Until We Meet Again(25)
He raises a sly eyebrow. “So far, I’d say my plan is working
pretty well.”
I bump him with my elbow, pressing down a smile.
He grins and takes another bite of his apple. “I do have one
other theory to try out… I don’t know if you’re up for it.”
“If it involves me taking off my clothes, you can forget it.”
He looks both shocked and amused by my words. I guess it’s
a pretty racy joke for a 1920s kid.
“Tell me your theory,” I say, redirecting the conversation.
“Well…what if this all has something to do with the ocean?
The currents. The tides.”
I look out at the water, considering this. “It does have a certain logical symbolism to it. What are you thinking?”
“What if we swim out and see how far we can go?”
“You really like swimming, don’t you?”
“Yes, but it’s not that. I really think there might be something
to this.”
I consider for a moment. I’m not the strongest swimmer. But
something about his theory intrigues me.
“It’s worth a try, I guess.”
“Excellent.” He stands. “Let’s run put on our swim clothes.
Meet you here in five minutes.”
“Aha! So it does involve me undressing!”
Lawrence laughs. “Aw, go change, would ya?”
We walk together through the bushes until he vanishes. My
stomach twists as I watch him fade to nothing. Even though
we’ve tested it a dozen times, I can’t help but worry that this
dematerializing was the last, and that this weird crack in time
will close forever.
I rush up to my room, wanting to get back to the beach as
soon as possible. Tugging out my overstuffed drawer, I survey
my pathetic selection of swimwear. I settle on a black bikini,
toss on my swim dress, and run downstairs. As my hand brushes
down the banister, it sinks in that Lawrence is here. Right now.
Separated by almost a hundred years. The thought quickens my
heartbeat. I try to calm down on the walk back to the beach.
Lawrence is waiting for me in those adorably short, vintage
swim trunks of his.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep.” I pull off my swim dress. “Ready.”
Lawrence’s eyes widen a little. “Holy Toledo,” he says
breathlessly.
I guess a bikini is also scandalous for the 1920s. This awareness pleases me.
“Fashion changes a lot over the next hundred years,” I say.
“You ain’t kiddin’.”
“Okay, Lawrence, eyeballs back in sockets.”
He grins. “For some reason, I’m more anxious than ever to
try to travel to your time.”
I whack his arm.
We wade out together, wobbling a little on the rocks under
our bare feet, but soon it’s deep enough to swim. The water
is cold and goose bumps rise on my skin. The current pulls
against me like a promise. Waves bob us up and down, slapping
lightly against our shoulders.
“This probably isn’t the best time to say that I’m not a great
swimmer,” I call over the rush of surf.
A warm, firm hand wraps around mine. Lawrence smiles.
“I’ll watch out for you.”
We swim on. Soon my feet can no longer touch the bottom.
A dark feeling settles over me. This is not good. Who knows
what could be swimming around beneath my feet, watching
me from below?
“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.