His father cocked his eyebrow, waiting. When Garrett didn’t add anything else, Jeb spoke again.
“ ‘I know’? That’s all you have to say?”
He shrugged. “What else can I say?”
“You can say that the next time you see her, you two are going to figure this out. That’s what you can say.”
“Fine—we’ll try to figure it out.”
Jeb put his fork down and glared at his son. “I didn’t say try, Garrett, I said that you two are going to figure this out.”
“Why are you so adamant about it?”
“Because,” he said, “if you two don’t figure it out, you and me are going to keep eating alone for the next twenty years.”
* * *
The following day, Garrett took Happenstance out first thing in the morning and stayed on the water until after the sun went down. Though Theresa had left a message for him with her hotel information in Dallas, he hadn’t called last night, telling himself that it was too late and that she was already asleep. It was a lie and he knew it, but he simply didn’t feel like talking to her yet.
The fact was, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. He was still angry at what she’d done, and the best place for him to think about it was out on the ocean, where no one could bother him. Most of the morning he found himself wondering if she realized how much this whole thing bothered him. More than likely she didn’t—he convinced himself—otherwise she wouldn’t have done it.
That is, if she cared about him.
By the time the sun rose higher in the sky, however, his anger began to fade. As he thought more clearly about the situation, he decided that his father had been right—as usual. Her reason for not coming didn’t reflect on him as much as it reflected on the differences in their lives. She did have responsibilities she couldn’t ignore, and as long as they continued to live separate lives, things like this were going to keep coming up.
Though he wasn’t happy about it, he wondered if all relationships had moments like these. If truth be told, he didn’t know. The only other real relationship he’d ever had was with Catherine, and it wasn’t easy to compare the two. He and Catherine were married and living under the same roof, for one thing. Even more, they’d known each other most of their lives, and because they were younger, they didn’t have the same responsibilities that either Garrett or Theresa had now. They were fresh out of college, they didn’t own a home, and there certainly weren’t any children to care for. No—what they had was completely different from what he and Theresa had now, and it wasn’t fair to try to link them.
Still, there was one thing he couldn’t ignore, one thing that nagged at him throughout the afternoon. Yes, he knew there were differences—yes, he knew it wasn’t fair to compare them—but in the end, what stood out for him was the fact that he had never questioned whether he and Catherine were a team. Never once did he question the future with her, never once did it enter his mind that either one of them wouldn’t sacrifice everything for the other. Even when they’d had their fights—about where to live, whether to start the shop, or even what to do on Saturday nights—it wasn’t as if either one of them doubted their relationship. There was something long-term in the way they interacted with each other, something that reminded him that they would always be together.
Theresa and he, on the other hand, didn’t have that yet.
By the time the sun went down, he realized it wasn’t fair to think this way. He and Theresa had known each other only for a short period of time—it wasn’t realistic to expect it so soon. Given enough time—and the right circumstances—they would become a team as well.
Wouldn’t they?
Shaking his head, he realized he wasn’t exactly sure.
He wasn’t sure about a lot of things.
But one thing he did know—he hadn’t ever analyzed his relationship with Catherine the way he was doing with Theresa, and this wasn’t fair, either. Besides, analysis wasn’t going to help him in this situation. All the analysis in the world didn’t change the fact that they didn’t see each other as much as they wanted—or needed—to.
No—what they needed now was action.
* * *
Garrett called Theresa as soon as he got home that evening.
“Hello,” she answered sleepily.
He spoke softly into the phone. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Garrett?”
“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’d left a couple of messages on my answering machine.”
“I’m glad you called. I wasn’t sure you were going to.”
“For a while, I didn’t want to.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Sad, maybe, but not mad.”
“Because I’m not there this weekend?”
“No. Because you’re not here most weekends.”
* * *
That night he dreamed again.
In his dream Theresa and he were in Boston, walking along one of the busy city streets, crowded with the usual collection of individuals—men and women, old and young, some dressed in suits, others in the baggy clothing typical of today’s youth. For a while, they window-shopped just as they had on one of his previous visits. The day was clear and bright, without a cloud in the sky, and Garrett was enjoying spending the day with her.
Theresa stopped at the window of a small craft store and asked if Garrett wanted to go inside. Shaking his head, he said, “You go ahead. I’ll wait for you here.” Theresa made sure he was certain, then stepped inside. Garrett stood outside the door, relaxing in the shade of the tall buildings, when he saw something familiar out of the corner of his eye.
It was a woman, walking along the sidewalk a little distance away, her blond hair just brushing her shoulders.
He blinked, glanced away for a moment, and turned back quickly. Something in the way she moved struck him, and he watched her as she slowly moved away. Finally the woman stopped and turned her head, as if remembering something. Garrett felt his breath catch.
Catherine.
It couldn’t be.
He shook his head. At this distance he couldn’t tell if he was mistaken or not.
She started to walk away again just as Garrett called to her.
“Catherine—is it you?”
She didn’t seem to hear him above the noise of the street. Garrett glanced over his shoulder and spotted Theresa in the shop, browsing. When he looked back up the street, Catherine—or whoever she was—was turning the corner.
He started toward her, walking quickly, then he began to jog. The sidewalks were becoming more crowded by the second, as if a subway had suddenly opened its doors, and he had to dodge around throngs of people before he reached the corner.
He turned where she had.
Once around the corner, the street grew steadily—menacingly—darker. He picked up his pace again. Though it hadn’t been raining, he felt his feet splashing through puddles. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. As he did so, fog began to roll in, almost like a wave, and soon he couldn’t see anything more than a few feet away.
“Catherine—are you here?” he shouted. “Where are you?”
He heard laughter in the distance, though he couldn’t make out exactly where it was coming from.
