Nicholas Sparks - Message in a Bottle

“Well, hello, Theresa,” Deanna said happily, striding in behind her. “I thought you’d never get here. I’ve been dying to hear everything that happened.”

“Good morning,” Theresa mumbled, stirring her coffee. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I’m just glad you made it at all. I almost ran over to your apartment last night to talk to you, but I didn’t know what time you got in.”

“I’m sorry for not calling, but I was a little worn out from my week,” she said.

Deanna leaned against the counter. “Well, that’s not a surprise. I’ve already put two and two together.”

“what do you mean?”

Deanna’s eyes were bright. “I take it you haven’t seen your desk yet.”

“No, I just walked in. Why?”

“Well,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “I guess you must have made a good impression.”

“What are you talking about, Deanna?”

“Come with me,” Deanna said with a conspiratorial grin as she led her back into the newsroom. When Theresa saw her desk, she gasped. Next to the mail that had accumulated while she was gone stood a dozen roses, beautifully arranged in a large clear vase.

“They arrived first thing this morning. I think the delivery man was a little shocked that you weren’t there to receive them, but I went ahead and said I was you. Then he really looked shocked.”

Barely listening to what Deanna had said, Theresa reached for the card leaning against the vase and opened it immediately. Deanna stood behind her, craning over her shoulder. It read:

To the most beautiful woman I know—Now that I’m alone again, nothing is as it once was. The sky is grayer, the ocean is more forbidding. Will you make it right? The only way is to see me again.

I miss you,

Garrett

theresa smiled at the note and slipped it back inside the envelope, bending to smell the bouquet.

“You must have had a memorable week,” Deanna said.

“Yeah, I did,” Theresa answered simply.

“I can’t wait to hear about it—every spicy detail.”

“I think,” Theresa said, glancing around the newsroom at all the people watching her discreetly, “that I’d rather talk to you about it later, when we’re alone. I don’t need the whole office gossiping about it.”

“They already are, Theresa. It’s been a long time since flowers have been delivered here. But all right—we’ll talk about it later.”

“Did you tell them who they were from?”

“Of course not. To be honest, I kind of like leaving them in suspense.” She gave a small wink after looking around the newsroom. “Listen, Theresa, I’ve got some work to do. Do you think we could have lunch today? Then we can talk.”

“Sure. Where?”

“How about Mikuni’s? I bet you didn’t find much sushi down in Wilmington.”

“That sounds great. And Deanna . . . thanks for keeping it a secret.”

“No problem.”

Deanna patted Theresa’s shoulder gently and headed back to her office. Theresa leaned over her desk and smelled the roses again before moving the vase to the corner of her desk. She began to sort through her mail for a couple of minutes, pretending not to notice the flowers until the newsroom resumed its chaotic patterns. Making sure that no one was paying attention, she picked up the phone and dialed Garrett at work.

ian answered the phone. “Hold on, I think he’s in his office. Who’s calling, please?”

“Tell him it’s someone who wants to schedule some dive lessons in a couple of weeks.” She tried to sound as distant as she could, not sure if Ian knew about them.

Ian put her on hold, and there was silence for a short moment. Then the line clicked and Garrett came on.

“Can I help you?” he asked, sounding a little frazzled.

She said simply: “You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did.”

He recognized her voice, and his tone brightened. “Hey, it’s you. I’m glad they arrived. Do they look okay?”

“They’re beautiful. How did you know I loved roses?”

“I didn’t, but I’ve never heard of a woman who didn’t, so I took a chance.”

She smiled. “So you send lots of women roses?”

“Millions. I have a lot of fans. Dive instructors are almost like movie stars, you know.”

“They are, huh?”

“You mean you didn’t know? And here I thought you were just another groupie.”

She laughed. “Thanks a lot.”

“Sure. Did anyone ask who they were from?”

She smiled. “Of course.”

“I hope you said good things.”

“I did. I told them you were sixty-eight and fat, with a horrible lisp that made it impossible to understand you. But since you were so pitiful, I went ahead and had lunch with you. And now, unfortunately, you’re stalking me.”

“Hey, that hurts,” he said. He paused. “So . . . I hope the roses will remind you that I’m thinking about you.”

“they might,” she said coyly.

“Well, I am thinking about you and I don’t want you to forget it.”

She glanced at the roses. “Ditto,” she said quietly.

After they had hung up, Theresa sat quietly for a moment, reaching for the card again. She read it once more, and this time, instead of putting it back with the flowers, she placed it in her purse for safekeeping. Knowing this crowd, she was sure someone would read it when she wasn’t looking.

* * *

“So, what’s he like?”

Deanna sat across from Theresa at the table in the restaurant. Theresa handed Deanna the pictures from her vacation.

“I don’t know where to start.”

Staring at a picture of Garrett and Theresa on the beach, Deanna spoke without looking at her.

“Start at the beginning. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

Since Theresa had already told her about meeting Garrett at the docks, she picked up her story from the evening they spent sailing. She told Deanna how she had purposely left her jacket on board as an excuse to see him again—to which Deanna replied, “Marvelous!”—moving on to their lunch the next day and finally to their dinner. Recapping the final four days they spent together, she left very little out as Deanna listened with rapt attention.

“It sounds like you had a wonderful time,” Deanna said, smiling like a proud mother.

“I did. It was one of the best weeks I’ve ever spent. It’s just that . . .”

“What?”

it took a moment for her to answer. “Well, Garrett said something toward the end that got me wondering where this whole thing was going to go from here.”

“What did he say?”

“It wasn’t just what he said, but how he said it. He sounded as if he weren’t sure he wanted us to see each other again.”

“I thought you said that you were going down to Wilmington again in a couple of weeks.”

“I am.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She fidgeted, trying to collect her thoughts. “Well, he’s still struggling with Catherine and . . . and I’m not exactly sure whether he’ll ever get over it.”

Deanna laughed suddenly.

“What’s so funny?” Theresa asked, startled.

“ You are, Theresa. What did you expect? You knew he was still struggling with Catherine before you went down there. Remember, it was his ‘undying’ love that you found so attractive in the first place. Did you think that he’d completely get over Catherine in a couple of days, just because you two hit it off so well?”

Theresa looked sheepish and Deanna laughed again.

“You did , didn’t you? That’s exactly what you thought.”

“Deanna, you weren’t there. . . . You don’t know how right everything seemed between us, up until the last night.”

Deanna’s voice softened. “Theresa, I know there’s a part of you that believes you can change someone, but the reality is that you can’t. You can change yourself, and Garrett can change himself, but you can’t do it for him.”