Page 93 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“I did actually. Which is why I’m fairly confident that’s not the case.” Henry ran a hand back and forth across his forehead, trying to sand away the mounting headache. “Pirates,” he muttered again.
Still, why would someone be calling him about Edith?
He’d never breathe a word of this to Peg, but he’d been reading up on South Africa ever since Edith had left. And one of the things he’d come across—and wished he hadn’t—was that the practice of abducting women and forcing them into marriage still existed in some parts.
But surely that wasn’t...Of course it wasn’t.Peg’s talk of pirates was making him twitchy. “Did this person leave a number?”
“She tried. I only caught part of it.”
Great. He rubbed his forehead. “I’ll figure it out. But I’m not pretending to be her fiancé. If they don’t want to talk to me knowing that, then—” He blew out a breath, hoping to dispel the growing queasiness in his stomach along with it. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Peg’s wrinkled brow and pursed lips told him exactly how she felt about that, but all she said was “Fine.” Then she latched on to his wrist. “Wait. I forgot to tell you why I came out here. One of Henderson’s men is inside with a video camera. Wants early footage for that YouTube channel. Anyway, I didn’t want him to hear about Edith and turn it into national news. So I’m going to cause a diversion while you make the phone call and find out what’s going on. Deal?”
Henry climbed out from the truck and started toward the office door as Peg walked the opposite direction. “Whatare you doing?” he whispered after her. “I thought you were creating a diversion.”
She buttoned the top button of her coat and pulled her hood on. “I am. I’m going to Julie’s for scones. Tell that guy if he wants one, he should come with me.”
“That’s your idea of a diversion?”
“Bet you a dollar it works.” Looking like an older, slower version of Little Red Riding Hood, Peg ambled down the sidewalk, dodging the patches of ice that still hadn’t completely thawed. Henry shook his head, watching her leave.
Then he shook his head a minute later when he watched the cameraman leave. How about that? Looked like he owed Peg a dollar.
By the time Peg returned, Henry wasn’t thinking about the dollar.
As Peg walked through door, he was only thinking about how to breathe.
Not taking the time to remove her coat, Peg raced for his chair and wheeled it behind him. “Sit,” she ordered. A moment later she handed him a small paper cup filled with water. “Drink.” Then she crouched before him, her knees creaking in protest, and said, “Breathe.”
Slowly, breath by breath, the pressure within his chest released until all that remained was the familiar ache that had taken up residence ever since Edith’s departure.
“Better?” Peg asked.
“A little.”
“Good. Now help me up.” Henry lifted her by the elbows. “Oh, it’s a terrible thing to get old, you know that?” She hobbled side to side back to her desk and, with another wince, sat down in her chair. “Now tell me the truth. It’s pirates, isn’t it?”
Henry shuffled through the items on his desk, picking up the scrap of paper he’d dropped. “I don’t know. All I could make out was that she’s in the hospital. We kept getting disconnected. They gave me a different number to try.” He dialed the number on the paper, hoping this time for better reception. Better news. Something other than Edith in trouble.
He was put on hold. Forty minutes later he reached a different department, which promptly placed him on hold. A dozen departments and one eternity later, someone who seemed to know more of what was going on picked up the phone.
By the time Henry ended the call with the information he needed, Peg was halfway through the turkey sandwich she’d rushed out to buy for lunch when she decided the cameraman needed another diversion.
She pointed to a brown sack on Henry’s desk. “Hope you like roast beef. So? What did they say? Is Edith going to be okay? Is there anything we need to do?”
“There is something we need to do.” Henry leaned forward in his chair. When he met Peg’s gaze, he could only pray someday she would forgive him. “We need to break out of our contract with Charles Henderson. I’m not going to be able to finish what I started.” Henry rose from his chair. “I need to get to Edith.”
About to take a bite, Peg lowered the sandwich away from her mouth. “Today?”
“Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
Peg dropped her sandwich with a plop on her desk. “Henderson may be a philanthropist, but he’s also a shrewd businessman. You know your name will be mud if you do this, don’t you?”
“I know.”
