Short Story / John Hamilton's Reflection

Billy never learned how to swim. He wasn’t afraid of the water. Simply, the river near his house in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, was too shallow in some places and too dangerous in others. But he enjoyed white water rafting and by wearing a life vest he didn’t have to worry about being the perfect swimmer. He could dog paddle and float like the rest of them.
In the summer of 1985, shortly after Billy’s 17th birthday, he made his first trip to the beach. His friend Brian invited him to Carolina Beach. Brian’s parents had a vacation home there. Billy agreed, knowing that there were other things to do at the beach other than swim, like visiting aquariums, playing beach volleyball, or throwing Frisbee.
He would never see Blowing Rock or his parents again.
Pulling up to the house, Billy admired the white stucco and large windows. But what struck his interest even more was the roof deck. An avid mountain climber ever since his father took him for the first time when he was 15, he loved high places, his most challenging thus far being Mt. Mitchell, the highest point east of the Mississippi River. But he dreamed of McKinley, K2, and Everest
“What is the purpose of that thing on the roof,” Billy asked.
“It’s a roof deck,” Brian’s father answered.
Billy was curious, had been that way ever since he was a child, always asking his parents questions. “Why is the sky blue?” “How do airplanes work?” “How far is the earth from the sun?” When he was old enough to read, Billy’s mom bought him 1001 Questions and Answers, a book that explained everything from the color of the sky to the sinking of the Titanic.
“What’s it for? You sit up there or somethin?” Billy asked. “Can ya see the ocean from there?”
Brian’s father pulled out the last of the luggage from the trunk. “Yea, ya can. There’s a nice view of the ocean from up there.” John Hamilton, the guy who built this house, installed it as a lookout post shortly after the American Revolution. He believed the British might come back, so he went up there everyday to watch for them. After awhile he sailed for France. He was an envoy and assisted with the diplomatic relations there. No one really knows for sure what his role was. Anyway, every night his wife was seen up on that deck waiting for her husband to return. He never did and eventually was assumed dead. There’s lots of speculation on what happened to him. There’s no record of him being in France and many believe that his ship was either caught in a storm, disappearing to the bottom of the ocean with all on board, or that he was captured and killed by the British. Both things are highly possible.”
“What do you think happened to him?” Billy asked.
“I don’t know, probably killed in a storm. Records show that there was one brewing about the time he left.”
“And the house? How did you come to buy it?”
“Oh, I didn’t buy it, Billy. It was past down to me. You see, John Hamilton was my great-great-great-great grandfather.”
Billy’s interest grew even more. History was his favorite subject in school and he especially enjoyed stories about the American Revolution. He had loads of books about it on the shelf and in piles of boxes in his closet.
“Wow! Really? That’s cool!”
Billy turned to Brian. “How come you never told me about that? You know how much I love historical stuff.”
“Sorry man, I don’t know. Guess I never gave it much thought. I’ve been hearin stories like that ever since I was a kid. It didn’t strike me as that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal! Your family owns a house that dates back to revolutionary times and this Hamilton dude might have had some big part to play regarding diplomatic relations with France. Thing is, he never made it there. Think about it, he could have changed the course of history had he been there. He could have been another John Adams or another Thomas Jefferson! He could have even prevented the War of 1812. He built that deck because he thought the British might return. Well, he was right, but died before his hunch came true.
“I suppose.”
Frustrated, Billy took a deep breath. “I suppose, uh? That’s all you can say, I suppose? Your family probably owns one of the most, if not the most important house here and all you can say is ‘I suppose?’”
“Alright, boys,” Brian’s dad interrupted. “We can talk about that later, but right now we need to take these things in the house and unpack, then run to the grocery store. What ya say about some fresh lobster for supper?”
Both Billy and Brien nodded and grabbed some bags and headed to the house.
“And while ya’ll are at the store, I’ll clean up the house a bit, wash the dishes, put sheets on the beds,” Brian’s mom said.
“Alright, honey,” Brian’s father said. “Need anything special at the store?”
“Can’t think of anything.”
