Watching her run, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Her flowing hair reflected the light of the high yellow sun, her legs were lean and moving rhythmically, effortlessly. Her smile, despite the fact she was running, looked easy and relaxed, as if she were standing still.

Four days after Theresa left Wilmington, Garrett had another dream, only this time it was about Catherine. In the dream they were in a grassy field bordered by a cliff overlooking the ocean. They were walking together, holding hands and talking, when Garrett said something that made her laugh. All at once she broke away from him. Looking over her shoulder and laughing, she called for Garrett to chase her. He did, laughing as well, feeling much as he had the day they were married.

He was slowly gaining on her when he noticed that she was heading toward the cliff. In her excitement and joy, she didn't seem to realize where she was going.

The sound of laughter after she said it floated in the air around him, sounding musical.

"Chase me, Garrett. Can you catch me?" she called.

She was approaching the edge of the cliff.

With a feeling of certain dread, he saw that he was still too far behind her to catch her.

But that's ridiculous, he thought. She has to know.

Garrett called for her to stop, but instead she began to run faster.

He ran as fast as he could, screaming for her to turn around. She didn't appear to hear him. He felt the adrenaline rush through his body, fed by a paralyzing fear. "Stop, Catherine!" he shouted, his lungs exhausted. "The cliff-you're not watching where you're going!" The more he shouted, the softer his voice became, until it turned into a whisper.

Catherine kept on running, unaware. The cliff was only a few feet away.

He was closing ground.

"Stop!" he screamed again, though this time he knew she couldn't hear it. His voice had diminished to nothing. The panic he felt then was greater than anything he'd ever known. With everything he had, he willed his legs to move faster, but they began to tire, turning heavier with every step he took.

But he was still too far behind.

I'm not going to make it, he thought, panicking.

She stood only inches from the edge.

Then, just as suddenly as she had broken away, she stopped. Turning to face him, she seemed oblivious of any danger.

She smiled and glanced behind her. Noticing how close she was to falling, she turned toward him.

"Don't move," he shouted, but again it came out in a whisper. He stopped a few feet from her and held out his hand, breathing heavily.

Garrett woke and sat up in bed, staying awake for several hours afterward. When he finally fell back to sleep, it was fitful at best, and it was almost ten o'clock the next morning before he was able to get up. Still exhausted and feeling depressed, he found it impossible to think about anything but the dream. Not knowing what to do, he called his father, who met him for breakfast in their usual place.

"Did you think you were going to lose me?"

"Come toward me," he pleaded. "You're right on the edge."

"Yes," he said quietly, "and I promise not to ever let it happen again."

"It's not like she did anything to upset me," he continued. "We just spent a long weekend together, and I really care for her. I met her son, too, and he's great. It's just that… I don't know I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep this up."

"I don't know why I feel this way," he told his father after a few minutes of small talk. "I just don't understand it."

"Maybe it's just not meant to be. I mean, she doesn't even live here. She's a thousand miles away, she's got her own life, she's got her own interests. And here I am, living down here and leading an entirely separate life. Maybe she'd do better with someone else, someone she could see on a regular basis."

His father didn't answer. Instead he watched his son over his coffee cup, remaining silent as his son went on.

"Keep what up?" Jeb Blake finally asked.

Garrett stirred his coffee absently. "I don't know whether I can see her again."

Garrett paused. The only sound came from the tables around them.

His father cocked an eyebrow but didn't reply. Garrett went on.

"If she lived here and I could see her every day, I think I'd feel differently. But with her being gone…"

"I mean, how can we build a relationship if we don't see each other very often?"

Again his father said nothing. Garrett carried on, as if talking to himself.

He thought about what he'd said, knowing that he didn't quite believe himself. Still, he didn't want to tell his father about the dream.

"I just don't see how we can make it work. I've thought about it a lot, and I don't see how it could be possible. I don't want to move to Boston, and I'm sure she doesn't want to move here, so where would that leave us?"

Garrett stopped and waited for his father to say something-anything-in response to what he'd said up to that point. But for a while, he didn't make a sound. Finally he sighed and looked away.

"It sounds to me like you're making excuses," Jeb said quietly. "You're trying to convince yourself, and you're using me to listen to yourself talk."

He trailed off, trying to make sense of his thoughts. After a while he spoke again.

"Who do you think you're talking to, Garrett?" Jeb Blake shook his head. "Sometimes, I swear you think I just fell off the turnip truck and bumbled through life without learning anything along the way. But I know exactly what you're going through. You've gotten so caught up in being alone that you're afraid of what might happen if you actually find someone else that can take you away from it."

"No, Dad, I'm not. I'm just trying to figure out this whole thing."

"I'm not afraid," Garrett protested.

His father cut him off sharply. "You can't even admit it to yourself, can you?"

The disappointment in his tone was unmistakable. "You know, Garrett, when your mom died, I made excuses, too. Over the years, I told myself all sorts of things. And you wanna know where it got me?"

He stared at his son. "I'm old and tired, and most of all, I'm alone. If I could go back in time, I'd change a lot about myself, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you do the same things I did."

