Until We Meet Again (6 page)

“Do you know if there are any sharks in these waters?”
Lawrence laughs. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. I’ve got you.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
The waves grow stronger the deeper we go, the closer we
move to the breakers. Lawrence makes a few strong strokes,
letting go of my hand for a moment.
“You haven’t disappeared yet,” he calls. “This is the farthest
we’ve gotten from the beach. I think we might have found
the solution!”
I strain to see him over the white peaks of waves. Water keeps
splashing against my face. But every time I rub it away, I sink a
little. I don’t like feeling so powerless, so vulnerable. Then, one
particularly large wave engulfs my head completely. I thrash to
the surface, coughing and sputtering.
“Lawrence, I want to go back.”
No answer. Nothing but the crash of surf.
“Lawrence?”
Wiping my eyes, I look in every direction. Combined with
the up and down of the waves, it’s a dizzying, chaotic feeling.
But the only things I can see is the surface of the water. He’s
gone. Panic seeps into my chest like ink. I’m alone out here in
the middle of the ocean. My legs are tired. The waves are too
strong. I’m going to go under.
“Lawrence!” I shout. “Lawrence!”
Another wave smacks against my head, dragging me down.
Startled, I release the air in my mouth in a burst of bubbles.
The water is an opaque indigo. Salt burns my eyes. My lungs
ache for breath. I feel my body sinking like a stone.

And then, just as my lungs are about to burst, a pair of arms
wrap around my waist. My body rights itself and I kick up as
hard as I can. My head bursts out of the water and I gasp. Wet
hair covers my face. I wipe it aside, coughing.

“Cassandra! Are you okay?” Lawrence’s voice crackles, soft
and distant. And yet I still feel his arms. I nod, panting for
breath. I can hardly make out his face.

“How did you see me?” I ask, shaking from the whole
experience.
“I don’t really know,” he admits. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m okay. Let’s just go back.”
We swim a few strong kicks. The thrust of the waves propels us. As we draw closer to the shore, the blurry, translucent
Lawrence fills in with color and form until he’s back to himself.
We swim hard—not speaking. Then finally we reach the shore.
I crawl up on shaky limbs and collapse onto the sand.
I lie there for a moment, my cheek pressed to the sand. Waves
rush over my feet and legs, but I don’t move. Lawrence lies on
his back beside me.
“Well,” he says, his voice halted and tired. “That’s that, then.”
When we’ve caught our breath, we wrap in the towels
Lawrence brought and sit back in our spot on the beach.
“I still don’t know how you saw me under the water,” I say,
hugging the warm towel close to me. “I could barely see you
even above the surface.”
Lawrence shakes his head. “I’m so sorry to put you through
that.”
“It’s not your fault I’m a crappy swimmer.”
He rubs his temples. “When we got that far out, I was so sure
we’d discovered the solution. I got excited and let go of your
hand. But then, I couldn’t see you… I thought you’d drowned.”
“I was worried about that myself for a minute.”
He puts his hand on my back. “Cassandra, can you forgive
me? If I’d known, I never would have suggested that we—”
“Don’t apologize. The waves were stronger than I thought,
that’s all.”
“But I am sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Lawrence.”
He sighs. “Well, I feel awful grummy about it anyhow.”
This makes me smile. “You say the weirdest words.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “You’re one to talk.”
I bump him with my shoulder, and we both laugh.
We’re sitting close. Little more than a few inches apart. The
impulse to scoot closer and rest my head on his shoulder tugs
at me, but I resist. I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking:
that we’ve run out of scientific reasons to stay on the beach.
It’s clear—there’s no way around it. This beach and this beach
alone is where our worlds overlap. So, what now?
Lawrence draws a line in the sand with his finger. “So I guess
the day’s over.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah, it is.”
“And we know all we can know about…this.” He motions to
me and the beach.
“I suppose so.”
“I don’t know what to make of it,” he says with a sigh. “I really
don’t. What does it mean? Why did this happen? What are we
supposed to do about it? Maybe we should tell someone.”
“And who would believe us?”
“We can prove it. We’ll show them how you disappear on
the path.”
I imagine myself telling Mom or Jade. How could that possibly go well? “I don’t know,” I say.” That seems like a bad idea.
I say we keep it to ourselves for now.”
Lawrence nods. “You’re probably right.”
I exhale heavily. “Maybe we should be more careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. What if it’s dangerous somehow?”
Lawrence turns to face me. “You mean…you think we should
stay away from each other?”
“I don’t know what I think, okay? This whole scenario freaks
me out.”
“What if we try and forget that then,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
His gaze is intense. “What if we forget that I’m from nineteen
twenty-five and you’re from two thousand fifteen.”
“How can we forget that?” I point toward the bushes. “How
can I forget that you dissolve into the air if you try to leave
this beach?”
He grabs my hand. “Because it doesn’t matter. Because, when
all is said and done, we’re just two people. Are we really so different, despite the decades between us?”
My stomach flutters like crazy. It’s almost impossible to meet
his gaze. “I guess not.”
He says nothing but keeps his eyes fixed on me. I release
a slow breath. “Maybe…it would be okay to meet one
more time.”
An irrepressible smile breaks across his face. “Sure. No harm
in that.”
“But we have to be careful.”
“Absolutely.”
I puff out a sigh. “I think we’re probably crazy.”
“Crazy’s not always a bad thing,” Lawrence says with a grin.
“Let’s meet tomorrow night. After the others settle down for
the evening.”
“I can probably do that. What do you have in mind?”
He raises his eyebrow in a mischievous way. “You’ll see.”
I point at him. “If it has anything to do with swimming, I
will punch you.”

