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
a scare.”
“Um, you could say that.”
“Ned can be a little gruff, but he’s a swell guy. Don’t worry
about him.”
But I am worried. It can’t be good that he saw me. Even if he
bought Lawrence’s story, it seems dangerous that I was seen by
someone from his time.
“Are you going to explain what you were talking about?”
In an instant, the brightness on Lawrence’s face vanishes. He
sighs. “We’re headed to a wake. Billy Howard died yesterday.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, I forget you wouldn’t know him.
He was a friend of mine. We weren’t close, but were both going
to start at Harvard in the fall.”
I set my hand on Lawrence’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a motor-car accident. He…well, Billy liked a good
party. I guess he was a little drunk, and he didn’t see the road
turn ahead…”
I shudder. “That’s awful.”
Lawrence turns his eyes to the sea. “I should have been there.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Lawrence. It’s not your—”
“No, I mean it. I was supposed to go with him, but I came
to meet you instead.”
My stomach drops. “Oh gosh.”
Lawrence goes on as if he hadn’t heard me. “I told him I
would go along. If I had, Billy wouldn’t have been driving that
car, I would have. And I would have made that turn, and—”
“You can’t think like that. It’ll make you crazy.”
“I know… I just…” Suddenly, Lawrence throws his arms
around me. He holds me tightly. I’d be thrilled at our first
embrace if my heart didn’t ache for him.
“I can’t stop picturing it,” he whispers.
I hug him back, setting my head on his shoulder. “It’s not
your fault. Sometimes bad things just happen.”
“I know. You’re right, but I still feel responsible.” He breaks
his grip. “Forgive me. I’ve felt low all morning.”
“I wish there was something I could do.”
“Meet me here later?”
“Are you sure you’ll be up for hanging out?”
“I’d like the distraction. Perhaps not tonight, as we’ll be comforting Billy’s family. But tomorrow night?” A sad half-smile tugs at his lips. “I still need to give you your surprise.”
“Oh gosh, you don’t need to worry about that.”
“I want to.” He looks back down the path. “I should probably go now. Ned’s waiting. But I really do want to see you tomorrow, if you’re willing.”
“Of course.”
Lawrence nods. “Until then.”
I sit on the beach after he leaves. I can’t shake the feeling of
foreboding hanging over me. I’m probably overthinking things,
as always. Death makes me squeamish. Aside from Nana dying
when I was six, the closest I’ve come to losing someone I love
was when Sarah McKay died of cancer in tenth grade. I didn’t
know her that well, but we were in choir together so her mom
asked a small group of us to sing at her funeral. I cried through
the entire thing. Not really sure why it affected me so much.
The uneasy mood hangs over me all day. There’s something