Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [87]
As the afternoon wore on, his depression gave way to confusion, then to a sort of numbness. By the time he called Theresa later in the evening, the feelings of betrayal he’d felt as a result of the dream had subsided enough to speak with her. They were still there, though not as strong, and when she answered the phone, he felt them diminish even further. The sound of her voice reminded him of the way he felt when they were together.
“I’m glad you called,” she said cheerfully, “I thought a lot about you today.”
“I thought about you, too,” he said. “I wish you were here right now.”
“Are you okay? You sound a little down.”
“I’m fine…. Just lonely, that’s all. How was your day?”
“Typical. Too much to do at work, too much to do at home. But it’s better now that I’ve heard from you.”
Garrett smiled. “Is Kevin around?”
“He’s in his room reading a book about scuba diving. He tells me he wants to be a dive instructor when he grows up.”
“Where could he have gotten that idea?”
“I haven’t the slightest,” she said, amusement in her tone. “How about you? What did you do today?”
“Not much, actually. I didn’t go into the shop—I sort of took the day off and wandered the beaches.”
“Dreaming about me, I hope?”
The irony of her comment was not lost on him. He didn’t answer directly.
“I just really missed you today.”
“I’ve only been gone a few days,” she said gently.
“I know. And speaking of that, when will we get to see each other again?”
Theresa sat at the dining room table and glanced at her Day-Timer.
“Umm… how about in three weeks? I was thinking that maybe you could come up here this time. Kevin has a week-long soccer camp, and we’d be able to spend some time alone.”
“Would you like to come down here instead?”
“It would be better if you came up here, if that’s okay. I’m running low on vacation days, and I think we’d be able to work around my schedule. And besides, I think it’s about time you got out of North Carolina, just so you can see what the rest of the country has to offer.”
As she spoke, he found himself staring at Catherine’s picture on the nightstand. It took him a few seconds to respond. “Sure… I guess I could do that.”
“You don’t sound too sure about it.”
“I am.”
“Is there something else, then?”
“No.”
She paused uncertainly. “Are you really okay, Garrett?”
It took him a few days and several phone calls to Theresa to feel somewhat normal again. More than once he found himself calling her late in the evening, just to hear her voice.
“Hey,” he’d say, “it’s me again.”
“Hi, Garrett, what’s up?” she’d ask sleepily.
“Not much. I just wanted to say good night before you crawled into bed.”
“I’m already in bed.”
“What time is it?”
She glanced toward the clock. “Almost midnight.”
“Why are you awake? You should be sleeping,” he’d tease, and then he’d let her hang up the phone so she could get her rest.
Sometimes, if he couldn’t sleep, he’d think about his week with Theresa, remembering how good her skin felt to his touch, overwhelmed by his desire to hold her again.
Then, walking into the bedroom, he’d see Catherine’s picture by his bed. And at that moment the dream would rush forward with crystal clarity.
He knew he was still unsettled by the dream. In the past he would have written a letter to Catherine to help him get it into perspective. Then, taking Happenstance out on the same route he and Catherine had sailed for the first time after Happenstance had been restored, he’d seal it and toss it into the ocean.
Strangely, he wasn’t able to do it this time. When he sat down to write, the words simply wouldn’t come. Finally growing frustrated, he willed himself to remember, instead.
“Now there’s a surprise,” Garrett said as he pointed at Catherine’s plate. On it, she was piling spinach salad from the buffet in front of them.
Catherine shrugged dismissively. “What’s wrong with wanting a salad?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he said quickly. “It’s just that this is the third time you’ve eaten it this week.”
“I know. I’ve just been craving it. I don’t know why.