Message in a Bottle

He met her eyes. "Yeah, I went to UNC and majored in marine biology. Nothing else interested me much, and since my dad told me I couldn't come home without a degree, I thought I'd learn something that I might be able to use later."

"So you bought the shop...."

He shook his head. "No, at least not right away. After graduating, I worked for the Duke Maritime Institute as a dive specialist, but there wasn't much money in that. So, I got a teaching certificate and started taking in students on the weekends. The shop came a few years later." He cocked an eyebrow. "How about you?"

Theresa took another drink of the SevenUp before she answered.

"My life isn't quite as exciting as yours. I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska, and went to school at Brown. After graduation, I bounced around in a couple of different places and tried a few different things, eventually settling down in Boston. I've been with the Times for nine years now, but only the last few as a columnist. Before that, I was a reporter."

"How do you like being a columnist?"

She thought about it for a moment, as if she were considering it for the first time.

"It's a good job," she finally said. "A lot better now than when I started. I can pick Kevin up after school, and I have the freedom to write whatever I want, as long as it's in line with my column. It pays fairly well, too, so I can't complain about that, but..."

She paused again. "It's not all that challenging anymore. Don't get me wrong, I like what I do, but sometimes I feel like I'm writing the same things over and over. Even that wouldn't be so bad, though, if I didn't have so many other things to do with Kevin. I guess that right now, I'm your typical, overworked single mother, if you know what I mean."

He nodded and spoke softly. "Life doesn't often turn out the way we think it will, does it?"

"No, I guess it doesn't," she said, and again she caught his gaze. His expression made her wonder if he'd said something he rarely said to anyone else. She smiled and leaned toward him.

"Are you ready for something to eat? I brought some things in the basket."

"Whenever you are."

"I hope you like sandwiches and cold salads. They were the only things I could think of that wouldn't spoil."

"It sounds better than what I would have had. If it was just me, I probably would have stopped for a burger before I went out tonight. Would you like to eat down here or outside?"

"Outside, definitely."

They picked up their cans of soda and left the cabin. On their way out, Garrett grabbed a raincoat from a peg near the door and motioned for her to go on without him. "Give me a minute to drop the anchor," he said, "so we can eat without having to check the boat every few minutes." Theresa reached her seat and opened the basket she had brought with her. On the horizon, the sun was sinking into a bank of cumulus clouds. She pulled out a couple of sandwiches wrapped in cellophane, as well as some Styrofoam containers of coleslaw and potato salad.

She watched as Garrett set aside the coat and lowered the sails, the boat slowing almost immediately. With his back to her as he worked, she again noticed how strong he looked. From where she was sitting, his shoulder muscles appeared larger than she had first realized, amplified by his small waist. She couldn't believe she was actually sailing with this man when only two days ago she was in Boston. The whole thing seemed unreal.

While Garrett worked steadily, Theresa looked upward. The breeze had picked up now that the temperature had dropped, and the sky was darkening slowly.

Once the boat had stopped completely, Garrett lowered the anchor. He waited about a minute, making sure the anchor would hold, and when he was satisfied, he took his seat next to Theresa.

"I wish there was something I could do to help you," Theresa said with a smile. She flipped her hair onto her shoulder the same way Catherine used to, and for a moment he didn't say anything.

"Is everything okay?" Theresa asked.

He nodded, suddenly uncomfortable again. "We're fine right here. But I was just thinking that if the wind keeps picking up, we'll have to tack a bit more often on our way back."

She put some potato salad and coleslaw along with his sandwich on his plate and handed it to him, conscious of the fact that he was sitting closer than he had before.

"Will it take longer to get back, then?"

Garrett reached for one of the white plastic forks and took a bite of coleslaw. It took a moment for him to answer.

"A little--but it won't be a problem unless the wind stops completely. If that happens, we'd be stuck."

"I take it that's happened to you before."

He nodded. "Once or twice. It's rare, but it does happen."

She looked confused. "Why is that rare? The wind doesn't always blow, does it?"

"On the ocean it usually does."

"How come?"

