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* * *
“So, what’s he like?”
Dea
“I don’t know where to start.”
Staring at a picture of Garrett and Theresa on the beach, Dea
“Start at the begi
Since Theresa had already told her about meeting Garrett at the docks, she picked up her story from the evening they spent sailing. She told Dea
“It sounds like you had a wonderful time,” Dea
“I did. It was one of the best weeks I’ve ever spent. It’s just that . . .”
“What?”
it took a moment for her to answer. “Well, Garrett said something toward the end that got me wondering where this whole thing was going to go from here.”
“What did he say?”
“It wasn’t just what he said, but how he said it. He sounded as if he weren’t sure he wanted us to see each other again.”
“I thought you said that you were going down to Wilmington again in a couple of weeks.”
“I am.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She fidgeted, trying to collect her thoughts. “Well, he’s still struggling with Catherine and . . . and I’m not exactly sure whether he’ll ever get over it.”
Dea
“What’s so fu
“You are, Theresa. What did you expect? You knew he was still struggling with Catherine before you went down there. Remember, it was his ‘undying’ love that you found so attractive in the first place. Did you think that he’d completely get over Catherine in a couple of days, just because you two hit it off so well?”
Theresa looked sheepish and Dea
“You did , didn’t you? That’s exactly what you thought.”
“Dea
Dea
“I know that—”
“But you don’t,” Dea
Theresa thought for a moment about what she’d said.
“Let’s take an objective look at what happened with Garrett, shall we?” Dea
Theresa nodded.
“Though you knew something about Garrett, he knew absolutely nothing about you. Yet he was the one who asked you to go sailing. So something between you two must have clicked right away. Next, you see him again when you pick up your jacket, and he asks you to lunch. He tells you about Catherine and then asks you to come over for di
“Then, you mean I shouldn’t worry about whether he’ll ever get over Catherine?”
Dea
“Do you think so?” Theresa eyed her friend worriedly.
“I was right about twisting your arm to get you down there in the first place, wasn’t I?”
* * *
While Theresa and Dea
“Go ahead and sit down. As you can see, I don’t have much to do.” Garrett gestured toward the pile.
Jeb smiled and continued rolling. “I called the shop a couple of times and they said you hadn’t come in all week. What have you been up to?”
Leaning back in his chair, Garrett eyed his father. “I’m sure you already know the answer to your question, and that’s probably the reason you’re here.”
“You were with Theresa the whole time?”
“Yeah, I was.”
Continuing to roll his cigarette, Jeb asked nonchalantly, “So, what did you two do with yourselves?”
“We went sailing, walked on the beach, talked. . . . You know, just got to know each other.”
Jeb finished with his cigarette and put it in his mouth. He pulled a Zippo lighter from his front shirt pocket, lit up, and inhaled deeply. Exhaling, he gave Garrett a roguish grin.
“Did you cook those steaks like I taught you?”
Garrett smirked. “Of course.”
“Was she impressed?”
“She was very impressed.”
Jeb nodded and took another drag from his cigarette. Garrett could feel the air in the office begi
“well then, she has at least one good quality, doesn’t she.”
“She’s got a lot more than one, Dad.”
“You liked her, didn’t you?”
“Very much.”
“Even though you don’t know her very well?”
“I feel like I know everything about her.”
Jeb nodded and said nothing for a moment. Finally he asked, “Are you going to see her again?”
“Actually, she’s coming down in a couple of weeks with her son.”
Jeb watched Garrett’s expression carefully. Then, standing, he started toward the door. Before opening it, he turned and faced his son. “Garrett, can I give you some advice?”
Startled at his father’s abrupt departure, he answered: “Sure.”
“If you like her, if she makes you happy, and if you feel like you know her—then don’t let her go.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Jeb looked directly at Garrett and took another drag on his cigarette. “Because if I know you, you’re going to be the one who ends it, and I’m here to try to stop you if I can.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said quietly. Turning around, Jeb opened the door and left Garrett’s office without another word.
* * *
Later that night, with the remnants of his father’s comments rolling through his head, Garrett couldn’t sleep. He rose from his bed and went to the kitchen, knowing what needed to be done. In the drawer, he found the stationery he always used when his mind was conflicted, and he sat down with the hopes of putting his thoughts into words.
My darling Catherine,
I don’t know what’s happening to me, and I don’t know if I ever will. So much has happened lately that I can’t make sense of what I’m going through.
Garrett sat at the table for an hour after writing those first two lines, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. But when he woke the following morning, unlike most days, his first thought wasn’t about Catherine.
Instead it was about Theresa.
* * *
Over the next two weeks, Garrett and Theresa spoke on the phone every night, sometimes for hours. Garrett also sent a couple of letters—short notes, really—to let her know that he missed her, and he had another dozen roses delivered the following week, this time with a box of candy.