Jeb paused before going on, his tone softening. "I was wrong, Garrett. I was wrong not to try to find someone else. I was wrong to feel guilty about your mom. I was wrong to keep living my life the way I did, always suffering inside and wondering what she would have thought. Because you know what? I think your mom would have wanted me to find someone else. Your mom would have wanted me to be happy. And you know why?"

Garrett spent the rest of the afternoon alone, walking on the beach, thinking about what his father had said. Looking back, he knew he'd been dishonest from the start of the conversation and wasn't surprised that his father had figured it out. Why, then, had he wanted to talk to him? Had he wanted his father to confront him as he had?

Garrett didn't answer.

"You didn't mess up…"

"I must have. Because when I look at you, I see myself, and to be honest, I'd rather see someone different. I'd like to see someone who learned that it's okay to go on, that it's okay to find someone that can make you happy. But right now, it's like I'm looking in the mirror and seeing myself twenty years ago."

"Because she loved me. And if you think that you're showing your love to Catherine by suffering the way you've been doing, then somewhere along the way, I must have messed up in raising you."

As the afternoon wore on, his depression gave way to confusion, then to a sort of numbness. By the time he called Theresa later in the evening, the feelings of betrayal he'd felt as a result of the dream had subsided enough to speak with her. They were still there, though not as strong, and when she answered the phone, he felt them diminish even further. The sound of her voice reminded him of the way he felt when they were together.

"I know. And speaking of that, when will we get to see each other again?"

"I'm glad you called," she said cheerfully, "I thought a lot about you today."

"I've only been gone a few days," she said gently.

"I just really missed you today."

"Not much, actually. I didn't go into the shop-I sort of took the day off and wandered the beaches."

The irony of her comment was not lost on him. He didn't answer directly.

Garrett smiled. "Is Kevin around?"

Theresa sat at the dining room table and glanced at her Day-Timer.

"Where could he have gotten that idea?"

"I thought about you, too," he said. "I wish you were here right now."

"Dreaming about me, I hope?"

"He's in his room reading a book about scuba diving. He tells me he wants to be a dive instructor when he grows up."

"Typical. Too much to do at work, too much to do at home. But it's better now that I've heard from you."

"I'm fine… Just lonely that's all. How was your day?"

"Are you okay? You sound a little down."

"I haven't the slightest," she said, amusement in her tone. "How about you? What did you do today?"

It took him a few days and several phone calls to Theresa to feel somewhat normal again. More than once he found himself calling her late in the evening, just to hear her voice.

"It would be better if you came up here, if that's okay. I'm running low on vacation days, and I think we'd be able to work around my schedule. And besides, I think it's about time you got out of North Carolina, just so you can see what the rest of the country has to offer."

As she spoke, he found himself staring at Catherine's picture on the nightstand. It took him a few seconds to respond. "Sure… I guess I could do that."

"Hi, Garrett, what's up?" she'd ask sleepily.

She paused uncertainly. "Are you really okay, Garrett?"

"Hey," he'd say, "it's me again."

"Would you like to come down here instead?"

"Is there something else, then?"

"I am."

"No."

"You don't sound too sure about it."

"Umm… how about in three weeks? I was thinking that maybe you could come up here this time. Kevin has a week-long soccer camp, and we'd be able to spend some time alone."

She glanced toward the clock. "Almost midnight."

"I'm already in bed."

Then, walking into the bedroom, he'd see Catherine's picture by his bed. And at that moment the dream would rush forward with crystal clarity.

Strangely, he wasn't able to do it this time. When he sat down to write, the words simply wouldn't come. Finally growing frustrated, he willed himself to remember, instead.

"Not much. I just wanted to say good night before you crawled into bed."

He knew he was still unsettled by the dream. In the past he would have written a letter to Catherine to help him get it into perspective. Then, taking Happenstance out on the same route he and Catherine had sailed for the first time after Happenstance had been restored, he'd seal it and toss it into the ocean.

"Why are you awake? You should be sleeping," he'd tease, and then he'd let her hang up the phone so she could get her rest.

"What time is it?"

Sometimes, if he couldn't sleep, he'd think about his week with Theresa, remembering how good her skin felt to his touch, overwhelmed by his desire to hold her again.

"When? You'll be working this weekend."

She laughed and poured on the salad dressing. "If that were the case," she said, looking at his plate, "if you keep eating that seafood, you'll turn into a shark."

"If you keep eating it like you do, you're going to turn into a rabbit."

"Nothing's wrong with it," he said quickly.

"Now there's a surprise," Garrett said as he pointed at Catherine's plate. On it, she was piling spinach salad from the buffet in front of them.

"I am a shark," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I know. I've just been craving it. I don't know why."

Catherine shrugged dismissively. "What's wrong with wanting a salad?"

"You may be a shark, but if you keep teasing me, you'll never get the chance to prove it with me."

"It's just that this is the third time you've eaten it this week."

He smiled. "Why don't I prove it this weekend?"

"Not this weekend. Believe it or not, I've cleared my schedule so that we can spend some time together. We haven't spent a whole weekend alone since I don't know when."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Hiya, stranger," she said. "Got a few minutes?"

"I don't know. Maybe sailing, maybe something else. Whatever you want to do."

She laughed. "Well, I did have big plans-my trip to Paris for a little shopping, a quick safari or two… but I guess I can rearrange things."

