Black Heart Mississippi E-Book

Stephanie Doench

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 361

Beschreibung

20-year-old Isabella from the state of Louisiana, USA, suffers from chronic heart muscle inflammation, which almost led to her death. It was only through the transplantation of the heart of a Mississippi housekeeper who died in a car accident that Isabella was given a second life. Even before the surgery, she felt this intense feeling in her heart of missing someone. This feeling gives her the idea to search for her unknown grandmother and eventually leads her to the neighboring state of Mississippi. There she meets 80-year-old Ava. A life-experienced, well-known writer with a sad past, of which no one suspects. It is only through Isabella's search for her biological grandmother that Ava's past slowly rises to the surface and is revealed, albeit not entirely voluntarily, thanks to Isabella's persistence.

Leseprobe

Content:

The Prologue

Chapter 1 The disease

Chapter 2 The last novel

Chapter 3 Who is my grandma?

Chapter 4 The long wait

Chapter 5 Nothing is as it was

Chapter 6 The Heart Transplant

Chapter 7 The Funeral

Chapter 8 The Next Morning

Chapter 9 The Letter

Chapter 10 After the Operation

Chapter 11 Mississippi

Chapter 12 Arguing with Jack

Chapter 13 The Dream

Chapter 14 I want to find her

Chapter 15 Making decisions

Chapter 16 Office of Adoption

Chapter 17 The private detective

Chapter 18 The second visit

Chapter 19 Two hearts become one

Chapter 20 Ava and Jacob

Chapter 21 Annabelle

Chapter 22 The Farewell

The Epilogue

"All people are different on the outside. But inside we are all the same. Each of us carries a heart that beats within. And a soul that carries it."

Stephanie Doench

The Prologue

Today in Mississippi, USA

It's a rainy day, the sky is dark, as if it should be. For when she left, the sky began to cry. Every single tear is for you, my love.

"In the darkness of grief, the stars of remembrance shine for those among us who miss you sorely. May God give you your final rest. The Lord keep you and protect you, so that you may now find rest and peace in eternity. The angels receive you. Patiently you wait for those you love. Lord give them all a long life and when they are ready for eternal death, you receive them with open arms, just as they once received you with open arms in your life," speaks the pastor.

Many people have come to the funeral. It is nice to see how popular she was. But there is deep sadness in me. Happy to have known her and yet sad to have lost her. The people present today and here are all dressed in black. They are all there, everyone wants to pay their last respects to her. I am sad, yes I am. Mum holds me in her arms, she is sad too. With her I can still understand it the most. But I, I have to say that I loved her infinitely.

She had not only class, but also style, dignity, grace and timeless elegance. If I had just a little bit of her, that would last me the rest of my life. But the bottom line is that I can say to her: what luck that I was allowed to meet you.

At first it is quiet and oppressive in her house. But then I look into the faces of the people, and more and more I recognize the radiance in their eyes. The radiance of happiness, to have known her and to have been a part of her life. I, too, belong to them. And Mum, Dad, Benjamin, his parents and all the others who have also taken them into their hearts. Black and white people, all united. Old and young, all talking to each other. They talk about the life they have lived and about the divinity of life in general. The happiness to be alive, to experience health, to have bread on the table and to be able to know your loved ones is a great gift. All of a sudden there is laughter and gossiping with God. Lord, in heaven, forgive us for this. We are all sitting together in fellowship. It makes me proud to kind of belong. They start clapping their hands, praising the Lord and singing with their powerful voices. I get goose bumps. Dad nudges me. He wants to encourage me to sing along. "Sing as loud as you can. Sing for her, sing for God and for heaven. Do it for her, she'd love it!" Even Benji claps and sings with the group. Shyly, I sit there not knowing if I can open up that much. I'm in mourning, as are all the other people, and yet they find the courage and sing a glorious praise. Then Mum looks at me, she says nothing, but I know it's time for me now. Time to let go and give myself to life like she did. So I gather all my courage and clap my hands first. The other mourners become more and more euphoric; they clap their hands wildly and loudly, they dance and they celebrate life. It seems to me that they are celebrating their accomplished life. I join in at the word hallelujah. I continue, nothing, stops me, I sing with unity, I am not alone, I belong. I drop my reservations and just join in. In the end, I sing like there's no tomorrow. And by God, I enjoy it. What's most awesome for me is that I'm not worrying about being on my best behavior, I'm just living in the moment. I thank you in heaven for that. The singing seems to me to have brought some among the guests to ecstasy. But that doesn't matter, it is a togetherness that I didn't know in such a pronounced way a few years ago.

