Grounded

By Rachel Lawrence

I pedaled furiously, squinting to make out the next turn by the beam of the flashlight tucked into my bike basket.

My mom would catch up with me soon, I was sure of it. Even if I hadn’t left the shoebox of old newspaper clippings and my scribbled notes from library trips strewn across my bedspread, she would know where I’d gone.

It had been the source of most of our disagreements recently, ever since my history project turned into an obsession. What started as a simple poster board and an afternoon scrolling through microfilm had ended—or so Mom thought—with her forbidding me to leave my room outside of school hours. Her overreaction only fueled my curiosity and determination.

“I don’t understand what is going on with you, Mary. The assignment was completed weeks ago. You’ve been skipping meals, neglecting your chores, ignoring your father and me. It’s like you aren’t even here. Why can’t you let this go?”

“This was a major event, Mom!” I’d argued. “You’re telling me she just disappeared, and they never found the plane or anything? And why was everyone so quick to give up? Someone knows something.”

“Sweetheart, this was over forty years ago. A man has gone to the moon. They’re talking about computers being able to communicate with one another soon, right from inside people’s homes. Everyone has moved on. Considering you weren’t even alive then, maybe you should move on too.”

But my heart drove me, compelled me, to press forward. There was something to this latest theory. It felt different. Close. As close as the jacket I wore now, the one from the thrift store with the small A.E. sewn inside the collar, the spark that had set this fire. I’d never experienced such a strong connection to a stranger, such a thirst for resolution.

I steered up close to the chain-link fence and dragged my foot. This was the third time I’d visited the large junkyard rumored to have pieces of an aircraft that possibly fit the description I’d read dozens of times. It would be easy to hide something in plain sight if no one was looking for it anywhere close to here.

I had just found a spot by a tree to start climbing the fence when headlights hit me. I groaned. If only I’d thought to conceal my bike!

But when my eyes adjusted, the figure exiting the driver’s side wasn’t my mother.

“Grandma?” I jogged over to meet her. “You aren’t even supposed to be driving.”

“Says the girl who’s supposed to be in her bedroom right now,” she replied. “Your mom is worried sick, you know.”

Guilt washed over me. It would have been easier to stay angry if I was staring into Mom’s eyes instead. “I know, Grandma. I just—”

“You just what? What are you doing out here at this hour, Mary?”

I opted for the truth. Everyone else already thought I was insane. “Looking for Amelia Earhart’s plane.”

Her melodic laugh echoed through the darkness, but it held no hint of ridicule. “Here on the east coast? Honey, that plane was last seen far from here.”

“Yes, but—” I bit my lip, weighing my next words. The way her eyes sparkled in the moonlight told me I could trust her. “But what if it wasn’t?”

Grandma crossed her arms and nodded a go-ahead. The first person willing to listen to me.

“I’ve run across some things that make me wonder. What if she was never found because she never wanted to be found? She was always afraid she’d be pulled from what she loved by obligations or others’ expectations of her. What if she disappeared so she could start over? And where better to go than Kitty Hawk, the birthplace of flight?”

She studied my face. “That’s an interesting theory,” she agreed. “And the one that always made the most sense to me.”

I suddenly wished I’d sought her opinion on this long ago. She would have been about the same age as Ms. Earhart back then and, from what I knew of her personality, would have understood the struggles of the time for a woman with ambition.

“I just wonder,” I continued, “if that was the case, how long did she keep flying? And why did no one ever recognize her?”

Grandma stepped closer. “A mystery indeed.” She slid an arm around my shoulder. “My guess is she found a better adventure, something she learned to love even more than the beauty of weightless independence, something that still required every bit of her moxie and courage.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until she pulled a wrinkled tissue from her pocketbook.

“What’s this really about?”

“I just thought…” I sniffled. “That if she ended up here, I’d have some kind of link to her. That this feeling I’ve always had that I was born for adventure would make sense. That maybe I could do daring things one day too.”

She laughed again, this time through tears of her own. “Honey, you were born for adventure. But you don’t need some old plane to prove that. You’ll find adventure in the present, not the past. And in a future with the people who love you.”

I leaned into her, and she wrapped me in a hug. “You’re right, Grandma.”

“Let’s get you home.”

I started to retrieve my bike but hovered by the fence. What did I really know about my grandma’s past? “As long as we’re here…” I shrugged. “We might as well check it out, right?”

She shook her head, but she grinned from ear to ear. “Your mother isn’t going to let you leave your room for a long time after tonight, so we’d better make it count.”

“Some things are worth being grounded for.”

“Don’t I know it, kid.” She winked, her eyes lingering for a moment on my jacket. “Now, let’s head around the back. There’s a gap in the fence.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Lawrence writes stories and poetry about the everyday joys and challenges of life, love, and choosing the perfect snack food for every occasion. She draws inspiration from her experience growing up in a huge family in the Carolinas and having her views expanded by new friends and family she’s met along the way, both at home and across the ocean. She’s a wife, mom, and lover of inside jokes. She plays Christmas music year-round.

---

Facebook  | Instagram