Garrett moved toward her and began to help clean up. "Are you feeling sick again?"
"No, but maybe I spent too much time outside this morning."
He was quiet for a moment as he picked up the glass.
"Are you sure I should go back to work? This last week's been pretty tough on you."
"I'll be fine. Besides, I know you've got a lot to do there."
Though she was right, when he finally started back to work, he got the feeling that maybe he shouldn't have listened to her.
He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the stillness in the kitchen. "I'm going to check the coals to see how they're doing," he said, needing something, anything, to do. "Hopefully, they're getting close."
"Can I set the table while you're checking?"
"Sure. Most of the things you'll need are right over here."
After showing her where to find what she needed, he headed outside, forcing himself to relax and clearing his mind of the ghostly memories. Once he reached the grill, he checked the coals, putting his mind to the task at hand. Almost white, they had another few minutes, he figured. Again he went to the sea chest, and this time he removed a small, handheld bellows. He set it on the railing next to the grill and took a deep breath. The ocean air was fresh, almost intoxicating, and for the first time, he suddenly realized that despite his vision of Catherine just moments ago, he was still pleased that Theresa was here. In fact, he felt happy, something he hadn't felt in a long time.
It wasn't only in the way they got along, but it was little things Theresa did. The way she smiled, the way she looked at him, even the way she'd taken his hand earlier this afternoon--it was already beginning to feel as if he knew her longer than he actually did. He wondered whether it was because she was similar to Catherine in so many ways or whether his father had been right about him needing to spend some time with another person.
While he was outside, Theresa set the table. She put a wineglass beside each plate and sorted through the drawer for some silverware. Beside the utensils were two candles with small holders for each. After wondering whether it would be too much, she decided to put them on the table as well. She would leave it to him whether or not to light them. Garrett came in just as she was finishing up.
"We've got a couple of minutes. Would you like to sit outside while we wait?"
Theresa picked up her beer and followed him out. As it had the night before, the breeze was blowing, but it wasn't nearly as strong. She sat in one of the chairs, Garrett right beside her, his legs crossed at the ankles. His light shirt brought out his deeply tanned skin, and Theresa watched him as he stared out over the water. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling more alive than she had in a long time.
"I bet you don't have a view like this from where you live in Boston," he said into the sudden silence.
"You're right," she said, "I don't. I live in an apartment. My parents think I'm crazy for living downtown. They think I should live in the suburbs."
"Why don't you?"
"I used to, before the divorce. But now, it's just a lot easier. I can get to work in just a few minutes, Kevin's school is right down the block, and I never have to take the highway unless I'm going out of town. Besides, I wanted something different after my marriage ended. I just couldn't handle the looks my neighbors gave me after they found out that David had left."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged, and her voice softened. "I never told any of them why David and I separated. I just didn't think it was any of their business."
"It wasn't."
She paused for a moment, remembering. "I know that, but in their minds, David was a wonderful husband. He was handsome and successful, and they didn't want to believe that he did anything wrong. Even when we were together, he acted as if everything were perfect. I didn't have any idea he was having an affair until the very end."
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 cliche, 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 steaks. "How do you like your steak?"
"Medium rare."
"With steaks this size, that's about eleven minutes on each side."
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."