There was togetherness between me and my parents, also between me and Katy. But not with as many other people as are here today at her funeral service. And if I did know the feeling, then I suppressed it. It was only because of her that I was able to openly live out that feeling again. I thank her for that. After "Hallelujah" and "Price the Lord" were sung to the end, we fell together on the buffet. Because every celebration, no matter how sad, needs something decent to eat. Sweet potato casserole, corn, homemade bread and other delicacies are available for consumption. Now I sit there with my full plate and want to eat, but I can not. I can't get a bite down. "Take something to eat. You'll starve otherwise. She wouldn't have wanted you to go on hunger strike," Mum says to me. "I can't right now, I can't stop thinking about her." I feel sick, maybe I like talking more than eating. Benjamin and my dad are sitting next to me and I think they want to tell me to eat something. But they don't say it. They just know me way too well and know what a stubborn person is sitting next to them. I am glad when one of my grandmother's neighbors starts talking. I like to listen to people, it's distracting. 'I don't need to eat and maybe I'll learn more about her this way?", I wonder. The neighbor seems totally nice, she speaks in a calm manner, which in turn puts me at ease. "I didn't know she had a daughter and a granddaughter? I thought she was married to her novels," the neighbor elaborates and everyone has to laugh because before we entered her life, this was the case.

Apparently people know her well, it shows that she was a great person and was seen by her peers. I don't know what to say in response to the neighbor? I want to say so much and yet I can't. And at that moment I thank my mum, because she can answer unlike me, "We just met her recently." The man from the neighbor seems interested and wants to know more about us and the situation with my grandmother: "Why did you meet her so late?", my parents and I look at each other silently. We want to answer, because we are happy and proud about our almost unimaginable joining. The neighbor and his wife assure us that they don't want to offend us.

"It's totally okay that you ask," all eyes are on me. Because I'm the one who uttered those words. But I feel like I need to speak this. "The question is not why did we just meet her recently? But the question is mainly how we met her?" Everyone around me is silent, visibly puzzled by my way of responding to the question, because it begs an answer. Other neighbors, charity colleagues, and friends have gathered around the couch and are aiming their gazes specifically at my mouth. "Yeah right. Why and how did you meet her?" the outgoing and joyful neighbor wants to know. The other neighbors nod and agree wanting to know about it. Only Mum looks at me questioningly, "You don't have to say anything about it if you don't want to. No one is forcing you!" I realize that I have aroused people's curiosity with this, and what you start, you should finish. That's what I learned from their story. Finish what you start. So I look at my mum with a serious expression, sure that there's nothing I want more than to tell our story together. "It's okay. Please let me. It's important to me to tell the others!" My dad puts his hand on my back, this makes me feel like his strength is going over in me. My mom looks at my dad and then at me. "Okay honey. If you want to talk, talk." People stare at me, but in truth they are all looking at her, because it is her story and mine. The house mourners gather around us. Once I take a deep breath, I look into Benjamin's eyes; he winks at me and whispers softly, "You're doing this right, and I trust you." Briefly, I glance over at Grandma her black and white photo once more and thus begin to tell our story in front of everyone. I make them witnesses to our unbelievable yet true story.

This is my wish and I am sure also that of my unique and beloved grandmother.

"Well, that was so ..."

1.