“Ok, be back s—”
“No, wait. Pick up some paper towels.”
“Ok.”

*
North Lake Park Boulevard was full of restaurants and stores. Swarms of people strolled down the sidewalks, shopping bags in one hand and ice cream cones in the other, all tanned and healthy and taking a break from the surf. There were a lot of girls, too. Billy and Brian couldn’t stop looking at their skimpy little skirts and toned bronze muscles.
Seeing all the restaurants made Billy and Brian hungry.
“Hey, dad, lets stop at Sandpiper Subs before we go to the grocery store, what ya say? We’re starving.”
“Sure, I suppose we can do that.”
Sitting on a bench out front of the restaurant was a girl. She appeared to be waiting for someone. She wore red shorts and a bleached white tank top, her red bikini top showing through. Her legs were very muscular. Billy assumed she played some kind of sport, maybe a biker or a runner. Her sun bleached hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a red and white scrunchie. She was fiddling with the straps of a Liz Claiborne bag.
“Get me whatever you think is good,” Billy told Brian as they got out of the Range Rover. “I’m going to stand outside and talk to that girl for a minute.”
“Alright, man,” Billy answered, chuckling. “See if she has a friend.”
“Ok.”
“Excuse me,” Billy said as he approached the girl.”
“Yes, hello,” she said with a not sure what’s going on smile.
Billy extended his hand. “Names Billy. Just got to the beach a couple of hours ago. And your name?”
She released her hand from Billy’s. “Sarah.”
“So what brings you to Carolina Beach?”
“I live here,” Sarah replied. “Just doing some shopping with my mom.”
She pointed to Donny’s Jewelry, about two shops down. “She’s inside there picking up a gift for a friend.”
“Sounds nice.”
“And what about you? What brings you here?”
“I’m here with a friend. His family owns a house here, about a mile or so down the road.”
Billy sees a woman exit the jewelry store and knew right away it was Sarah’s mother. They looked so much alike, same blonde hair and just as attractive.
“Hey mom, find anything for Betty?”
“No, we’ll have to go somewhere else, but maybe tomorrow. Kinda tired right now. Need a bite to eat, too. And I didn’t have my coffee this morning, so my head is scolding me.”
Sarah’s mom looked at Billy. “Who’s your friend?”
“Oh, yea, sorry. This is Billy. Just got to town.”
“Hello,” the woman said. Names Lisa. Lisa Reid.”
“Billy. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Oh, and a gentleman, too. Not too many young boys your age say ma’am anymore.”
Billy smiles. “Must be that Yankee influence coming south, I guess.”
“Must be,” Lisa said, grinning.
Brian and his dad stepped out of Sandpiper Subs.
“Well, I best get going,” Billy said. “Maybe I’ll see ya’ll on the beach.”
“That’d be nice,” Lisa responded.

*
“Got a friend?” Brian asked.
“Didn’t get that far,” Billy said. “Mother showed up. Maybe I’ll see her at the beach.”
“Well, did you at least get her name?” Brian asked sarcastically.
“Yea, of course I did butthead. Sarah.”
*
The next day Billy was up at six, his normal routine at home, no matter if it was a weekday or weekend. He got dressed and slipped on his running shows. No one else was up yet.
Stepping outside onto the back porch, a cool breeze hit him in the face. The smell of salt and the taste of sand. He jumped up on the boardwalk and stretched his legs, made sure his shoes were on tight enough. He thought about John Hamilton and wondered what ever happened to him, if he really did die in a storm or if he was captured by the British and hanged. How he wished he could solve the mystery.
The beach was still dark, but glimmers of light were slowly seeping through the sky and lighting the foam of breaking waves. No one was on the beach and Billy preferred it that way. No distractions. Running helped him think and to clear his mind for a new day of challenges. But today the challenges were not that tough. What was he going to do the rest of the day? Go to an aquarium? Play volleyball? Rent a kayak? Just lay on the beach? Maybe drive up to Ft. Fisher?
