“What? Are you crazy? This is for the amateur title,” said Holly. “This is what you have been working hard for all year! The waves are not going to be sloppy mush-burgers, so you have a more than better chance of acing the contest!”
“Yeah, Bethany. Why in the world would you even consider not going to this contest?” Jenna asked, confused. “We all know how disappointed you were when you didn’t make the cut.”
Bethany sat on the edge of the bunk and lowered her head.
“You made a promise to Eduardo, didn’t you?” Monica asked, suddenly nailing it on the head.
“Yeah,” Bethany said slowly. “I told him that I would be there when he woke up from surgery.” “Well, that was before you knew you could be in the contest, right?” Holly interjected.
“Yeah, but I don’t know if that changes anything,” said Bethany.
“Whatd’ya mean? That changes everything! You can just get the word to him that something unexpected came up,” Holly said.
“I don’t know if I agree with you. What if I made a promise to hang around with you for the afternoon, but then I got invited to hang with someone else, called you up, and cancelled out. How would you feel?”
“Well, I would be upset that you didn’t invite me to go with you,” Holly replied.
“Holly, I know you! You would be really hurt and probably mad too,” said Bethany.
“Yeah…probably,” said Holly. “But this is different. This is the amateur title, for heaven’s sake!”
“And you can always come back and visit Eduardo after the contest,” Jenna offered.
“Plus you have sponsors. You have an obligation to them, don’t you?” Holly added.
Bethany felt herself being swayed toward entering the contest by the arguments of her friends. They were right. This was the contest she had been working all year to be a part of. She knew that if the surf was as promised, her odds of winning were strong. Besides, the companies that sponsored her had been more than generous, and she had a responsibility to them. She didn’t want to let them down.
Yet deep in her heart Bethany was uneasy with this decision. And she sensed that making the right decision was not going to be easy with her well-meaning friends hovering around her.
“I’m gonna go down to the living room and think about this for a while…by myself.”
Bethany left the bunk room and made her way to the living room.
It was dark, but she didn’t bother to turn on a light. Through the barred windows she could see the lights of Tijuana spreading over the distant hills. She stared at them for a moment and then slid to one end of a mushy sofa to wrestle through her dilemma.
Lord, I don’t know what to do. You gave me the talent to surf and now the opportunity to be in the championship, and yet I don’t know what to do! Bethany prayed silently.
Almost immediately, Bethany felt a sense of reassurance that she really did know what to do. Her inner voice told her, You’ve known from the very start what to do.
Suddenly Bethany’s mind was drawn back to the horrible day when she was the one lying in the hospital bed. The faces around her included family, friends, surfing buddies, and others who flooded the hospital when they heard the news. People set aside what they were doing because they cared about one little girl who was in a world of hurt.
She heard the echo of Eddie’s voice quoting Jesus: “ ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’ “
“Bethany?”
Bethany nearly jumped out of her skin until she realized it was Monica standing in the doorway of the room.
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to barge in on you, but I really felt I needed to say something.” Monica took a deep breath, and Bethany thought, Oh, great, here it comes!
“I just wanted to say that I remember you saying that a person’s word—especially a Christian’s—should mean something. And you said that if someone made a promise, he or she should keep it.” Monica paused and glanced down at her shoes. “Some people in my family don’t exactly live like that…but listening to you…I don’t know…it made me believe that what you said was right. It sounds crazy, but I think maybe God wanted me to share this with you.”
“Not so crazy, Monica. You’re probably right.”
Bethany had her answer. The surf contest was an opportunity but also a test. A test she could pass and still fail.
“I’ve gotta call my mom,” she said as she pulled herself off the couch and headed for Eddie’s office. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she glanced over her shoulder at Monica.
“Thank you, Monica. You really helped me with this tough decision. I have a feeling God has big plans for you.”
“You think so?” Monica said hopefully.
eight
Thick morning fog enveloped the hillsides of Tijuana as Bethany, huddled in her sweatshirt, stood on the porch. She blew out her warm breath, watching as it turned to vapor.
This is so cool, she thought to herself, you can never see your breath in the tropics!
The crunch of Eddie’s car over the gravel and dirt road announced his arrival before she saw him in the fog.
Maggie was in the front seat, and Bethany piled into the backseat as they pulled up.
“So, no surf contest?” Eddie asked.
“Not for me. I thought about it, but I made a promise to Eduardo, and I think keeping my promise is more important than a surf contest.”
“Even the championships?” Maggie said.
“Even the championships,” Bethany echoed with a smile. “Besides, I’ve won contests before. I’ll let you in on a secret; it’s a big thrill for about twenty minutes. But right after they hand you the trophy, that’s it. Nobody cares anymore. They all go home and do other stuff.”
“Yeah, I won a contest once,” Eddie said as he glanced in the rearview mirror.
“For what? I don’t know anything about this,” Maggie said, surprised.
“I entered a model-building contest when I was a kid. Took forever making this great model. I won, got a ribbon, and thought I was real hot stuff too. Nobody else seemed all that impressed, though. A few years later when I was a teenager, I tied firecrackers to my model and blew it up—just for fun.”