Two and a half years earlier in Louisiana, USA

After countless years of pain, uncertainty and also fear, I was back in the hospital. It seemed to me that I had two lives. A life at home and a life in the hospital. Which one I liked better seems clear to anyone who has spent any length of time in the hospital. Sometimes it seemed to me that most of my life took place in the hospital. I read books, especially novels; they were about love and I would have liked more of that. Because my boyfriend Jack, (I don't even remember why I was still with him in the first place?) who I had known since school, was more of a burden than a joy to me lately. My name is Isabella, I am 20 years old and I suffered from a chronic heart muscle inflammation for several years. As a result, I was often weak and tired, and didn't always have the power I wanted to have. Because of the disease I had to spend more years than I could count in hospitals and special clinics. I was young and wanted to live my life, play sports, go to concerts, hang out with friends, study, and more. But I couldn't do most of that because my heart wouldn't take the effort. At least not always and to the fullest extent. My parents loved me, I had many friends who always visited me too and my boyfriend Jack, he was always there too, although I felt he would rather play sports with his boys and just enjoy his time. Even though I was sick and it was getting worse over the years and I was actually dealing with it enough, I felt for a long time that I was missing something and that something was wrong. It was like there was a part of me missing, something or someone that belonged to me that I was missing. And I felt that this feeling would not stop until I found what I was looking for. My parents and the doctors said it was part of my disease. The chronic heart muscle inflammation and being in the hospital all the time made me think too much. They all didn't take me seriously with my thoughts and feelings. I felt that there was still someone out there in the world who belonged to me and whom I missed. No one understood that in an empathetic way. I already felt like a crazy person. The other day, the doctors said to my mother, "You have always respected my cheerfulness, my wit and my way of dealing with the difficult situation. I was always a sign of steadfastness to them. But they had slowly come to suspect that I might be carrying a mild depressive disorder. My dad also asked me where his power girl had gone?

But what they all didn't realize was that I was still me, that I was still strong despite my illness. And yet I had such a strong connection to my heart that it was telling me not to give up and never to give up. Moreover, my heart was telling me: what you feel is right. Listen to me, because I'm still alive and I want to show you something.

What exactly my heart wanted to show me, I did not know at that time. But my inner voice told me, even if they thought I had gone crazy, that I should not stop hoping that one day my heart would find what it was looking for. And until then, they could all think of me what they wanted. My body was so weakened by now that I was unable to exercise at home, let alone walk up the stairs in our house, without feeling pure exertion. In fact, it was so bad that I had just reached the final stage of my illness. Hardly anyone got a new heart implanted. But since everything always had to be dramatic with me, it seemed clear that I would not be able to get by in this life without a donor heart. This thought frightened me. Because it was connected with hope. Would I really need a heart transplant and if so, would there be a suitable donor heart for me? Question after question crowded into my mind and seemed to unsettle the smart, confident girl from Louisiana. My dream of going to college was on hold at that moment. My illness, the fears that came with it, and the feeling of missing someone were my reality at that point. Another fact, my friends and family, they didn't understand me. Did I understand myself? I didn't really know. My blood work clearly indicated the battle my body was fighting with my heart. A battle I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to fight this battle. So many times I had asked myself, why was this happening to me? Why me of all people? So far, I had not found the answer. Although my friends kept saying that they admired my ambition and positive nature. But what good did that do me? My room at the hospital was filled with flowers, photos and other gifts. Jack brought me a stuffed animal the other day. It was supposed to cheer me up when I thought I was missing someone again. And such a thing should be my friend? I thought that he would stand by me and take my feelings seriously. A quiet feeling inside me said: Jack is nice, but his heart doesn't beat in the same language as my heart. Where our common path should lead us, I could not yet say from that time's point of view. Because unfortunately, I didn't even know for sure if I would even be alive next year? Sad, but true.

I would like to quench my thirst for knowledge and know what the future had in store for me? Whether Jack and I would stay together, whether I would ever get well, study, and most importantly, whether I would ever find what my heart was trying to find?

2.

