Hawthorne nodded. “I think that is wise.”
William stepped out of the chalked area and went to sit down on a bench. As he unwrapped the cloth from around his hands, he said, “I’m afraid I do not see the appeal of boxing.”
“Graylocke and I sparred nearly every morning before he married,” Hawthorne shared. “I hope to keep up the tradition once he gets back from his wedding tour.”
“I doubt it’ll happen, now he is shackled for life.”
Hawthorne sat down next to him. “Not everyone shares your disdain for marriage,” he said. “I find that I am much happier with Dinah by my side.”
“That is because you are blinded by love.”
“So be it.”
William dropped the cloth onto the ground. “I will not be foolish enough to fall for the parson’s mousetrap.”
“It might do you some good if you did,” Hawthorne remarked.
“In what way?”
Hawthorne gave him a pointed look. “You haven’t quite been yourself since your mother died, and I’m worried about you.”
“There is no reason to worry about me,” William said. “I can assure you that I am fine.”
“You always say that, but I find it hard to believe.”
“Why is that?”
Hawthorne grew solemn. “You spend nearly all of your time in meetings or tucked away in your townhouse.”
“I am a busy man, and I have work that I need to see to. Surely you can understand that.”
“I do, but I have never seen you so despondent before.”
Shifting on the bench to face his friend, William responded, “I daresay that you are reading too much into this.”
“I know you are grieving, but you must still live your life.”
“How am I supposed to act?” William asked. “Should I pretend that all is well to make you feel better?”
“I am not asking that.”
“No?” William asked. “Because it feels like you don’t think I should properly mourn my mother.”
“You misconstrue my words.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Hawthorne’s eyes held compassion as he replied, “You are angry, and there is no shame in that, but you must accept that your mother is gone.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” William asked, his voice rising. “Every morning I wake up to remember that my mother left me.”
“Not by choice.”
“She could have fought harder to stay with me.” William abruptly rose and said, “I am tired of this interrogation.”
“This is not an interrogation.”
“It feels like one,” William muttered.