He smiled in amusement and set the sandwich on his plate. "Well, winds are driven by differences in temperature--when warm air rushes to cooler air. For the wind to stop blowing when you're out on the ocean, you'd need the air temperature to exactly equal the water temperature for miles around. Down here, the air is usually hot during the day, but as soon as the sun starts to set, the temperature drops quickly. That's why the best time to go out is at dusk. The temperature is changing constantly, and that makes for great sailing."

"What happens if the wind does stop?"

"The sails empty and the boat comes to a halt. You're absolutely powerless to do anything to make it move."

"And you said this has happened to you before?"

He nodded.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, really. Just sat back and enjoyed the quiet. I wasn't in danger, and I knew that in time the air temperature would drop. So I just waited it out. After an hour or so, a breeze picked up and I made it back to port."

"Sounds like it ended up being an enjoyable day."

"It was." He looked away from her intent gaze and focused on the cabin door. After a moment he added, almost to himself, "One of the best."

Catherine scooted over in her seat. "Come here and sit next to me."

Garrett closed the cabin door and made his way to her.

"This is the best day we've spent together in a long time," Catherine said softly.

"It seems like we've both been too busy lately, and... I don't know..." She trailed off. "I just wanted to do something special for us."

As she spoke, it seemed to Garrett that his wife wore the same tender expression she'd had on their wedding night.

Garrett sat beside her and poured the wine. "I'm sorry I've been so busy at the shop lately," he said quietly. "I love you, you know."

"I know." She smiled and covered his hand with her own.

"It'll be better soon, I promise."

Catherine nodded, reaching for her wine. "Let's not talk about that right now. Right now, I want to enjoy us, just the two of us. Without any distractions."

"Garrett?"

Startled, Garrett looked at Theresa. "I'm sorry...?" he began.

"Are you okay?" She was staring at him with a mixture of concern and puzzlement.

"I'm fine.... I was just remembering something I have to take care of," Garrett improvised. "Anyway," he said, straightening and folding his hands over one raised knee. "Enough about me. If you don't mind, Theresa... tell me something about yourself."

Puzzled and a little unsure about what he wanted to know exactly, she started from the beginning, touching on all the basic facts in a little more detail--her upbringing, her job, her hobbies. Mostly, though, she talked about Kevin and what a wonderful son he was and how she regretted not being able to spend more time with him.

Garrett listened as she spoke, not saying much. When she finished he asked, "And you said you were married once?"

She nodded. "For eight years. But David--that's his name--seemed to lose heart in the relationship, somehow... he ended up having an affair. I just couldn't live with that."

"I couldn't, either," Garrett said softly, "but it still doesn't

make it any easier."

"No, it didn't." She paused and took a drink of her soda. "But we're on friendly terms, in spite of everything. He's a good father to Kevin, and that's all I want from him now."

A large swell passed beneath the hull, and Garrett turned his head to make sure the anchor would hold. When he turned back Theresa said: "Okay, your turn. Tell me about you."

Garrett also started from the beginning, talking about growing up in Wilmington as an only child. He told her that his mother had died when he was twelve, and because his father spent most of his time on the boat, he pretty much grew up on the water. He spoke about his college days--omitting some of the wilder stories that might provide a misleading impression--and described what it had been like to start the shop and what his typical days were like now. Strangely, he said nothing at all about Catherine, over which Theresa could only wonder.

As they talked on, the sky turned to black and fog began to settle in around them. With the boat rocking slightly in the waves, a kind of intimacy descended upon them. The fresh air, the breeze in their faces, and the gentle movement of the boat all conspired to ease their earlier nervousness.

Afterward Theresa tried to remember the last time she'd had a date like this. Not once did she feel any pressure from Garrett to see him again, nor did he seem to expect something more from her this evening. Most of the men she met in Boston seemed to share the attitude that if they went out of their way to have a pleasant evening, then something was owed in return. It was an adolescent attitude--but typical nonetheless--and she found the change refreshing.

When they reached a quiet point in the conversation, Garrett leaned back and ran his hands through his hair. He closed his eyes and seemed to be savoring a silent moment for himself. While he was doing that, Theresa quietly put the used plates and napkins back into the basket to keep them from blowing into the ocean. When Garrett was ready, he rose from his seat.