How he wished he knew how to swim. He always felt silly and embarrassed every time he had to pop out of his kayak and dog paddle. Maybe if he met up with Sarah again, she could teach him. Girls always enjoyed hearing boys admit that they couldn’t do something. Maybe that would give him a chance to old her hand, to kiss her.
Billy ran for an hour, then turned around and started walking back toward the house, drinking from a small bottle of water he had taken with him. In the distance, he saw someone walking toward him, and as the figure drew closer, he realized it was Sarah.
Beads of sweat sparkled on her face and arms. She looked like she had been out for a run, too.
“Hi, Sarah. It’s me, Billy, remember?”
“Yea, hi.”
“Out for a run?” Billy asked.
“Yea.”
“Me, too. Nice morning for it.”
“Yea, I try to run every morning, except when schools back up. Then I run in the afternoons. But I think I like the mornings better. Not as many people around, you know.”
“Yea, I know what you mean.”
“How long did you say you were staying in town?”
“Two weeks. Then heading back home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Blowing Rock. Ever heard of it?”
“Yea, actually. In the mountains, right? A friend of mine just started going to Appalachian State. It’s around there, isn’t it?”
“Not too far.”
“Are you heading back home?” Billy asked.
She pointed in the opposite direction from where Billy needed to go. “Yea, I’m this way.”
“I’ll walk you,” Billy volunteered.
“Sure, ok.”
When they got to her house, Sarah’s mom was standing in the driveway with a sponge in her hand, soap suds running down the hood of a red 4Runner.
“Hello Mrs. Reid.”
“Oh, hi, Billy. How’s my southern gentleman doing today?”
“Just fine, ma’am. And yourself?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Well, gotta run,” Billy said.
“Why don’t you come inside and have some breakfast or something,” Lisa said, plopping the sponge down in a blue bucket, sudsy water splashing out and oozing into a crack in the driveway. “Got some left over pancakes. Made too much this morning.”
“Would love to, but I can’t. When I left this morning my friend and his parents were still asleep and I don’t want them to worry about me. I’ve been gone a couple of hours already and should be getting back. But maybe another time.”
“Well, I’ll call them. What’s the number?”
“Uh…not sure. But what about tomorrow or the next day? May I come then?”
“Sure, come any time.”
Billy turned to Sarah. “See you later on the beach?”
“I’ll be there. Just look for the volleyball game near the lifeguard stand and the big blue umbrellas.”
“Will do. Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
“Bye Mrs. Reid.”
“Bye Billy. And I’ll keep you at your word about stopping by. Now don’t forget.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
As Billy turned to leave Lisa put an arm around her daughter.
“He’s a good lookin boy, Sarah,” she whispered. “Don’t let this one get away.”
“Oh, mom, come on,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes.
For the next few days Billy balanced his time between Brian and his family and Sarah. Brian and his parents didn’t mind. They had enough to keep them occupied. Brian swam all day or played football. He was even trying to hook up with a girl he recently met. Brian’s parents went shopping or lounged on the beach with a good book and a cooler full of drinks and sandwiches.

*
Sarah and Billy had their first kiss on the beach. Whistles from the fishing pier echoed with the sound of crashing waves and Jet Skis. They looked up at several kids leaning over the pier waving and cheering. They waved back, then turned and walked away, back toward the volleyball game. After the game, Billy had his first swimming lesson with Sarah. But before that, he had to deal with Sarah’s ex boy friend.
He approached carrying a kayak with a couple of friends as Billy and Sarah were walking toward the water.
“Who’s the stiff,” he said, setting the kayak in the sand and letting go of its grip, trying to induce a fight.
“Oh, Roger, come on!” Sarah struck back.
“It’s alright, Sarah,” Billy said. “We’ll just go farther down the beach.”
“What’s the matter? You chicken or somethin?” Roger retorted.
Billy stood defensibly. He was a black belt in Jujitsu and he knew Roger’s type all too well, having dealt with some of them at school back home. All talk. And Billy didn’t see any reason to fight. His father always told him never to fight unless absolutely necessary.
“No, just don’t like fighting, that’s all.”
