Until We Meet Again

by Renee Collins

  I trudge up the steps into the main wing of the library. As I reach the top step, my eyes fall on a painting hung across the way. Light from the sunroom above has illuminated the painting despite the nearly hidden obscurity of its placement.

  I can’t say why, but I find myself walking toward it. It’s a painting of a beach—not exactly our beach, but similar. Above the indigo water, a full moon glows. The light from the moon paints over the ocean and the shore in a thick band. Something about that moon pricks at my brain.

  Wasn’t it a full moon when I met Lawrence? In my mind, I picture it. I remember a pulse of light that seemed to flash across the waves, but I’m not sure if that really happened or if it was a dream. That whole first meeting feels like a movie that I watched happen to someone else.

  I stare at the painting for a moment before leaving, a strange, disconcerted feeling coiling around me. As I walk through the automatic doors of the library’s main exit, I toss another glance back at the painting. The pale circle of the moon in the painting stands out across endless shelves and stacks of books between.

  Walking to my car, I pull out my phone and type “next full moon” into my Google app. A little moon icon pops up, along with the information.

  The next full moon is August 6.

  I draw in a sharp breath. August 6. The day after Lawrence is supposed to be killed. I stop in my tracks. What does it mean?

  I need to go home and get some food in my system. I’m seriously starting to crack.

  As I drive away, however, I can’t help but feel that this is all somehow significant.

  Chapter 22

  Cassandra

  Dinner has never lasted so long. Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. Frank’s up to his usual corny humor, and Eddie is his always adorable self. But all I can think about is Lawrence. The anxiety has been building all day. I have to see him soon or I’m going to go genuinely insane.

  I’m almost done helping Mom clean up from dinner when Frank marches in, holding Candyland like a waiter presenting a gourmet dish.

  “Who’s up for an epic journey through a land of sweets and lollies and wonder?” he trumpets.

  Eddie cheers. “Me! Me! Me!”

  I ruffle his hair. “I’m afraid I’m going to pass. That Molasses Swamp really freaks me out.”

  “Nice try, Cass,” Mom says, wiping her hands dry on a kitchen towel. “We agreed on some family time tonight.”

  “And we just had a nice dinner together.”

  “You’re playing a round of Candyland,” she says, calm and unyielding. “Not another word about it.”

  Eddie bounces in his seat. “Sit by me, Cassie!”

  My gaze darts to the back door. I envision Lawrence waiting for me. Resistance boils inside me. But I can’t afford any more of Mom’s suspicion. I spread a tight smile across my face.

  “Candyland it is.”

  After three rounds, all of which Eddie magically wins (because Frank cheats), they finally release me to “go to bed.” Following last night’s procedure, I wait until I hear the click of Mom and Frank’s bedroom door before sneaking down the stairs and out the back.

  I sprint toward the beach, certain that gravity will stop working at any second and I’ll take off like a rocket. Ahead, I catch sight of the path. A sight I’ve come to love. But tonight, I feel dread. An inexplicable urgency crackles through me. Too much time has passed without seeing Lawrence. Anything could have happened in the last twenty-four hours.

  My lungs burning in my chest, I slam through the scratchy branches. The pound of surf and salty taste of ocean rushes over me.

  Lawrence is lying on the wet sand by the shore break. Black waves tipped in foam wash over his motionless body.

  My heart stops. The ground seems to fall out beneath my feet. I’m propelled forward in shock.

  I’m too late. He’s gone.

  But then he sits up. His eyes connect with mine, and he smiles easily. “There you are.”

  I skid to a stop. “You’re…not dead.”

  He laughs a little. “Not for five days, remember?” Then he stands. “Are you all right?”

  “You scared the crap out of me. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been today?”

  With a concerned frown, he takes me in his arms. “I’m sorry. But I’m all right. See?” He hugs me tightly. “Flesh and blood. Alive as can be.”

  I press my face into his neck. The shock of thinking Lawrence was dead sends shivers through me. But I won’t talk about it. I can only imagine what’s going on in his head lately. No need to add any dark thoughts to the mix.

  “Never mind,” I say, hugging him. Only then do I notice he’s wet. I pull back. “Were you swimming? In your clothes?”

  He shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “I got bored waiting for you.”

  “I have never met someone so enamored with the ocean.”

  “Like I said, it’s good for the soul.” He takes my hands. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  His skin feels cold. Like dead flesh. A chill runs through me.

  “Lawrence—”

  “I’ll hold on to you the whole time,” he promises, pulling me toward the water. “And we won’t go deep.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Aw, don’t be a scared Susan. The water’s cold but bearable.”

  “No,” I say, pulling out of his grip. He stops at the sharpness in my tone. I close my eyes, my pulse still racing. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I just don’t think I can have a good time until I know you’re going to be okay.”

  Lawrence exhales. “Cassandra…”

  “No,” I say. “We have to work. Now, tell me what happened today.”

  A shadow crosses Lawrence’s face.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re not going to like it,” he says.

  His ominous tone makes my stomach twist. “Tell me.”

  Lawrence smooths his wet hair back. “Charles and I did a little digging around a Cooper Enterprises warehouse. We saw…things.”

