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 re-married, 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 place?”

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.”

“Is she pretty?”

“What does that matter?”

“It doesn’t. But it still sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date.”

“If you say so.”

*  *  *

Garrett saw her walking up the dock a little after seven, dressed in shorts and a red sleeveless shirt, carrying a small picnic basket in one hand and a sweatshirt and light jacket in the other. She didn’t look as nervous as he felt, nor did her expression betray what she was thinking as she approached him. When she waved, he felt some familiar pangs of guilt and quickly waved back before he finished untying the lines. He was mumbling to himself and doing his best to clear his mind when she reached the boat.

“Hi,” she said easily. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

He took off the gloves he was wearing as he spoke. “Oh, hi. And no—I haven’t been waiting long at all. I came out here a little early to get her ready.”

“Did you finish everything you needed?”

He glanced around to make sure. “Yeah, I think so. Can I help you up?”

He set aside the gloves and extended his arm. Theresa handed him her things, and he set them on one of the seats that ran along the deck. When he took her hands to pull her up, she felt the calluses on his palms. After she was safely aboard, he motioned toward the wheel, taking a small step backward.