Until We Meet Again (17 page)

will break my sanity. I have no doubt of this. I pace on
the warm sand, waiting. It’s been forty-five minutes. Lawrence
still hasn’t come. I refuse to accept what that might mean. My
heart couldn’t bear the pain.

I’m going to kill Brandon. Someone has to answer for this.
I’m going to go completely rogue and extract my revenge on
the entire town of Crest Harbor. One by one, I’ll—

I spin around. At the sight of Lawrence, my eyes slide closed
and I exhale with relief.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, rushing to take me in his arms. “Ned
was home and I couldn’t get away.”
I melt into the embrace. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad
that you’re here now.”
Lawrence kisses me. I can feel the difference in his kiss.
There’s an urgency, a hunger to make each embrace count. I
recognize it because I feel the same way.
We hold each other for a long time and then sit together in
the sand.
“So,” Lawrence says finally, “what do we do now?”
“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I think we have to accept
that Brandon could be a culprit in your murder. Or at least
cause a chain of events that will lead to your murder.”
Lawrence exhales slowly, ruffling his hair with frustration.
“I’m a fool.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. All of this is my fault. At the
start of this, Cooper Enterprises was the only plausible suspect. Now, thanks to my meddling, Brandon and this Fay girl’s
family have both become possibilities.”
I want him to tell me I’m wrong, but even he can’t muster
the lie. “If I’d just followed my instincts and left things alone.
If I’d left you alone.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true. If I had never come back to the beach
like I promised, you’d have a long, happy future to look forward to.”
Lawrence. “Don’t talk like this, Cassandra. I won’t hear it.” He
holds the side of my face. “I don’t want a future without you.”
His lips come to mine. My eyes sting. I don’t deserve this rush
of adrenaline at the feel of the kiss. I don’t deserve someone to
love me so perfectly. It’s an ideal summer evening—golden and
warm and fragrant. Everything about tonight, possibly our last
night together, should be perfect. And it would be, if not for
this horrible, sinking fear that I’ve ruined everything.
“You shouldn’t take this so hard,” Lawrence says softly.
“Nothing may come of this Brandon business.”
“Or everything might.”
“There’s no way to know, so we might as well not think
about it.”
Lawrence laces my hand in his. “I don’t want to spend our
time together like this.”
“Neither do I.”
He kisses my cheek, and the warmth of his lips runs through
my entire body. But tonight every sweetness is overpowered by
the bitter reminder of what Lawrence is about to face.
“I’d better go in for dinner,” I say, my heart heavy. “Mom’s
probably wondering where I am.”
Lawrence brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking
it behind my ear. “Will you sneak out when your parents go
to bed?”
I nod, hoping I’ll be able to shake this gloom by the time I
come back. If these really are my final hours with Lawrence, I
want them to be like last night, not this.
“See you later,” I say.
Lawrence pulls me into a hug. “I’ll be waiting.”
My feet feel like stones as I head back to the house. The last
thing I want to do is leave Lawrence. I should be in his arms,
not moping a hundred years away. Sitting in the kitchen with
Mom, Frank, and Eddie and pretending to be fine. Dodging
questions from Mom. Torture. But when I step into the house,
it’s not Mom waiting for me. It’s Brandon.
A zing of terror cuts through me. Is he back to fight with Lawrence?
Is he planning to reveal my secret to my mom and Frank? It’s as if
all my worst what-ifs are suddenly coming true at once.
“Who let you in?” I ask.
The silence in the house rings like a heavy note in my ears. I
don’t think anyone’s even here. Maybe they went in to pick up
something for dinner and bring it back.
“Let’s go for a drive,” Brandon says.
For a moment, I don’t move. What is he up to? Maybe he’s
planning to kill me.
I almost roll my eyes at my own thought. Brandon is many
things, but murderer isn’t one of them. Still… I don’t completely trust him. But I need to get him back on my side.
Maybe there’s a chance I can make this right.
“A drive where?” I ask cautiously.
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose it doesn’t, provided we avoid dark alleys and abandoned warehouses.”
Brandon maintains his stone expression and walks away.
Tossing a nervous glance at the back door, I discretely text
Mom and follow him.
For the first seven minutes of the drive—I watch each one
pass on the dashboard clock—neither of us speaks. Then I stare
at the tailored lawns and summer trees rolling past in a green
blur. The thoughts in my head seem to be passing in a similar
way. What do I say to Brandon? How am I supposed to make
this better? He saw what he saw. I can’t feed him some line and
pretend that he didn’t. He needs some kind of explanation.
Trouble is, when I think about it, there are very few ways I can
envision this going well.
