Message in a Bottle (8 page)

Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching the crowds for your face—I know it is an impossibility, but I cannot help myself. My search for you is a never-ending quest that is doomed to fail. You and I had talked about what would happen if we were forced apart by circumstance, but I cannot keep the promise I made to you that night. I am sorry, my darling, but there will never be another to replace you. The words I whispered to you were folly, and I should have realized it then. You—and you alone—have always been the only thing I wanted, and now that you are gone, I have no desire to find another. Till death do us part, we whispered in the church, and I’ve come to believe that the words will ring true until the day finally comes when I, too, am taken from this world.

Garrett

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“Deanna, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.”

Deanna looked up from her computer and took off her reading glasses. “Of course I do. What’s up?”

Theresa laid the three letters on Deanna’s desk without speaking. Deanna picked them up one by one, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Where did you get these other two letters?”

Theresa explained how she’d come across them. When she finished her story, Deanna read the letters in silence. Theresa sat in the chair opposite her.

“Well,” she said, putting down the last letter, “you’ve certainly been keeping a secret, haven’t you?”

Theresa shrugged, and Deanna went on. “But there’s more to this than just finding the letters, isn’t there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Deanna said with a sly smile, “you didn’t come in here because you found the letters. You came in here because you’re interested in this Garrett fellow.”

Theresa’s mouth opened, and Deanna laughed.

“Don’t look so surprised, Theresa. I’m not a complete idiot. I knew something was going on these last few days. You’ve been so distracted around here—it’s like you’ve been a hundred miles away. I was going to ask you about it, but I figured you’d talk to me when you were ready.”

“I thought I was keeping things under control.”

“Perhaps for other people. But I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s up with you.” She smiled again. “So tell me, what’s going on?”

Theresa thought for a moment.

“It’s been really strange. I mean, I can’t stop thinking about him, and I don’t know why. It’s like I’m in high school again and I have a crush on someone I’ve never met. Only this is worse—not only have we never spoken, but I’ve never even seen him. For all I know, he could be a seventy-year-old man.”

Deanna leaned back in her chair and nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true . . . but you don’t think that’s the case, do you?”

Theresa slowly shook her head. “No, not really.”

“Neither do I,” Deanna said as she picked up the letters again. “He talks about how they fell in love when they were young, he hasn’t mentioned any children, he teaches diving, and writes about Catherine as if he had only been married a few years. I doubt if he’s that old.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Absolutely.”

Deanna spoke the words carefully. “I think you should go to Wilmington to try to find Garrett.”

“But it seems so . . . so ridiculous, even to me—”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know anything about him.”

“Theresa, you know a good deal more about Garrett than I did about Brian before I met him. And besides, I didn’t tell you to marry him, I just told you to go find him. You may find out that you don’t like him at all, but at least you’ll know, won’t you? I mean, what can it hurt?”

“What if . . .” She paused, and Deanna finished her statement.

“What if he’s not what you imagine? Theresa, I can guarantee he’s not what you’re imagining already. No one ever is. But to my mind, that shouldn’t make any difference in your decision. If you think you want to find out more, just go. The worst thing that can happen is you find out he’s not the kind of man you’re looking for. And what would you do then? You’d come back to Boston, but you’d come back with your answer. How bad would that be? Probably no worse than what you’re going through now.”

“You don’t think this whole thing is crazy?”

Deanna shook her head thoughtfully. “Theresa, I’ve wanted you to start looking for another man for a long time. Like I told you when we were on vacation, you deserve to find another person to share your life with. Now, I don’t know how this whole thing with Garrett will work out. If I had to bet, I’d say it’s probably not going to lead to anything. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. If everyone who thought they might fail didn’t even try, where would we be today?”

Theresa was silent for a moment. “You’re being much too logical about this whole thing. . . .”

Deanna shrugged off her protests. “I’m older than you, and I’ve gone through a lot. One of the things I’ve learned in my life is that sometimes you’ve got to take a chance. And to me, this one isn’t all that large. I mean, you’re not leaving your husband and family to go find this person, you’re not giving up your job and moving across the country. You’re really in a wonderful situation. There’s no downside for you to go, so don’t blow this out of proportion. If you feel like you should go, go. If you don’t want to go, don’t. It’s really as simple as that. Besides, Kevin isn’t around and you have plenty of vacation left this year.”

Theresa began twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

“And my column?”

“Don’t worry about it. We still have the one column you wrote that we didn’t use because we published the letter instead. After that, we can run a couple of repeats from past years. Most papers hadn’t picked up your column then, so they probably won’t know the difference.”

“You make this sound so easy.”

“It is easy. The hard part is going to be finding him. But I think these letters have some information we can use to help you. What do you say we make a few phone calls and do a little hunting on the computer?”

They were both silent for a long time.

“Okay,” Theresa said finally. “But I hope I don’t end up regretting this.”

*  *  *

“So,” Theresa asked Deanna, “where do we begin?”

She pulled her chair around to the other side of Deanna’s desk.

“First off,” Deanna began, “let’s begin with what we’re pretty sure about. First, I think it’s fair to say that his name actually is Garrett. That’s how he signed all the letters, and I don’t think he would have bothered using a name other than his own. He might have done so if it was only one letter, but with three letters, I’m fairly confident that it’s either his first name, or even his middle name. Either way, it’s the name he’s called by.”

“And,” Theresa added, “he’s probably in Wilmington or Wrightsville Beach, or another community close by.”

Deanna nodded. “All his letters talk about the ocean or ocean themes, and of course, that’s where he throws the bottles. From the tone of the letters, it sounds like he writes them when he gets lonely or when he’s thinking about Catherine.”