Luckily for Lawrence, when I arrive at the beach the next
evening, just after sunset, he’s dressed and seems to have no
intention of jumping into the ocean. He’s built a small bonfire and set up four green-and-white-striped beach chairs.

I suddenly feel embarrassed. I got ready like this was a
date or something. I put on my cutest jeans, a black tank
top, and a chunky beaded necklace. I even curled the
ends of my hair. Lawrence looks sharp and slightly fancy,
as always, but that’s just how he dresses. Those two other
beach chairs make me think he doesn’t intend for this to be
romantic though.

“Did you…invite some friends?” I ask, approaching with
hesitant steps.
Lawrence follows my gaze to the chairs. “Oh that? No, no,
I was just trying to make Ned think I was having some others
come tonight. Didn’t want him to get suspicious. You know.”
A twist of pleasure tightens in my stomach. So we will be
alone.
“What did you tell your parents?” Lawrence asks, pushing a
fresh log onto the fire.
“It was just my stepdad who was home. Frank’s pretty easygoing. I told him I taking a walk.”
Lawrence examines me and smiles. “I like your trousers.
They’re very avant-garde.”
“Not so much in my time,” I say. “Though they are skinnier
jeans than I normally buy.”
“Well, you’re a dish either way.”
The nervous-but-happy feeling crackles inside me again.
“Thanks.”
“Have a seat,” he says, motioning to the chairs.
I sit down and Lawrence takes the chair beside me. We’re
quiet, both mesmerized by the orange glow of the fire. I guess
first-date awkwardness transcends time. I cross my legs, scraping for some shred of conversation.
“So, are we going to roast some marshmallows?”
Lawrence grins. “Sure. If you want.”
“You know what’s really good is roasted Starburst.”
“Is that a type of marshmallow?”
“No. Starbursts. You know…the candy?”
He gives me a shrug.
I sit up. “Get out! Are Starbursts not invented yet in nineteen
twentyfive?”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Oh man! That’s just sad. They’re infinitely superior to the
marshmallow, as far as roasting is concerned.”
“What on earth are they?”
“I have to show you. Words can’t really do them justice.”
Lawrence lifts an eyebrow. “I think you might be overselling
them a tad.”
“Okay,” I say, standing. “Now I have to go get some. My
credibility is on the line.”
Back at the house, it takes some ransacking, but I find a pack
tucked in Mom’s “secret” candy stash behind the flour container. I’ll repay her later. I grab some roasting sticks and head
to the bonfire again.
“Do you have them?” Lawrence asks.
With dramatic flair, I present the Starbursts. “Ta-da!”
He picks up the slim rectangular pack, looking somewhat
disappointed. “That’s it? It looks like chewing gum.”
I laugh and pat his head. “Oh adorable, nineteen-twenties
Lawrence. You have so much to learn.”
He folds his arms with a smirk. “I’m waiting to be impressed.
You’re stalling.”
“Just wait, just wait. Let the fire do its magic.”
Lawrence watches me as I prepare the stick with two
gleaming, square candies and search for the hottest part of
the coals. Then I begin my time-crafted process of achieving
the perfect caramelization.
“You’re quite intense about this,” he says.
“You’d better believe I am. I take my treats very seriously.”
“I can respect that.”
I give him a sidelong glance. In the soft glow of firelight,
he looks as warm and gorgeous as ever. It seems so strange to
be sitting here with him—a guy from 1925. I shouldn’t think
about it. That’s what we agreed on yesterday. But it’s not the
sort of fact that slips from your mind.
“Okay,” I say, bringing the perfectly roasted Starburst away
from the red embers. “It’s ready.” I present the gooey deliciousness to Lawrence with both hands, formal Asian style. “Be careful. It’s hot.”
With a skeptical eyebrow raised, Lawrence examines the
admittedly strange-looking candy creation. Then he pops it
in his mouth. He winces at the heat and then chews thoughtfully. I watch him, biting a fingernail with anticipation. He
chews with unnecessary care. Then swallows.
“Well?” I ask.
“You shouldn’t have let me taste that,” he says. “Now I’m
more determined than ever to travel to your time.”
I laugh. “Starburst pushed you over the edge, huh?”
He smiles wryly. “You’re not a bad motivator yourself.”
And like that, the magic of the Starburst has made the firstdate awkwardness disappear. The rest of the night only gets
better. We laugh, talk, gorge on candy, and then, when the
fire is low and the stars blaze bright, we wrap in blankets and
search out constellations above us. Everything is so perfect
that I don’t want to ever leave.
But I know that can’t be. Real life--boring, frustrating
2015 is waiting just beyond those bushes. As Lawrence and
I fold up the blankets and chairs, despair cuts into me like
a blade. I try my best to keep things light, to squeeze out
the last bits of pleasure from this first and final date of ours.
Lawrence lingers as well. Does he not want the night to end
either?
“Well,” he says, looking around the beach. “I guess that’s
that.”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath that sounds a lot like a sigh. “I had
a good time.”
“I did too. Those Starbrights were ginger peachy.”
I chuckle. “Sure were.”
“Of course, they have nothing on my Aunt Eloise’s lemon
meringue pie.” He digs the tip of his shoe into the sand. “You
ought to come back tomorrow so I can bring you a piece. One
treat for another. Seems only fair.”
“Oh, you’re sneaky, Lawrence.”
“Nothing sneaky about it. I ought to return the favor,
that’s all.”
I should refuse. I know this. I’m being careless with my heart.
This is a guy I can never really date. Not even close. And yet…
“One more day. That’s it.”
Lawrence beams. “Swell. Meet me here for lunch? I’ll bring
us out a picnic.”
“Sounds ginger peachy.”