At the same time somewhere in Mississippi, USA

A white house, the typical white columns on the porch adorned the entrance. In front of the house is a colorful sea of flowers. The flowers were so powerful that they almost covered the beauty of the house. The radiance of the flowers led the way to the entrance of the sophisticated house. Mixed with the scent of homemade lemonade and freshly cooked food, the house invited one to step inside. Overwhelmed by the delicious smells, one was almost compelled to stop in to see if the lovely smell was reflected inside the house?

"Gee Ava, your how many novels is this now?", Mary could barely keep count herself as she carried the laundry into Ava's bedroom. "The 51st," said the voice from the writing room. "I've never seen you take so long to finish a novel!", Mary wondered for quite some time. The woman from the writing room gave no information about her 51st novel. Ava was inhibited; something didn't seem right to her. "If you keep this up, even I'll be faster at writing than you," Mary laughed at not being able to finish Ava's novel. "You usually write as fast as lightning, but this time I don't recognize you, you're not getting old are you?", Mary couldn't contain herself from laughing. Taking a side swipe at her longtime friend was a pep talk for her, which should have a positive effect on Ava and her writing. Proud and head held high, Ava sat there trying to finish her novel. She felt it was time to make this novel different from the 50 before it. But she couldn't, she was affected, inhibited and afraid to reveal herself like that. Because every novel that was about love revealed a bit of her own story. A woman who loved life and also once loved a man. If she really managed to complete the fifty-first novel, and not in the same way she always did before, it would be her life-revelation. Would she actually be able to write it? "But not before playing a game of Scrabble," was part of the two women's nightly ritual. Most of the time, Ava won at the words game, but not this evening. Mary won handily. "I can't believe it. You weren't concentrating at all. Did you let me win on purpose?" laughed and grumbled Mary from Mississippi. 'What the heck is going on with Ava today?' Ever since she wrote her last novel, she's been unrecognizable,' Mary thought skeptically. "We're getting old. See you tomorrow Ava," Mary took in her friend's failure due to her advanced age. At the dressing room, Mary picked up her purse and left for the evening until she stepped back into Ava's house the next morning.

