Until We Meet Again

by Renee Collins

  “Mom!”

  She points to the house, a clear command. She can’t do this to me. Not today, of all days. Lawrence and I need to spend every minute crafting a plan for tomorrow. I won’t abandon him. I can’t.

  “Move it, Cass,” Mom says. “You’re just making things worse for yourself.”

  A wild, fierce energy wells up in my chest, and I want to scream, “You can’t make me!” Eddie does that all the time. Maybe I should give it a try. Or maybe I just make a break for it. Hide out until she gives up looking for me.

  I think of Lawrence, of how much he needs me, and I take a slow breath to calm myself. For him, I will show control. If I play my cards right with Mom, we can work this out. And then I can get back to the beach. Lowering my gaze penitently, I head into the house.

  Mom follows me all the way up into my room. I sit on my bed, trying to think of the perfect, humble thing to say.

  “I expected so much more from you, Cass.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough. It’s going to take time to earn back my trust.”

  She starts to close the door but pauses. “Oh, and while we’re on the subject, there’s no way you’re staying home tomorrow.”

  “What?”

  “You’re coming on the sailing trip. I’m going to keep a close watch on you. Whoever this boy is, he can fend for himself tomorrow.”

  No. No. This isn’t happening. I jump to my feet, staring at Mom in complete horror. But she’s unmoved. Without flinching, she pulls the door shut. With a harsh bang, I’m sealed in my room.

  And Lawrence is on his own.

  Chapter 29

  Lawrence

  How would you spend your last day on earth? It’s a popular party game to ask around a circle. I can’t remember now what I’ve said. I’d never imagined I’d spend my last hours on the beach.

  Waiting.

  It’s been hours, but she still hasn’t come back. Watching the sun set slowly on my final day, it hits me that she might not come back at all. Maybe she got into more trouble than I thought. Maybe she’s sick or hurt. Maybe the strain of trying to save me became too much, and she left forever. Moved on to less bizarre, more uncomplicated relationships.

  I want her back. It’s more than I can bear. I’m exhausted from the desperate loneliness of waiting here, staring at the bushes, yearning for her to come.

  And then, at long last, I hear the rustle of branches. My heart leaps into my throat. I spring to my feet.

  But it isn’t Cassandra. It’s Aunt Eloise. I feel like I’ve been thrown against a wall and shattered into a million pieces.

  “There you are, Lonnie!” she cries. “Ned’s been looking everywhere for you! How long have you been out here?”

  I’m so disappointed I can hardly speak. “Not long.”

  Eloise bustles over to me, frowning deeply. “I was hoping you’d help me get things ready for your uncle’s party tomorrow.” She looks me over. “Are you all right? You’re quite pale.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, but I can’t even manage a forced smile to assuage her concern.

  Her frown deepens. She reaches out and puts her hand to my forehead. “I believe you’re ill, Lon. Come inside and rest.”

  “I’ll be all right. I’d like to stay out here and think a little more.”

  Eloise stammers. “Well, you can’t. It’s suppertime. I have to be heading back home, you know.”

  “I’m sorry I missed your visit today,” I say, the words falling from my lips with no conviction.

  “Well, Ned has someone he wants you to meet.”

  I swallow my frustration with Aunt Eloise. She isn’t trying to be tedious. I have no intention of eating tonight, but I can see that she’s not going to leave me alone until I come inside. With a sigh, I head back to the house. Eloise struggles to keep up with my pace.

  “Better go in and freshen up, Lon,” she says. “He’s a very important guest for your uncle. Businessman. A bigwig, Ned says.”

  I stop in my tracks and Eloise nearly crashes into me. “Jerome Smith?”

  Eloise blinks, startled. “What?”

  “Ned’s guest,” I say, speaking carefully so she’ll understand the gravity of the question. “Is he a bigwig from Cooper Enterprises?”

  “I believe so. You know I don’t follow those kinds of things, Lonnie. I can barely keep up with Ned’s dinner conversations.”

