Burned (9 page)

Bethany strolled into the dining room to find it crowded with people from the village. Pastor Samuel was there and explained that the people in their village had never met a celebrity before —could they get her autograph to remember her by?

Bethany was a little embarrassed — but she was touched. The Samoans were such a kind, gentle people, and she would miss them. She accepted the marker that was offered to her by a little girl and in her loose scrawl signed papers, napkins, magazines, T-shirts, and even kids' arms with her name and a verse.

Tagiilima tapped his watch, and Pastor Samuel said something to the crowd, which caused them to leave, waving as they went.

Liam, Del, and Hank each gave the Hamiltons a heart-filled good-bye, and everyone exchanged addresses and emails.

Bethany gave Liam her Bible. “I have others at home.”

Soon the camp van was bouncing down the narrow road with each passenger staring out in silent reflection of their adventures over the last two weeks.

At the airport, one last strange thing happened — Tagiilima cried.

“I sorry, I sorry,” he said. “I drive surfers many times, but you are special. You make me feel like your family.” He misted up again.

Tom, in particular, was deeply touched. As they parted, Tom shook his hand vigorously and gave him all the Samoan talas he had in his pocket as a tip. It was a generous tip.

Bethany hugged him, and he hugged her back — a big bear of a hug that left her breathless . . . and a little misty-eyed herself.

As the long flight to Hawaii got underway, Noah and Tim fiddled with the onboard movie selection. Tom and Cheri fell asleep in each other's arms like a couple of high school sweethearts.

Bethany dug deep into her backpack and got out a blank journal and a pencil.

“What are you doing?” Malia asked.

Bethany looked up. “Schoolwork. My assignment is to write about this trip, and I thought I'd write down some stuff while it's still fresh in my mind.”

“Have a blast!” Malia said as she plugged her headset into the armrest and started searching through the selections.

When she turned to look at Bethany, Malia saw that she had written two lines before she tilted her head back and fell asleep. The pencil rested on Bethany's open journal.

Malia took a little peek at what Bethany had penned.

“I never imagined I would see God work so much good through people on a surf trip — and I'm pretty good at imagining stuff. Now that I think of it, God has a pretty awesome imagination himself. The best!”

nine

“You know what's the worst thing about surfing in California?” Malia asked Bethany.

In unison they shouted, “Wet suits!”

“I can't feel my feet,” Bethany laughed. “Are these my toes, or are they popsicles?”

“I
told
you to wear booties.”

Late fall found the girls sitting in the dark blue water of Crystal Pier in San Diego, California. The morning fog had burned off, and the sun was just starting to bathe the beach in warmth.

“We've got time for one more wave before we have to be back,” Bethany said, shivering a little as she silently prayed for the sun to hurry up.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I feel a set is about to come,” a voice came from somewhere behind them. They both turned to see Liam grinning at them.

“Do you have a sixth sense about waves, Liam?” Malia asked, and Liam's grin got wider.

“No, it's just that this is my home break, and I have it kinda dialed. I can tell that something is coming. Don't ask me how.”

“Uh, could it be your cousin Del up on the pier who's waving his arms frantically and pointing to the horizon?” Bethany said, beginning to laugh.

“Oh, is he up there doing that?” Liam's brows raised in mock surprise. “See, I do have a gift!” Liam noticed the “oh, really?” look on their faces and conceded. “Okay, okay. What you gotta do is look for the waves that angle in through the pier. They're the ones that have the long ride. The ones that come straight through tend to close out. It's all about sandbar here.”

“Got it!” Bethany said with a wink to Malia.

The bump on the horizon soon appeared, and the girls followed Liam to the takeoff spot right next to a barnacle-encrusted piling.

The swell racing to the beach swept through the pier at a slight angle, producing the very wave that Liam had talked about.

“Go, Bethany! Go!” Liam shouted.

“But you're in the takeoff spot,” Bethany protested.

“So what! Just go!”