Two weeks later-a few days before he was leaving for Boston-Garrett was cooking in the kitchen when the phone rang.

"I always have a few minutes to talk when it comes to you."

"Then it's a date."

As the days passed, the image of the dream began to fade. Each time Garrett talked to Theresa, he found himself feeling a little more renewed. He also spoke to Kevin a couple of times, and his enthusiasm for Garrett's presence in their lives helped him regain his footing as well. Even though the heat and humidity of August seemed to make time pass more slowly than usual, he kept himself as busy as he could, doing his best not to think about the complexities of his new situation.

"I was just calling to find out what time your flight is coming in. You weren't sure the last time we talked."

"You get the full treatment. I'm even going to dust."

"Like… I don't know… pajamas."

"I feel honored."

He laughed. "I don't own any pajamas."

"Hold on," he said, rummaging through the kitchen drawer for his itinerary. "Here it is-I'll be getting into Boston a few minutes after one."

"If you do, you won't live to see the evening."

"Like what?"

"That's good. Because even if you did, you wouldn't need them."

He wondered whether she suspected the reason for his melancholy. Clearing his mind, he went on. "I was, but I'm over it now. I've already packed my bags."

He laughed and changed the subject. "I'm looking forward to seeing you again," he said earnestly. "These last three weeks were a lot harder than the first two."

"Should I pack a pair of white gloves to make sure you've done a good job?"

"You should. Only you and my parents get that kind of attention."

"I hope you didn't take up any space with unnecessary items."

"I know. I could hear it in your voice. You were really down for a few days, and… well, I was beginning to get worried about you."

More than once, Garrett found himself wondering why the last three weeks had been so difficult for him. He knew that part of his anxiety stemmed from the dream, but spending time with Theresa made the dream's troubling feelings seem distant and insubstantial. Every time Theresa laughed or squeezed his hand, she reaffirmed the feelings he'd had when she was last in Wilmington, banishing the dark thoughts that plagued him in her absence.

After picking him up from the airport, Theresa showed him around the city. They had lunch at Faneuil Hall, watched the skullers gliding on the Charles River, and took a quick tour of the Harvard campus. As usual, they held hands most of the day, reveling in each other's company.

Three days later, Garrett Blake arrived in Boston.

"You have a nice place," he said, forking up some beans with a tortilla chip. "For some reason, I thought it would be smaller than it is. It's bigger than my house."

When the day began to cool and the sun dipped below the trees, Theresa and Garrett stopped for some Mexican food to bring back to her apartment. Sitting on her living room floor in the glow of candlelight, Garrett looked around the room.

"Only by a little, but thanks. It works for us. It's real convenient to everything."

"Who?"

"Exactly. I wasn't kidding when I told you I didn't like to cook. I'm not exactly Martha Stewart."

"Sure. What kind do you like?"

"I like both kinds," he said, pausing dramatically. "Country and western."

"Is it always this quiet?" he asked.

The sounds of city living continued. A siren blared in the distance, growing steadily louder as it approached.

"Would you like to put on some music?" Garrett asked.

She nodded toward the windows. "Friday and Saturday nights are the worst-usually it's not so bad. But you get used to it if you live here long enough."

"Like restaurants?"

Outside her apartment, the sound of traffic was clearly audible. A car screeched on the street below, a horn blared, and all at once the air was filled with noise as other cars joined in the chorus.

She laughed. "I don't have anything like that here."

"Never mind," she said.

He shook his head, enjoying his own joke. "I was kidding, anyway. It's an old line. Not too funny, but I've been waiting for my chance to say it for years."

"Back to my original question-what kind of music do you like?" she persisted.

Now it was his turn to laugh.

"You must have watched a lot of Hee-Haw as a kid."

Theresa got up and chose something she thought he might like and slipped it into the CD player. In a few moments the music started, just as the traffic congestion outside seemed to clear.

"How about some jazz?"

"I like it. For a big city, it's not too bad. It doesn't seem as impersonal as I thought it would be, and it's cleaner, too. I guess I pictured it differently. You know-crowds, asphalt, tall buildings, not a tree in sight, and muggers on every corner. But it's not like that at all."

"Anything you have is fine."

"So what do you think of Boston so far?" she asked, reclaiming her seat.

"Sounds good."

She smiled. "It is nice, isn't it? I mean, it's not beachfront, but it has its own appeal. Especially if you consider what the city has to offer. You could go to the symphony, or to museums, or just stroll around in the Commons. There's something for everyone here-they even have a sailing club."

She nodded. "Yeah. He's trying out for an all-star team for twelve and under. I don't know if he'll make it, but he thinks he has a pretty good shot. Last year, he made the final cut as an eleven-year-old."

"Like what?"

"I do. And Kevin likes it, too."

"He is," she said with a nod. She pushed their now empty plates to the side and moved closer. "But enough about Kevin," she said softly. "We don't always have to talk about him. We can talk about other things, you know."

The next day, Theresa again took Garrett on a tour of Boston, spending most of the morning in the Italian neighborhoods of the North End, wandering the narrow, twisting streets and stopping for the occasional cannoli and coffee. Though Garrett knew she wrote columns for the paper, he didn't know exactly what else her job entailed. He asked her about it as they made their way leisurely through the city.

