Chapter 12
Hawthorne never remarried. His parents had another son
He waited for Eva to get married. He waited for her to have a beautiful daughter
Mr. Hawthome thought, in a twisted way, that if Bo ever falters, he would be there to catch Eva and take her back
But they were so happy. Bo’s eyes were filled with love, never once leaving Eva.
He expressed his love freely, as if wanting the whole world to know how much he loved Eva Even Hawthorne felt the weight of that love. This, he admitted, is the love Eva always deserved.
Could he ever measure up?
It was a beautiful life for Eva. This was the love she wanted.
In Hawthorne’s study, there were countless photos of Eva. He even found one from her childhood-dressed in rags, nose running, but smiling brightly.
As he stared at the picture, tears welled up.
He had never truly understood her. He wasn’t a fool-why hadn’t he taken the time to understand his wife during the beautiful moments when he had loved her?
He was only in his twenties, just a college student.
She had lived such a difficult, pitiful life. And yet, she came to him full of love.
But what had he done?
Hawthorne woke up countless times from dreams, hoping it was all just a nightmare. In the dreams, he and Eva were growing happier together. In the dreams, Lily returned, but he ignored her.
The worst dreams were the ones where he saw the lake-the lake that swallowed Eva whole.
People said that there was no woman Hawthorne couldn’t have. Without Eva or Lily, there were many women who would be good to him.
But Hawthorne didn’t want anyone else. He could never forget Eva.
He remembered how, during their first year of marriage, Eva had massaged his legs every day, saying the massages would reshape his bones.
Over the course of three years, he went from limping to walking like a normal person.
Love had the power to heal, but Hawthorne had been the one to strangle it.
Eva, I’m sorry. I love you.
