but I don’t say as much. Maybe because a part of me wants to
keep up our conversation and the long hike along the shore will
do just that.
But as I’d thought, the other trail is no different. After more
than two hours of walking, we end up back on the beach.
Lawrence brings some sandwiches and fruit from his house—or
my house, I guess—and we eat on the sand.
“So, I guess this is it,” Lawrence says, taking a bite of apple. “I
can only see you here on this beach. Nowhere else.”
I nod. “It’s weird. Like some cosmic force is trying to keep us
apart. I guess this is the universe’s way of telling me I’d make a
really awful flapper.”
In spite of my joking around, the strange sadness of the situation pricks at me.
Lawrence rotates his apple in front of him, examining it. “Who
knows? Maybe the universe is trying to bring us together.”
I look at him sidelong. His dark brown eyes meet mine,
unembarrassed by his words. I try to play it cool.
“Saying stuff like that doesn’t do anything to refute my ‘this
is all an elaborate scheme to ask me out’ theory.”
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.