"It sounds like he's good."

She kissed his neck. "Like what I want to do with you now that I have you all to myself."

"Are you sure you just want to talk about it?"

He changed the subject: "You said he's at soccer camp?"

"I can see why you like it here," he said, wondering why it sounded as if she were selling the place.

"You're right," she whispered. "Who wants to talk at a time like this?"

"Do you get a lot of crazy calls?"

"Can't you write a column from your home?"

"Do you get calls at home now?"

"Why not?"

"In time, I suppose I can. But right now, it's not possible."

"Well, it's not in my contract, for starters. Besides, I have to do a lot more than sit at my computer and write. Often, I have to interview people, so there's time involved in that-sometimes even a little travel. Plus, there's all the research I have to do, especially when I write about medical or psychological issues, and when I'm in the office, I have access to a lot more sources. And then there's the fact that I need a place where I can be reached. A lot of the stuff I do is human interest, and I get calls from people all day long. If I worked out of my home, I know a lot of people would call in the evenings when I'm spending time with Kevin, and I'm not willing to give up my time with him."

"Occasionally. But my number isn't listed, so not all that often."

She nodded. "I think all columnists do. A lot of people call the paper with stories they want printed. I get calls about people who are locked up in prison who shouldn't be, I get calls about city services and how the garbage isn't being picked up on time. I get calls about street crime. It seems like I've gotten calls about everything."

"I do."

"Then why would they call you? Why don't they call someone else?"

"Why?"

"I thought you said you write about parenting."

She shrugged. "It does, but I try not to think about it. Besides, there are good parts about my job, too-giving information that people can use, keeping up with the latest medical data and spelling it out in laymen's terms, even sharing lighthearted stories just to make the day a little easier."

She shrugged. "I'm sure they do, but it still doesn't stop them from calling me. A lot of people begin their calls with, 'No one else will listen to me and you're my last hope.' " She glanced at him before going on. "I guess they think I'll be able to do something about their problems."

"Well, columnists are different from other newspaper writers. Most things printed in the newspaper are impersonal-straightforward reporting, facts and figures, and the like. But if people read my column every day, I guess they think they know me. They begin to see me as a friend of sorts. And people look to their friends to help them out when they need it."

"It must put you in an awkward position sometimes."

"What's the most popular thing you've ever written about in your column?" he asked.

Garrett stopped at a sidewalk store selling fresh fruit. He picked out a couple of apples from the bin, then handed one to Theresa.

She considered the question. "It would be hard to do, especially if I want to continue to syndicate. Since I'm so new and still establishing my name, having the Boston Times behind me really helps. Why?"

"That must be rewarding," he said, paying the shopkeeper.

"It is."

Before taking a bite of his apple, Garrett asked: "Could you still write your column even if you changed papers?"

"Just curious," he said quietly.

The next morning Theresa went into work for a few hours but was home for the day a little after lunchtime. They spent the afternoon at the Boston Commons, where they ate a picnic lunch. Their lunch was interrupted twice by people who recognized her from her picture in the paper, and Garrett realized that Theresa was actually more well-known than he had thought.

"I didn't know you were such a celebrity," he said wryly after the second person walked away.

She shook her head. "Not when you consider real celebrities. They can't even go to the store without someone taking their picture. I pretty much lead a normal life."

"Why?"

"I'm not really a celebrity. It's just that my picture appears above my column, so people know what I look like."

"But it still must be odd to have total strangers coming up to you."

"Either way, I'm glad I didn't know you were so famous right off the bat."

"Does this sort of thing happen a lot?"

"Probably."

"That's a lot," he said, surprised.

"I might have been too intimidated to ask you to go sailing."

She was quiet for a moment. "Would you really have been intimidated?" she asked sheepishly.

She leaned over to kiss him. "I'll tell you what I see. I see the man that I love, the man who makes me happy… someone I want to continue to see for a long time."

She reached over and took his hand. "I can't imagine you being intimidated about anything."

"Actually, it's kind of flattering. Most people are very nice about it."

"Then you don't know me very well."

"Not really. Maybe a few times a week."

"I guess I'd wonder what someone like you could possibly see in me."

"Why?"

A lazy smile played over her lips. "For instance, I know you want me to kiss you again."

"But you are. You're beautiful, you're kind, you make me laugh, you're intelligent, and you're a great mother as well. Toss in the fact that you're famous, and I don't think there's anyone who can measure up to you."

"Such as?"

She caressed his arm, relaxing against him. "I think you see me through rose-colored glasses. But I like it…"

And she was right.

"Absolutely."

"I'm not perfect, Garrett," she said, pleased nonetheless.

"Just what I said. I can't find a single thing wrong with you. I mean, you're perfect."

"How come you always know just what to say?"

"Because," she said quietly, "I know more about you than you would ever suspect."

"I do?"

They were in the tub together, surrounded by mountains of bubbles, Theresa leaning against his chest. He used a sponge to wash her skin as he spoke.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked curiously, turning her head to look at him.

Later that evening Garrett said, "You know, Theresa, I can't find a single thing wrong with you."

"Well… let me put it this way. When I first confronted David about the affair, I called him some of the worst names in the English language."

