I sat and watched him, and waited for him to continue telling the story.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. “So, I did. I ran.”
“Did you ever see her again, after that?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. I got a letter from her, after that, but I knew she hadn’t written it. As soon as I read those words, I knew her father had forced her to write it.” He stopped talking and looked down at his hands in his lap. He was wringing them now. “That photo was the happiest moment in my life, and that letter I got from her was the saddest and most terrifying. I knew how much trouble she was in. I realized just how much me loving her put her in danger. We’d always known it was dangerous to love each other, but, until I saw it, I guess a part of me didn’t want to believe it. And that’s when I left town. I left without saying goodbye to her, because I knew that, if I saw her again, I wouldn’t be able to go. I needed to remember her as I’d seen her for the last time, if I was going to be able to go; I needed to remember her father dragging her off by her hair. I left to keep her safe—to keep myself safe, even . . . Our love was a crime. She could have gone to jail. Her entire life could have been ruined. So, I came here on a ship. I was seasick the whole time, but it still felt better than being lovesick.”
“She never knew you were here,” I said softly. “Why didn’t you tell her where you were?”
“I wanted to keep her safe. I was worried what her father might do to her. He was a very angry, controlling man, even under normal circumstances. Edith was terrified of him.”
“And you never saw her again?” I asked.
He smiled again, but this time it was completely forced. I could see he was struggling with his emotions. Struggling to keep them all contained. “I did go back to Willow Bay, years and years later. I went back to the house and . . . I saw her.”
“You did?” Mike asked.
He nodded and looked distant. “She was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.” He paused for the longest time. “Some women really do glow when they’re pregnant.”
“Oh God.” I held my chest, as my heart ached. “She didn’t love Ian like she loved you, though—she didn’t. She says so in the letters,” I said to him.
He looked down at the letter in his hands and smiled. “I know that now. Thank you.”
I gasped for air and then couldn’t fight it anymore—I started crying, proper tears. Mike took my hand and squeezed it tighter than I’ve ever been squeezed before.
“It could never have lasted,” Abe said thoughtfully. “Our love was a crime. We loved each other in the wrong time and place. It could never have been, unless we ran away and built a house in the middle of a forest somewhere.” He smiled a little. “We used to talk about that sometimes. Try and imagine what our lives would be like if we could be together. Towards the end, it was getting so hard to see each other. Sometimes, we wouldn’t see each other for a whole month. Our only communication was the letters we wrote. But even getting the letters to each other was becoming harder and harder. We would write them and leave them in secret hiding spots, hoping that the other person would be able to get to it. It was the only way we could communicate with each other.” Abe looked at the two of us. “Are you married?” he asked.
I was crying too much to answer.
“No.” Mike spoke for us.
“If you meet someone that you truly love, don’t ever let them go. No matter what,” Abe said to us. “Fight for it. Fight as hard as you can. We tried to fight for it, but it wasn’t a battle we were ever going to win. But at least we fought.” He paused and looked forlorn for a while. “I didn’t fight for my wife,” he said quietly, almost under his breath. “I never loved her the way I should have; I couldn’t love her like that. She divorced me and I didn’t fight for her. It’s for the best, though; she found someone who really loves her, like I loved Edith . . . Everyone deserves to be loved like that. Even if it’s only for a short time.”
Then his demeanor changed a little and he looked back at the pile of letters. “Looks like I have some reading to do. And I don’t have all the time in the world to do it.” He started arranging the letters on the table, with his shaking hands.
“Aren’t you going to ask him?” Mike whispered to me.
I shook my head pointedly.
He looked confused. “Ask him,” he urged, under his breath. “Ask him about your book.”
I shook my head and jumped out of my seat. “We are going to go now, Abe. So you can read these letters in peace.”
“Wait!” Mike jumped up, too. “There’s something we want to ask you—”
“No, it’s nothing.” I grabbed Mike by the arm and squeezed it hard. “It’s fine.” I looked him in the eye and tried frantically to convey what I was feeling.
Mike’s mouth fell open and he gaped a few times, like a fish out of water.
“We really must be going, but I am so glad we managed to get these to you,” I said to Abe, who wasn’t even looking at us now; he was too busy with the letters.
I pulled Mike towards the door. “It was nice meeting you,” I said to Abe, as we started to leave.
“Thank you for coming all this way and bringing them to me,” he called after us.
I turned and smiled at him. “They belong to you.” I opened the door and pulled Mike out of the small house, and then started running towards the park in front of me.