But Roger didn’t want to hear that. He sprang toward Billy, his fist flying. Billy lunged back, Roger’s fist missing him by a few inches. Quickly, Billy grabbed Roger’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and, putting his hand against his shoulder, pushed Roger to the ground.
Billy, still holding on to Roger’s arm, planted a knee on the back of his neck. “Don’t fight me, please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Roger tried to get out of Billy’s grip, but it was no use. “Get off me!” he said “Get the hell off!”
Roger’s friends came over and took him off Billy’s hands. “Calm down, Roger,” they said. “Just calm down.”
“Sorry,” Billy said to Sarah. “Let’s go.”
“He deserved it,” Sarah said as they walked away. “Asshole.”
*
Being with Sarah kept Billy from thinking anymore about John Hamilton, the American Revolution—anything historical for that matter. He was in love and for a 17 year old boy, no matter how much they enjoyed history—anything, really—girlfriends took priority. The fight with Roger, too, kept Billy focused on other things as well. Would Roger come back and try again? Would his friends help him this time? Would he use a weapon this time, maybe a gun? Cowards always pulled out a gun.

*
Billy was a fast learner and doing very well. Sarah was amazed with how easily he took to the water, not really having swum before. And never before without a life vest.
Within the next couple of days, Billy, blocked from the mysteries of time and tide, would be presented with the greatest challenge of his life, a challenge that would eventually overpower him.

*
Rain poured early the next morning, the sky full of menacing water devils. It was two days before the trip back to Blowing Rock.
A clap of thunder aroused Billy out of bed. Brian was asleep in the bed next to him, undisturbed by the storm. Billy pulled the curtain and looked out the window. He couldn’t see anything but water slamming and sliding down the glass. But the despite the dark sky and powerful rain, Billy felt the urge to take a walk on the beach. He felt something was wrong.
Stepping off the boardwalk, Billy walked toward a group of kayaks parked under the steps of the next boardwalk. He noticed one was missing, but didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to take a kayak out in this kind of weather, no matter how experienced they were in handling one. Nevertheless, he decided to walk closer to the water just to be sure.
In the distance he saw something bobbing up and down in the water, waves pushing it closer to shore, then pulling it out farther into the dark.
Billy’s heart was pounding. “Oh, shit! It’s a kayak!” he screamed. He ran back to the boardwalk and scooped up a life vest and ran straight into the water. As he swam out to the kayak, he thought that maybe he should go get help. But he decided against it. Anyway, it was too late. He was halfway to the kayak and if there was someone in trouble, if they were drowning, it might be too late for them if he didn’t help now.
He finally reached the kayak and grabbed hold, waves bobbing him and the kayak up and down, the shore visible as the waves crashed, then disappearing as the waves rose again in front of him. The Kayak had flipped over. No one was inside. The paddle was missing. He swam around feeling with his hands. Nothing. Darkness and fear surrounded him.
He recognized the kayak. “Shit! It’s Roger’s!”
For a second, remembering what Roger tried to do to him, Billy thought about swimming back to shore and pretending he didn’t see a thing. But he knew that was ridicules. Billy still needed to help Roger, no matter what Roger had tried to do to him. It was the right thing to do.
Billy wasn’t going to get anywhere fast with the life jacket strapped to him. He knew, too, that he couldn’t swim well enough without it. What to do?
Flipping the kayak over right side up, Billy found a storage compartment.
Maybe there’s something useful inside, he thought.
Opening it, he discovered a bright yellow rope and a flashlight. He pulled out the flashlight and flipped it on. Light beams shot across the water, a golden road swallowed by the darkness. About 50 yards out he saw a reflection in the water. It looked like a body. Billy tied the rope around his leg, around the kayak, then swam as fast as he could toward the reflection, dunking under the waves, bobbing up… breathing in…dunking…bobbing up…breathing in…dunking…
Then nothing.
No reflection.
Silence.
Early morning calm.
It has been one year since Billy’s death. Sarah continues to walk the beach everyday, sitting in the spot where she and Billy first kissed. Roger still wonders what ever happened to his kayak.
John Hamilton’s reflection is seen before every storm. His widow cries for him.