  She motions me back inside. The house looms ahead, glowing through the darkness of night. It’s inviting and lovely. And yet my feet plant in the grass. My knees are locked, and a persistent ringing sound is growing louder in my ears. A chill I can’t shake rushes over my entire body.

  So it begins.

  We enter the house. I walk Aunt Eloise to the door, perhaps to stall the inevitable. But once she’s on her way home, I have no choice. I have to face whatever this night will bring. Each step feels like something out of a strange, shadowy dream. I can hear Ned and his guest talking. Their voices sound cordial enough, but my stomach crawls. I move stiffly into the dining room.

  I expect to see the heartless assassin from the warehouse, but Jerome Smith looks quite normal. He’s older, with a thick, white mustache and an expensive suit. He appears rich and snobbish, not evil. And yet as I enter the room and he looks up, I catch the distinct glint of hardness in his eyes. This is a man capable of murder.

  “Ah, there he is!” Ned bellows. I can see his tense mood in the beading sweat on his brow, in his cheerless, tight smile. I can hear it in his overly loud voice. “Lonnie, my boy, we’ve been waiting for you.”

  I can barely mumble a weak apology as I take a seat at the long table. My eyes are fixed on Ned. Why is he so on edge? Does he know the truth about Cooper Enterprises?

  “This is Jerome Smith,” Ned says, motioning to the mustached man. Then he motions back to me. “My nephew, Lawrence. He’s the one I was telling you about. Has quite the promising career ahead. He’ll be in a top firm in New York. Very soon!”

  “Once I finish college and law school,” I explain.

  Jerome Smith clips a look to Ned, and he nods. “Of course! Of course that’s right.”

  I’ve never seen my uncle so nervous. He must know the kind of danger he’s in.

  I picture the whole scenario. A dinner-table confrontation. Shouts. A gun is pulled. Aimed for Ned. I jump in the way. A bullet pierces through my chest, lodging somewhere near my heart.

  But Cassandra’s article said I die on the beach tomorrow. So, maybe I crawl out there with my dying strength, in hope of saying good-bye.

  Nausea sweeps over me like a cold wave. Such dark, terrible thoughts. I look at Ned and Jerome Smith, and realize that the conversation has gone on. I can see their mouths move, but the only sound is this darn ringing in my ears.

  I push my fingertips into my eyes. All this picturing of how I die is enough to drive me completely mad.

  A hand comes down on my arm, startling me to consciousness. It’s Jerome Smith. His brow is furrowed.

  “I say, son. Are you quite all right?”

  His hand is like a red-hot brand on my skin. I jump to my feet. The dizziness nearly overtakes me.

  “I’m not well.” I pull the words from somewhere in my rapidly constricting throat. And then I turn and run. I run until I reach my room and slam and lock the door. Breathing hard, I press my back to it and slide to the floor.

  I stay there for a solid hour. But even as I sit still and breathe, my pulse doesn’t slow. Air still feels heavy and scarce in my lungs. My hands tremble.

  Each tick of the second hand circling the clock pricks me like a pin. Each stab of pain makes me hate myself more and more. I’m afraid. So afraid. But I can’t be a coward. Ned is in danger. How can I abandon him like this?

  My eyes press closed, and I think of Cassandra. I need h
er. Her strength. Her intelligence. Her fire. I’d give anything in the world to have her by my side at this moment.

  But I’m on my own. I’ve known that from the first moment she told me about the danger. Opening my eyes, I take a slow breath. And I stand.

  I let the pounding of my own heart fuel each step I take as I leave my room and head down the stairs. The light from the dining room glows on the polished marble floor of the entryway. The voices of Ned and the man from Cooper drift out into the shadowy silence.

  Breathe. That’s all I have to do. Keep breathing.

  Ned’s voice rises above the other. Sharp. There’s an edge to it. An edge of alarm. Of fear. Desperation. For a brittle, stinging moment, I’m paralyzed. And then I’m running into the dining room.