  “What things?” I demand, grabbing him.

  “I don’t want you to worry any more than you already are.”

  “Are you crazy? This is important. Tell me now, Lawrence.”

  He scratches the back of his neck. “We saw…a man being executed. Shot in the head behind the warehouse.”

  Ice spreads through my chest. “Are you serious?”

  He nods grimly. “We barely escaped.”

  My fingers dig into his arm. “You mean you were noticed?”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds—”

  “What are you talking about? Of course it’s bad! These people are dangerous, and you being seen by them…”

  My voice drops away, lost in the heaviness of the implication. Could Lawrence have just created his own fate? Or sealed it?

  Judging by look on his face, I’d say Lawrence has already trudged down this dark road. I pull him into a hug. Seeing him this way makes my heart burst with a mix of sorrow and determination.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say firmly. “It’s pretty clear that someone at Cooper Enterprises is responsible for…” I can’t say the words. I pull away, heading for the house. “Jerome Smith. That was his name, right? I’ll go look him up right now.”

  Lawrence grabs my hand. “Don’t.”

  When I turn, his gaunt fear brings tears to my eyes.

  “Don’t leave me yet,” he says, his voice soft, almost as if he’s ashamed of the request. My heart breaks.

  I fall into his arms and he closes me in a tight embrace. He holds me as if I’m his lifeline, as if I’m the lone railing that will keep him from pitching over the edge of a cliff. I hold him, overwhelmed by the heaviness of my task. Can I save him? Is there really a chance, or are we just kidding ourselves?

  Lawr
ence releases a trembling breath into my neck. “Would you think less of me if I told you I was afraid?”

  “How could you not be? I’m afraid too, Lawrence. So afraid.”

  His grip tightens. He’s nearly squeezing the breath out of me. “I don’t want to die.”

  Then suddenly he releases me. His expression is desolate as he stares out over the black, rolling waves.

  “Forgive me, Cassandra. I don’t mean to burden you with these thoughts. I should bear this alone. Like a man.”

  I grab his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “You listen to me. We’re in this together. Understand? I’m not giving up on you. And you shouldn’t give up either. I was sent here to save you. I’m going to figure out who wants to kill you so we can save your life, and then we can be together.”

  I listen to myself and a dry laugh escapes. “Trust me, I would never be this cheesy if I didn’t truly believe what I’m saying.”

  He pulls away. “Maybe you shouldn’t believe,” he says quietly.

  I’m stung by his words. “What?”

  “It’s a fairy tale, Cassandra.”

  “Oh, is it? And what about this?” I motion to him and me and the beach. I take his hand and press it to my cheek. “What about this?”

  He stares into my eyes, as if grasping for the thin strands of hope I’m offering. He sets his other hand on my cheek. I press my hands over his.

  “If we can see each other,” I say. “If we can touch each other with almost a hundred years separating us, how can you think it’s a fairy tale that I’m meant to save you? It’s fate, Lawrence. It’s destiny. We’re meant to be together. You need to believe that.”

  “I want to believe.”

  “You have to believe it. It’s the only chance we have.”

  He exhales shakily. “Cassandra.”

  His lips press mine, firmly, hungrily, desperately. I meet his with equal force.

  We stay there, locked in an embrace. Our kisses are a prayer of hope and longing. A desperate prayer to whatever force has brought us to this beach. A prayer to match the beauty and certainty of the waves that crash against our feet.

  Chapter 23

  Lawrence

  Another sleepless night. Perhaps plain old exhaustion is what will kill me in four days.

  But honestly, how am I supposed to lay my head on that pillow and drift away as if I know nothing? I’m staring death in the face. Sleep isn’t really an option.

  Last night, however, it wasn’t despair and fear that kept me awake. It was visions of Cassandra. In the black hours of predawn, I walked the empty halls of my uncle’s house, wondering how I deserved such an angel in my life. My delivering angel.

  She can save me. I feel it in my very core, hope twisting and thrumming and alive in my heart. Why else is all this happening? I’ve never been one to think much about fate or divine plans, but Cassandra’s theory is starting to seem more and more plausible.

  And so early morning finds me awake and dressed with no place to go. Cassandra insisted she spend the day researching Cooper Enterprises. I still can’t picture this “Internet” and “microfilm” she talks about. Sounds like a bunch of horsefeathers, if you ask me. But she seems to think it can help. I suppose I have no other choice but to trust her.

  After grabbing a quick breakfast, I hop in my car and go for a long drive. It’s supposed to clear my head, but it doesn’t. All I can think about is Cassandra, about what would happen if we cheat death. Is it really possible that she could travel into my world, or I into hers? Such thoughts seem almost ridiculous to entertain.

  But what if?

  As I whir past the rocky cliffs and ocean, I picture a future with Cassandra. With her by my side, I’d keep writing. I’d tell my old man that I don’t want to be a lawyer. I’d break free from the carefully sculpted life that’s already been built for me and seek some brilliant, gleaming, unknown horizon. With Cassandra, I could do it.

