Message in a Bottle Read Online Free PDF Page A

chance. My exercise is limited to vacuuming the house every weekend. Can you picture me out there, huffing and puffing? I’d probably have a heart attack.”
    “It’s refreshing once you get used to it.”
    “That may be true, but I’m not young and svelte like you are. The only time I can remember running at all was when I was a kid and the neighbor’s dog got out of the yard. I was running so fast, I almost wet my pants.”
    Theresa laughed out loud. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
    “I thought we’d do a little shopping and have lunch in town. Are you up for something like that?”
    “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
    The two women talked about the places they might go. Then Deanna got up and went inside for another cup of coffee and Theresa watched her as she left.
    Deanna was fifty-eight and round faced, with hair that was slowly turning to gray. She kept it cut short, dressed without an excess of vanity, and was, Theresa decided, easily the best person she knew. She was knowledgeable about music and art, and at work, the recordings of Mozart or Beethoven were always flooding out of her office into the chaos of the newsroom. She lived in a world of optimism and humor, and everyone who knew her adored her.
    When Deanna came back to the table, she sat down and looked out across the bay. “Isn’t this the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?”
    “Yes, it is. I’m glad you invited me.”
    “You needed it. You would have been absolutely alone in that apartment of yours.”
    “You sound like my mother.”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    Deanna reached across the table and picked up the letter again. As she perused it her eyebrows raised, but she said nothing. To Theresa, it looked as though the letter had triggered something in her memory.
    “What is it?”
    “I just wonder . . . ,” she said quietly.
    “Wonder what?”
    “Well, when I was inside, I got to thinking about this letter. I’m wondering if we should run this in your column this week.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    Deanna leaned across the table. “Just what I said—I think we should run this letter in your column this week. I’m sure other people would love to read it. It really is unusual. People need to read something like this every once in a while. And this is so touching. I can picture a hundred women cutting it out and taping it to their refrigerators so their husbands can see it when they get home from work.”
    “We don’t even know who they are. Don’t you think we should get their permission first?”
    “That’s just the point. We can’t. I can talk to the attorney at the paper, but I’m sure it’s legal. We won’t use their real names, and as long as we don’t take credit for writing it or divulge where it might be from, I’m sure there wouldn’t be a problem.”
    “I know it’s probably legal, but I’m not sure if it’s right. I mean, this is a very personal letter. I’m not sure it should be spread around so that everyone can read it.”
    “It’s a human interest story, Theresa. People love those sorts of things. Besides, there’s nothing in there that might be embarrassing to someone. This is a beautiful letter. And remember, this Garrett person sent it in a bottle in the ocean. He had to know it would wash up somewhere.”
    Theresa shook her head. “I don’t know, Deanna . . .”
    “Well, think about it. Sleep on it if you have to. I think it’s a great idea.”
    *  *  *
    Theresa did think about the letter as she undressed and got in the shower. She found herself wondering about the man who wrote it—Garrett, if that was his real name. And who, if anyone, was Catherine? His lover or his wife, obviously, but she wasn’t around anymore. Was she dead, she wondered, or did something else happen that forced them apart? And why was it sealed in a bottle and set adrift? The whole thing was strange. Her reporter’s instincts took over then, and she suddenly