Message in a Bottle(19)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re very precise about all this, aren’t you?”

“I promised you a good steak, and I intend to deliver.”

In the little while it took to cook the steaks, Garrett watched Theresa out of the corner of his eye. There was something sensual about her figure, outlined against the setting sun. The sky was turning orange, and the warm light made her look especially beautiful, darkening her brown eyes. Her hair lifted tantalizingly in the evening breeze.

“What are you thinking?”

He tensed at the sound of her voice, suddenly realizing he hadn’t said anything since he’d started cooking.

“I was just thinking about what a jerk your ex-husband was,” he said, turning toward her, and he saw her smile. She patted his shoulder gently.

“but if i was still married, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

“And that,” he said, still feeling her touch, “would be a shame.”

“Yes, it would,” she echoed, their eyes lingering for a moment. Finally Garrett turned away and reached for the tallow. Clearing his throat:

“I think we’re ready for this now.”

He took the tallow, which had been cut into smaller pieces, and put the pieces on the briquettes, directly beneath the steaks. Then, he leaned over and blew on them until they burst into flame.

“What are you doing?”

“The flames from the tallow will sear in the juices and keep the steak tender. That’s the same reason you use tongs instead of a fork.”

He threw a few more pieces of tallow onto the briquettes and repeated the process. Looking around, Theresa commented:

“It’s so peaceful out here. I can see why you bought the place.”

He finished what he was doing and took another drink of beer, wetting his throat. “There’s something about the ocean that does that to people. I think that’s why so many people come here to relax.”

She turned toward him. “Tell me, Garrett, what do you think about when you’re out here alone?”

“A lot of things.”

“Anything in particular?”

I think about Catherine, he wanted to say but didn’t.

He sighed. “No, not really. Sometimes I think about work, sometimes I think about the new places I want to explore on my dives. other times, i dream about sailing away and leaving everything behind.”

She watched him carefully as he spoke the last words. “Could you really do that? Sail away and never come back?”

“I’m not sure, but I like to think I could. Unlike you, I don’t have any family except for my father, and in a way, I think he’d understand. He and I are a lot alike, and I think that if it wasn’t for me, he would have taken off a long time ago.”

“But that would be like running away.”

“I know.”

“Why would you want to do that?” she pressed, somehow knowing the answer. When he didn’t respond, she leaned close to him and spoke gently.

“Garrett, I know it’s not any of my business, but you can’t run away from what you’re going through.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “And besides, you’ve got so much to offer someone.”

Garrett stayed silent, thinking about what she’d said, wondering how she seemed to know exactly what to say to make him feel better.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds around them came from elsewhere. Garrett turned the steaks, and they sizzled on the grill. The gentle evening breeze made a distant wind chime sing. Waves rolled up on the shore, a soothing, continuous roar.

Garrett’s mind drifted through the last two days. He thought about the moment he’d first seen her, the hours they’d spent on Happenstance , and their walk on the beach earlier in the day when he’d first told her about Catherine. The tension he’d felt earlier in the day was almost gone now, and as they stood beside each other in the deepening twilight, he sensed that there was something more to this evening than either of them wanted to admit.

just before the steaks were ready, Theresa went back inside to get the rest of the table ready. She pulled the potatoes out of the oven, unwrapped the foil, and placed one on each plate. The salad came next, and she set it in the middle of the table, along with a couple of different dressings she had found in the refrigerator door. Last, she put down salt, pepper, butter, and a couple of napkins. Because it was getting dark inside the house, she turned on the kitchen light, but that seemed too bright. She switched it off again. On impulse, she went ahead and lit the candles, standing back from the table to see if it was too much. Thinking it looked about right, she picked up the bottle of wine and was placing it on the table just as Garrett came inside.

After closing the sliding glass door, Garrett saw what she had done. It was dark in the kitchen except for the small flames pointing upward, and the glow made Theresa look beautiful. Her dark hair looked mysterious in the candlelight, and her eyes seemed to capture the moving flames. Unable to speak for a long moment, all Garrett could do was stare at her, and it was in that moment that he knew exactly what he’d been trying to deny to himself all along.

“I thought these would be a nice touch,” she said quietly.

“I think you’re right.”

They continued to watch each other from across the room, both frozen for a moment by the shadow of distant possibilities. Then Theresa glanced away.

“I couldn’t find a wine opener,” she said, grasping for something to say.

“I’ll get it,” he said quickly. “I don’t use it very often, so it’s probably buried in one of the drawers.”

He carried the plate of steaks to the table, then went to the drawer. after sorting through the utensils toward the back, he found the opener and brought it to the table. In a couple of easy moves, he opened the bottle and poured just the right amount into each glass. Then, sitting down, he used the tongs to put the steaks on each of their plates.

“It’s the moment of truth,” she said right before taking her first bite. Garrett smiled as he watched her try it. Theresa was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had been right all along.

“Garrett, this is delicious,” she said earnestly.

“Thank you.”

The candles burned lower as the evening wore on, and Garrett twice told her how glad he was that she had come this evening. Both times Theresa felt something tingle in the back of her neck and had to take another sip of wine just to make the feeling go away.

Outside, the ocean slowly rose toward high tide, driven by a crescent moon that had seemingly come from nowhere.

