Until We Meet Again (14 page)

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 smoothes 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 a 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?
Lawrence 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.

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 meet 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’d 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 takes 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 always 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?”
“I don’t know who he is.”
“You’re lying. Is he your lover, Fay? You two were standing
awfully close in the library,” I say.
She shakes her head, looking bitterly amused. “You’re unbelievable, Lawrence. He’s my brother. He’s been away on family
business. He came to visit me.”
I’m speechless. Fay thinks she’s proven me wrong. Little does
she know. All I can think of is what Hank told me before he
stumbled away drunk. All them Cartelli brothers look the same.
“Your brother,” I say carefully.
“Yes,” she affirms with a toss of her head.
Somehow, I don’t think she’s lying about this. Looking back,
I can see the resemblance.
“Your brother,” I repeat.
“Like I said,” Fay snaps. “Some of us are faithful. Some of us
wouldn’t dream of running around with anybody else.”
“If he’s your brother, then why is his last name Cartelli? Is
that your real name? Fay Cartelli?”
The color drains from Fay’s cheeks. Her eyes widen. Her lips
part, but for a moment, no words come out. Then, with a firm
shake of her head, Fay’s rage returns.
“Ridiculous!” “Is it?”
“Don’t you dare try and change the subject, Lawrence. We’re
not talking about me. We were talking about you and your nogood philandering.”
“How can I be faithful to you when I don’t even know you?”
It’s a low blow, perhaps, but not untrue. In the couple of weeks
that I’ve known Cassandra, I feel like I understand her better
than I ever have Fay.
“I’ve given you everything!” she shouts.
“Only your kiss. Never your heart. You keep me at a distance.
It’s like you don’t want me to know who you really are. Maybe
because you’re really Fay Cartelli from New York. Why, Fay?
Why are you pretending to be someone else?”
She pushes me with all her strength. “Let me past, you big
brute.”
“Please. I want to talk about this.”
“No!”
“I’m begging you.”
She shakes her head, but tears roll down her cheeks. “Leave
me alone!”
I’ve never seen her cry. Not even so much as a glassy eye. The
sight shocks me. Fay lowers her face, her shoulders shaking
with sobs. Stunned by this show of emotion, I fold her into an
embrace. She allows it, though I can feel the tension in her body.
When she calms, I ease her back and gently lift her chin so that
her tear-filled eyes are level with mine. She looks conflicted, scared.
I brush my fingers along her cheek, wiping away the streaks of
kohl. She’s undeniably beautiful. It’s not that we didn’t have some
good times this summer. I feel like somewhat of a cad for hurting
her. I don’t want things to end like this. I take her hand.
“Tell me one true thing, Fay. Just one thing.”
She searches my gaze, as if analyzing what to say. And then,
all at once, her face hardens.
“I’ll tell you one true thing,” she says, her voice low. “You’ll
be sorry for the way you treated me, Lawrence Foster. Mark
my words.”
Glaring, she pushes past me, and this time I let her go.