The next day was ushered in by the lovely warm sun. Ava sat piecemeal in her study, as she did every day, trying to finish her current novel. A warm cup of tea was to accompany her. Ava had never lost heart in her life, but since she was trying to catch up on her life a bit with this novel, she was getting slightly nervous. The old lady did not like this condition at all. Her romance novels were famous all over America and were highly prized by women worldwide. Why shouldn't she stay true to her lifelong rituals? She could have it easy and carry on as she had done with all her other novels before. So slowly, as the days drew to a close, she wondered, in her 80s, if it wouldn't make sense in her final days to try something completely different? She realized she had unfinished business in her life and didn't want to leave until that score was settled. While Mary was cleaning the windows in Ava's house, she stared surreptitiously at Ava's notes. "Do you still not have the bright idea, or what is missing from this novel?" her good friend Mary liked to know. Ava was silent at first, feeling caught by Mary, because no one knew her as long and as well as she did. Since Mary knew everything about her friend, she already suspected that something was not quite right this time. She was worried and thought that something was wrong with her health. Mary was half the age of her closest confidante. She was aware that at such an old age one doesn't have too many bright ideas anymore. But Mary had never seen such an intelligent woman as Ava before in her life. Until now, Ava always seemed to be in top shape; mentally as well as physically. The steady change since her friend wrote this novel and unfortunately didn't get to finish it, worried Mary greatly. However, she did not let the serious worries show. Two weeks later, her work was still unfinished. While Mary was doing the laundry, she noticed how thoughtful her friend seemed. "What do you say you and I go for a walk together again sometime?" Mary figured the exercise in the fresh air should inspire her friend to write. Ava had always been the health-conscious type and had never let herself go, even as she got older. That's when she had to coax Mary into any exercise that was outside of housework. Now it was the other way around, this time Mary was trying to talk her into coming out. But Ava seemed driven, as if she had to find the solution and finish what needed to be finished. Benjamin, whom everyone just called Benji, came over to Ava and Mary in a good mood. "Hello Ava, hello Aunt Mary," he greeted the two ladies. They greeted him back affectionately as well. Mary's nephew often visited Ava. He had the same happy, sunny disposition as his aunt. And the big mouth, too. The smell of freshly baked cookies often drew Benjamin there. Secretly, he would take a few more cookies because he could hardly resist. With his mouth full, he visited Ava in her office. "Maybe you'll give her a leg up so she can finish that novel. She's been working on it for half an eternity," Mary encouraged her nephew to ask. Benjamin was very fond of his aunt and also of the woman she worked for. The novels of his aunt's confidante were familiar even to her young nephew. For him, a different time seemed to apply in Ava's house, where writing and education still played a major role. There, the world was different from the world outside, which was largely dominated by violence and racism. Secretly, he had not only eaten the cookies, but also often read through the contents of Ava's romance novels. This, of course, he had never let get through to his buddies. He and Aunt Mary lived in a different world than Ava. The writer gave people a place in her house no matter where they came from, what color their skin was, or what their wealth was. Racism did not exist in this house. Ava never made a distinction between black and white. That day, without knowing it, Benjamin had put his foot in Ava's mouth. "May I join you?" Benjamin knew he was always allowed to sit next to the author, and today was no exception. He got right to the point. "Ava, your novels are always about love. And in the end, there's a happy ending between a man and a woman. But why are there never any children in your books and stories? Children are part of life. And when two people love each other, they want to have a child, don't they?" Benjamin asked with interest. This was too much for Ava. She immediately got up from her office chair, went to the window and looked out there. In a calm voice she said to Benji, "You should go now, your parents are probably waiting for you!" At that, she didn't even look at him, her gaze aimlessly directed out the window. The young man was irritated, because even though Ava could always appear very controlled and decisive, he had not expected this reaction. He had not expected that she would not answer his question. Completely stunned, he asked his Aunt Mary what was wrong with Ava at the moment? Concerned, she looked at her nephew and said the same thing as her boss, "You should go home now." Benji felt like he was in the wrong movie and both women were playing a trick on him. That was not unusual. Because in the past, the two women had often cooked up pranks, but they were usually uncovered at the latest as soon as Benjamin wanted to leave the house. But this time no one called after him: "Stop. Stop the car, it was a joke." No, Benjamin left the house not knowing what was going on with Ava and his aunt?

