Nicholas Sparks: Message in a Bottle

He sat quietly for a moment, looking at the letters. “Why didn’t you tell me about them?” he asked.

She took her time answering. “There were times when I wanted to, but . . . I don’t know . . . I guess I convinced myself that it didn’t matter how we met. The only thing that mattered was how well we got along.” She paused, knowing there was more. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d understand. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“If you’d told me earlier, I would have understood.”

She watched him carefully as he answered. “Would you, Garrett? Would you really have understood?”

Garrett knew it to be a moment of truth. When he didn’t respond, Theresa shook her head and glanced away.

“Last night, when you asked me to move, I didn’t say yes right away because I was afraid of why you’d asked.” She hesitated. “I needed to be sure you wanted me , Garrett. I needed to be sure you asked me because of us , and not because you were running from something. I guess I wanted you to convince me when I got back from the store. But you found these instead. . . .”

She shrugged, speaking more softly now. “Deep down, I guess i knew it all along, but i wanted to believe that everything would work itself out.”

“What are you talking about?”

She didn’t answer directly. “Garrett—it isn’t that I don’t think you love me, because I know you do. That’s what makes this whole thing so hard. I know you love me, and I love you, too—and if the circumstances were different, perhaps we could get through all this. But right now, I don’t think we can. I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

Garrett felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. She looked directly at him, meeting his eyes.

“I’m not blind, Garrett. I knew why you would get so quiet sometimes when we weren’t together. I knew why you wanted me to move down here.”

“It was because I missed you,” he interjected.

“That was part of it . . . but not all of it,”Theresa said, pausing to blink back tears. Her voice began to crack. “It’s also because of Catherine.”

She dabbed at the corner of her eye, clearly fighting tears, determined not to break down.

“When you first told me about her, I saw the way you looked . . . it was obvious that you still loved her. And last night—despite your anger—I saw the same look again. Even after all the time we’ve spent together, you’re still not over her. And then . . . the things you said . . .” She took a deep, uneven breath. “You weren’t angry simply because I found the letters, you were angry because you felt I threatened what you and Catherine shared—and still do.”

Garrett looked away, hearing the echo of his father’s accusation. Again she reached over and touched his hand.

“you are who you are, Garrett. You’re a man who loves deeply, but you’re also a man who loves forever. No matter how much you love me, I don’t think it’s in you to ever forget her, and I can’t live my life wondering whether I measure up to her.”

“We can work on it,” he began hoarsely. “I mean . . . I can work on it. I know it can be different—”

Theresa cut him off with a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I know you believe that, and part of me wants to believe it, too. If you put your arms around me now and begged me to stay, I’m sure I would, because you added something to my life that was lacking for a long time. And we’d go on again like we had been, both believing everything was okay. . . . But it wouldn’t be, don’t you see? Because the next time we had an argument . . .” She stopped. “I can’t compete with her. And as much as I want it to go on, I can’t let it, because you won’t let it.”

“But I love you.”

She smiled gently. Letting go of his hand, she reached up and softly caressed his cheek. “I love you, too, Garrett. But sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Garrett was quiet when she finished, his face pale. In the long silence between them, Theresa began to cry.

Leaning toward her, he put his arm around her and held her, his arms weak. He rested his cheek against her hair as she buried her face in his chest, her body shaking as she cried into him. It was a long time before Theresa wiped her cheeks and pulled away. They looked at each other, Garrett’s eyes issuing a mute plea. She shook her head.

“I can’t stay, Garrett. As much as we both want me to, I can’t.”

The words hit hard. Garrett’s head suddenly felt woozy.

“No . . . ,” he said brokenly.

theresa stood, knowing she had to leave before she lost her nerve. Outside, thunder boomed loudly. Seconds later a light, misty rain began to fall.

“I have to go.”

She slipped her purse over her shoulder and started for the front door. For a moment, Garrett was too stunned to move.

Finally, in a daze, he rose from his seat and followed her out the door, the rain beginning to fall steadily now. Her rental car was parked in the driveway. Garrett watched as she opened the car door, unable to think of anything to say.

In the driver’s seat she fumbled with the key for a moment, then put it in the ignition. She forced a weak smile as she shut the door. Despite the rain, she rolled down the window to see him more clearly. Turning the key, she felt the engine crank to life. They stared at each other as the car idled in his driveway.

His expression as he looked at her cut through all her defenses, her fragile resolve. For just a moment she wanted to take everything back. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t mean what she had said, that she still loved him, that it shouldn’t end this way. It would be easy to do that, it would feel so right—

But no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t force herself to say the words.

He took a step toward the car. Theresa shook her head to stop him. This was already painful enough.

“I’ll miss you, Garrett,” she said beneath her breath, uncertain whether he could even hear her. She slid the transmission into reverse.

The rain began to fall harder: the thicker, colder drops of a winter storm.

garrett stood, frozen. “Please,” he said raggedly, “don’t leave.” His voice was low, almost obscured by the sound of the rain.

She didn’t answer.

Knowing she would start to cry again if she stayed any longer, she rolled up the window. Looking over her shoulder, she began to back out of the drive. Garrett put his hand on the hood as the car started to move, his fingers gliding along the wet surface as it slowly backed away. In a moment the car was on the street, ready to roll, the windshield wipers flapping back and forth.

With sudden urgency, Garrett felt his last chance slipping away. “Theresa,” he shouted, “wait!”

With the rain coming down steadily, she didn’t hear him. The car was already past the house. Garrett jogged to the end of the drive, waving his arms to get her attention. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Theresa!” he shouted again. He was in the middle of the road now, running behind the car, his feet splashing through the puddles that had already begun to form. The brake lights blinked for a second, then steadied as the car came to a halt. Rain and mist swirled around it, making it look like a mirage. Garrett knew she was watching him in the rearview mirror, watching him close the distance. There’s still a chance. . . .

The brake lights suddenly flicked off and the car started forward again, picking up speed, accelerating more quickly this time. Garrett kept running behind the car, chasing it as it made its way down the street. He watched as the car moved farther into the distance, becoming smaller with each passing moment. His lungs burned, but he kept on going, racing a sense of futility. The rain began to come down in sheets, storm drops, soaking through his shirt and making it difficult for him to see.