“Brandon…”
His gaze cuts to me, sharp and yet full of an unreadable emotion. Fear? Anger? I can’t say.
“I want answers, Cass.”
“I know.”
Brandon waits. “Well, what in the hell happened back there?”
I’m tempted to gaslight him, to pretend that I didn’t see anything, that he’s crazy. But my instincts scream out that if I do,
he’ll go searching for proof of his claims. Besides, Brandon
deserves the truth. All things considered, he’s not a bad guy.
Had this summer gone differently, he and I could have been
friends. Maybe even more. It may be the biggest risk I’ve ever
taken, but somehow, deep down, I know I need to be honest.
“Pull over,” I say, setting my hand on Brandon’s arm.
He hesitates but parks his car on the side of the road. The
ocean glows in the early evening sun just beyond the bluff,
strengthening me.
“Logic is going to resist what I’m about to tell you, Brandon.
You’re not going to believe it. You’re not going to want to
believe it. But you have to trust what you saw. Hold on to that.
It was real. You’re weren’t imagining it.”
“Enough. Tell me what I saw.”
I steady my voice. “You were right. Lawrence isn’t from
around here. Well, he is. But not in the way you’d think. He’s
from a different Crest Harbor. One that existed…in nineteen
twentyfive.”
Brandon’s eyes narrow slightly, but his gaze stays on me.
“I know this going to sound insane. Trust me, I struggled
with it a lot at first. I still have to be convinced of it sometimes. But Lawrence is from nineteen twenty-five. He lives in
the same house I’m living in now, only almost a hundred years
in the past. And for some reason, which neither of us can figure
out, I can see him on that beach.”
More silence.
“The beach is the only place though. That’s why he disappeared as he walked back to the house. He goes back into nineteen twenty-five. That’s what you saw.”
Brandon shakes his head slightly, anger flaring in his cheeks.
“I’m not stupid, Cass.”
“I know you’re not. That’s why I’m being honest with you.”
“I’m not stupid!” He slams both hands on the steering wheel.
“Then believe me.”
Brandon huffs. Then shaking his head again, he revs the
engine to a start.
“I told you it would be hard to believe, but that doesn’t mean
it isn’t the truth.”
He jams the car into gear and spins it back onto the road, the
wheels screeching in protest.
“If you give me some time, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
The car burns back down the street. Brandon radiates fury. I
anticipated this reaction, but he’s headed back to my house. Is
he going to tell my mom everything I just said? I need time to
get him on my side.
“Give me a chance to prove it to you, at least,” I say.
Whitehot silence.
“It doesn’t make any sense to me either, okay? But it is what
it is. I can’t change the facts to make them more believable.”
I can’t handle his wordless rage right now. I can’t handle any
of it. It’s all too much. I wish I was back in Nowhere, Ohio,
wondering what college I’ll go to and what I want to be when
I grow up.
“Are you going to tell my mom I’m insane?” I ask, tears stinging
my eyes. “Are you going to turn me in to the police or something?”
In response, Brandon pushes down on the accelerator.
“Do whatever you want, okay?” I snap. “At this point, I don’t
even care.”
The sandcastle Lawrence and I have been living in is
finally toppling beneath the wave of reality. We couldn’t
keep this secret forever. Brandon will march and tell Mom,
who will drag me to some nice shrink, and Lawrence will
die on that beach tomorrow. Brandon pulls the car up my
driveway. I wipe away the tears on my face. They won’t do
me any good now.
He slams on the brakes and unlocks the doors, but doesn’t
put the car in park. “Go,” he says, staring out the windshield.
A flicker of hope lights in me. “You’re not…going to tell my
mom what I’ve said?”
Finally, Brandon looks me in the eye. He doesn’t seem as
angry as I thought. More confused.
“I don’t ever want to talk about it again. And I don’t ever
want to talk to you again. As far as I’m concerned, this conversation, that conversation on the beach, none of it ever happened. Deal?”
I nod, blinking back surprise. “Are you sure you’re not going
to tell anyone?”
“Goodbye,
Cass.”
“I just—”
“Goodbye.”
I stumble out of the car. “Okay, bye.”
Before I can give him a final wave, Brandon zooms away.
Watching him speed down the driveway, I’m not sure what
to feel. I guess it should be a relief, but I also can’t completely
relax. It’s almost too good to be true…
Rubbing the shiver off my arms, I head back to the house.
Mom’s still gone, so I go straight for the beach. I just want
some time with Lawrence.
Passing through the bushy path, however, the hairs
on the back of my neck stand on end. Something’s off.
Something’s wrong.
