He watched her as she took an involuntary step backward. "Can I help you with something?" he asked. He smiled but didn't approach her, as if he were afraid she would feel trapped.
Which was exactly how she felt when their eyes met.
For a moment all she could do was stare at him. Despite the fact that she had seen a picture of him, he looked better than she expected, though she wasn't sure why. He was tall and broad shouldered. Though not strikingly handsome, his face was tan and rugged, as if the sun and sea had taken their toll. His eyes weren't nearly as hypnotic as David's had been, but there was something compelling about him for sure. Something masculine in the way he stood before her.
Remembering her plan, she took a deep breath. She motioned toward Happenstance.
"I was just admiring your boat. It's really beautiful."
Rubbing his hands together to remove some of the excess grease, he said politely, "Thank you, that's nice of you to say."
His steady gaze seemed to expose the reality of the situation, and suddenly everything came to her at once--finding the bottle, her growing curiosity, the research she had done, her trip to Wilmington, and finally this meeting, face-to-face. Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes and caught herself fighting for control. Somehow she hadn't expected this to happen so quickly. She suddenly felt a moment of pure terror.
He took a small step forward. "Are you okay?" he asked in a concerned voice.
Taking another deep breath and willing herself to relax, she said, "Yeah, I think so. I just got a little dizzy there for a second."
"You sure?"
She ran her hand through her hair, embarrassed. "Yeah. I'm fine now. Really."
"Good," he said as if waiting to see whether she was telling the truth. Then, after he was sure she was, he asked curiously: "Have we met before?"
Theresa shook her head slowly. "I don't think so."
"Then how did you know the boat was mine?"
Relieved, she answered, "Oh... I saw your picture down at the shop in the articles on the wall, along with the pictures of the boat. The young man in your shop said you would be here, and I thought that as long as you were, I'd come down to see for myself."
"He said I was here?"
She was silent as she remembered the exact words. "Actually, he told me you were at the docks. I just assumed that meant you were here."
He nodded. "I was at the other boat--the one we use for diving."
A small fishing boat blared its horn, and Garrett turned and waved to the man standing on the deck. After it had gone by, he faced her again and was struck by how pretty she was. She looked even better up close than she had when he'd seen her from across the marina. On impulse, he lowered his eyes and reached for the red bandanna he had in his back pocket. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"You did a wonderful job restoring it," Theresa said.
He smiled faintly as he put the bandanna away. "Thanks, that's kind of you to say."
Theresa glanced toward Happenstance as he spoke, then back to him. "I know it's not any of my business," she said casually, "but since you're here, would you mind if I asked you a little bit about it?"
She could tell by his expression that it wasn't the first time he'd been asked to talk about the boat.
"What would you like to know?"
She did her best to sound conversational. "Well, was it in as bad a condition when you first got it as the article implied?"
"Actually, it was in worse condition." He stepped forward and pointed to the various spots on the boat as he mentioned them. "A lot of the wood had rotted near the bow, there were a series of leaks along the side--it was a wonder she was still afloat at all. We ended up replacing a good portion of the hull and the deck, and what was left of her had to be sanded completely and then sealed and varnished again. And that was just the outside. We had to do the inside, too, and that took a great deal longer."
Though she noticed the word "we" in his answer, she decided not to comment on it.
"It must have been a lot of work."
She smiled as she said it, and Garrett felt something tighten inside. Damn, she's pretty.
"It was, but it was worth it. She's more fun to sail than other boats."
"Why?"
"Because she was built by people who used her to make their living. They put a lot of care into designing her, and that makes sailing a lot easier."
"I take it you've been sailing a long time."
"Ever since I was a kid."
She nodded. After a short pause, she took a small step toward the boat. "Do you mind?"
He shook his head. "No, go ahead."
Theresa stepped toward it and ran her hands along the side of the hull. Garrett noticed that she wasn't wearing a ring, though it shouldn't matter one way or the other. Without turning, Theresa asked: "What kind of wood is this?"
"Mahogany."
"The whole boat?"
"Most of it. Except for the masts and some of the interior."
She nodded again, and Garrett watched as she walked alongside Happenstance. As she stepped farther away, he couldn't help but notice her figure and how her straight, dark hair grazed her shoulders. But it wasn't only the way she looked that caught his eye--there was a confidence in the way she moved. It was as if she knew exactly what men were thinking as she stood near them, he realized suddenly. He shook his head.
"Did they really use this boat to spy on the Germans in World War Two?" she asked, turning to face him.
He laughed under his breath, doing his best to clear his mind. "That's what the previous owner told me, though I don't know if it was true or if he said it to get a higher price."
"Well, even if it wasn't, it's still a beautiful boat. How long did it take you to restore it?"
"Almost a year."
She peeked in one of the round windows, but it was too dark to make out much of the interior. "What did you sail on while you were fixing Happenstance?"
"We didn't. There wasn't enough time, not with working in the shop, teaching classes, and trying to get this one ready."
