Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [53]
“It depends on the question.”
He stopped walking and picked up a couple of small seashells that caught his eye. After turning them over a few times, he handed them to her. “Are you seeing anyone up in Boston?”
She took the shells as she answered. “No.”
Lapping waves collected at their feet as they stood in the shallow water. Though he had expected the answer, he couldn’t understand why someone like her would spend most of her evenings alone.
“Why not? A woman like you should have your pick of men.”
She smiled at that, and they slowly started walking again. “Thanks, that’s nice of you to say. But it’s not that easy, especially when you have a son. There are a lot of things I have to consider when I meet someone.” She paused. “But what about you? Are you seeing anyone right now?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then it’s my turn to ask—why not?”
Garrett shrugged. “I guess I haven’t met anyone I’d really like to see on a regular basis.”
“Is that all?”
It was a moment of truth, and Garrett knew it. All he had to do was affirm his earlier statement and that would be the end of it. But for a few steps he didn’t say anything.
The beach crowd had thinned as they moved farther away from the pier, and the only sound now was that of the crashing waves. Garrett saw a group of terns standing near the water’s edge, already moving out of their path. The sun, almost directly overhead now, reflected off the sand and made them both squint a little as they strolled along. Garrett didn’t look at her as he spoke, and Theresa moved closer so that she could hear him over the roar of the ocean.
“No, that’s not all. It’s more of an excuse than anything. To be honest, I haven’t even tried to find someone.”
Theresa watched him carefully as he spoke. He was looking straight ahead as if gathering his thoughts, but she could sense his reluctance as he went on.
“There was something I didn’t tell you last night.”
She felt something tighten inside, knowing exactly what was coming. Keeping her face neutral, she said simply: “Oh?”
“I was married once, too,” he finally said. “For six years.” He turned to her with an expression that made her flinch. “But she passed away.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Again he stopped and picked up some seashells, only this time he didn’t hand them to Theresa. After inspecting them casually, he threw one into the oncoming waves. Theresa watched it disappear into the ocean.
“It happened three years ago. Ever since then, I haven’t been interested in dating, or even looking.” He stopped for a moment, uncomfortable.
“It must get lonely sometimes.”
“It does, but I try not to think about that too much. I keep busy at the shop—there’s always something to do there—and it helps the days go by. Before I know it, it’s time for me to go to bed and I start the whole thing over the next day.”
When he finished, he glanced at her with a weak smile. There, he’d said it. He’d wanted to tell someone other than his father for years, and he’d ended up telling it to a woman from Boston he barely knew. A woman who had somehow been able to open doors that he himself had nailed shut.
She said nothing. When he didn’t add anything else, she asked: “What was she like?”
“Catherine?” Garrett’s throat went dry. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah, I do,” she said in a gentle voice.
He threw another shell into the surf, gathering his thoughts. How could he hope to describe her in words? Yet part of him wanted to try, wanted Theresa of all people to understand. Despite himself, he was drawn back in time once more.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Catherine said as she looked up from the garden. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
“It’s been pretty slow in the shop this morning, and I thought I’d pop home for lunch to see how you were doing.”
“I’m feeling a lot better.”
“You think it was the flu?”
“I don’t know. It was probably something I ate. About an hour after you left, I felt good enough to do a little gardening.”
“I can see that.”
“How do you like the flowers?” She gestured at a freshly turned patch