Bethany took a few strokes and dropped down the glassy face of a perfectly shaped wave. Putting her skills into full throttle, she tore into the wave with arching turns and slashing cutbacks, and ended at the beach with a 360 air.

From the sand at the top of the pier, cameras clicked.

“This one is yours, Malia!” Liam shouted.

Malia smiled and nodded her head in thanks to Liam. Then she spun her board around and within several paddles she was sailing into action, charging down the line using her speed to demolish the smooth, deep-blue wave.

Bethany watched her friend surf from the shoreline and waited for her to end her ride next to her.

Both girls peeled off their leashes, wrapped them around their boards and headed toward the sand.

They got no more than a dozen feet or so when a mob of reporters and camera operators advanced through the soft wet sand, thrusting microphones in their faces.

“It's remarkable that a local event would attract a celebrity like you,” a reporter said, pushing his mike toward Bethany. “What made you come?”

“Well, we were invited by a friend. And when we heard about what he was trying to do, we knew we had to be here,” Bethany said.

“And just how did you get the idea to give handicapped kids the opportunity to surf? Was it because of your own handicap?” another reporter asked.

“I have a handicap?” Bethany grinned. “Where?” A few of the reporters laughed, and she glanced behind her. “Actually, you should talk to the brains behind this. Where is Liam?”

Liam had quietly walked behind the girls. His blond hair jetted off in different directions, and his skinny frame looked a bit more bulky in the thick wet suit. Bethany couldn't help thinking he looked better somehow than the first time she met him. More confident, maybe. She smiled at him as the cameras and microphones turned his way.

“Are you the one who organized this terrific event?”

“Well, not just me,” Liam answered honestly. “There are a lot of people who help to make something like this happen. People who really know how to organize — people who helped sponsor us. I just kinda came up with the idea and other people took it from there.”

“Can you tell us how the idea came about?” another reporter asked.

“I got the idea after a trip to Samoa,” Liam said, glancing towards Bethany and Malia. “It just occurred to me that the fun of surfing was something that should be given to others to enjoy too. Not long after I came home, I saw a kid in a wheelchair and I said to myself, ‘That kid will never surf.' And then I got to thinking, ‘Why not?' Then one thing led to another, and here we are.”

Liam paused for a second and then said, “Ya gotta excuse me. We're going to start up things in a few minutes.”

As Liam, Bethany, and Malia made their way up from the water's edge, they could hear the news reporter speaking into her microphone: “We are here in San Diego, California, where a young surfer decided to give the
stoke
of surfing to young people who might never have a chance to experience it. He has managed to gather professional surfers from all around the country, including Bethany Hamilton from Hawaii, to be part of the surf clinic for kids with handicaps. Surf companies from all over have donated equipment, and clothing companies have made sure that every kid who gets in the water today goes home looking like a surfer as well.”

On the sand a huge stage was set up. Banners and flags sagged, waiting for the afternoon wind to inflate them. A Christian rock band was setting up their gear, and volunteers were putting the final touches on a huge table of giveaways for the kids.

“How did you pull this off?” Bethany asked Liam as she looked around with amazement.

“Actually, my dad helped a lot,” Liam said. “He doesn't surf at all, but he loves to organize stuff. When I suggested the idea to him, it fired him up. Besides, he's got plenty of money and pull. He got Del and Hank involved too. They know lots and lots of people in the surf industry. Most of the free goodies and gear came because of their hookups.”

“Well, it's awesome. A really great idea,” Bethany said.

“That's what happens when you put your faith into action,” Malia added.

“I dunno. It's just fun,” Liam said shyly, then he glanced up at them. “In fact, you wanna know something? I have had more fun putting this together than I have from even the best wave I've surfed.”

“That's 'cause it's not about you. It always works that way,” Bethany said with a smile.

“Well, let's go teach some kids to surf!” said Liam.

For the rest of the morning, large foam surfboards were loaded with handicapped kids, some of whom had to be carried to the water by teams of men. Each child was geared up in a loaner wet suit, courtesy of a famous wet-suit maker.