"Did you go through sailing withdrawals?" she asked with a smile, and for the first time, Garrett realized he was enjoying the conversation.
"Absolutely. But they all went away just as soon as we finished and got her out on the water."
Again, she heard the word "we."
"I'm sure they did."
After admiring the boat for another few seconds, she returned to his side. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Garrett wondered if she knew he was watching her from the corners of his eyes.
"Well," she finally said as she crossed her arms, "I've probably taken enough of your time."
"It's okay," he said, and again he felt the sweat on his forehead. "I love to talk about sailing."
"I would, too. It always looked like fun to me."
"You sound like you've never gone sailing before."
She shrugged. "I haven't. I've always wanted to go, but I've never actually had the chance."
She looked at him when she spoke, and when their eyes met, Garrett found himself reaching for the bandanna for the second time in a few minutes. Damn, it's hot out here. He wiped his forehead and heard the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"Well, if you'd like to go, I usually take her out after work. You're welcome to come along this evening."
Why he'd said that, he wasn't exactly sure. Maybe, he thought, it was a desire for female companionship after all these years, if only for a short time. Or maybe it had something to do with the way her eyes lit up whenever she talked. But no matter what the reason, he had just asked her to come with him, and there was nothing he could do to change it.
Theresa, too, was a little surprised, but she quickly decided to accept. It was, after all, the reason she'd come to Wilmington.
"I'd love to," she said. "What time?"
He put the bandanna away, feeling a little unsettled about what he'd just done. "How about seven o'clock? The sun begins to dr
op then, and it's the ideal time to go out."
"Seven o'clock is great for me. I'll bring along something to eat." To Garrett's surprise, she looked both pleased and excited about going.
"You don't have to do that."
"I know, but it's the least I can do. After all, you didn't have to offer to bring me along. Are sandwiches okay?"
Garrett took a small step backward, suddenly needing a little breathing space. "Yeah, that's fine. I'm not that picky."
"Okay," she said, then paused for a moment. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting to see if he'd say anything else. When he didn't, she absently adjusted the purse on her shoulder. "I guess I'll see you tonight. Here at the boat, right?"
"Right here," he said, and realized how tense he sounded. He cleared his throat and smiled a little. "It will be fun. You'll enjoy it."
"I'm sure I will. See you later."
She turned and started down the docks, her hair blowing in the breeze. As she was walking away, Garrett realized what he'd forgotten.
"Hey!" he shouted.
She stopped and turned to face him, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "Yes?"
Even at a distance she was pretty.
He took a couple of steps in her direction. "I forgot to ask. What's your name?"
"I'm Theresa. Theresa Osborne."
"My name's Garrett Blake."
"Okay, Garrett, I'll see you at seven."
With that, she turned and walked briskly away. Garrett watched her retreating figure, trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions. Though part of him was excited about what had just happened, another part of him felt that there was something wrong with the whole thing. He knew there wasn't any reason to feel guilty, but the feeling was definitely there, and he wished there was something he could do about it.
But there wasn't, of course. There never was.
CHAPTER 6
The clock rolled past the dinner hour and onward toward seven, but for Garrett Blake, time had stopped three years ago when Catherine had stepped off the curb and was killed by an elderly man who lost control of his car and changed the lives of two separate families forever. In the ensuing weeks, his anger at the driver eventually gave way to plans of revenge that went unfulfilled, simply because his sorrow rendered him incapable of any action whatsoever. He couldn't sleep more than three hours a night, cried whenever he saw her clothes in the closet, and lost almost twenty pounds on a diet that consisted of coffee and Ritz crackers. The following month, he started smoking for the first time in his life and turned to alcohol on nights when the pain was too unbearable for him to face sober. His father temporarily took over the business while Garrett sat in silence on the back porch of his home, trying to imagine a world without her. He had neither the will nor the desire to exist anymore, and sometimes as he sat there, he hoped that the salty, humid air would swallow him up completely so he wouldn't have to face the future alone.
What made it so hard was that it seemed as though he couldn't remember a time when she wasn't around. They had known each other most of their lives and had attended the same schools throughout their younger years. In third grade they were best friends, and he gave her two cards on Valentine's Day, but after that, they drifted apart and simply coexisted as they progressed from one grade to the next. Catherine was gangly and thin, always the smallest in her class, and though Garrett always held a special place in his heart for her, he never noticed that she was slowly becoming an attractive young woman. They never went to a prom together or even to a movie, but after four years at Chapel Hill, where he majored in marine biology, he bumped into her at Wrightsville Beach and suddenly realized how foolish he had been. She was no longer the gangly girl he remembered. In a word, she was beautiful, with wonderful curves that made men and women alike turn their heads whenever she walked past them. Her hair was blond and her eyes held infinite mystery; and when he finally closed his gaping mouth and asked her what she was doing later, they started a relationship that eventually led to marriage and six wonderful years together.
On their wedding night, alone in a hotel room lit only by candles, she handed him the two valentines he'd once given her and laughed aloud when she saw the expression on his face when he realized what they were. "Of course I kept them," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. "It was the first time I ever loved someone. Love is love, no matter how old you are, and I knew that if I gave you enough time, you'd come back to me."