Weeks passed and the burden in Ava's mind and heart grew. Something from her past was trying to come to terms with, something she had always repressed and pushed away. But this time it was going to come up. Benjamin's question about why she only wrote about couples in her romance novels, but never about children, had upset her. Even more so than before. And that Benjamin made it clear that if two people love each other, then logically they would also want children, seemed self-evident to him. Ava reacted blocked. Inwardly as well as outwardly. She dismissed any questions from Mary. She closed herself off to her best friend and was even happy when she didn't ask about the current status of the new romance novel. At the moment, she just wanted to be left alone. "What, are you going to close yourself off and shut up for long? Are you sick, maybe? Is there anything I can do to help you? We've known each other for so long and know almost everything about each other. Why don't you tell me what I can do for you?" pleaded Mary to her closest confidante. Benjamin had not been back to her house for several weeks and since that day when he asked her the questions in the office. Normally that house was an open building to everyone. Joyfully and warmly everyone was welcomed by Ava and her housekeeper Mary. In matters of secrecy they served only a good purpose, the family around Mary did not need to hide. Her nephew, who secretly stole the cookies from the kitchen just because they were so delicious, so secretly Mary called Doctor Houston Junior to ask him to check on Ava. Shortly thereafter, Doctor Houston Junior appeared at Ava's house, still surrounded by colorful, fragrant flowers. Ava was visibly uncomfortable that the doctor had come all this way to see her. She looked slightly ashamed and said directly that she had nothing and that he had come for nothing. "I don't understand, doctor, who actually called you here?", she already had a suspicion. Her eyes fell on her best Mary, who felt caught and turned away. "So that's where the wind is blowing from," Ava added. But the doctor didn't miss the chance to examine Ava thoroughly. The lungs were listened to, blood pressure was measured, furthermore Doctor Houston junior asked Ava some questions. Last but not least, he drew her blood. Ava reacted sourly, because after all she had always been healthy, had done sports, worked steadily and kept fit. "Madame, you are no longer 20 years old and if I may take the liberty of saying, you are 80 years old and I therefore consider it my duty to draw your blood. Even if you think it unnecessary!" Doctor Houston Junior said goodbye and went back to his office. Mary immediately went to the kitchen so that she would not have to give any account to her friend. This was to serve Ava right; she retired to her study. A week later, the results from Doctor Houston Junior's visit arrived. "I knew I was in perfect health. You could have saved yourself the trouble," Ava said smugly. But Mary wouldn't be a friend if she didn't have something to say about that: "And, still, you have something. You've been acting all weird for weeks and every question you're asked, you dodge or ignore. I'm just worried about you!" Ava felt guilty and knew it couldn't go on like this. Either she would write out what she should have written out years ago. Or she would be silent forever and accept her silence while she was still alive. 'After all, silence can be made more bearable with a glass of wine in the evening,' she thought to herself. 'But a decision must be made; better now than sometime. Because sometime may already be too late. At my age, one should not wait so long for decisions, but make them and implement them quickly,' she also thought to herself. "I'm too old to put off making decisions," the fine old lady motivated herself. It was not clear to her whether this would be her last novel? But the possibility would have had to be considered, so she mentally asked herself the question: 'Is this my last novel? And if so, can and will I reveal myself in it?' Before nightfall, Ava suggested to Mary that she not go home yet, but join her for a glass of wine or two. Mary gratefully accepted the offer and lit the romantic fireplace with a fire. Together and just as they did then, the two women sat by the fireplace while they talked about life and its pleasures. Accompanied by one glass of red wine after another and much laughter, the ladies left the entire bottle of red wine down to the last drop before saying goodbye to each other. Benjamin picked up his aunt in the car so she wouldn't have to drive home alone and slightly tipsy from the alcoholic beverage. "You know you can always sleep here with me, too," Ava implored Mary. But even though the relationship between the two women was so good, she slept at her house anytime.

That night Ava slept soundly, intending to wake up tomorrow having found a solution to finishing her novel.

3.

Back in Louisiana, USA

In the meantime, Isabella had returned home after her hospital stay. Extremely weakened and tired from her chronic heart muscle inflammation, she had to continue resting at home. The slightest exertion would have resulted in a relapse back to the hospital. Any movement that would have gone toward exercise was forbidden to her. She was 20 years old and wanted to live. To have fun and do what her friends of the same age did. Her parents always wanted to protect her and had almost overprotected her out of love. This annoyed Isabella at times, but she was aware of how nice it was to have family and friends by her side. Her sunny nature brought much light and warmth into the hearts of those around her. Despite her illness, she had never let it take away her zest for life and was always up for a joke. But the last hospital stays had taken their toll on her. Far too often she was away from home and had to spend more and more time in the hospital. The doctors and nurses were constantly taking care of Isabella and the other patients. And still, the last stays in the clinics were hardly bearable for Isabella. Even her parents had noticed that she had lost some of her positive nature, which made them sad and thoughtful. They loved their daughter more than anything and wanted only one thing: for Isabella to stay alive!

Further and further Isabella struggled with her illness, the thoughts about her future and this strange feeling, which visited her more and more often lately. The feeling was like a kind of compass, a sense that wanted to tell her to set out to search. But who or what was there to look for? Something was missing in her life, she was missing someone and further Isabella asked herself in her mind as she sat on her bed at home, 'Or do I mean missing someone because in truth I am missing myself?'