Guided into the surf on both sides by a whole army of volunteers, including Bethany and Malia, the kids shivered in the cold water in spite of their wet suits. When the first wave rolled in, a volunteer would slide up behind the child and hold on tightly to keep him or her from slipping off the board when the white water hit.

Squeals of delight erupted as the huge foamy surfboard was launched by the wave and the pair rode all the way to the sand.

Depending on the nature of their handicap, some children belly rode in. Others, in time, made the journey to the beach with a wide stinkbug stance.

“Do it again! Do it again!” the kids yelled delightedly.

Parents waded in to take photos of their children riding a surfboard for the first time. The whole experience filled everyone with a joy they couldn't explain, but felt deeply.

At the end of the morning, a van pulled up and for the next five minutes pizzas were unloaded and taken down to the beach. Huge ice chests were rolled out and the children and parents feasted happily on the sand.

“I'm worn out from chasing kids,” Bethany said, tired but happy.

“Me too,” Malia said.

“Me
three
,” Liam admitted, and they laughed.

“And I'm hungry,” Bethany added.

“Help yourself to the pizza,” Liam said, “but leave some room for dinner — we have a special surprise for you!”

By the end of the afternoon the kids were very tired. All of them were wet, salty, and sandy as they made their way back to their family cars with huge smiles on their faces. Their arms bulged with T-shirts, stickers, hats, and other goodies. Most kids had three or four helium balloons tied to their wrists.

Bethany guessed that on the way home ninety percent of the kids would try to convince their parents to buy them a surfboard.

That's how surfing works
, she thought with a grin.
Try it once and you are hooked for life.

Liam dropped the girls off at the house where they were staying and said, “You need to be ready by six thirty p.m. My dad and I will pick you up for dinner.”

“Oh great!” Bethany laughed. “Now Malia and I will have to fight over who gets the bathroom first!”

Good to his word, Liam arrived at six thirty, and they all piled into his dad's huge SUV with Bethany apologizing that her hair was still wet. Malia had won the first round for the bathroom.

Dinner was at the Fish Grotto, where the girls were invited to select a lobster for dinner out of a huge tank in the middle of the room.

All was going fine until Bethany decided to name the lobster that Malia picked. Malia decided right then she couldn't eat it.

“How can you eat something that you've named?” she complained.

Everyone laughed at her for her sensitivity to lobsters.

Finally Malia settled for a fish, but insisted that she not meet the creature before it was lying grilled on her plate.

“Mr. MacLeod, thank you for bringing us over for this event,” Bethany said to Liam's dad.

“You can call me Frank,” he said with a smile. “And you are very welcome. All I have heard about for months is Bethany and Malia, Malia and Bethany.” His smile broadened. “I figured this was as good a way as any to have the chance to meet you two.”

Both Bethany and Malia blushed. Mr. MacLeod leaned forward. “And I wanted to thank you too.”

Both girls looked at each other, puzzled. Liam's dad cleared his throat.

“When Liam came home, there was something different about him,” he explained. “At first, I couldn't figure it out. After all, he had only gone on a surf trip. But after a while he started going to a church group and getting really involved.”

The older man stared off for a moment, then looked at Liam and the girls.

“I never told my family, but when I was younger, I was an active churchgoer as well. Then life got busy, my job took off, and, well, let's just say somewhere along the line . . . my faith got lost.”

He managed to smile again.

“But when I saw the new sparkle in my son, it reminded me of what I once had and I guess I figured that it was about time to get it back. So I started following Liam to church, and I am happy to say that I rediscovered the faith that was lost.”

Bethany and Malia were thrilled. They had never imagined that the ripple effect of the events in Samoa would reach from one teenager, to his dad, to hundreds of kids who were given a chance to surf.

“That's really cool,” Bethany said softly to Mr. MacLeod. But she wanted to stand on the table in the crowded restaurant and yell, “Woo-hoo! Thank you, God!”