*  *  *

After dinner, Garrett suggested another walk along the beach. “It’s really beautiful at night,” he said. When she agreed, he picked up the plates and silverware from the table and put them in the sink.

They left the kitchen and walked outside, Garrett closing the door behind him. The night was mild. They stepped off the deck, making their way over a small sand dune and onto the beach itself.

When they reached the water’s edge, they repeated their actions of earlier that day, slipping off their shoes and leaving them on the beach, since no one else was around. They walked slowly, close to each other. Surprising her, Garrett reached for her hand. feeling his warmth, theresa wondered for just a moment what it would be like to have him touch her body, lingering over her skin. The thought made something inside her tighten, and when she glanced over at him, she wondered if he knew what she’d been thinking.

They continued strolling, both of them taking in the evening. “I haven’t had a night like this in a long time,” Garrett said finally, his voice sounding almost like a remembrance.

“Neither have I,” she said.

The sand was cool beneath their feet. “Garrett, do you remember when you first asked me to go sailing?” Theresa asked.

“Yes.”

“Why did you ask me to go with you?”

He looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you looked almost like you regretted it the moment you said it.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure that regret is the word I’d use. I think I was surprised that I asked, but I didn’t regret it.”

She smiled. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You have to remember that I haven’t asked anyone out in over three years. When you said that you had never gone sailing before—I think it just sort of hit me that I was tired of always being alone.”

“You mean I was in the right place at the right time?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I wanted to take you out with me—I don’t think I would have offered if it had been someone else. Besides, this whole thing has turned out much better than I thought it would. These last couple of days have been the best days I’ve had in a long time.”

She felt warm inside at what he’d said. As they walked, she felt him slowly moving his thumb, tracing small circles on her skin. He went on.

“Did you think your vacation would be anything like this?”

She hesitated, deciding it wasn’t the right time to tell him the truth.

“No.”

They walked together quietly. There were a few others on the beach, though they were far enough away that Theresa couldn’t make out anything but shadows.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back here again? I mean for another vacation?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Because I was kind of hoping you would.”

In the distance, she could see lights along a faraway pier. Again she felt his hand moving against hers.

“Would you make dinner for me again if I did?”

“I’d cook you anything you want. As long as it’s a steak.”

She laughed under her breath. “Then I’ll consider it. I promise.”

“How about if I threw in a few scuba lessons as well?”

“I think Kevin would enjoy that more than me.”

“Then bring him along.”

She glanced over at him. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’d love to meet him.”

“I bet you’d like him.”

“I know I would.”

They walked along in silence, until Theresa blurted out, “Garrett—can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I know this is going to sound strange, but . . .”

she paused for a moment, and he looked at her quizzically. “What?”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

He laughed aloud. “Where did that come from?”

“I just want to know. I always ask people that question. It lets me know what people are really all about.”

“The worst thing?”

“The absolute worst.”

He thought for a moment. “I guess I would say that the worst thing I’ve ever done is when a bunch of my friends and I went out one night in December—we were drinking and raising hell when we ended up driving by a street that was totally decorated in Christmas lights. Well, we parked and right there and then proceeded to unscrew and steal every light bulb we could.”

“You didn’t!”

“We did. There were five of us, and we filled the back of the truck with stolen Christmas lights. And we left the strands—that was the worst part. It looked like the Grinch had come wandering down the street. We were out there for almost two hours, laughing uproariously about what we were doing. The street had been featured in the newspaper as one of the most decorated streets in the city, and when we were done . . . I can’t imagine what those people thought. They must have been furious.”

“That’s terrible!”

He laughed again. “I know. Thinking back, I know it was terrible. But at the time, it was hilarious.”

“And here I was, thinking you’re such a nice guy. . . .”

“I am a nice guy.”

“you were the Grinch.” She pressed on, curious. “So what else did you and your friends do?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He began to regale her then with tales of other teenage misadventures—from soaping car windows to tepeeing the houses of former girlfriends. Once, he claimed, he saw one of his friends driving alongside him while he was on a date. After his friend motioned for him to roll down the window, he did—and his friend promptly launched a bottle rocket into his car that exploded at his feet.

Twenty minutes later he was still telling stories, much to her amusement. When he finally finished, he asked her the same question that had originally started the conversation.

“Oh, I’ve never done anything like you,” she said almost coyly. “I’ve always been a good girl.”

He laughed again then, feeling as if he’d been manipulated—not that he minded—and knowing full well that she wasn’t telling the truth.

*  *  *

They walked the full length of the beach, exchanging additional stories from childhood. Theresa tried to imagine him as a young man while he spoke, wondering what she would have thought about him had she met him while she was in college. Would she have found him as compelling as she did now, or would she have fallen for David again? She wanted to believe that she would have appreciated the differences between them, but would she? David had seemed so perfect back then.

They stopped for a moment and looked out over the water. He stood close to her, their shoulders barely touching.

“what are you thinking?” Garrett asked.

“I was just thinking how nice the silence is with you.”

He smiled. “And I was just thinking that I’ve told you a lot of things I don’t tell anyone.”

“Is that because you know I’m going back to Boston and I won’t tell anyone?”

He chuckled. “No, it’s not that at all.”