Another step and I see them.
Lawrence and Mom. Standing together on the beach.
They both look up at me at the same time. Lawrence’s expression says it all. Though Mom’s furious, thin-pressed lips do a
good job as well.
At that moment, part of me gives up. Maybe destiny is
involved, just not in the way I thought. Maybe Lawrence is
destined to die, and the more I’m in the picture, the more certain that becomes. Everything I do to help him only seems to
get us both deeper into trouble.
Mom folds her arms across her chest, letting her glare sink in.
At this point, though, I’m done. I throw out my arms.
“I don’t know what to say, Mom.”
She looks more disappointed than mad. I’ve never been the
sneaking out type or one to lie to her. “I think your friend
needs to leave.”
Lawrence and I exchange a tense glance.
“He lives on the other side of the point,” I say quickly.
Lawrence gives an imperceptible nod, then bows his head to
my mom.
“Again, I apologize, ma’am. I never intended any disrespect.”
Mom visibly softens at his politeness, though she still tries
to maintain her look of stern disapproval. “I hope to meet you
again under better circumstances.”
“Indeed.”
Lawrence starts down the beach, casting a glance at me
over his shoulder. We’ll see each other later, but even so,
I don’t like seeing him leave. There’s so much we need to
plan for tomorrow. These interruptions are giving me a
serious headache.
When he’s far enough away, Mom turns to me, and her
expression hardens.
“How long?” she asks.
I feel sick to my stomach. “It’s a really complicated situation, Mom.”
“This explains your behavior lately,” she says with a sigh.
“You know my rules about lying.”
“I’ve never really lied.”
“All that time you spent ‘on the beach’? All those ‘trips to
the library’?”
“I really was at the library! You saw me!”
She shakes her head. “Don’t make this worse.”
“Mom,
listen—”
She holds a silencing hand in the air. “We’ll discuss this later,
when I’m in a better mood. For now, you are grounded. And I
mean at the house. No beach.”
My whole body tenses. “No.”
“In your room for the rest of the night. I will be watching the
stairs,” she adds. “I know you snuck out the other night.”
I grab her arm with desperation. “Mom, please. I can’t—”
“Enough,” she says firmly. “I need some time to think about
what I’m going to do with you.”
“Mom!”
She points to the house, a clear command. She can’t do this
to me. Not today, of all days. Lawrence and I need to spend
every minute crafting a plan for tomorrow. I won’t abandon
him. I can’t.
“Move it, Cass,” Mom says. “You’re just making things worse
for yourself.”
A wild, fierce energy wells up in my chest, and I want to
scream, “You can’t make me!” Eddie does that all the time.
Maybe I should give it a try. Or maybe I just make a break for
it. Hide out until she gives up looking for me.
I think of Lawrence, of how much he needs me, and take
a slow breath to calm myself. For him, I will show control. If
I play my cards right with Mom, we can work this out. And
then I can get back to the beach. Lowering my gaze penitently,
I head into the house.
Mom follows me all the way up into my room. I sit on my
bed, trying to think of the perfect, humble thing to say.
“I expected so much more from you, Cass.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough. It’s going to take time to earn back
my trust.”
She starts to close the door but pauses. “Oh, and while we’re
on the subject, there’s no way you’re staying home tomorrow.”
“What?”
“You’re coming on the sailing trip. I’m going to keep a close
watch on you. Whoever this boy is, he can fend for himself
tomorrow.”
No. No. This isn’t happening. I jump to my feet, staring at Mom
in complete horror. But she’s unmoved. Without flinching, she
pulls the door shut. With a harsh bang, I’m sealed in my room.
And Lawrence is on his own.

Waiting.
It’s been hours, but she still hasn’t come back. Watching
the sun set slowly on my final day, it hits me that she might
not come back at all. Maybe she got into more trouble than I
thought. Maybe she’s sick or hurt. Maybe the strain of trying
to save me became too much, and she left forever. Moved on to
less bizarre, more uncomplicated relationships.
I want her back. It’s more than I can bear. I’m exhausted from
the desperate loneliness of waiting here, staring at the bushes,
yearning for her to come.
And then, at long last, I hear the rustle of branches. My heart
leaps into my throat. I spring to my feet.
But it isn’t Cassandra. It’s Aunt Eloise. I feel like I’ve been
thrown against a wall and shattered into a million pieces.
“There you are, Lonnie!” she cries. “Ned’s been looking everywhere for you! How long have you been out here?”
I’m so disappointed I can hardly speak. “Not long.”