She laughed. "You know what I mean. You haven't seen my dark side yet."

She thought for a moment. "Well, for starters, I'm stubborn, and I can get mean when I'm angry. I tend to lash out and say the first thing that pops in my head, and believe me, it's not pretty. I also have a tendency to tell others exactly what I'm thinking, even when I know it would be best just to walk away."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Are you saying I'm biased?"

"No-but you've only seen my good side so far."

"You haven't been on the receiving end yet."

"Sure I do. Everyone does. It's just that when you're around, it likes to keep itself hidden."

"I didn't know you had another side to you," he said, squeezing both of her arms simultaneously. "Both sides feel pretty good right now."

"You don't have a dark side."

"So, how would you describe your dark side?"

"It still doesn't sound so bad."

She nodded. "You should have seen the look on his face. He'd never seen me like that before."

"Especially with your dark side. It adds an element of excitement."

"I'll remember that."

"I'm glad, because I think you're pretty perfect yourself."

He grinned in admiration. "I didn't know you were so feisty."

"I won't."

"It's my midwest upbringing. Don't mess with me, buster."

The rest of their vacation flew by. In the mornings Theresa would go into work for a few hours, then come home and spend the afternoons and evenings with Garrett. In the evenings they would either order something in or head to one of the many small restaurants near her apartment. Sometimes they rented a movie to watch afterward, but usually they preferred to spend their time without other distractions.

"Nothing-I think he was too shocked to do anything. Especially when I started in with the plates. I cleaned out most of the cupboard that night."

"But I'm not sure he deserved to have a vase thrown at him."

"I still think you're perfect," he said softly.

"That's good. I'm much more accurate these days."

They sank deeper into the warm water. Garrett continued to move the sponge over her body.

She closed her eyes. "Even with my dark side?" she asked.

"What did he do?"

"Did you do that?"

"He deserved it."

"Even better."

"I know. My heart skips a beat whenever I look at him."

"He's great," Deanna admitted. "He's even better looking than he was in the pictures you brought back."

Deanna took some lipstick out of her purse and began to apply it. "So, how did he like Boston?" she asked offhandedly.

"Do you really think so?"

Deanna beamed. "I could tell by the way he was looking at you that he really cares about you, too. The way you two act together reminds me of Brian and me. You seem like a good match."

Theresa took out her own lipstick as well. "It's not what he's used to, but he seemed to have enjoyed himself. We went to a lot of fun places."

"So, what do you think?" Theresa asked expectantly.

Deanna primped her hair, doing her best to add a little body to it. "Did your week turn out as well as you hoped?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

Theresa was pleased that they seemed to get along so well. Excusing themselves after they'd eaten, Deanna and Theresa headed together into the bathroom to chat.

Her comment made Theresa think about something she'd been avoiding.

"Then you know that this decision is coming, whether you want to face it or not."

"Because," Deanna answered evenly, "I was just wondering if he'd said anything that might make you think he'd move here if you asked him to."

"No… why?" She looked at Deanna curiously.

"Did he say anything in particular?"

Not wanting to think about it, she shook her head. "I don't think it's the right time-at least not yet." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I mean-I know we have to talk about it sometime, but I don't think we've known each other long enough to start making decisions about the future. We're still getting to know each other."

"We haven't talked about it yet," she said finally.

Deanna eyed her with motherly suspicion. "But you've known him long enough to fall in love with him, haven't you?"

The distance between us is a problem, but there's still something else, isn't there? she heard a voice inside her whisper.

"Yes," Theresa conceded.

"Were you planning to?"

It took a moment for her to answer. "I know."

Deanna put her hand on Theresa's shoulder. "What if it comes down to losing him or leaving Boston?"

"But doesn't the same thing apply to him? Shouldn't he be willing to sacrifice as well?"

Theresa pondered the question and its implications. "I'm not sure," she said quietly, and looked at Deanna uncertainly.

"Of course."

"Can I give you some advice?" Deanna asked.

"Whatever you decide to do, remember that you have to be able to go forward in life without looking back. If you're sure that Garrett can give you the kind of love you need and that you'll be happy, then you have to do whatever it takes to keep him. True love is rare, and it's the only thing that gives life real meaning."

Theresa nodded. Deanna led her out of the bathroom by the arm, leaning toward Theresa's ear so that no one could overhear them.

"Then where does that leave me?"

"It leaves you with the same problem you had before, Theresa-one that you're definitely going to have to think about."

When they were together during those weekends, it was as if nothing else mattered in the world. Usually Kevin would spend one of the nights at a friend's house so they could be alone, at least for a little while. They spent hours talking and laughing, holding each other close, and making love, trying to make up for weeks spent apart. Yet neither of them broached the subject of what was going to happen to their relationship in the future. They lived moment to moment, neither of them exactly sure of what to expect from the other. Not that they weren't in love. Of that, at least, they were certain.

Working around each other's schedules, they were able to get together three more times, each time for a weekend. Once, Theresa flew down to Wilmington so they could be alone, and they spent their time holed up in Garrett's house, except for an evening they spent sailing. Garrett traveled to Boston twice, spending much of his time on the road for Kevin's soccer tournaments, though he hadn't minded. They were the first soccer games he'd ever attended, and he found himself caught up in the action more than he thought he would.