He started walking again, slowly. Again he heard the laughter—childlike, happy. He stopped in his tracks.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
He looked from side to side.
Nothing.
The fog grew steadily thicker as a light rain began to fall. He started moving again, unsure where he was going.
Something darted into the fog, and he moved quickly toward it.
She was walking away, only a few feet in front of him.
The rain began to fall harder now, and suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He began to jog . . . slowly . . . slowly . . . he could see her just ahead . . . the fog growing thicker by the second . . . rain coming down in showers . . . a glimpse of her hair . . .
And then she was gone. He stopped again. The rain and fog made it impossible to see anymore.
“Where are you?” he shouted again.
Nothing.
“Where are you?” he shouted, even louder this time.
“I’m here,” a voice said from the rain and mist.
He wiped the rain from his face. “Catherine? . . . Is it really you?”
“It’s me, Garrett.”
But it wasn’t her voice.
Theresa stepped out of the fog. “I’m here.”
Garrett woke and sat up in bed, sweating profusely. Wiping his face with the sheet, he sat up for a long time afterward.
* * *
Later that day, Garrett met with his father.
“I think I want to marry her, Dad.”
They were fishing together at the end of the pier with a dozen other people, most of whom seemed lost in thought. Jeb looked up in surprise.
“Two days ago, it didn’t seem like you wanted to see her again.”
“I’ve done a lot of thinking since then.”
“You must have,” Jeb said quietly. He reeled in his line, checked the bait, then cast again. Even though he doubted he’d catch anything he wanted to keep, fishing was, in his estimation, one of life’s greatest pleasures.
“Do you love her?” Jeb asked.
Garrett looked at him, surprised. “Of course I do. I’ve told you that a few times.”
Jeb Blake shook his head. “No . . . you haven’t,” he said sincerely. “We’ve talked about her a lot—you’ve told me that she makes you happy, that you feel like you know her, and that you don’t want to lose her—but you’ve never told me that you love her.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Is it?”
* * *
After he’d gone home, the conversation he’d had with his father kept repeating itself in his mind.
“Is it? ”
“Of course it is,” he’d said right away. “And even if it isn’t, I do love her.”
Jeb stared at his son for a moment before finally turning away. “You want to marry her?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I love her, that’s why. Isn’t that enough?”
“Maybe.”
Garrett reeled in his line, frustrated. “Weren’t you the one who thought we should get married in the first place?”
“Yeah.”
“So why are you questioning it now?”
“Because I want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Two days ago, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to see her again. Now, you’re ready for marriage. It just seems like a mighty big turnaround to me, and I want to make sure it’s because of the way you feel about Theresa—and that it doesn’t have anything to do with Catherine.”
Bringing up her name stung a little.
“Catherine doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Garrett said quickly. He shook his head and sighed deeply. “You know, Dad, I don’t understand you sometimes. You’ve been pushing me into this the whole time. You kept telling me I had to put the past behind me, that I had to find someone new. And now that I have, it seems like you’re trying to talk me out of it.”
Jeb put his free hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “I’m not talking you out of anything, Garrett. I’m glad you found Theresa, I’m glad that you love her, and yes, I do hope that you end up marrying her. I just said that if you’re going to get married, then you’d better be doing it for the right reasons. Marriage is between two people, not three. And it’s not fair to her if you go into it otherwise.”
It took a moment for him to respond.
“Dad, I want to get married because I love her. I want to spend my life with her.”
His father stood silently for a long time, watching. Then he said something that made Garrett look away.
“So, in other words, you’re telling me that you’re completely over Catherine?”
Though he felt the expectant weight of his father’s gaze, Garrett didn’t know the answer.
* * *
“Are you tired?” Garrett asked.
He was lying on his bed as he spoke with Theresa, with only the bedside lamp turned on.
“Yeah, I got in just a little while ago. It was a long weekend.”
“Did it turn out as well as you hoped it would?”
“I hope so. There’s no way to tell just yet, but I did meet a lot of people who could eventually help me out with my column.”
“It’s a good thing you went, then.”
“Good and bad. Most of the time, I wished I’d gone to visit you instead.”
He smiled. “When do you leave for your parents’?”
“Wednesday morning. I’ll be gone until Sunday.”
“Are they looking forward to seeing you?”
“Yeah, they are. They haven’t seen Kevin for almost a year, and I know they’re looking forward to having him around for a few days.”
“That’s good.”
There was a short pause.
“Garrett?”
“Yeah.”
She spoke softly. “I just want you to know that I’m still really sorry about this weekend.”
“I know.”
“Can I make it up to you?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well . . . can you come up here to visit the weekend after Thanksgiving?”
“I suppose so.”
“Good, because I’m going to plan a special weekend just for the two of us.”
* * *
It was a weekend that neither of them would ever forget.
Theresa had called him more than usual in the preceding two weeks. Usually it had been Garrett who called, but it seemed that every time he’d wanted to talk to her, she had anticipated it. Twice, while he was walking to the phone to dial her number, it started ringing before he got there, and the second time it happened, he simply answered the phone with, “Hi, Theresa.” It had surprised her, and they joked for a while about his psychic abilities before settling into an easy conversation.
When he arrived in Boston two weeks later, Theresa met him at the airport. She had told him to wear something dressy, and he walked off the plane wearing a blazer, something she’d never seen him in before.
“Wow,” she’d said simply.
He adjusted the blazer self-consciously. “Do I look okay?”
“You look great.”
They went straight from the airport to dinner. She’d made reservations at the most elegant restaurant in town. They had a leisurely, wonderful meal, and afterward Theresa took Garrett to Les Misérables, which was currently showing in Boston. The play was sold out, but because Theresa knew the manager, they found themselves seated in the best section of the house.