking about it made her break into a sweat.
Unless I don’t tell him.
Edith pushed away the thought, only to pull it right back again. What would happen if she didn’t tell him? She thought through the scenario. They carry on the charade of being a couple. Steve eventually leaves. Edith moves into Kat’s house and finishes out the summer. Henry goes back to being Henry. No harm, no foul.
Now what happens if she does tell him? Things get awkward. Steve sees through the charade. Confrontations ensue. And her entire first summer of independence falls apart quicker than wet toilet paper.
Edith flopped onto the bed. How had this summer gottenso complicated? She came out here to get a jump start on her new life with no strings attached. And yet somehow her and Henry’s lives were more entangled than an unorganized fisherman’s tackle box.
But going to South Africa was still the right choice, wasn’t it? It had to be. She was chasing after her dream. A dream that involved serving others. How could it not be the right dream? Besides, she’d tried the marriage route—and proved without a doubt that was not a route worth traveling again.
True, her marriage to Brian had been an uphill climb against the wind from the very get-go. Perhaps being older and wiser now would ease some of those struggles, but why risk it?
She’d made peace with her past. Her life with Brian might never have inspired a Shakespeare sonnet, but at least it had ended in forgiveness. And really, wasn’t that enough?
A pair of blue eyes filled with humor and kindness flashed before her, pleading otherwise. But Edith swiped the image from her mind.
One heartbreaking marriage that ended in peace would have to be enough. She didn’t have the courage to want more. Which left her one choice. She’d keep quiet. Kat’s house should be ready soon. No reason to let Henry know she knew what he knew and should have already known by now. Yep, everything would be fine. Except for one little thing.
Steve needed to go.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sweat trickled down Henry’s temple as he darted away from Gabby, his neighbor across the street, who was currently dressed up as Uncle Sam and riding a unicycle.
“Hey, nice balance,” Henry called after her right before she nearly collided with Lance, who apparently was also Uncle Sam, only on stilts. Lance staggered sideways to avoid Gabby, who was now spinning in circles like an out-of-control dog chasing its tail.
If ever there was a silver lining to jacking up his knee, this had to be it. Henry watched Gabby bang into two popcorn vendors and a snow cone machine while Lance attempted to sing Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” through a megaphone as he handed out pamphlets advertising tonight’s fireworks display at Kennedy Farms—as if anybody in townneeded a pamphlet to remind them of the annual Fourth of July event that had been taking place for as long as fireworks had been invented. He laughed when Lance lost his balance and toppled into the town square’s giant fountain. Right next to where Gabby had made a splash landing two seconds before.
Henry added his applause to the rest of the flea market crowd, cheering mostly for the fact his knee injury had given him a bona fide excuse not to attempt unicycles or stilts this year. Lance and Gabby weren’t the first Uncle Sams to wind up in that fountain.
Dabbing the sweat from his brow, Henry returned his attention to the real reason he was out and about today. “Where are you, Steve?” he muttered, scanning the town square in search of the little pest.
The guy gave him the creeps. He was always so... sweaty. Granted, right now Henry was too. But Steve wore his sweat on top of a weird sickly pallor that reeked of desperation. And that sort of desperation was creepy. Henry had no intention of letting him near Edith. Not alone, at least. Which was why Henry was following him.
Or rather why Henryhadbeen following him until he lost sight of him during the Uncle Sam debacle.
Henry spun in a circle. The repetitive sounds of carnival rides and music carried from a block over. Steve didn’t seem like the type who got his kicks from a spin on the merry-go-round. Shoot, Steve didn’t seem like the type who got his kicks from anything. Well, other than drinking orange soda and bugging Edith.
A guttural growl sounded behind Henry. He turned andspotted the orange soda can on the ground first. Then Steve. But thankfully Steve didn’t notice Henry. Bent over with his eyes scrunched shut and Niagara Falls dripping down his forehead, Steve probably didn’t notice anything.
Henry ducked behind a flea market stand displaying an assortment of bird feeders and birdbaths. After another grunt, Steve straightened and mopped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt.
