Chapter 7

“And then what happened?”

Jeb Blake leaned over his cup of coffee, speaking in a raspy voice. Nearly seventy, he was lean and tall—almost too thin—and his face was deeply wrinkled. The thinning hair on his head was almost white, and his Adam’s apple protruded from his neck like a small prune. His arms were tattooed and scarred, covered with sun spots, and the knuckles on his hands were permanently swollen from years of wear and tear as a shrimper. If not for his eyes, a person would think he was frail and sick when looking at him, but in truth he was far from it. He still worked almost every day, though only part-time now, always leaving the house before daybreak and returning around noon.

“Nothing happened. She got into her car and drove away.”

rolling the first of the dozen cigarettes he would smoke a day, Jeb Blake stared at his son. For years his doctor told him he was killing himself by smoking, but because the doctor died of a heart attack at sixty, his father didn’t put much faith in medical advice. As it was, Garrett assumed the old man would probably outlive him as well.

“Well, that’s kind of a waste, isn’t it?”

Garrett was surprised by his bluntness. “No, Dad, it wasn’t a waste. I had a good time last night. She was easy to talk to, and I enjoyed her company.”

“But you’re not going to see her again.”

Garrett took a drink of coffee and shook his head. “I doubt it. Like I said, she’s here on vacation.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

Garrett reached for another packet of cream and added it to his coffee. “Why are you so interested, anyway? I went out sailing with someone and had a good time. There’s not much more I can say about it.”

“Sure there is.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether you enjoyed your date enough to start seeing other people again.”

Garrett stirred his coffee thinking, So that was it. Though he’d grown used to his father’s interrogations over the years, he wasn’t in the mood to cover old ground this morning. “Dad, we’ve gone over this before.”

“I know, but I’m worried about you. You spend too much time alone these days.”

“no, I don’t.”

“Yes,” his father said with surprising softness, “you do.”

“I don’t want to argue about it, Dad.”

“I don’t, either. I’ve already tried that, and it doesn’t work.” He smiled. After a moment of silence, Jeb Blake tried another approach.

“So, what was she like?”

Garrett thought for a moment. Despite himself, he’d thought about her for a long time before finally turning in for the night.

“Theresa? She’s attractive and intelligent. Very charming, too, in her own way.”

“Is she single?”

“I think so. She’s divorced, and I don’t think she would have come along if she were seeing someone else.”

Jeb studied his son’s expression carefully as Garrett answered. When he finished, he leaned over his coffee again. “You liked her, didn’t you.”

Looking his father in the eyes, Garrett knew he couldn’t hide the truth. “Yeah, I did. But like I said, I probably won’t see her again. I don’t know where she’s staying, and for all I know, she could be leaving town today.”

His father watched him in silence for a moment before asking the next question carefully. “But if she were still here and you knew where she was, do you think you would?”

Garrett looked away without answering, and Jeb reached across the table, taking his son’s arm. Even at seventy his hands were strong, and Garrett felt him applying just enough pressure to get his attention.

“Son, it’s been three years now. I know you loved her, but it’s okay to let it go now. You know that, don’t you? You’ve got to be able to let it go.”

It took a moment for him to answer. “I know, Dad. But it’s not that easy.”

“Nothing that’s worthwhile is ever easy. Remember that.”

A few minutes later they finished their coffee. Garrett tossed a couple of dollars onto the table and followed his father out of the diner, toward his truck in the parking lot. When Garrett finally got to the shop, a dozen different things were going through his head. Unable to concentrate on the paperwork he needed to do, he decided to go back to the docks to finish working on the engine he had started repairing the day before. Though he definitely had to spend some time in the shop today, at the moment he needed to be alone.

*  *  *

Garrett pulled his toolbox from the back of his truck and carried it to the boat he used when he taught scuba diving. An older Boston Whaler, it was large enough to carry up to eight students and the necessary gear needed for underwater dives.

Working on the engine was time-consuming but not difficult, and he’d made good headway the day before. As he removed the engine casing, he thought about the conversation he’d had with his father. He’d been right, of course. There wasn’t any reason to continue feeling the way he did, but—as God was his witness—he didn’t know how to stop it. Catherine had meant everything to him. All she’d had to do was look at him and he’d feel as if everything were suddenly right in the world. And when she smiled . . . Lord, that was something he’d never been able to find in anyone else. To have something like that taken away . . . it just wasn’t fair. And more than that, it just seemed wrong . Why her, of all people? and why him? for months he had lain awake at night, asking himself “What if.” What if she’d waited an extra second before crossing the street? What if they had lingered at breakfast for another few minutes? What if he’d gone with her that morning instead of going straight to the shop? A thousand what ifs, and he was no closer to understanding the whole thing than he had been when it first happened.

Trying to clear his mind, he concentrated on the task at hand. He removed the bolts that held the carburetor in place and removed it from the engine. Carefully he began to take it apart, making sure nothing was too worn inside. He didn’t think that this was the source of the problem, though he wanted a closer look just to make sure.

The sun rose overhead as he worked steadily, and he found himself wiping the sweat as it formed on his forehead. Yesterday at about this time, he remembered, he’d watched as Theresa walked down the docks toward Happenstance . He’d noticed her right away, if for no other reason than she was alone. Women who looked as she did almost never came down to the docks alone. Usually they were accompanied by wealthy, older gentlemen who owned the yachts that were moored on the other side of the marina. When she stopped at his boat, he’d been surprised, though he’d expected her to pause for only a moment before moving on to her final destination. That’s what most people usually did. But after watching her for a little while, he realized that she had come to the docks to see Happenstance , and the way she kept pacing around made it seem as if she were there for something else as well.

His curiosity aroused, he’d gone over to speak with her. At the time, he didn’t notice it, but when he was closing up the boat later in the evening, he realized there was something odd in the way she had first looked at him. It was almost as if she recognized something about him that he usually kept buried deep within himself. More than that, it was as if she knew more about him than she was willing to admit.

He shook his head then, knowing that didn’t make any sense. She said she’d read the articles in the shop—maybe that’s where the strange look came from. He thought about it, finally deciding that had to be the case. He knew he’d never met her before—he would have remembered something like that—and besides, she was vacationing from Boston. It was the only plausible explanation he could come up with, but even now there was something that didn’t sit quite right about the whole situation.