Over the next two months, their long-distance relationship began to evolve in a way that neither Theresa nor Garrett expected though both should have foreseen.

"How come you're not as excited as I am?" he'd asked Theresa during one particularly frenzied moment on the field.

"Why don't you wait until you've seen a few hundred games, and then I'm sure you could answer your own question," she'd replied playfully.

Of course, he wanted them to spend more time together than was possible. Now that summer had passed, it was easier for him to get away than it was for her. Even with most of the employees gone, there wasn't much to do around the shop. But Theresa's schedule was completely different, if only because of Kevin. He was in school again, he had tournaments on the weekends, and it was difficult for her to break away, even for a few days. Although Garrett was willing to visit Boston to see her more often, Theresa simply didn't have the time. More than once he'd suggested another trip up to see her, but for one reason or another, it hadn't worked out.

But because they didn't see each other very often, their relationship had more ups and downs than either of them had experienced before. Since everything felt right when they were together, everything felt wrong when they weren't. Garrett, especially, found himself struggling with the distance between them. Usually the good feelings he'd had when they saw each other lasted for a few days afterward, but then he'd find himself growing depressed as he anticipated the weeks before he saw her again.

True, he knew there were couples who faced living situations more difficult than theirs. His father told him stories of how he and his mother hadn't spoken for months at a time. He'd gone to Korea and spent two years with the marines, and when times were tough in the shrimping business, he used to find work with passing freighters on their way to South America. Sometimes those trips lasted months. The only thing his parents had during those times were letters, which were infrequent at best. Garrett and Theresa had something less difficult, but that still didn't make it easy.

He knew the distance between them was a problem, but it didn't seem as if it were going to change anytime in the near future. As he saw it, there were only two solutions-he could move, or she could move. No matter how he looked at it-and no matter how much they cared for each other-it always came down to one of those two choices.

Deep down, he suspected that Theresa was having the same thoughts he was, which was why neither of them wanted to talk about it. It seemed easier not to bring it up, since it would mean starting down a path that neither was sure they wanted to follow One of them was going to have to change his or her life dramatically.

But which one?

He had his own business in Wilmington, the kind of life he wanted to live, the only life he knew how to live. Boston was nice to visit, but it wasn't home. He'd never even contemplated living somewhere else. And then there was his father-he was getting up in years, and despite the strong exterior, his age was catching up with him and Garrett was all he had.

On the other hand, Theresa had strong ties to Boston. Though her parents lived elsewhere, Kevin was in a school he liked, she had a blossoming career with a major newspaper, and she had a network of friends she'd have to leave. She'd worked hard to get where she was, and if she left Boston, she'd probably have to give it up. Would she be able to do that without resenting him for what he'd made her do?

Deep down, however, he knew it wasn't going to be that easy, and not just because of the distance between them. After he'd returned from his second trip to Boston, he had a picture of Theresa enlarged and framed. He set it on the bedstand opposite Catherine's picture, but despite his feelings for Theresa, it seemed out of place in his bedroom. A few days later he moved the picture across the room, but it still didn't help. Wherever he put it, it seemed to him as if Catherine's eyes would follow it. This is ridiculous, he told himself after moving it yet again. Nonetheless he found himself finally slipping Theresa's picture into the drawer and reaching for Catherine's instead. Sighing, he sat on the bed and held it in front of him.

Garrett didn't want to think about it. Instead he focused on the fact that he loved Theresa, clinging to the belief that if they were meant to be together, they would find a way to do it.

"We didn't have these problems," he whispered as he ran his finger over her image. "With us, everything always seemed so easy, didn't it?"

Staring at them both, even he understood why he was having so much trouble with it all. He loved Theresa more than he ever thought he could… but he still loved Catherine…

When he realized the picture wouldn't answer, he cursed his foolishness and retrieved Theresa's picture.

Was it possible to love them both at once?

It was the middle of November, a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. Theresa and Kevin were flying home to see her parents for the holidays, and Theresa had made arrangements to come down the weekend before to spend some time with Garrett. It had been a month since they'd seen each other.

"I can't wait to see you again," Garrett said.

"I'm looking forward to it, too," she said. "And you promised that I'd finally get to meet your father, right?"

"He's planning on cooking an early Thanksgiving dinner for us at his place. He keeps asking me what you like to eat. I think he wants to make a good impression."

"Why?"

"Tell him he doesn't have to worry. Anything he makes will be fine."

"No-I like to think that we're starting a new one. Besides, he was the one who volunteered, remember?"

"Am I interrupting a family tradition?"

"It's not for you-it's for dinner this weekend."

"That's what I keep telling him. But I can tell he's nervous about it."

"I know he will."

"Because you'll be the first guest we've ever had over. For years, it's just been the two of us."

"How do I look?" he asked.

Garrett continued to stare at his father, a wry smile on his face. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a tie before."

"Do you think he'll like me?"

"You look fine, but why are you wearing a tie?"

When he found out Theresa was coming, Jeb Blake did some things he hadn't ever done before. First, he hired someone to come in and clean the small house where he lived, a job that ended up taking almost two days because he was so adamant that the house be spotless. He also bought a new shirt and tie. Emerging from his bedroom in his new clothes, he couldn't help but notice the surprise in Garrett's eyes.