Eloise bustles over to me, frowning deeply. “I was hoping
you’d help me get things ready for your uncle’s party tomorrow.” She looks me over. “Are you all right? You’re quite pale.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but I can’t even manage a forced smile to
assuage her concern.
Her frown deepens. She reaches out and puts her hand to my
forehead. “I believe you’re ill, Lon. Come inside and rest.”
“I’ll be all right. I’d like to stay out here and think a little more.”
Eloise stammers. “Well, you can’t. It’s suppertime. I have to
be heading back home, you know.”
“I’m sorry I missed your visit today,” I say, the words falling
from my lips with no conviction.
“Well, Ned has someone he wants you to meet.”
I swallow my frustration with Aunt Eloise. She isn’t trying
to be tedious. I have no intention of eating tonight, but I can
see that she’s not going to leave me alone until I come inside.
With a sigh, I head back to the house. Eloise struggles to keep
up with my pace.
“Better go in and freshen up, Lon,” she says. “He’s a very important guest for your uncle. Businessman. A bigwig, Ned says.”
I stop in my tracks and Eloise nearly crashes into me.
“Jerome Smith?”
Eloise blinks, startled. “What?”
“Ned’s guest,” I say, speaking carefully so she’ll understand the
gravity of the question. “Is he a bigwig from Cooper Enterprises?”
“I believe so. You know I don’t follow those kinds of things,
Lonnie. I can barely keep up with Ned’s dinner conversations.”
She motions me back inside. The house looms ahead, glowing through the darkness of night. It’s inviting and lovely. And
yet my feet plant in the grass. My knees are locked, and a persistent ringing sound is growing louder in my ears. A chill I
can’t shake rushes over my entire body.
So it begins.
We enter the house. I walk Aunt Eloise to the door, perhaps to
stall the inevitable. But once she’s on her way home, I have no
choice. I have to face whatever this night will bring. Each step
feels like something out of a strange, shadowy dream. I can hear
Ned and his guest talking. Their voices sound cordial enough,
but my stomach crawls. I move stiffly into the dining room.
I expect to see the heartless assassin from the warehouse, but
Jerome Smith looks quite normal. He’s older, with a thick,
white mustache and an expensive suit. He appears rich and
snobbish, not evil. And yet as I enter the room and he looks up,
I catch the distinct glint of hardness in his eyes. This is a man
capable of murder.
“Ah, there he is!” Ned bellows. I can see his tense mood in the
beading sweat on his brow, in his cheerless, tight smile. I can
hear it in his overly loud voice. “Lonnie, my boy, we’ve been
waiting for you.”
I can barely mumble a weak apology as I take a seat at the
long table. My eyes are fixed on Ned. Why is he so on edge?
Does he know the truth about Cooper Enterprises?
“This is Jerome Smith,” Ned says, motioning to the mustached man. Then he motions back to me. “My nephew,
Lawrence. He’s the one I was telling you about. Has quite the
promising career ahead. He’ll be in a top firm in New York.
Very soon!”
“Once I finish college and law school,” I explain.
Jerome Smith clips a look to Ned, and he nods. “Of course!
Of course that’s right.”
I’ve never seen my uncle so nervous. He must know the kind
of danger he’s in.
I picture the whole scenario. A dinner-table confrontation.
Shouts. A gun is pulled. Aimed for Ned. I jump in the way. A
bullet pierces through my chest, lodging somewhere near my
heart.
But Cassandra’s article said I die on the beach tomorrow. So,
maybe I crawl out there with my dying strength, in hope of
saying goodbye.
Nausea sweeps over me like a cold wave. Such dark, terrible
thoughts. I look at Ned and Jerome Smith, and realize that the
conversation has gone on. I can see their mouths move, but the
only sound is this darn ringing in my ears.
I push my fingertips into my eyes. All this picturing of how I
die is enough to drive me completely mad.
A hand comes down on my arm, startling me to consciousness. It’s Jerome Smith. His brow is furrowed.
“I say, son. Are you quite all right?”
His hand is like a red-hot brand on my skin. I jump to my
feet. The dizziness nearly overtakes me.
“I’m not well.” I pull the words from somewhere in my rapidly constricting throat. And then I turn and run. I run until I
reach my room and slam and lock the door. Breathing hard, I
press my back to it and slide to the floor.
I stay there for a solid hour. But even as I sit still and breathe,
my pulse doesn’t slow. Air still feels heavy and scarce in my
lungs. My hands tremble.
Each tick of the second hand circling the clock pricks me like
a pin. Each stab of pain makes me hate myself more and more.
I’m afraid. So afraid. But I can’t be a coward. Ned is in danger.
How can I abandon him like this?