  The two men are still at the table, but Ned and Jerome Smith are standing, leaning forward, their hands pressed to the shiny mahogany surface. Ned’s broad face is flushed, his eyes wild. They turn to me.

  At first, I’m not sure what exactly to say. I want to order Jerome Smith out of the house, but I’m not a complete fool.

  “I need to speak with you, Ned,” I manage.

  “This isn’t the time, Lon,” he says harshly.

  “It’s very important.”

  Smith scowls. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “What are you implying?” Ned counters.

  My pulse throbs in my temples. But Jerome Smith isn’t reaching for a hidden gun. He just seems confused and irritated by my presence.

  “I have to talk to you,” I say again to Ned. “You need to trust me on this.”

  “What could possibly be so important?” he asks, his face getting redder.

  Smith pounds a fist on the table. “What kind of game are you playing here, Foster?”

  I turn to him, anger boiling over. “You’re the one playing games, making out like you’re operating a respectable business when really you’re a bunch of crooks.”

  It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room.

  Ned’s face now turns white as the wall. Smith stares at me.

  “I know what you’re trying to do to my uncle,” I go on, emboldened. “The threatening letters. The late-night visits in old cars. It’s extortion, and we’re not going to stand for it another moment.”

  “Lawrence.” Ned’s voice is hard.

  “It’s the truth, Ned,” I insist. “You may have a faint idea of the kind of people who you’re dealing with, but I’ve looked into them. I’ve learned terrible things—”

  “This is all entirely amusing,” Smith says without a shred of mirth in his face. “The kid here thinks we’re the crooked ones.”

  I snap my gaze to his. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Leave it, Smith,” Ned says, his eyes burning.

  “The boy’s going into law. He ought to learn the meaning of extortion.”

  “Not another word,” Ned growls.

  Smith continues, talking over him. “In fact, I’m starting to wonder if you have more double-crossing tricks up your sleeves, Ned.”

  “What is he talking about?” I demand.

  Smith scoffs loudly. “Your uncle never explained the terms of this lovely little merger we have going on tomorrow?”

  A coldness creeps into me, snuffing out the anger. Ned is breathing hard. He avoids my gaze.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, my voice broken.

  Smith shakes his head. “Your uncle has been so deep in debt for so long that he can’t see up from down anymore. And it’s gambling debt no less. Pathetic. His coming to us is the only thing keeping him from being eaten alive by collection agencies.”

  My head’s spinning. The ringing in my ears has returned. “Ned?”

  “He’s as much of a crook as I am,” Smith sneers. “We’re only taking him on because he’s made big promises. Put some big collateral on the line. He’s apparently made some patched-up, shady deal with unnamed entities. He won’t even tell me who.”

  “A vicious lie,” Ned says, tearing his hand across the table. His glass of water flies through the air, smashing against the wall with a tremendous crash.

  Smith points a threatening finger at Ned. “Don’t you dare try to deny it.”

  “I will deny it. You can’t bring your lies and filth into this home any longer.”

  “You’re a fool,” Smith growls. He shoves his chair to the side. “I’m not staying here another minute. As of this moment, you can consider the merger off.”

  Ned’s eyes widen. “Wait.”

  “Forget it. I’m not going to be played as a fool, Foster. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I sure as hell don’t like it.”

  He storms out of the room.

  Ned flies after him. “Smith! Wait!”

  I’m stunned but rush after them.

  The front doors are open. I can hear Ned screaming at Jenkins to start his car.

  I’m alone in the center of the grand entryway. It’s dark, and a cold wind from the open front doors blows in. Chills prickle all over my body. The room seems to be spinning, but I know I’m standing still. The threat on my life has never felt so real. So raw.

  And then, from the grandfather clock in the study, the chimes of midnight ring out.

  It’s Saturday. August 5. The day I will die.