"You don't have to wear a tie just because Theresa is coming."

"I've worn them before. You just haven't noticed."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Good."

"What now?" Garrett asked.

"I know that," he replied tersely, "I just felt like wearing one to dinner this year."

He turned and started back to the bedroom, already untucking his shirt and loosening the tie. Garrett watched him vanish from sight, and a moment later he heard his father call his name.

His father peeked his head around the corner. "You're wearing a tie, too, aren't you?"

"Well, change your plans. I don't want Theresa to find out that I raised someone who didn't know how to dress for company."

The day before her arrival, Garrett helped his father finish his preparations. Garrett mowed the lawn while Jeb unpacked the wedding china he seldom, if ever, used anymore and washed the dishes by hand. After searching for matching silverware-easier said than done-Jeb found a tablecloth in the closet, deciding it would be a nice touch. He tossed it into the washing machine just as Garrett came inside after finishing the yard. Garrett walked to the cupboard and pulled a glass from the shelf.

"You're nervous about meeting her, aren't you?"

"Dad-you don't have to be someone you're not. I'm sure Theresa would like you no matter how you were dressed."

"That doesn't mean I can't look nice for your lady friend, does it?"

"No."

"No."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

Garrett took a drink of water. "Just plan on us eating sometime in the middle of the afternoon. Anytime is fine, I'm sure."

"What time do you think she'll want to eat?"

"Maybe not to you. But it's the first time I'll be meeting her, and if you two end up getting married, I don't want to be the subject of any humorous stories later on."

Garrett raised his eyebrows. "Who said we're getting married?"

Garrett filled the glass with water and answered over his shoulder. "Her plane gets in about ten o'clock. We should be here around eleven or so."

"No."

"Do you think you should call and ask her?"

"Because," he said quickly, "I figured one of us had to, and I wasn't sure you were ever going to get around to it."

"I really don't think it's necessary. It's not that big of a deal."

"Then how will I know when to put the turkey in the oven?"

"I don't know."

"What time is she coming in tomorrow?" Jeb asked from around the corner.

"No one."

Jeb walked into the kitchen. "You didn't ask her?"

"It's for my job." She paused again. "I know it sounds terrible, but I wouldn't go unless it was really important."

He smiled. "Oh, hey, Theresa. I just walked in. My father had me over at his house all day getting the place ready-he's really look ing forward to meeting you."

Later that evening, Garrett opened his front door just as the phone began to ring. After rushing to the phone, he picked it up and heard the voice he expected.

Jeb winked as he answered. "It doesn't matter what I think, it's what you think that's important, isn't it?"

"Garrett?" Theresa asked. "You sound out of breath."

It took a moment for her to answer. "I'm really sorry, Garrett… I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm not going to be able to make it down to Wilmington after all."

Garrett stared at his father. "So, you think I should marry her?"

"What kind of conference?"

"No, everything's fine. It's just that something came up at the last minute-a big conference that I've got to go to."

"Is something wrong?"

There was an uncomfortable pause. "About tomorrow…," she said finally.

He felt his throat tighten. "What about tomorrow?"

He was silent for a moment. Then he said simply, "I understand."

"If you want to."

"Are you sure?"

She knew by his tone that he wasn't telling the truth, but she didn't think there was anything she could say that would make him feel any better.

"Did you just find out about it?"

"No."

He closed his eyes. "What's it for?"

"You're angry with me, aren't you."

"Will you tell your father that I'm sorry?"

"It's for bigwig editors and media types-they're meeting in Dallas this weekend. Deanna thinks it would be a good idea if I met some of them."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah, I'll tell him."

The next day he ate dinner with his father, who did his best to play down the whole affair.

"Can I call you this weekend?"

"No… I mean, yes. Well-I knew there was going to be a meeting, but I wasn't supposed to go. Usually, columnists aren't invited, but Deanna pulled some strings and arranged for me to go with her." She hesitated. "I'm really sorry, Garrett, but like I said, it would be wonderful exposure, and it's an opportunity of a lifetime."

"If it's like she said," his father explained, "she had a good reason. It's not like she can put her job on the back burner. She has a son to support, and she's got to do her best to provide for him. Besides, it's just one weekend-not much in the grand scheme of things."

"I'm sure you two will be able to work it out. In fact, she's probably going to do something real special the next time you two are together."

"You've got to understand, Garrett-she's got responsibilities, just like you do, and sometimes those responsibilities take priority. I'm sure that if something happened in the shop that you had to take care of, you would have done the same thing."

Garrett said nothing. Jeb took a couple of bites before speaking again.

Garrett leaned back, pushing his half-eaten plate to the side. "I understand all that, Dad. It's just that I haven't seen her for a month now, and I was really looking forward to her visit."

Garrett nodded, listening to his father but still upset about the whole thing. Jeb went on.

Garrett looked at his plate. Though he wasn't hungry anymore, he picked up his fork and took a small bite.

"Sure it is-if you love her, then find a way to be with her. It's as simple as that. That way, if something comes up and you don't see each other one weekend, you don't end up acting like your life is over."