My eyes press closed, and I think of Cassandra. I need her.
Her strength. Her intelligence. Her fire. I’d give anything in
the world to have her by my side at this moment.
But I’m on my own. I’ve known that from the first moment
she told me about the danger. Opening my eyes, I take a slow
breath. And I stand.
I let the pounding of my own heart fuel each step I take as
I leave my room and head down the stairs. The light from the
dining room glows on the polished marble floor of the entryway. The voices of Ned and the man from Cooper drift out into
the shadowy silence.
Breathe. That’s all I have to do. Keep breathing.
Ned’s voice rises above the other. Sharp. There’s an edge to it.
An edge of alarm. Of fear. Desperation. For a brittle, stinging
moment, I’m paralyzed. And then I’m running into the dining
room.
The two men are still at the table, but Ned and Jerome Smith
are standing, leaning forward, their hands pressed to the shiny
mahogany surface. Ned’s broad face is flushed, his eyes wild.
They turn to me.
At first, I’m not sure what exactly to say. I want to order
Jerome Smith out of the house, but I’m not a complete fool.
“I need to speak with you, Ned,” I manage.
“This isn’t the time, Lon,” he says harshly.
“It’s very important.”
Smith scowls. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“What are you implying?” Ned counters.
My pulse throbs in my temples. But Jerome Smith isn’t reaching for a hidden gun. He just seems confused and irritated by
my presence.
“I have to talk to you,” I say again to Ned. “You need to trust
me on this.”
“What could possibly be so important?” he asks, his face getting redder.
Smith pounds a fist on the table. “What kind of game are you
playing here, Foster?”
I turn to him, anger boiling over. “You’re the one playing
games, making out like you’re operating a respectable business
when really you’re a bunch of crooks.”
It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room.
Ned’s face now turns white as the wall. Smith stares at me.
“I know what you’re trying to do to my uncle,” I go on,
emboldened. “The threatening letters. The late-night visits
in old cars. It’s extortion, and we’re not going to stand for it
another moment.”
“Lawrence.” Ned’s voice is hard.
“It’s the truth, Ned,” I insist. “You may have a faint idea of
the kind of people who you’re dealing with, but I’ve looked
into them. I’ve learned terrible things—”
“This is all entirely amusing,” Smith says without a shred of
mirth in his face. “The kid here thinks we’re the crooked ones.”
I snap my gaze to his. “What do you mean by that?”
“Leave it, Smith,” Ned says, his eyes burning.
“The boy’s going into law. He ought to learn the meaning
of extortion.”
“Not another word,” Ned growls.
Smith continues, talking over him. “In fact, I’m starting
to wonder if you have more double-crossing tricks up your
sleeves, Ned.”
“What is he talking about?” I demand.
Smith scoffs loudly. “Your uncle never explained the terms of
this lovely little merger we have going on tomorrow?”
A coldness creeps into me, snuffing out the anger. Ned is
breathing hard. He avoids my gaze.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice broken.
Smith shakes his head. “Your uncle has been so deep in
debt for so long that he can’t see up from down anymore.
And it’s gambling debt no less. Pathetic. His coming to us is
the only thing keeping him from being eaten alive by collection agencies.”
My head’s spinning. The ringing in my ears has returned.
“Ned?”
“He’s as much of a crook as I am,” Smith sneers. “We’re only
taking him on because he’s made big promises. Put some big
collateral on the line. He’s apparently made some patched-up,
shady deal with unnamed entities. He won’t even tell me who.”
“A vicious lie,” Ned says, tearing his hand across the table.
His glass of water flies through the air, smashing against the
wall with a tremendous crash.
Smith points a threatening finger at Ned. “Don’t you dare try
to deny it.”
“I will deny it. You can’t bring your lies and filth into this
home any longer.”
“You’re a fool,” Smith growls. He shoves his chair to the side.
“I’m not staying here another minute. As of this moment, you
can consider the merger off.”
Ned’s eyes widen. “Wait.”
“Forget it. I’m not going to be played as a fool, Foster. I don’t
know what you’re up to, but I sure as hell don’t like it.”
He storms out of the room. Ned flies after him. “Smith! Wait!”
I’m stunned, but rush after them.
The front doors are open. I can hear Ned screaming at Jenkins
to start his car.
I’m alone in the center of the grand entryway. It’s dark, and
a cold wind from the open front doors blows in. Chills prickle
all over my body. The room seems to be spinning, but I know
I’m standing still. The threat on my life has never felt so real.
So raw.
And then, from the grandfather clock in the study, the chimes
of midnight ring out.
It’s Saturday. August 5. The day I will die.