Luck

Maria had loaned me $1,356, exactly the amount needed for a one way ticket to London, because I refused to accept it as a gift. It had led to a small argument, but eventually I had to admit that I needed the money. So we compromised and agreed it could be a loan, without interest and no deadline for repayment. Just whenever I had the money, she had said with a wave of her hand, the way she always did.

She drove me to the airport herself, before her shift at the hospital. Much to my surprise, security was a breeze, and I was on the other side of the terminal in no time. I wandered around the airport aimlessly. My flight didn’t even board for another two hours, and I had already been here for an hour and a half. Terminal B the Boston-Logan airport only had so much to do.

An empty gate caught my eye, mainly because of the lack of people at the charging station table. My laptop needed it if I wanted to make it across the ocean with enough of a battery to watch at least half of a movie. So I sat down and plugged my laptop in, content to be alone for the first time in what felt like months.

The televisions in the corners were playing ESPN and CNN, but the one in the center caught my attention. The local news was on, and the familiar face of Stephen Mitchell filled the screen. I had grown up listening to his newscast, and I was drawn to it. Several stories flashed before me and I watched intently, intrigued by the local news. A flash of panic ran through me as I realized that this could be the last time I ever heard Stephen Mitchell deliver the news, with no plans to return to Boston.

“That’s right, the Boston Police are asking for your help to find a hit-and-run driver. They believe the vehicle is a dark blue minivan, and it would most certainly have damage to the front. If you have any information about the driver or the vehicle’s whereabouts, please contact the Boston Police department. Their phone number and more is on our website, ninenews.com. And now back to you, Stephen,” a reporter nodded at the camera before the screen changed to Stephen Mitchell at the anchor’s desk.

“And in other news, the the Justice Department announced today that they do not have enough evidence to prosecute Savannah Mitzler in the so-called ‘Plain Sight Case.’ The eighteen-year-old’s mother, Melissa, father, Robert, and older brother, Michael, are currently being held without bail and are facing life in prison if they are found guilty in their respective trials, which are currently scheduled to start in late April,” Stephen Mitchell’s voice filled my ears and made my stomach drop, “And now to Mary Green with weather.”

I didn’t notice the little girl standing beside me until I spun around on my stool too quickly and almost knocked her over. Her blonde, wispy hair fell over her eyes and tears were streaming down her face.

“Are you okay?” I bent down to her level, my eyes scanning the empty gate area for a parent, but no worried faces appeared.

“I’m lost,” she couldn’t have been older than three, and her voice shook with every word said.

“Do you know where your mommy - mummy - is?” I caught my mistake, having just noticed her accent.

She shook her head and began to sob, “No.”

“I’m Savvy,” I offered her my hand, as a joke. It cheered her up a bit and she took it, “What’s your name?”

“Lux,” she gulped. She had largely stopped crying, but a single tear still escaped. I wiped it off her cheek for her.

“Well, Lux, I can help you find your mummy,” I told her, “Do you want a tissue?”

She nodded wide eyed, and I searched my bag and handed her a tissue. She took it gratefully, one little hand still tightly grasping mine.

We had barely left the gate area when Lux stopped dead in her tracks.

“Mumma!” Lux sprinted forward as fast as her little legs would take her, and right in front of me was a frantic looking woman with purple hair.

“Luxy!” The woman ran forward, relief flooding her face, “Lux, don’t you ever run away from Mummy again, you hear me?”

She wrapped her arms around her daughter and picked her up, resting her on her hip. I smiled to myself, happy to see their reunion.

“Mumma,” Lux repeated as her mum kissed her forehead and sighed with relief. Lux nuzzled her head onto her mother’s neck, a smile now plastered on her face.

“Did you find her?” Lux’s mum turned to me with a grateful smile on her face.

I nodded, “She just wandered up to me. I think she was scared.”

“Oh! Well, thank you so much. I turned away for half a second and she’s gone!” the woman shook her head with a laugh, “She’s always been a runner. I’m Lou, by the way.”

As she finished saying her name, one of the many bags she was carrying fell apart. A horrible ripping noise filled the air of the empty terminal as the seam broke, and Lou groaned as all the contents of the bag fell the floor. In a single swoop, I leaned down to help pick up all of her belongings.

Lou sighed and placed Lux down, “I can’t believe this!” she cried.

I watched as she examined the bag, “Is it completely broken?” I asked.

“Unusable,” she confirmed, “Just before the long flight, too!”

The poor lady sounded completely worn out and exasperated. She had dark bags around her eyes, and appeared to have been traveling for a long time, judging by all the bags she was juggling.

"Here," I said, "I have an extra tote bag. It's not as big or as nice as yours, but it should hold up."

I reached into my carry-on and presented her with my crumpled up tote bag from high school. The words "Quincy High School Yearbook" were embroidered on it, and for a second, I paused to run my fingers over the familiar words. A tinge of regret ran through me, but I remembered Maria's words.

"It's a new leaf, Savvy," she had told me, "Don't waste your second chance spending too much time in the past."

"Are you sure?" Lou asked me as she took it from my hands.

I nodded, "You need it far more than I do."

"Thank you, love, you've already been such a big help to us," she hummed as she placed the spilled contents in the bag.

"It's no problem," I shrugged, "I'm always happy to help."

“What did you say your name was again?” Lou stared at me, as if she was trying to decide whether or not she knew me.

“I’m Savannah,” I smiled at her, “Savannah Mitzler.”