Nicholas Sparks - Message in a Bottle

“I hope so. Right now, he’s all I have—I don’t know what I’d do if he started to shut me out of his life. I have some friends with boys a little older than he is, and they tell me it’s inevitable.”

“i’m sure he’s going to change somewhat. Everyone does, but that doesn’t mean he won’t talk to you.”

She looked over at him. “Are you talking from experience or just telling me what I want to hear?”

He shrugged, again noticing her perfume. “I’m just remembering what I went through with my father. We’d always been close growing up, and it didn’t change when I started high school. I started doing different things and seeing my friends more, but we still talked all the time.”

“I hope it’s the same way for me,” she said.

With the preparation under way, a peaceful silence descended upon them. The simple act of cutting tomatoes with her by his side eased some of the anxiety he’d felt up to this point. Theresa was the first woman he’d invited to this house, and Garrett realized there was something comfortable about having her here.

When he finished, Garrett put the tomatoes in the salad bowl and wiped his hands on a paper towel. Then he bent over to remove his second beer.

“Are you up for another?”

She drained the last of her bottle, surprised she had finished so quickly. She nodded, setting the empty bottle on the counter. Garrett twisted off the bottlecap and handed her another, opening one for himself. Theresa was relaxing against the counter, and when she took the bottle, something about the way she was standing struck him as familiar: the smile playing across her lips, maybe, or the slant of her gaze as she watched him lift his own bottle to his mouth. He was reminded again of that lazy summer afternoon with Catherine, when he’d come home to surprise her for lunch—a day that in retrospect seemed so fraught with signs . . . yet how could he have foreseen everything that would happen? They had stood in the kitchen, just as he and Theresa were doing now.

“I take it you’ve already eaten,” Garrett said as Catherine stood in front of the open refrigerator.

Catherine glanced at him. “I’m not very hungry,” she said. “But I am thirsty. Do you want some iced tea?”

“Tea sounds great. Do you know if the mail came in yet?”

Catherine nodded as she pulled the pitcher of tea from the top shelf. “It’s on the table.”

She opened the cupboard and reached for two glasses. After setting the first glass on the counter, she was pouring the second when it slipped from her hand.

“Are you all right?” Garrett dropped the mail, concerned.

Catherine ran her hand through her hair, embarrassed, then bent to pick up the glass shards. “I just got a little woozy there for a second. I’ll be okay.”

Garrett moved toward her and began to help clean up. “Are you feeling sick again?”

“No, but maybe I spent too much time outside this morning.”

He was quiet for a moment as he picked up the glass.

“Are you sure I should go back to work? This last week’s been pretty tough on you.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I know you’ve got a lot to do there.”

Though she was right, when he finally started back to work, he got the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have listened to her.

He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the stillness in the kitchen. “I’m going to check the coals to see how they’re doing,” he said, needing something, anything, to do. “Hopefully, they’re getting close.”

“Can I set the table while you’re checking?”

“sure. most of the things you’ll need are right over here.”

After showing her where to find what she needed, he headed outside, forcing himself to relax and clearing his mind of the ghostly memories. Once he reached the grill, he checked the coals, putting his mind to the task at hand. Almost white, they had another few minutes, he figured. Again he went to the sea chest, and this time he removed a small, handheld bellows. He set it on the railing next to the grill and took a deep breath. The ocean air was fresh, almost intoxicating, and for the first time, he suddenly realized that despite his vision of Catherine just moments ago, he was still pleased that Theresa was here. In fact, he felt happy, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It wasn’t only in the way they got along, but it was little things Theresa did. The way she smiled, the way she looked at him, even the way she’d taken his hand earlier this afternoon—it was already beginning to feel as if he knew her longer than he actually did. He wondered whether it was because she was similar to Catherine in so many ways or whether his father had been right about him needing to spend some time with another person.

While he was outside, Theresa set the table. She put a wineglass beside each plate and sorted through the drawer for some silverware. Beside the utensils were two candles with small holders for each. After wondering whether it would be too much, she decided to put them on the table as well. She would leave it to him whether or not to light them. Garrett came in just as she was finishing up.

“We’ve got a couple of minutes. Would you like to sit outside while we wait?”

Theresa picked up her beer and followed him out. As it had the night before, the breeze was blowing, but it wasn’t nearly as strong. she sat in one of the chairs, Garrett right beside her, his legs crossed at the ankles. His light shirt brought out his deeply tanned skin, and Theresa watched him as he stared out over the water. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling more alive than she had in a long time.

“I bet you don’t have a view like this from where you live in Boston,” he said into the sudden silence.

“You’re right,” she said, “I don’t. I live in an apartment. My parents think I’m crazy for living downtown. They think I should live in the suburbs.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I used to, before the divorce. But now, it’s just a lot easier. I can get to work in just a few minutes, Kevin’s school is right down the block, and I never have to take the highway unless I’m going out of town. Besides, I wanted something different after my marriage ended. I just couldn’t handle the looks my neighbors gave me after they found out that David had left.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, and her voice softened. “I never told any of them why David and I separated. I just didn’t think it was any of their business.”

“It wasn’t.”

She paused for a moment, remembering. “I know that, but in their minds, David was a wonderful husband. He was handsome and successful, and they didn’t want to believe that he did anything wrong. Even when we were together, he acted as if everything were perfect. I didn’t have any idea he was having an affair until the very end.”

She turned toward him, a rueful look on her face. “As they say, the wife is always the last to know.”

“how did you find out?”

She shook her head. “I know it sounds like a clichй, but I found out from the dry cleaner, of all people. When I picked up his clothes, the cleaner handed me some receipts that had been in his pocket. One was from a hotel downtown. And I knew from the date that he had been home that evening, so it must have been for just an afternoon. He denied it when I confronted him, but by the way he looked at me, I knew he was lying. Eventually, the whole story came out, and I filed for divorce.”

Garrett listened quietly, letting her finish, wondering how she could have fallen in love with someone who would do that to her. As if reading his mind, she went on: