Until We Meet Again (7 page)

I’m up early. I feel silly admitting it to myself, but I’m too
excited to sleep. It’s probably better to get out of the house
before everyone is up though. I’m sure Mom has noticed how
much time I’m spending on the beach. Better to minimize
her awareness. I’ll meet Lawrence and be back before she even
notices I was gone.

After picking out my favorite blue cotton dress, I pull my
hair back into a curly ponytail and head downstairs. But Mom’s
in the kitchen, pouring Eddie some cold cereal. I freeze in the
doorway, my plan foiled. Then I feel a pair of big, brown eyes
latch on me.

“Cass,” Eddie says, pointing his chubby toddler finger at me.
Traitor.
Mom looks surprised. “What are you doing up this early? I

thought teenagers were clinically dead before ten a.m. during
the summer.”
“Funny. You should consider a career in comedy.”
“One day I’ll live my dreams.” She motions to the kitchen.
“Do you want some breakfast? Frank’s going to fry some eggs.”
I shoot a darting glance to the backyard. “Actually, I was
thinking I would go for a run. Clear my head a little.”
Mom’s eyebrows rise. “You’re going for a run?”
“Yes. Don’t sound so incredulous.”
“Hey, I think it’s a great idea. Definitely. Give it a try. See
how you like it.”
I fold my arms, feeling defensive, even though we both know
I’m the least likely person on this planet to be a runner. “I really
am going to do it.”
“Wonderful. Then before you start, you should have some
breakfast. Let me make you some oatmeal.”
“Can’t. Don’t want to exercise on a full stomach.”
“At least take some fruit.”
Seeing that I must appease her motherly concern, I grab a
banana from the counter, peel it, and cram three bites into
my mouth.
“Satisfied?” I ask, my cheeks full of banana.
She smiles and I head off.
“Aren’t you going to change out of that dress?” Mom calls as
I disappear around the corner.
I could smack my forehead. Instead, I yell back in my most
confident voice, “I like exercising in dresses.”
I wince, waiting for her radar-like senses to pick up on the
abnormality of this. There’s a tense pause.
“Just make sure you have your pepper spray,” she calls.
I release a silent breath of relief. “Yep. I’ve got it. Love
you. Bye.”
When I finally hit the cool, salty air of the back patio, my
stomach does a little backflip. I’m way too eager. It’s truly lame.
But I’ll own that lameness today. Quite proudly. I jog down
the path. In spite of Mom’s skepticism, I probably could run a
marathon today. I have all the energy in the world.
But when I arrive at the beach, it’s empty. I scan down the
shore for any sign of him, but only the crashing waves move in
the stillness. I go down to the shore and touch the cool water.
The wind blows my hair and dress back lightly. This is good.
Now I’ll look ethereal and romantic when he comes.
After a few minutes, however, I start to get impatient posing
there. Where is he? I walk back up to the pathway, peering
through the green branches. But there’s nothing.
A sudden rustle of the branches makes my stomach leap into
my throat. The white seagull pushes out of the bushes and flutters away. I frown. It seems strange to see a gull there.
A sinking feeling comes over me. Something’s wrong…
Maybe it’s over. Maybe whatever anomaly of science or nature
allowed us to see each other has finally repaired itself. I stare
down the empty path, not breathing, as if I could will Lawrence
to come out with the sheer intensity of my desire. As if I could
call to him across a hundred years with only my heart.
Lawrence.
The bushes shiver with movement. Drawing in a sharp
breath, I rush forward.
“Lawrence?”
But then, right in the middle of the brush, I feel the strangest
tingle down my spine.
My ears prick up. The sound of faint footfalls, voices pierce
the wind. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I
spin around. My gaze canvasses the path behind me with swift
strokes. And then I see it. The muted glimmer of two forms.
They’re obviously from Lawrence’s time, but I’m not sure it’s
him. It could be anyone.
I have a split second to decide. Trying to pass them and run
back in the house seems like the safest option. But then the
forms get more defined and I impulsively dive back toward the
beach. Being seen by these strangers would be bad enough,
but having them see me materializing out of thin air would be
even worse.
I tumble forward onto the sand and scramble to get back
on my feet. My heart’s racing in my throat. I’m turning for
the point when a deep, male voice snaps, “Hey! What are you
doing out here?”

Looking over your shoulder while running on sand isn’t a
great idea. I trip and fly face-first to the ground.
“Cassandra!” Lawrence calls, rushing to my side. He helps
me up, brushing the sand from my shoulders with a look of
concern. “Are you all right?”
“Um, I’ll live.” My gaze shifts to the other man. He’s terrifyingly huge. Tall, with a big belly and jet-black hair. All the
blood in me runs cold.
“You know this girl?” the big man asks, coming over to us.
Lawrence retracts his hands suddenly, as if not wanting to be
seen touching me. “Sure,” he says with a forced tone. “She was
at the party the other night.”
He holds his hand out politely to help me stand. “Cassandra,
this is my Uncle Ned.”
The famous Uncle Ned. He looks way more intimidating
than how Lawrence described him. Both he and Lawrence
are dressed in expensive-looking suits, as if they are headed to
church or something.
“This is Cassandra,” Lawrence says to Ned, moving subtly
away from me as he speaks. “Cassandra… Can’t remember
your last name,” he adds with a laugh.
“It’s—” I start to answer, but Lawrence noticeably jumps to
speak over me.
“She lives up past the point. The summer crowd.” He turns
to me and there’s a flash of seriousness in his eyes. “Do you
have that card, Cassandra?”
My mind scrambles for a second, but I figure it’s best to play
along. “Yeah. I mean, yes.”
Lawrence nods. “Ned and I are about to leave, but I told him
you needed me to deliver your condolences.”
“Ex-exactly,” I stammer, hoping against hope that he doesn’t
expect me to know what he’s talking about. “Thanks again,
Lawrence.”
Ned’s eyes stay on me. I swallow hard. At least I’m wearing
a dress, not jean shorts and a tank top. Even still, I can’t help
feeling that Lawrence’s uncle knows I’m out of place. As if my
very presence screams: Not from 1925. But he couldn’t possibly know. Could he?
“I’ll see Cassandra down the beach,” Lawrence says casually.
“Won’t be long.”
“Of course,” Ned says. “But don’t dawdle, Lon. We don’t
want to be late.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ned hesitates, glancing back at me, but then heads toward
the house. His house, I guess. As it was in 1925.
As soon as he leaves, I release the breath I’ve been holding.
Lawrence says, “I’m sorry about that. I think we gave you quite
a scare.”
“Um, you could say that.”
“Ned can be a little gruff, but he’s a swell guy. Don’t worry
about him.”
But I am worried. It can’t be good that he saw me. Even if he
bought Lawrence’s story, it seems dangerous that I was seen by
someone from his time.
“Are you going to explain what you were talking about?”
In an instant, the brightness on Lawrence’s face vanishes. He
sighs. “We’re headed to a wake. Billy Howard died yesterday.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, I forget you wouldn’t know him.
He was a friend of mine. We weren’t close, but were both going
to start at Harvard in the fall.”
I set my hand on Lawrence’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a motor-car accident. He…well, Billy liked a good
party. I guess he was a little drunk, and he didn’t see the road
turn ahead…”
I shudder. “That’s awful.”
Lawrence turns his eyes to the sea. “I should have been there.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Lawrence. It’s not your—”
“No, I mean it. I was supposed to go with him, but I came
to meet you instead.”
My stomach drops. “Oh gosh.”
Lawrence goes on as if he hadn’t heard me. “I told him I
would go along. If I had, Billy wouldn’t have been driving that
car, I would have. And I would have made that turn, and—”
“You can’t think like that. It’ll make you crazy.”
“I know… I just…” Suddenly, Lawrence throws his arms
around me. He holds me tightly. I’d be thrilled at our first
embrace if my heart didn’t ache for him.
“I can’t stop picturing it,” he whispers.
I hug him back, setting my head on his shoulder. “It’s not
your fault. Sometimes bad things just happen.”
“I know. You’re right, but I still feel responsible.” He breaks
his grip. “Forgive me. I’ve felt low all morning.”
“I wish there was something I could do.”
“Meet me here later?”
“Are you sure you’ll be up for hanging out?”
“I’d like the distraction. Perhaps not tonight, as we’ll be comforting Billy’s family. But tomorrow night?” A sad half-smile
tugs at his lips. “I still need to give you your surprise.”
“Oh gosh, you don’t need to worry about that.”
“I want to.” He looks back down the path. “I should probably go now. Ned’s waiting. But I really do want to see you
tomorrow, if you’re willing.”
“Of course.”
Lawrence nods. “Until then.”
I sit on the beach after he leaves. I can’t shake the feeling of
foreboding hanging over me. I’m probably overthinking things,
as always. Death makes me squeamish. Aside from Nana dying
when I was six, the closest I’ve come to losing someone I love
was when Sarah McKay died of cancer in tenth grade. I didn’t
know her that well, but we were in choir together so her mom
asked a small group of us to sing at her funeral. I cried through
the entire thing. Not really sure why it affected me so much.
The uneasy mood hangs over me all day. There’s something
about what Lawrence told me. Something that’s not right,
although I can’t put my finger on what.
After dinner, I try to concentrate on reading when I hear the
doorbell ring. Mom answers. Her voice takes on that cheerful
“cool mom” tone, and I know the door’s for me. Frowning, I
set down my book and investigate.
Brandon Marks stands in the entryway, chatting Mom up
with a good-son grin. As I come in, he gives me a wink.
A wink. Okay…
“Here she is,” Mom says, smiling. “I’ll let you two chat.”
“Thanks, Amber.”
Um, since when are he and my mom on a first-name basis?
“Well, hello there,” Brandon says when she’s gone.
I raise an eyebrow. “Hi.”
“You’re not answering your phone. Did you lose it or
something?”
I wrack my brain to remember the last time I used it. When
your best friend is cavorting around Europe and your only
potential romantic interest lives eighty years before cell phones,
you don’t use yours much.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, glancing behind him. No
one else is waiting in the driveway. It’s just him.
Brandon leans against the door frame. “I told you. I couldn’t
get hold of you. I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d
swing by.”
“For…”
“Well, I wanted to ask you on a date.”
“A date,” I repeat.
Brandon gives a “Why on Earth wouldn’t I be asking you
out?” kind of smile. “I can get us into Mancuso’s,” he adds,
cocking his head triumphantly.
I glance past him again, looking to see if someone else is in
the car. “Oh, is this a double with Travis?”
Brandon frowns. “Travis?”
“Well, if anyone can get us into Mancuso’s, it’s him.”
“What are you talking about?”
I hold up my hands, defensively. “Hey, don’t be offended. It’s
no mark of superior character that his dad is better connected.
I’m merely making an observation.”
But Brandon is still confused. If anything, he looks more
puzzled. “Who are you talking about?”
I roll my eyes. “Um, Travis? You know, your best friend.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“Ha-ha,” I say deadpan. “You’re killing me, Brandon. Stop. I
might die from laughing.”
Brandon seems exasperated. “I’m not joking! Who’s Travis?
Does he live in Crest Harbor?”
“No, he’s actually from Outer Mongolia. That’s why he likes
to come here for summer vacations. All that yurt living can be
hard on the spine.”
Brandon just stares. I fold my arms across my chest.
“Where is Travis? Did he put you up to this? I bet your phone
is on right now, and he’s listening to every word, isn’t he? Hi,
Travis. Nice attempt, but try again.”
Now Brandon seems concerned. “Are you okay, Cass?”
“Excuse me?” I scoff.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up to show
me. It’s off.
“I’m not joking right,” he says slowly. “I don’t have any clue
who you’re talking about. I’m racking my brain, but the only
Travis I know is my eight-year-old nephew, and I don’t think
you mean him.”
He seems completely sincere. I never took Brandon for much
of an actor. He’s either improved a thousand percent or he has
shortterm
amnesia.
I stare hard at him. “You’re telling me that you don’t know
Travis Howard?”
The moment I say his full name, a light snaps on in my brain.
That’s it! That’s what was bothering me about my conversation with Lawrence this morning. His friend who died…his
last name was Howard.
The air in the room suddenly feels thin. There’s a faint ringing
in my ears.
“Travis Howard,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Never heard of him.”
I take a staggering step backwards. My lungs suddenly seem
incapable of drawing in a breath. Then a thought comes to me,
and the only thing that matters is getting to my phone. I make
a beeline for the stairs.
“Cass?” Brandon runs after me. “What are you doing?”
I don’t respond. My mind is racing so fast that I can’t grab on
to a single thought. My cell phone sits on my desk. I grab it and
turn it on. Brandon comes to my doorway, his brow furrowed.
“Are you okay? Cass, talk to me.”
I swipe a hand at him to make him shut up. “I have a picture
of Travis. From the night we jumped the Andersons’ fence.”
“That was just me and you, Cass.”
“No,” I say firmly. “Travis was there. We took a picture. I’ll
prove it to you.”
Fingers trembling, I slide through my photos. A few pictures
of Eddie. Some shots of me looking bored that I sent to Jade.
A picture of the house exterior from when we first came here.
And then…I’m back in Ohio, waving to Jade at the airport.
Frowning, I scan through the pictures. It was there. It was right
there. The selfie we took in front of the fence. Travis put his
arm around me. I made an ironic thumbs up gesture.
It’s gone.
“It was here,” I say, my voice weak. “I had…I had a picture
of him.”
Brandon comes cautiously into my room. “Cass. I don’t know
what you’re talking about. That night, it was just you and me.
I’ve never even heard of a Travis Howard. I think you might be
confusing him with someone you knew in Ohio.”
I shake my head. “No.
No
.” I scan through the pictures again.
Nothing. No texts. His name is missing from my contacts.
With a trembling hand, I pull up Facebook. The only Travis
Howards are people I’ve never met. He’s gone. There’s no trace
of him.
I look up and back away from Brandon. “This can’t be
happening.”
He stares at me, concerned and weirded out. “What’s going
on, Cass? You’re super pale all the sudden.”
The floor feels unsteady beneath me. Dinner suddenly rises
in my stomach.
“I want you to leave,” I say, backing up.
“Cass—”
“Now.…please.”
He puts up his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll take off, let you
sort this out. Can I call you later?”
I don’t respond. He nods and turns to go.
What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to think?
I need
to calm down. I’m probably overreacting. I’m sure there is a
perfectly good explanation for all of this.
Glancing at my phone again, I run downstairs. Mom’s in
the library, sitting at the computer with her reading glasses on.
When I burst in, she looks up, with motherly concern.
“Cass?”
“Travis Howard,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“I can’t find a picture of Travis that I took on my phone. Did
you…delete it or something?”
Mom frowns. “No, I haven’t touched your phone.”
“But you know who Travis is, right?”
Her lips twist to the side in thought. “Is he from around here
or back in Ohio?”
The floor feels unsteady. “Mom, Travis. Brandon’s best friend?
Tall, blue eyes? Only child of the Howards?”
Mom shakes her head. “And I know them?”
“They came to your party! Don’t you remember? They
brought you that über-expensive bottle of wine that you and
Frank were gushing over.”
“Well…” She’s trying really hard.
“You can’t honestly not know who I’m talking about,” I say.
There’s a tremor in my voice. “You’ve met him at least five times
this summer. He’s come to the house.”
Her silence says everything I need to know. I drop into one of
the deep maroon armchairs to keep from falling over. This can’t
be happening. It’s impossible.
But Lawrence’s voice echoes in my ears. Billy Howard died
yesterday. It can’t be. It can’t.
“What’s wrong, Cass?” Mom’s voice sounds fuzzy. It’s like I’m
listening to her with my head underwater. I rise to my feet and
stagger out of the room .