Because I miss my life that I would like to live but can't? Or because I miss having fun with my friends and going out, playing sports and studying?' Isabella stumbled and became sad. Continuing to think, what was that strange feeling in her heart trying to tell her? The following night, Isa couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead, her pajamas were soaked with sweat. Her parents next door noticed that their daughter wasn't feeling well and came to her immediately. "Honey, what's wrong? Can't you sleep? Should we call the doctor?" her mother asked excitedly. "Gee mum, can't you leave me alone for once?", Isabella turned away. Sometimes she felt like she was suffocating from her mother's care. Now Isabella's father intervened, "Isa, you're sweating wet, Mum will help you change and I'll get you a wet rag for your forehead." Her father's calm manner did her good. She knew her mother worried too, but she dramatized more. Her dad, on the other hand, seemed level-headed, especially in his voice. Often, with a grin on her face, Isabella thought to herself that her dad could have worked as a hypnotist instead of a police officer. His soothing voice lulled her to sleep as a child. But it just so happened that her dad, through his job as a police officer, knew how to defuse difficult situations. After Isabella changed and the wet rag lingered on her forehead, she lay with her mother in her arms. Quietly, a thank you passed her lips, and her mother stroked her hair while Isabella fell asleep.

The next morning, she realized that perhaps one reason her heart was missing someone might be the relationship between her and Jack? Isabella often had the premonition (or, one could say, the energetic opinion) that she didn't want to keep doing this to Jack. She didn't know if she could put him through the situation? Most of the time she was in the hospital and when she was home, she was weakened and couldn't do anything that other 20-year-olds were doing at the same time. She kept telling herself that it would be best for them if only one of them was burdened. It was enough if she was sick and had to live with it. She didn't want to burden her old school friend Jack with this. Besides, he no longer spoke the same language she did. Jack no longer understood her with her feelings. Thinking the other way around and positively, he still seemed to like Isabella a lot. He visited her regularly, brought her gifts, and had never talked about possibly ending the relationship. So what was she to do? Isabella decided not to do anything yet in this case and let time drag on.

"Katy is coming today, right? You're happy she's coming, aren't you? And to celebrate that you're back home and because Katy is coming, I'm about to bake an apple pie," Isabella's mother's joy was evident on her face. Isa was happy too, because the visit of her best friend plus mom's much desired warm apple pie were double the trump card. Isabella thought to herself that she had been unfair to her mother lately, and that even though she had done so much for her. It was about time for some mother-daughter action together. And what could be more appropriate than baking the apple pie together? To surprise her mother, she joined her in the kitchen without any announcement and put on an apron. Annabelle's eyes widened when she saw her daughter standing in the kitchen wearing an apron. "Will you help me?" was barely uttered before Isa took her mother in her arms. Completely overwhelmed, Annabelle stood speechless and took her daughter in her arms as well. Afterwards, they baked together what was probably the best apple pie in all of Louisiana. Isa peeled the apples, cored them and cut them into small pieces while her mother prepared the dough. "This is what lunch smells like. These are my girls. Can I have a nibble?", Isabella's father came home in a good mood in his police officer uniform. "Dad, you have to go right back to work. We'll leave you a piece of the apple pie though," Isa said as her father looked at her with a long drawn out snout. "OK. Fine, we'll leave you two pieces," she grinned. "That's my daughter," Thomas said as he shoved a piece of apple into his mouth and went back out on duty. Together, mother and daughter finished baking the pie and cleaned up the kitchen. Swing and jazz music played in the background. The women were having fun and moving their feet to the beat of the music. A great noon passed until Isabella retired to her room to wait for her best friend Katy. Meanwhile, the apple pie was cooling down in the kitchen. She realized, as she spent time with her parents, that the feeling of missing someone had to be outside this family circle. But where then? What was her heart trying to say? Soon enough, she would find the answer.