"I think it's about time we start back," he said, almost as if regretting that the trip was coming to an end.

A few minutes later the boat was under way again, and she noticed that the wind was much stronger than it had been earlier. Garrett stood at the wheel, keeping Happenstance on course. Theresa stood next to him with her hand on the railing, running through their conversation again and again in her head. Neither of them spoke for a long while, and Garrett Blake found himself wondering why he felt so off balance.

On their last sail together, Catherine and Garrett talked quietly for hours, enjoying the wine and dinner. The sea was calm, and the gentle rise and fall of the swells were comforting in their familiarity.

Later that night, after making love, Catherine lay by Garrett's side, skimming her fingers across his chest, saying nothing.

"What are you thinking?" he asked finally.

"Just that I didn't think it was possible to love someone as much as I love you," she whispered.

Garrett ran his finger down her cheek. Catherine's eyes never left his.

"I didn't think it was possible, either," he answered softly. "I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

"Will you make me a promise?"

"Anything."

"If anything ever does happen to me, promise me that you'll find someone else."

"I don't think I could love anyone except you."

"Just promise me, okay?"

It took a moment to answer. "All right--if it makes you happy, I promise."

He smiled tenderly.

Catherine snuggled into him. "I'm happy, Garrett."

When the memory finally faded, Garrett cleared his throat and touched Theresa's arm with his hand to get her attention. He pointed toward the sky. "Look at all this," he said finally, doing his best to keep the conversation neutral. "Before they had sextants and compasses, they used the stars to navigate the seas. Over there, you can see Polaris. It always points due north."

Theresa looked up into the sky. "How do you know which star it is?"

"You use marker stars. Can you see the Big Dipper?"

"Sure."

"If you draw a straight line from the two stars that make up the tip of the spoon, they'll point to the North Star."

Theresa watched as he pointed out the stars he was talking about, musing about Garrett and the things that interested him. Sailing, diving, fishing, navigation by stars--anything to do with the ocean. Or anything, it seemed, that would enable him to be alone for hours on end.

With one hand, Garrett reached for the navy blue raincoat he'd left near the wheel earlier and slipped it on. "The Phoenicians were probably the greatest ocean explorers in history. In 600 B.C. they claimed to have sailed around the continent of Africa, but no one believed that they had done it because they swore that the North Star disappeared halfway through their voyage. But it had."

"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 hair had been blown back by the wind. The coat he was wearing hung to midthigh, unzipped. Worn and weathered, it looked as though he'd used it for years. It made him seem larger than he really was, and it would be this image of him that she could imagine remembering forever. This, and the first time she had seen him.

As they moved closer to shore, Theresa suddenly doubted that they would see each other again. In a few minutes they'd be back at the docks and they would say good-bye. She doubted he would ask her to join him again, and she wasn't going to ask him herself. For some reason it didn't seem like the right thing to do.

They made their way through the inlet, turning toward the marina. Again he kept the boat in the center of the waterway, and Theresa saw a series of triangular signs marking the channel. He kept the sails up until approximately the same spot he'd first raised them, then lowered them with the same intensity he had used to guide the boat all evening. The engine kicked to life, and within a few minutes they had made their way past the boats that had been moored all evening. When they reached his dock, she stood on the deck while Garrett jumped off and secured Happenstance with the lines.

Theresa walked to the stern to get the basket and her jacket, then stopped. Thinking for a moment, she picked up the basket, but instead of grabbing her jacket, she pushed it partway under the seat cushion with her free hand. When Garrett asked if everything was okay, she cleared her throat and said, "I'm just getting my things." She walked to the side of the boat, and he offered his hand. Again she felt the strength in it as she took it, and she stepped down from Happenstance onto the dock.

They stared at each other for just a moment, as if wondering what would come next, before Garrett finally motioned toward the boat. "I've got to close her up for the night, and it's going to take a little while."

She nodded. "I thought you might say that."

"Can I walk you to your car first?"