“That’s what I thought. He didn’t seem to mention any special occasions in the letters. They talked about his day-to-day life, and what he was going through.”

“Okay, good,” Deanna said, nodding. She was getting more excited as they went on. “There was a boat that was mentioned . . .”

“Happenstance,” Theresa said. “The letter said that they restored the boat and used to sail together. So, it’s probably a sailboat.”

“Write that down,” Deanna said. “We may be able to find out more about that with a couple of calls from here. Maybe there’s a place that registers boats by name. I think I can call the paper down there to find out. Was there anything else in the second letter?”

“Not that I can tell. But the third letter has a little bit more information. From what he writes, two things stand out.”

Deanna chimed in. “One, that Catherine has indeed passed away.”

“And also that it looks like he owns a scuba-diving shop where he and Catherine used to work.”

“That’s another thing to write down. I think we can find out more about that from up here as well. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s a good beginning. This might be easier than we think. Let’s start making some calls.”

The first place Deanna called was the Wilmington Journal, the newspaper that served the area. She identified herself and asked to speak with someone who was familiar with boating. After a couple of transfers, she found herself speaking with Zack Norton, who covered sportfishing and other ocean sports. After explaining that she wanted to know if there was a place that kept a registry of boat names, she was told that there wasn’t.

“Boats are registered with an identification number, almost like cars,” he said in a slow drawl, “but if you have the name of the person, you might be able to find out the name of the boat on the form if it’s listed. It’s not a required piece of information, but a lot of people put it down anyway.” Deanna scribbled the words “Boats not registered by name” on the pad in front of her and showed it to Theresa.

“That was a dead end,” Theresa said quietly.

Deanna put her hand over the receiver and whispered, “Maybe, maybe not. Don’t give up so easily.”

After thanking Zack Norton for his time and hanging up, Deanna looked over the list of clues again. She thought for a moment, then decided to call information for the phone numbers of scuba-diving shops in the Wilmington area. Theresa watched as Deanna wrote down the names and numbers of the eleven shops that were listed. “Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?” the operator asked.

“No, you’ve been more than helpful. Thank you.”

She hung up the phone, and Theresa looked at her curiously. “What are you going to ask them when you call?”

“I’m going to ask for Garrett.”

Theresa’s heart skipped a beat. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Deanna said, smiling as she dialed. She motioned for Theresa to pick up the other extension, “just in case it’s him,” and they both waited quietly for someone to answer at Atlantic Adventures, the first name they were given.

When the phone finally picked up, Deanna took a deep breath and asked pleasantly if Garrett was available to teach any classes. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number,” the voice said quickly. Deanna apologized and hung up.

They received the same answer on the next five calls. Unswayed, Deanna went down the list to the next name and dialed again. Expecting the same answer, she was surprised when the person on the line hesitated for a moment.

“Are you talking about Garrett Blake?”

Garrett.

Theresa nearly fell from the chair at the sound of his name. Deanna said yes, and the man who answered went on.

“He’s with Island Diving. Are you sure we can’t help you? We’ve got some classes starting soon.”

Deanna quickly excused herself. “No, I’m sorry. I really need to work with Garrett. I promised him I would.” When she put the phone back in the cradle, she was smiling broadly.

“So, we’re getting close now.”

“I can’t believe it was that easy. . . .”

“It wasn’t that easy, if you think about it, Theresa. Unless a person found more than one letter, it wouldn’t have been possible.”

“Do you think it’s the same Garrett?”

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe.”

Deanna shrugged off the reply. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough. This is getting fun.”

Deanna then called information again and got the number for the ship registry of Wilmington. After dialing, she told the voice on the line who she was and asked for someone who could help her verify some information. “My husband and I were vacationing down there,” she told the woman who answered the phone, “when our boat broke down. This nice gentleman found us and helped us get back to shore. His name was Garrett Blake, and I think the name of his boat was Happenstance, but I want to be sure when I write the story.”

Deanna went on, refusing to let the woman get a word in edgewise. She told her how scared she had been and how much it had meant when Garrett had come to their rescue. Then, after flattering the woman about how nice people were in the South and Wilmington in particular and how she wanted to do a story on southern hospitality and the kindness of strangers, the woman was more than willing to help. “Since you’re just verifying the information and not asking for anything you don’t know, I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Hold on for a second.”

Deanna drummed her fingers on the desk while the sounds of Barry Manilow wafted through the receiver. The woman picked up again.

“Okay. Let’s see now . . .” Deanna heard tapping on a keyboard, then a strange beep. After a moment, the woman said the words that both Deanna and Theresa hoped she would.

“Yes, here it is. Garrett Blake. Um . . . you got the name right, at least according to the information we have. It says here that the boat is named Happenstance.”

Deanna thanked her profusely and asked for the lady’s name, “so she could write about another person who epitomized hospitality.” After spelling it back to the woman, she hung up the phone, beaming.

“Garrett Blake,” she said with a victorious smile. “Our mysterious writer is named Garrett Blake.”

“I can’t believe you found him.”

Deanna nodded as if she’d accomplished something even she doubted she could do. “Believe it. This old woman still knows how to research information.”

“That you do.”

“Anything else that you want to know more about?”

Theresa thought for a moment. “Can you find out anything about Catherine?”

Deanna shrugged and readied herself for the task. “I don’t know, but we can give it a try. Let’s call the paper to see if anything is in their records. If the death was accidental, it may have been written up.”

Again, Deanna called the paper and asked for the news department. Unfortunately, after speaking with a couple of people, she was told that newspapers from a few years back were recorded on microfiche and couldn’t be accessed easily without a specific date. Deanna asked for and received a name that Theresa should contact when she got down there, in case she wanted to look up the information on her own.