  I find myself on the overlook where Charles likes to take his latest squeeze late at night. The thought makes me grin. Parking my car, I step out to survey the view. It’s much more spectacular in the daylight, but I suppose that’s not really the point.

  Leaning against the craggy stone wall, I conjure up visions of Cassandra. What would it be like to take her by the hand and lead her off the beach? See what she looks like eating breakfast in the sunny kitchen, her hair mussed from sleep? I want to take her to the opera and hold her hand as the lovers sing their final duet. I want to lie beside her in my bed and take her in my arms as we fall asleep to the serenade of crickets.

  My breath trembles at these yearnings I cannot quell. I watch a pair of white gulls soaring high on the salty wind. They weave together in the radiant sky, crying out to the eternities. How is it that these birds can be together, but Cassandra and I can’t?

  A determination, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt, overcomes me. I won’t live without her. By the time I get back to Ned’s house, my dreams have filled me with a wild, pure energy. It channels into a single thought: the future.

  Ned calls for me as I come inside, but I’m on a mission. I go straight for my room and burst through the door. I drop to my knees by my bureau. Hidden in folds of trousers in the bottom drawer, I find it. A small wooden box. And inside that, my mother’s ring.

  In the late-afternoon sunlight, the sapphire looks like a small star pinched between my fingers. A dozen tiny rainbows dance on the carefully cut lines, casting light around the room. It’s perfect. Holding the ring, I feel a pang of sorrow. I wish Mother could have met Cassandra. She would have loved her sharp wit and carefree energy. The two are alike in many ways.

  This was the first piece of jewelry my father gave my mother. They were too young to marry but still deeply in love. When Father went away to Europe on holiday, he gave it to Mother as a token of his undying affection in spite of the hundreds of miles between them. Mother always cherished it. Sometimes I think she loved it even more than the large diamond engagement ring that came a few years later.

  A shadow falls over me, muting the ring’s shine. “Why, Lawrence. For me?”

  There’s no mirth in Fay’s tone. When I glance over my shoulder, her eyes are as dark as storm clouds. Her legs are planted defiantly. She’s completely lost her carefully perpetuated persona of sensuality. I stand to face her.

  “Do you have anything to say to me?” she asks, venom simmering in her voice.

  What can I possibly say? She’d reject the truth even more than any weak excuse I could provide. I should have anticipated that this moment might come. Sooner or later, I am going to have to address Ned’s crazy idea that Fay and I are engaged. But now I’m at a loss for words.

  Her lip curls with distaste. “Nothing, huh? You seem to have plenty to say when I’m not around.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  She stomps to my desk and yanks open the drawer. “I did some reading while I was waiting for you.” She grabs a handful of my writings. The pages crinkle in her clenched fist. “Care to explain this?”

  I grab her wrist. “Let go of those.”

  “You let go,” she says. She struggles out of my grip, bringing her freed hand across my cheek with a hard slap.

  I tense my jaw against the smarting pain. “I suppose I deserved that.”

  “I’ll say you did,” she snaps, her eyes welling with angry tears. “You’ve been giving me the runaround for weeks. And now I know why.”

  “I’m truly sorry if I hurt your feelings. However, you had no right to read my personal papers.”

  “I’m your fiancée!”

  “You’re not. No matter what agreement you and my uncle have come to.”

  “Who is she?” she shouts. “Who is this girl you’ve been seeing behind my back? Who is this Cassandra?”

  I’ve never seen her like this. Fay’s alwa
ys so cool and in control. Always seductive and smiling. Always seeming to have the upper hand. She’s beside herself now. And I can’t help but feel that it’s not just about me jilting her.

  I touch her arm. “Fay—”

  “Take your hands off me, you cad!”

  “You need to calm down.”

  “I won’t!” She pulls away, panting with rage. For a moment, she looks like she might strike me again, but instead she storms for the door.

  I step in front of her, blocking her way. “Why are you so upset?”

  “Why do you think, you idiot? I just found out my beau has been running around with some floozy.”

  “Don’t lie to yourself. This isn’t about me. You don’t want to marry me, Fay. You never have.”

  “Proves what you know,” she snaps, but her eyes won’t meet mine. Her discomfort with even the slightest questioning of her motives sharpens my suspicion.

  “I don’t know anything about you,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I’ve never known anything concrete.” She tries to shove past me, but I don’t let her pass. “I had an interesting conversation with my aunt the other day. She seemed pretty convinced that you’re a born-and-raised New Yorker, Lower East Side.”

  Fay’s stare meets mine. She’s speechless for a moment before she retorts, “Your aunt is nutty as a fruitcake.”

  “She knows someone who knows you.”

  Fay sniffs. “Is that right?”

  “Jeffery Duncan. He says you’re staying at his house for the summer.”

  “Never heard of him,” she says, trying to get past me.

  I block her again. “I always did find it strange that I’d never heard of any Cartwrights in Crest Harbor. That I never met your loving parents. Was never invited to brunch or supper or even tea. The fiancé of their only child, and I never so much as bumped into them at a party.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” Fay says. “You’ve cracked.”

  “And speaking of parties,” I say, talking over her. “What about the other night at Ned’s party? Who was the man? Why did you tell him to watch us?”