Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [44]
“Why?”
“Because they entered the southern hemisphere. That’s how historians know they actually did it. Before then, no one had ever seen that happen before, or if they had, they’d never recorded it. It took almost two thousand years before they were proved right.”
She nodded, imagining their faraway voyage. She wondered why she never learned such things growing up and wondered about the man who had. And suddenly she knew exactly why Catherine had fallen in love with him. It wasn’t that he was unusually attractive, or ambitious, or even charming. He was partly those things, but more important, he seemed to live life on his own terms. There was something mysterious and different about the way he acted, something masculine. And that made him unlike anyone she’d ever met before.
Garrett glanced at her when she didn’t respond and again noticed how lovely she was. In the darkness her pale skin looked ethereal, and he found himself picturing what it would feel like to lightly trace the outline of her cheek. He shook his head then, trying to push the thought away.
But he couldn’t. The breeze was blowing through her hair, and the sight of it made something tighten in his stomach. How long had it been since he’d felt this way? Too long, for sure. But there wasn’t anything he could, or would, do about it. He knew that too as he watched her. It was neither the right time nor the right place… nor was it the right person. Deep down, he wondered if anything would ever be right again.
“I hope I’m not boring you,” he said finally, with forced calmness. “I’ve always been interested in those types of stories.”
She faced him and smiled. “No, it’s not that. Not at all. I liked the story. I was just imagining what those men must have gone through. It’s not easy to head into something completely foreign.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, feeling as if she’d somehow read his mind.
The lights from the buildings along the shore seemed to flicker in the slowly thickening fog. Happenstance rocked slightly in the rising swells as it approached the inlet, and Theresa looked over her shoulder for the things she had brought with her. Her jacket had blown into the corner near the cabin. She made a note not to forget it when she got back to the marina.
Even though Garrett had said he usually sailed alone, she wondered if he had brought anyone out besides Catherine and herself. And if he never had, what did that mean? She knew he had watched her carefully this evening, though he’d never been obvious. But even if he was curious about her, he’d kept his feelings well hidden. He hadn’t pressed her for information she wasn’t willing to give, he hadn’t questioned her about whether she was involved with someone else. He hadn’t done anything this evening that could be interpreted as being more than casually interested.
Garrett turned a switch, and a series of small lights came on around the boat. Not enough to see each other well, but enough so that other boats would see them approaching. He pointed toward the blackness of the coast—“The inlet is right over there, between the lights”—and turned the wheel in that direction. The sails rippled and the beam shifted for a moment before returning to its original position.
“So,” he finally asked, “did you enjoy your first time sailing?”
“I did. It was wonderful.”
“I’m glad. It wasn’t a trip to the southern hemisphere, but it’s about all I could do.”
They stood beside each other, both seemingly lost in thought. Another sailboat appeared in the darkness a quarter mile away, making its way back to the marina as well. Giving it a wide berth, Garrett looked from side to side, making sure nothing else would appear. Theresa noticed that the fog had made the horizon invisible.
Turning toward him, she saw that his