Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [60]
She turned toward him, a rueful look on her face. “As they say, the wife is always the last to know.”
“How did you find out?”
She shook her head. “I know it sounds like a cliché, but I found out from the dry cleaner, of all people. When I picked up his clothes, the cleaner handed me some receipts that had been in his pocket. One was from a hotel downtown. And I knew from the date that he had been home that evening, so it must have been for just an afternoon. He denied it when I confronted him, but by the way he looked at me, I knew he was lying. Eventually, the whole story came out, and I filed for divorce.”
Garrett listened quietly, letting her finish, wondering how she could have fallen in love with someone who would do that to her. As if reading his mind, she went on:
“You know, David was one of those men who could say anything and make you believe it. I think he even believed most of the things he told me. We met in college, and I was overwhelmed by how much he had going for him. He was smart and charming, and I was flattered that he was interested in someone like me. Here I was, a young girl straight from Nebraska, and he was unlike anyone I’d ever met before. And when we got married, I thought I’d have a storybook life. But I guess it was the furthest thing from his mind. I found out later that he had his first affair only five months after we were married.”
She stopped for a moment, and Garrett looked toward his beer. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing you can say,” she said with finality. “It’s over, and like I said yesterday, the only thing I want from him now is for him to be a good father to Kevin.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“I don’t mean to. David hurt me pretty badly, and it took me a couple of years and more than a few sessions with a good therapist to get to this point. I learned a lot from my therapist, and I learned a lot about myself along the way. Once, when I was babbling about what a jerk he had been, she pointed out that if I kept holding on to my anger, he’d still be controlling me, and I wasn’t willing to accept that. So I let it go.”
She took another sip of her beer. Garrett asked: “Did your therapist say anything else that you remember?”
She thought for a moment, then smiled faintly. “As a matter of fact, she did. She said that if I ever came across someone who reminded me of David that I should turn around and run for the hills.”
“Do I remind you of David?”
“Not in the slightest. You’re about as different from David as a man can get.”
“That’s good,” he said with mock seriousness. “There aren’t many hills in this part of the country, you know. You’d have to run a mighty long way.”
She giggled, and Garrett looked over at the grill. Seeing that the coals were ready, he asked, “Are you ready to start the steaks?”
“Will you show me the rest of your secret recipe?”
“With pleasure,” he said as they rose from their seats. In the kitchen he found the tenderizer and sprinkled some on the top of the steaks. Then, removing both filets from the brandy, he added some to the other sides as well. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a small plastic bag.
“What’s that?” Theresa asked.
“It’s tallow—the fatty part of the steak that’s usually trimmed off. I had the butcher save some when I bought the steaks.”
“What’s it for?”
“You’ll see,” he said.
After returning to the grill with the steaks and a pair of tongs, he set them on the railing beside the bellows. Then, taking the bellows he’d removed earlier, he began to blow the ashes off the briquettes, explaining to her what he was doing.
“Part of cooking a great steak is making sure the coals are hot. You use the bellows to blow off the ashes. That way, you don’t have anything blocking the heat.”
He put the grill top back on the barbecue, let it heat for about a minute, then used the tongs to put on the