16 Savannah
Savannah stood in front of the butcher paper bucket list stretched across the kitchen wall. They were two weeks into their
stay, and over half the boxes hadn’t been checked off yet.
She’d thought this would be easier. After all they’d been through, she’d thought her sisters would’ve loved the nostalgia
of these activities. They used to do them every year. They had commiserated over missing them in the years after they’d stopped
coming. Some of the stories that came from these beloved traditions were still the ones they told around the dinner table
at family holidays. So why was this list—why was this trip—not helping them reconnect? What was she doing wrong?
Two weeks were gone, and she was no closer to reuniting her family than when they’d first shown up. In fact, they might’ve
even drifted further away. Who knew trying to hold the family together would be so exhausting?
Or maybe it was the heart defect that was exhausting.
She slumped into one of the kitchen chairs and tried to catch her breath. Again.
Lately, everything had felt like an effort. She was far more tired than she had been just two weeks ago when they arrived.
She was doing everything in her power to make herself feel better. She had followed her doctor’s orders to a T, she was eating
right, she was taking it easy, but nothing seemed to be helping.
It seemed to be a theme in her life. Nothing was going according to her plan, no matter what she did. She felt powerless.
But she wasn’t giving up yet. Today was arguably the most beloved of all their Sunnyside family traditions: the Sunnyside Sandcastle Contest. Every year, the entire town from vacationers to local artists gathered on the powder-white beaches to create a sculpture out of sand.
It was also their mother’s favorite Sunnyside tradition, and every year she would spend weeks drawing up a sketch for their
family’s creation and pass out jobs so each of the girls got to be in charge of a specific part of the design.
The festival seemed to be bigger than it was fifteen years ago. There were three categories now instead of the two she remembered.
Savannah had signed them up for the middle level, the category for those who wanted to spend more time creating and paying
attention to the details. It sounded like a better fit than the Family category that welcomed kids of all ages and skill levels.
Besides, she liked the details. There was joy in the details.
The third category was for artists and sand-sculpting enthusiasts. Though she was excited to see what would be created on
that section of the beach, she knew they had no place signing up for that category.
But winning their category wasn’t really a concern for her. Her main goal was to spend time with her sisters, laughing and
having fun. She needed them to connect, and they needed to do it now. They were starting to run out of time, and Savannah
was not going to fail. Not at this.
“I know. I’m late. I’m sorry.” Cora burst through the back door, dumping her camera equipment on the table. “I had to get
a shot for a client, and I was hoping the morning light would give me the look I wanted. But it took longer than I thought.”
“No problem. I haven’t even seen Bianca yet.” Savannah tried to keep her voice light and cheery, without any of the stress
she was feeling.
“Bianca! Get your tush out of bed!” Cora shouted as she grabbed a Diet Dr Pepper out of the fridge.
“I could’ve done that.”
“Yeah. But did you?” She raised a judgmental eyebrow and took a long drink.
Bianca stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes like she’d just rolled out of bed. “Why does everything start so early?”
“Early?” Cora questioned. “Restaurants have stopped serving breakfast by this point.”
“The contest starts at ten .” Savannah emphasized the number in case Bianca was confused.
“I know.” Bianca grabbed a mug and filled it with what was left of the coffee. “I firmly believe nothing on vacation should
start before noon.”
“So the entire morning. You want to erase the whole morning from vacation?” It might have been a tad too much, but Savannah
was starting to lose her patience.
“Not erase. Just shift.” She pushed past Cora to get to the fridge and dumped at least half a mugful of flavored creamer on
top of her coffee.
Cora shot Savannah a concerned look. “Luckily, we don’t have far to go,” she said in an uncharacteristically diplomatic moment.
“If we bike fast we could probably leave at nine forty-five and still be there on time.” She turned to Bianca. “That gives
you at least fifteen minutes to get ready before you stress Savannah beyond her breaking point.”
Oh, there she was. Normal Cora was back.
“I’m not stressed.” Although even Savannah had to admit her tone wasn’t convincing. Her arms started to cross in front of
her chest, but she forced them to stay relaxed on the table.
Cora looked at her and held her thumb and forefinger up in a gesture that said, Maybe a little bit .
Bianca waved off the comment. “I’ll be ready on time. Am I ever not?”
