Until We Meet Again(30)

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?”





Chapter 11





Cassandra


’m caught. I’m seriously screwed. In a panic, I make a

I

break for it, sprinting.

And then a voice rushes through my body like tingling heat.

“Cassandra?”



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