  Chapter 30

  Cassandra

  It’s here. Saturday. August 5.

  Watching the clock on my phone turn to midnight, I feel a part of me break inside.

  Maybe I believed it would never actually come. That somehow, just by loving each other and creating something beautiful in this world, we’d cheat the past. We’d cheat destiny.

  But now, we’ll cheat nothing.

  I haven’t stepped a foot out of the house since Mom grounded me yesterday. Not for lack of trying. I begged, groveled, cried, and slammed doors, but Mom stood her ground. I can’t even sneak out when she’s asleep, because she’s tweaked the house alarm system to go off if any doors or windows are opened.

  So I stay at my laptop, frantically searching the Web for any morsel of wisdom. Some hint of a message sent from some distant cosmic portal that Lawrence will be okay. As the early hours of the morning snake by, I vacillate between despair and hope, confidence and despondency.

  It isn’t until the sound of my opening door wakes me that I realize I’d fallen asleep facedown on the desk, one arm flung across my keyboard. The brightness of morning assails me. I sit up with a start and gasp at the sharp cramp in my neck.

  Mom’s standing in the doorway. “Good grief, Cass. Were you up all night IMing with your boyfriend?” She sighs with frustration. “I should have thought to take your computer.”

  “First of all, no one calls it ‘IMing’ anymore. But anyway, no. Don’t worry. He doesn’t even have a computer.”

  Mom frowns. “Then what were you doing?”

  “Does it matter? I didn’t leave my room.” I swallow any more snarky comments. I have to be smart. I have to play my cards perfectly right now.

  “Mom,” I begin, keeping my tone calm and even. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m hoping you will be willing to make a compromise with me. If you let me stay home today, I’ll—”

  “No way,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re coming sailing. That much is decided. We can discuss the terms of your grounding later, but as far as today is concerned, there’s no getting out of it.”

  “But, Mom—”

  “I’m sorry, Cassandra. You can’t change my mind on this. Frank and I talked a lot about it last night, and we think some family time is exactly what you need.”

  “I’ll have all the family time you want. Just not today. Please trust me when I say that today, of all days, it’s extremely important for me to be able to stay home.”

  She smiles a little. “Eve
rything feels extremely important when you’re a teenager. You trust me. It’s not as earth-shattering as it may seem.”

  Her condescending tone makes my toes curl. “It’s not fair.”

  “This is what happens when you lie to me.”

  “I never—”

  “Stop.” Mom gives me the I-mean-business point with her finger. “We’re done talking about this.” She starts to close my door, and I jump to my feet.

  “Mom, please!”

  She sighs. “Cassandra, will you relax? It’s not like he’s going to disappear if you don’t see him for one day.”

  The cruel irony of her words takes my breath away.

  “Get dressed,” she says firmly. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

  Chapter 31

  Lawrence

  The first hours of my final day pass like years. After walking the silent house, I finally settle again in my room. I know it’s not inherently any safer in there, but where else can I go?

  Words won’t come to me, so I don’t write. Sleep abandoned me long ago so I don’t lie on my bed. All I can do is sit on the cold floor and listen. Listen for Ned to return home, for raised voices—anything. But the house remains unbearably still.

  Dawn finds me on my balcony. I’m wrapped in a blanket, but even that doesn’t keep out the chill. The sight of the rising sun has never looked so bleak or filled me with such untenable dread. I fall to my knees, pressing my forehead to the marble balcony, unable to stand it all.

  Cassandra, I need you. I need you with me.

  I stay like that, drifting in and out of restless sleep, until the sun has climbed and brushes the tops of the trees in the garden. I awake with a start. A feeling of urgency grips me. I should be doing something, anything to stop the impending doom.

  But as the morning unfolds before me, I’m struck by how normal everything seems. As if the rest of the world has failed to realize that I will die today. And why should they? I suppose I expected dark rain clouds. Ominous ravens swooping overhead, letting out mournful cries.