At the picnic with Lawrence, we pick up right where
we’d left off the night before. We’re so absorbed in conversation
that a sudden clap of thunder makes us both look up at the
sky with a start. A blanket of rain-laden clouds hang above us.
Droplets turn to sheets of cold wetness in a matter of seconds.
Lawrence and I jump to our feet.

“Where did this come from?” I ask, holding my hands over
my head as a weak shield.
“Snuck up on us,” he says. “If you weren’t so darn interesting,
I might have seen its approach.”
The compliment makes my heart swell. I want to keep
talking, but the rain pours harder. Lawrence isn’t running
inside either. Our eyes meet. It’s as if neither of us wants to
be the one to leave. I wipe the rain from my face, though it
doesn’t help.
“Well,” I say, “I guess we’d better…”
Lawrence sets his hand to my arm. “Wait.”
His touch sends a ripple of energy down my arm. He bends
down and collects our plates and forks. Then he lifts the blue
wool blanket, gives it a firm shake to loosen the sand, and
sweeps it over the tops of the bushes.
“I’m not ready to go in yet,” he says, ducking beneath his
makeshift tent with a grin.
I slip under the blanket and join him. “Not bad,” I say, examining our little shelter. “Well done, Boy Scout Lawrence.”
“It won’t keep us very dry, but it ought to help. It’s a warm
rain anyway.”
“And now that you’ve said that, we’ll both catch pneumonia
and die.”
Lawrence laughs. “I’m fairly certain that won’t happen. But
then, I’m headed into law, not medicine. Maybe they’re writing
our death certificates as we speak.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, but if we both catch pneumonia,
I’d be significantly better off than you. One of the few perks
of my era.”
I expect Lawrence to carry on with the banter, but when I
look at him, he’s watching me with an unexpectedly soft smile.
His eyes drift down to my lips.
“I wouldn’t mind dying today,” he says. “Might as well end
on a high note.”
A current of electricity runs through my body, but hearing
him talk about death pulls me back to reality. Technically speaking, whenever I leave this beach, Lawrence already is dead. In
my world, in the real world, he’s probably been dead for at least
twenty years. The thought spreads through me like ice. I rub the
chill from my arms. “No more talk about dying. It’s too…creepy.”
“You’re trembling,” Lawrence says, noticing my shiver. He
puts his arm around me. “Better?”
You have no idea, Lawrence. I try not to let him see me
flush with pleasure. “Isn’t this what they call getting ‘fresh’ in
your era?”
“My intentions are innocent!”
“Suspect.”
“Only sometimes.” He brushes a hand across the roof of our
dripping shelter. “We should probably go in and get dry.”
My heart sinks a little. “I guess so.”
“Do I need to concoct another excuse to see you again, or
will you meet me for meeting’s sake?”
“You’re welcome to concoct an excuse. For my amusement.”
“All right then. Cassandra, will you meet me tomorrow
morning so that I can give you a surprise?”
“A surprise, huh?” I tap my chin, pretending to mull over the
pros and cons. “Intriguing…”
Lawrence winks. “I promise it will be worth it.”
“Tomorrow it is, then.”