Whenever Garrett found himself thinking of her, he remembered either the way she looked that night or how she looked the very last time they went sailing. Even now he remembered that evening clearly--her blond hair blowing wildly in the breeze, her face rapturous as she laughed aloud.
"Feel the spray!" she cried exultantly as she stood at the bow of the boat. Holding on to a line, she leaned out into the wind, her profile outlined against the glittering sky.
"Be careful!" Garrett shouted back, holding the wheel steady.
She leaned out even farther, glancing back at Garrett with a mischievous smile.
"I'm serious!" he shouted again. For a moment it looked as if her grip were weakening. Garrett quickly stepped away from the wheel, only to hear her laugh again as she pulled herself upright. Ever light on her feet, she made her way back easily to the wheel and put her arms around him.
Kissing his ear, she whispered playfully, "Did I make you nervous?"
"You always make me nervous when you do things like that."
"Don't sound so gruff," she teased. "Not when I've finally got you all to myself."
"You have me all to yourself every night."
"Not like this," she said as she kissed him again. After a quick scan around them, she smiled. "Why don't we lower the sails and drop the anchor?"
"Now?"
She nodded. "Unless, of course, you'd rather sail all night." With a subtle look that betrayed nothing, she opened the door to the cabin and vanished from sight. Four minutes later the boat was hastily stabilized and he opened the door to join her....
Garrett exhaled sharply, dispelling the memory like smoke. Though he could remember the events of that evening, he found that as time was rolling on, it was becoming more and more difficult to visualize exactly the way she looked. Little by little her features were beginning to vanish before his eyes, and though he knew that forgetting helped to deaden the pain, what he wanted most of all was to see her again. In three years he'd looked through the photo album only once, and that had hurt so much he'd sworn it was the last time he'd ever do it. Now he saw her clearly only at night, after he'd fallen asleep. He loved it when he dreamed of her because it seemed as though she were still alive. She would talk and move, and he would hold her in his arms, and for a moment it seemed that everything was suddenly right in the world. Yet the dreams took a toll as well, because upon waking, he always felt exhausted and depressed. Sometimes he'd go to the shop and lock himself in the office for the entire morning so he wouldn't have to talk to anyone.
His father tried to help as best he could. He, too, had lost a wife and so knew what his son was going through. Garrett still visited him at least once a week and always enjoyed the company his father provided. He was the one person Garrett shared a real understanding with, a feeling reciprocated by the old man. Last year his father had told him that he should start dating again. "It isn't right that you're always alone," he'd said. "It's almost like you've given up." Garrett knew there was a measure of truth to that. But the simple fact was that he had no desire to find anyone else. He hadn't made love to a woman since Catherine had died, and worse, he'd felt no desire for that, either. It was as if part of him were dead inside. When Garrett asked his father why he should take the advice when he himself had never remarried, his father simply looked away. But then his father said something else that haunted them both, something he later wished he hadn't said at all.
"Do you really think it's possible for me to find someone else who's good enough to take her p
lace?"
In time, Garrett returned to the shop and started working again, doing his best to go on with his life. He stayed at the shop as late as he could, organizing files and rearranging his office, simply because it was less painful than going home. He found that if it was dark enough outside by the time he got back to his house and he turned on only a few lights, he didn't notice her things as much and her presence wasn't as strong. He got used to living alone again, cooking, cleaning, and doing his own laundry, and he even worked in the garden as she used to, though he didn't enjoy it as much as she did.
He thought he was getting better, but when the time came to pack up Catherine's things, he didn't have the heart to do it. His father eventually took matters into his own hands. After a weekend spent diving, Garrett came home to a house stripped of her belongings. Without her things, the house was empty; he no longer saw any reason to stay. He sold it within a month, moved to a smaller house on Carolina Beach, thinking that by leaving, he'd finally be able to move on. And he had, kind of, for over three years now.
His father hadn't found everything, though. In a small box that sat in his end table, he kept a few things that he couldn't bear to part with--the valentine cards he'd once given her, her wedding ring, and other things that people wouldn't understand. Late at night he liked to hold them in his hands, and even though his father sometimes commented that he seemed to be doing better, he would lie there thinking that no, he wasn't. To him, nothing would ever be the same again.
Garrett Blake went to the marina with a few minutes to spare so he could get Happenstance ready. He removed the sail cover, unlocked the cabin, and generally checked everything out.
His father had called just as he was stepping out the door on the way to the docks, and Garrett found himself remembering the conversation.
"Would you like to come for supper?" he'd asked.
Garrett had replied that he couldn't. "I'm going sailing with someone tonight."
His father had stayed quiet for a moment. Then: "With a woman?"
Garrett explained briefly how he and Theresa met.
"You sound like you're a little nervous about your date," his father remarked.
"No, Dad, I'm not nervous. And it's not a date. Like I said, we're just going sailing. She said she'd never gone before."