In the afternoon, Katy finally appeared. Many letters, postcards, messages and gifts from all her friends she had brought for Isabella. One by one she read through the cards and opened the gifts. Of course, the girls posted the happily shot pictures for their friends on social media. Isabella opening the gifts, reading the letters, etc. Everything was documented by photo and uploaded, of course, so that the others were included. "Too bad you weren't at the volleyball tournament. You would have laughed your ass off when Jeremy and Mike banged their heads against each other. That was a bang, I'll tell you that. They were both hurting, but the crowd was laughing. Jeremy was even hurt so bad he had to go to the infirmary," reported her best friend from campus. The two had to laugh out loud at the image of the volleyball accident. The good humor continued continuously. Isa got back into her old form and threw her pillow at Katy. The pillow fight started simultaneously while Annabelle tried to enter her daughter's room without being hit by a pillow. "If you hit me, I'm afraid your apple pie will have to go, too. Or do you want to scrape it up from the floor?" It was quiet for a moment, and the girlfriends briefly ended their pillow fight. The smell of the cake made it quite clear what the young ladies' priorities were. "From pillow fight to cake fight. Well let's get to it," Isabella and Katy sat up straight and enjoyed the delicious, juicy apple pie. Isabella's mother retreated, leaving the girls to their realm. Between having fun, taking pictures, communicating with the other friends, and eating pie, Isabella thought about confiding in her best friend. Should she dare? After all, Katy had always stood by her and could understand her in any situation. But was this topic perhaps a bit too high and too abstract for young Katy, who was commuting between university, sports and her job? Isabella wasn't quite sure about this one, but of everyone she knew, she would be the most likely to confide in her. While Katy was chattering and chattering, Isa was already getting quite an earful from her friend. She told her about the campus, the class schedule, the boring professors, and the anything but boring boys at the university. It made Isabella feel like she belonged, as if she was just on vacation and would soon be going back to college. But the reality was different. Her chronic heart muscle inflammation had progressed so far by now that a normal everyday life remained a long way off. "My head is fully capable, only my body is not," was important to her to express, although everyone knew that. Isabella had become so mature and adult through her illness that she reflected and assessed herself well. But could she also realistically assess Katy's opinion? Or would she end up telling her, along the lines of, "Stop fooling around already! Don't take this feeling seriously. It's because you've been sick for so long. You're getting into something. It doesn't mean anything." Would she tell her like that? That's what Isabella was afraid of, because she didn't like to hear that. She wanted to be taken seriously, treated fully and fairly. And so she continued to listen to her friend gossip about university happenings. Sometimes she tried to catch her breath and catch the right moment. Whenever the right moment seemed to come, it was gone just as quickly. Katy was almost unstoppable when she talked, setting a pace that even the loquacious Isabella couldn't follow, let alone interrupt. So she tried to make an attempt in several attempts, but she did not succeed. Isa almost closed her eyes with fatigue after her crony had talked for an hour straight, giggling incessantly. 'I don't think I'll get another turn today,' she thought to herself. There was no end to the giggles and laughter between the two friends. Katy talked devotedly about her crush that she didn't notice, moving more and more to the edge of the bed and finally tumbling out of bed full blast. There was a crash. But the pain was not too great, because the two girls laughed so loudly that the fall from the bed was not so bad for Katy. Annabelle wanted to see if anything had happened to the two because she had heard a dull bang. Isabella enlightened her that her friend was so swarming, thereby overlooked the end of the bed and fell down from it. This was not a big surprise for her mother, because it was no secret that the two of them had always had great fun. She went back downstairs and could continue to hear the girls giggling from upstairs. After the fun time, Isabella was motivated to confide in Katy. How would she react? Loosely following the motto, don't think, do, Isa took a chance when her best friend took a breath. Silently, Isabella sat there and looked at Katy. "You want to tell me something? What is it? Don't you have long?", Katy had tears in her eyes, thinking that Isabella was going to tell her that her time was about up. Secretly she had been worried for a while, she had known Isabella since she was a little girl, she was her best friend and she didn't want to lose her. At least not at this point in time. That would be too early, to step out of life at the age of 20. To whom should she confide her stories from university, with whom should she gossip, laugh and cry? No, that would definitely be too soon and she hoped that Isabella would not tell her anything about dying.

Again, Isa gasped and told her friend that she actually had to report something to her. Katy knew Isabella so well that she knew to give her the space