Nicholas Sparks - Message in a Bottle

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Garrett pulled his toolbox from the back of his truck and carried it to the boat he used when he taught scuba diving. An older Boston Whaler, it was large enough to carry up to eight students and the necessary gear needed for underwater dives.

Working on the engine was time-consuming but not difficult, and he’d made good headway the day before. As he removed the engine casing, he thought about the conversation he’d had with his father. He’d been right, of course. There wasn’t any reason to continue feeling the way he did, but—as God was his witness—he didn’t know how to stop it. Catherine had meant everything to him. All she’d had to do was look at him and he’d feel as if everything were suddenly right in the world. And when she smiled . . . Lord, that was something he’d never been able to find in anyone else. To have something like that taken away . . . it just wasn’t fair. And more than that, it just seemed wrong . Why her, of all people? and why him? for months he had lain awake at night, asking himself “What if.” What if she’d waited an extra second before crossing the street? What if they had lingered at breakfast for another few minutes? What if he’d gone with her that morning instead of going straight to the shop? A thousand what ifs, and he was no closer to understanding the whole thing than he had been when it first happened.

Trying to clear his mind, he concentrated on the task at hand. He removed the bolts that held the carburetor in place and removed it from the engine. Carefully he began to take it apart, making sure nothing was too worn inside. He didn’t think that this was the source of the problem, though he wanted a closer look just to make sure.

The sun rose overhead as he worked steadily, and he found himself wiping the sweat as it formed on his forehead. Yesterday at about this time, he remembered, he’d watched as Theresa walked down the docks toward Happenstance . He’d noticed her right away, if for no other reason than she was alone. Women who looked as she did almost never came down to the docks alone. Usually they were accompanied by wealthy, older gentlemen who owned the yachts that were moored on the other side of the marina. When she stopped at his boat, he’d been surprised, though he’d expected her to pause for only a moment before moving on to her final destination. That’s what most people usually did. But after watching her for a little while, he realized that she had come to the docks to see Happenstance , and the way she kept pacing around made it seem as if she were there for something else as well.

His curiosity aroused, he’d gone over to speak with her. At the time, he didn’t notice it, but when he was closing up the boat later in the evening, he realized there was something odd in the way she had first looked at him. It was almost as if she recognized something about him that he usually kept buried deep within himself. More than that, it was as if she knew more about him than she was willing to admit.

He shook his head then, knowing that didn’t make any sense. She said she’d read the articles in the shop—maybe that’s where the strange look came from. He thought about it, finally deciding that had to be the case. He knew he’d never met her before—he would have remembered something like that—and besides, she was vacationing from Boston. It was the only plausible explanation he could come up with, but even now there was something that didn’t sit quite right about the whole situation.

Not that it mattered.

They’d gone sailing, enjoyed each other’s company, and said good-bye. That was the end of it. As he’d told his father, he couldn’t reach her again even if he wanted to. Right now she was probably on her way back to Boston, or she would be in a few days, and he had a hundred things to do this week. Summer was a popular season for diving classes, and he was booked up every weekend until late August. He had neither the time nor the energy to call every hotel in Wilmington to find her, and even if he did, what would he say? What could he say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous?

With these questions rolling through his mind, he worked on the engine. After finding and replacing a leaking clamp, he reinstalled the carburetor and the engine casing and cranked the motor. The engine sounding much better, he freed the boat from its lines and took the Boston Whaler out for forty minutes. He ran it through a series of speeds, started and stopped the engine more than once, and when satisfied, returned the boat to its slip. Pleased that it had taken less time than he’d thought it would, he collected his tools, returned them to his truck, and drove the couple of blocks to Island Diving.

As usual, there were papers stacked in the in-box on his desk, and he took a moment to review them. Most were order forms, already filled out, for items that were needed in the shop. There were a few bills as well, and settling himself in his chair, he worked quickly through the stack.

Just before eleven, he finished most of what he needed to do and headed toward the front of the shop. Ian, one of his summertime employees, was on the phone when Garrett walked up and handed him three slips of paper. The first two were from distributors, and from the short messages scrawled, it seemed likely there had been a mix-up with some of the orders they had placed recently. Another thing to take care of, he thought, starting back toward the office.

He read the third message as he was walking and stopped when he realized who it was from. Making sure it wasn’t a mistake, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. He dialed the number and asked for the proper extension.

Theresa Osborne was reading the paper when the phone rang and picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Theresa, this is Garrett. There’s a message here that you called.”

She sounded pleased to hear from him. “Oh, hi, Garrett. Thanks for returning my call. How are you?”

Hearing her voice brought back memories of the evening before. Smiling to himself, he imagined what she looked like as she sat in her hotel room. “I’m fine, thanks. I was just going through some paperwork and i got your message. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I left my jacket on the boat last night and I was wondering if you found it.”

“I didn’t, but I really wasn’t looking that closely. Did you leave it in the cabin?”

“I’m not sure.”

Garrett paused for a moment. “Well, let me run down there and take a look. I’ll call you back and let you know whether I found it.”

“Is that too much trouble?”

“Not at all. It should just take a few minutes. Will you be there for a little while?”

“I should be.”

“Okay, I’ll call you right back.”

Garrett said good-bye and left the shop, walking quickly back to the marina. After stepping aboard Happenstance , he unlocked the cabin and went below. Not finding the jacket, he turned and glanced up the deck, finally spotting it near the stern, partially hidden under one of the seat cushions. He picked it up, made sure it wasn’t stained, then returned to the shop.

In his office again, he dialed the number written on the slip. This time Theresa picked up on the first ring.

“This is Garrett again. I found your jacket.”

She sounded relieved. “Thanks. I appreciate your looking for it.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all.”

She was quiet for a moment, as if deciding what to do. Finally: “Could you hold it for me? I can be down at your shop in about twenty minutes to pick it up.”

“i’d be glad to,” he answered. After hanging up the phone, he leaned back in his chair, thinking about what had just happened. She hasn’t left town yet, he thought, and I’m going to get to see her again. Though he couldn’t understand how she could have forgotten her jacket since she’d brought only a couple of things with her, one thing had just made itself abundantly clear: he was definitely glad it had happened.