Savannah tried not to scoff. “All the time.”
“Literally every day,” Cora said.
Bianca huffed as if they were being ridiculous and turned for the bedroom. “I’ll be ready,” she called over her shoulder.
Cora sipped her Diet Dr Pepper and flopped into the chair across from Savannah. “Want to put a bet on the over-under on her
being ready on time?”
“Minimum of five minutes over.” And truth be told, that was being optimistic.
“I heard that!” Bianca yelled from the bedroom.
Cora’s gaze met Savannah’s in a knowing look, and they broke into giggles, which filled her with hope. Maybe all wasn’t lost.
“I think I’ll go ahead. That way I can get us all checked in,” Savannah said. Plus there was no way she could bike fast. Slow
and steady was the name of the game for her.
At least that’s what she told herself.
“Good plan. Do you want me to come with you?” Cora asked.
Savannah shook her head. “You two can figure out how to bring the rest of the stuff with you. There’s not a ton, but you know
carrying things to the beach is always tricky.”
Cora grinned. “Remember that time we tried to ride our bikes all the way to Castaway Beach with those beach chairs you could
carry like backpacks?”
“But they were so big they kept hitting the back tire and making us fall over.” She smiled at the memory of the adventure,
one they’d taken one of their last years at the beach. “It was a wonder we didn’t break something.”
“I’m pretty sure we did. My favorite water bottle.”
“And if I remember correctly, the cute boys we were going to meet were already there with other girls.”
Cora shook her head. “Why we’d ever risk the perfect water bottle for some boys is beyond me. Clearly we were young and dumb.”
“Clearly.” Although even as she said it, Savannah remembered how devastated Cora had been when she saw the guy she had a crush
on, the one who had invited her, was with someone else.
“He was a jerk,” Savannah declared. “What was his name? Brandon?”
“Brennan.” Cora’s tone was casual as she got up to finish tidying the kitchen. “And they’re all jerks. I’m pretty sure you
got the only nice guy left in the world. Long live Chris.”
“Yes.” Of course Savannah knew that Cora’s past with big heartbreaks, like her ex-fiancé Leo the Loser, had made her standoffish about relationships. But she’d never stopped to consider how much those little moments had really mattered. Or how many of them there were.
Cora always laughed everything off. Nothing bothered her. But maybe the truth was that plenty of things bothered her. She
just hadn’t let anyone see it. Even Savannah had somehow missed it.
It was a thought that required more of her attention, but now wasn’t the time to focus on it. There were other, more time-sensitive
things to conquer. Like getting her sisters to bond over building a sand sculpture. Or riding her bike less than a mile without
her ticker giving out. Having a hole in her heart was a pain in the butt.
“Anyway, I’m going to head out. I’ll see y’all there.” Savannah grabbed her beach bag with all the things she thought she’d
need and headed out the door to the shed.
Her bike, which was first in the lineup of bikes, stared back at her almost like they were in a face-off.
“Let’s get one thing straight. We’re in this together. You do your job, and...” She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and
considered how to finish that statement. “I’ll do my best.”
It was a discouraging thought because her best at the moment wasn’t anywhere close to what she wanted it to be. And it was
nowhere near good enough.
By the time she got to the end of the block, she was huffing and puffing. By the time she was halfway through the neighborhood
she had to get off and rest for a second.
Should she have driven? Maybe, but the parking situation would’ve probably prevented her from getting much closer than the
bike ride from the house. Should she have invented a reason for one of her sisters to drop her off? Probably. Driving the
supplies to the beach so they didn’t have to lug them there didn’t seem like an unreasonable request. In fact, it would’ve
been a smart move. She could’ve made a valid argument for why it was the best plan.
But that would’ve required actually making the argument.
Her sisters—Cora, especially—didn’t do things without asking questions.
And as far as the energy required to bike half a mile to the public access beach where the contest was being held, arguing with Cora and Bianca seemed like it would take more.
Side note: yes, she was going to tell them about what was going on, but now was not the time.
She was fine. She could do this. She’d just take it slow.
After stopping at every single park bench along the way, and walking a good chunk of it, she made it to the park and walked
up to the check-in table.
“Hi.” She had to take a breath before she kept going. “I’m checking in for the Prestly family.”
“Are you just getting here?”