Jeb leaned across the table and pushed Garrett's plate in front of him again. "Eat your dinner," he said. "I spent all day cooking, and you're not going to waste it."

"You know," his father said as he picked at his own food, "this isn't the last time this is to happen, so you shouldn't get so down about it now."

Garrett looked at his father, thinking, Gee, Dad, tell me how you really feel. Don't hold back.

"I mean that as long as you two continue to live a thousand miles apart, things like this are going to come up and you won't see each other as much as either one of you wants."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Don't you think she wanted to see you, too?"

"I'm sure you do. But I don't know if either one of you has the guts to do something about it."

"What do you mean?"

"She said she did."

Jeb paused before continuing. "It just isn't natural what you two are trying to do, and in the long run, it isn't going to work. You know that, don't you?"

"'I know'? That's all you have to say?"

"I know," Garrett said simply, wishing his father would stop talking about it.

His father cocked his eyebrow, waiting. When Garrett didn't add anything else, Jeb spoke again.

He shrugged. "What else can I say?"

"Fine-we'll try to figure it out."

"You can say that the next time you see her, you two are going to figure this out. That's what you can say."

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.

"Why are you so adamant about it?"

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

Garrett called Theresa as soon as he got home that evening.

He wasn't sure about a lot of things.

Shaking his head, he realized he wasn't exactly sure.

He spoke softly into the phone. "Hey, it's me."

"Garrett?"

"Hello," she answered sleepily.

"I'm glad you called. I wasn't sure you were going to."

No-what they needed now was action.

Wouldn't they?

"I'm sorry for waking you up, but you'd left a couple of messages on my answering machine."

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.

"No," he said quietly. "Sad, maybe, but not mad."

"Because I'm not there this weekend?"

"Are you still mad at me?"

"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.

"For a while, I didn't want to."

It was a woman, walking along the sidewalk a little distance away, her blond hair just brushing her shoulders.

Catherine.

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.

He shook his head. At this distance he couldn't tell if he was mistaken or not.

It couldn't be.

She started to walk away again just as Garrett called to her.

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.

"Catherine-is it you?"

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.

"Where are you?"

He started walking again, slowly. Again he heard the laughter-childlike, happy. He stopped in his tracks.

Something darted into the fog, and he moved quickly toward it.

"Where are you?" he shouted, even louder this time.

Nothing.

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…

"Catherine-are you here?" he shouted. "Where are you?"

The fog grew steadily thicker as a light rain began to fall. He started moving again, unsure where he was going.

He looked from side to side.

He heard laughter in the distance, though he couldn't make out exactly where it was coming from.

And then she was gone. He stopped again. The rain and fog made it impossible to see anymore.

"Where are you?" he shouted again.

She was walking away, only a few feet in front of him.

Nothing.

"I'm here," a voice said from the rain and mist.

Silence.

"Do you love her?" Jeb asked.

He wiped the rain from his face. "Catherine?… Is it really you?"

"I've done a lot of thinking since then."

"It's me, Garrett."

Theresa stepped out of the fog. "I'm here."

"I think I want to marry her, Dad."

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."

"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.

"Two days ago, it didn't seem like you wanted to see her again."

Later that day, Garrett met with his father.

But it wasn't her voice.

Garrett looked at him, surprised. "Of course I do. I've told you that a few times."

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.

"Because I love her, that's why. Isn't that enough?"

"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."

Jeb stared at his son for a moment before finally turning away. "You want to marry her?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe."

"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."

"Why?"

"I do."

"Is it?"

"It's the same thing."

Garrett reeled in his line, frustrated. "Weren't you the one who thought we should get married in the first place?"

After he'd gone home, the conversation he'd had with his father kept repeating itself in his mind.

Bringing up her name stung a little.

"So why are you questioning it now?"

"Of course it is," he'd said right away. "And even if it isn't, I do love her."

"Is 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.

Though he felt the expectant weight of his father's gaze, Garrett didn't know the answer.

"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.

"Are you tired?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah, I got in just a little while ago. It was a long weekend."

He was lying on his bed as he spoke with Theresa, with only the bedside lamp turned on.

"Did it turn out as well as you hoped it would?"

"So, in other words, you're telling me that you're completely over Catherine?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Can I make it up to you?"

"Wednesday morning. I'll be gone until Sunday."

"I know."

"It's a good thing you went, then."

"Yeah."

"Well… can you come up here to visit the weekend after Thanksgiving?"

"Good, because I'm going to plan a special weekend just for the two of us."

There was a short pause.

"Are they looking forward to seeing you?"

"I suppose so."

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.

She spoke softly. "I just want you to know that I'm still really sorry about this weekend."

"Good and bad. Most of the time, I wished I'd gone to visit you instead."

"Garrett?"

"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 was a weekend that neither of them would ever forget.

He smiled. "When do you leave for your parents'?"

"You look great."

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?"

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 Miserables, 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.

It was late by the time they got back, and to Garrett, the following day seemed just as rushed. Theresa took him to her office and showed him around-introducing him to a couple of people-and afterward they visited the Museum of Fine Arts for the rest of the afternoon. That evening they met Deanna and Brian for dinner at Anthony's-a restaurant on the top floor of the Prudential Building that offered wonderful views of the entire city.

Garrett had never seen anything