Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [34]
“Hey!” he shouted.
She stopped and turned to face him, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Yes?”
Even at a distance she was pretty.
He took a couple of steps in her direction. “I forgot to ask. What’s your name?”
“I’m Theresa. Theresa Osborne.”
“My name’s Garrett Blake.”
“Okay, Garrett, I’ll see you at seven.”
With that, she turned and walked briskly away. Garrett watched her retreating figure, trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions. Though part of him was excited about what had just happened, another part of him felt that there was something wrong with the whole thing. He knew there wasn’t any reason to feel guilty, but the feeling was definitely there, and he wished there was something he could do about it.
But there wasn’t, of course. There never was.
CHAPTER 6
The clock rolled past the dinner hour and onward toward seven, but for Garrett Blake, time had stopped three years ago when Catherine had stepped off the curb and was killed by an elderly man who lost control of his car and changed the lives of two separate families forever. In the ensuing weeks, his anger at the driver eventually gave way to plans of revenge that went unfulfilled, simply because his sorrow rendered him incapable of any action whatsoever. He couldn’t sleep more than three hours a night, cried whenever he saw her clothes in the closet, and lost almost twenty pounds on a diet that consisted of coffee and Ritz crackers. The following month, he started smoking for the first time in his life and turned to alcohol on nights when the pain was too unbearable for him to face sober. His father temporarily took over the business while Garrett sat in silence on the back porch of his home, trying to imagine a world without her. He had neither the will nor the desire to exist anymore, and sometimes as he sat there, he hoped that the salty, humid air would swallow him up completely so he wouldn’t have to face the future alone.
What made it so hard was that it seemed as though he couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t around. They had known each other most of their lives and had attended the same schools throughout their younger years. In third grade they were best friends, and he gave her two cards on Valentine’s Day, but after that, they drifted apart and simply coexisted as they progressed from one grade to the next. Catherine was gangly and thin, always the smallest in her class, and though Garrett always held a special place in his heart for her, he never noticed that she was slowly becoming an attractive young woman. They never went to a prom together or even to a movie, but after four years at Chapel Hill, where he majored in marine biology, he bumped into her at Wrightsville Beach and suddenly realized how foolish he had been. She was no longer the gangly girl he remembered. In a word, she was beautiful, with wonderful curves that made men and women alike turn their heads whenever she walked past them. Her hair was blond and her eyes held infinite mystery; and when he finally closed his gaping mouth and asked her what she was doing later, they started a relationship that eventually led to marriage and six wonderful years together.
On their wedding night, alone in a hotel room lit only by candles, she handed him the two valentines he’d once given her and laughed aloud when she saw the expression on his face when he realized what they were. “Of course I kept them,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. “It was the first time I ever loved someone. Love is love, no matter how old you are, and I knew that if I gave you enough time, you’d come back to me.”
Whenever Garrett found himself thinking of her, he remembered either the way she looked that night or how she looked the very last time they went sailing. Even now he remembered that evening clearly—her blond hair blowing wildly in the breeze, her face rapturous as she laughed aloud.
“Feel the spray!” she cried exultantly