A Fighting Heart

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I always hate flying. 

What’s the point of going so fast when you can’t even feel it?
I reach up and grasp my necklace as the plane touches down, enjoying the last bit of speed you’re given. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to Dallas FortWorth Airport. The sun may have just set, but it is still a beautiful eighty-five degrees outside. Please remain seated until the plane has fully taxied to the gate. We thank you for flying with us today, and enjoy your stay in Texas.” 

I unbuckle, gathering up my bags while trying not to bump the old women in the seat next to me. She’s visiting her daughter, a pharmacist with two kids and a dog, who lives in Austin. She felt it necessary to inform me of all this. 

Normally I would be annoyed. Normally I would smile politely and then slowly put my headphones in as the conversation trailed off. Normally there wouldn’t be an empty seat next to me.

Once the plane has fully stopped and my row has been cleared, I stand and grab my suitcase from the overhead bin. I’ll have to wait at baggage claim for the other. I’ve never been one to pack light, so when, a week ago, I began packing for two months, I was an anxious mess. Doesn’t matter much now though, whatever I forgot, I can go out and buy. My grandfather is a strong advocator of that theory.  

Walking through the Dallas airport I can’t help laugh at the number of cowboy hats. The only time you should ever wear cowboy hats in Texas is if you’re riding, or a tourist. 

Making my way through the crowds, I find the baggage claim where suitcases have already begun moving around the conveyer belt. Spotting my large green bag, I push forwards and pull it off. As I take out the handle, I survey the room. That’s when I see Grandma Barbie standing on her tiptoes, looking for me. 

Heading in her direction, I call out, waving. “My darling!” she cries when she sees me, pulling me into a tight hug when I finally reach her. 

“Hi Grandma, it’s really good to see you,” I say, resting my head on her shoulder. Her short hair tickles my cheek and smells like dove soap. 

“My darling granddaughter,” she says, pulling away and holding me at an arms’ distance, “I am so glad you’re here for the summer. It’ll be so nice to have another person around the house, especially while your grandfather’s away. And even more so, now you have some time to relax and really...” I cut her off with a wave of my hand. 

“Thank you, really,” I say taking her hands off my shoulders and into mine, “but I’m okay. It is nice to be away, but you don’t need to worry about me. And I plan on earning my stay so, whatever you need around the house, you just let me know.” 

Laughing, Grandma pulls me into another hug. “Savannah, this summer we’re taking care of you. It’s a grandmother’s job to worry, but we’re going to fix everything, you’ll see. Come on, let’s go home.” 

Grabbing my bags we head to the truck, parked in the lot outside. “I’m definitely going to have to get used to this heat,” I say, pulling my blonde hair up into my baseball cap. 

“This has been a mild summer so far, you know,” Grandma says, throwing my suitcase in the bed of her truck. “Just wait til we get into the heart of July, you won’t be able to breathe, let alone walk outside.”

Once in the truck, Grandma kicks the air conditioner on and turns up the radio. “I hope you still like country music, cause it’s all we play around here.” 

Looking out the window I sigh. I always loved country music for the stories it told. Love, sorrow, and pain. When you think about it, life is a lot like a country song. 

***

Grandma let me settle in and sleep late, so when I finally stumbled out of the room that’ll be mine for the next eight weeks, I follow the smell of waffles and bacon to the kitchen. 

“Good morning!” Grandma calls from the far side of the counter. She’s flipping Belgium Waffles out of the maker. Bringing a plate over, she puts them in front of me along with a can of whipped cream and a bowl of strawberry sauce. “Did you sleep well? Was the “east wing” cool enough for you?” 

Now, my Grandparents don’t live in a mansion, but my grandma has designated certain areas of the house to the “east wing” and the “west wing” The room I’ve been given is located in the “east wing”. 

“Yes, everything was perfect, thank you,” I say, taking a seat at the high granite countertops and pulling the waffle forward, spreading a spoonful of strawberries on top. 

“You didn’t have any of those dreams, did you?” Grandma asks carefully. My pulse jumps for a moment, and I put down my fork, appetite stalled. 

“Mom told you, did she?” I ask, unable to meet Grandma’s eyes. I can feel her pity without seeing it. 

“She wanted me to know, just in case it happened and I heard..” she trails off, knowing full well the sensitivity of this topic. Finally looking up and meeting her eyes, I give her a gentle smile. 

“Everything’s fine. Being here.. It helps.” 

Smiling wider now, Grandma nods and turns to get some milk from the fridge. Picking up my fork again I trace it slowly along the edge of my plate. 

It’s time to go for a run.