“And now you live in Mexico where you can get your hands on fireworks anytime you want,” Maggie said, and she and Bethany laughed.
Eduardo was not in his bed when Eddie, Maggie, and Bethany arrived. Eduardo’s mother told them that he had been taken into surgery an hour before.
The trio sat with Eduardo’s mother in the waiting room. Eddie prayed a long prayer in Spanish as his mother softly wept.
Bethany prayed as well—a much shorter but deep prayer from her heart.
Eventually, the boy came out of surgery and was wheeled back to his room.
“It will take him a while to wake up,” Eddie said after speaking with the doctor. “How about we go out and get some breakfast and then come back.”
Bethany shook her head no. “I’m staying. I told him that I would be here when he woke up.”
“Okay, Bethany, you stay here with Eduardo’s mother. Maggie and I will bring you both back something to eat.”
“All right.”
Eduardo’s mother and Bethany walked slowly back to Eduardo’s room where the boy lay sleeping.
Bethany saw the thickly bandaged leg with the obvious empty place where a foot should have been. She automatically reached up to touch the empty place that had been her arm.
As she took her seat across from Eduardo’s mother, Bethany felt the awkwardness of not being able to communicate. She cleared her throat and looked around.
Bethany sensed the woman staring at her, but she didn’t make eye contact with her.
After a few minutes of silence punctuated only by Eduardo’s breathing, Bethany heard the woman say softly, almost under her breath, “Tu comprendes?” And then again, in t
hickly accented English, “You understand?”
Bethany lifted her head. The little boy’s mother was speaking to her but staring at the knotted sleeve on her left shoulder.
“I understand,” Bethany nodded.
Eddie and Maggie appeared with a sack of fruit, yogurt, and some pastries.
“Has our buddy awoken yet?” Eddie asked with a hopeful smile.
“Not yet. But I noticed he’s moving around a bit more,” said Bethany.
“He may need to be on some serious pain medicine for awhile,” Maggie said.
“I hope he doesn’t feel phantom pain,” Bethany said worriedly. “He may feel pain in his foot even though it isn’t there. That can happen to people who lose a limb.”
Bethany was in the middle of her second banana when she heard Eduardo moan and say, “Mama.”
His mother jumped to her feet and reached out to stroke the little boy’s hair.
“He’s waking up!” Bethany said excitedly.
“Yeah, but he is still kind of out of it,” Eddie observed. “It’ll probably be a few more hours before he’s in the mood to talk.”
“Yes, but he is awake, and I promised I’d be here when he woke up.”
Bethany slid up near the boy and said his name softly.
Eduardo’s eyes turned toward her, and a faint smile flickered across his face.
Then Bethany squeezed Eduardo’s hand gently. “I’ll be back,” she said. “You get strong. I’ll be back.”
Turning to Eddie, Bethany said, “Okay, Eddie, we can go now. I’m in the mood to build some houses.”
nine
Bethany dug her toes into the fine white sand and stared intently at the crisp, dark blue waves zipping along the sandbar.
It was almost a year later, but she and the team where back to the same beach outside of Tijuana where they had once taken the kids from the orphanage.
On the beach, under a small tent, Malia and Jenna were selling T-shirts like hot cakes. The girls, with their artist flair, had created the design and learned how to screen print so they could make the T-shirts themselves.
Small children raced up and down the beach, chased by frantic guardians and nearly colliding with the masses of Americans clustered there as well.
“This is a pretty cool thing you came up with—a Pro/Am surf benefit here at Punta Bandito,” said a thickly accented Australian voice from behind Bethany.
It was Bart McClay, the new surfing whiz kid from Down Under who was well on his way to stealing away the world title from its current owner.
“Thanks!” said Bethany.
“You gonna have a go-out before the contest?” Bart asked.
“Yeah, in just a minute,” said Bethany.
“Okay then, see you in the water.”
Bethany turned back toward the beach and marveled at what she saw.
Huge vendors’ tents lined the sand with the judge’s tent perched on a small cliff above. Brightly colored flags and banners bearing logos for world-famous surf-related companies fluttered in the gentle offshore wind.
Crowds of people—both Americans and Mexicans—choked the beach. Bethany caught the familiar scent of burning mesquite wood. She grinned. It was a sure sign that a taco vendor had set up shop here.
Soon the guest of honor would arrive, and Bethany knew that if she was going to get in any free-time surfing, she had better do it now.
She reached back to make sure the zipper on her wet suit was cinched up tight and then slipped the leash of her surfboard on her left foot.
As was her custom, she bowed in prayer before wading into the water.
Even though the water was chilly, the wet suit quickly surrounded her with a cushion of warmth.
I can’t believe some people have to wear these things all the time, she thought with deep appreciation that she could surf in warm water all year long in Hawaii.
As she stroked into the lineup, she watched as pro surfer after pro surfer—the best in the world—put on a dazzling display of skill, shredding each wave with incredible speed, turns, and gymnastics.
As she paddled to the lineup, she passed Anne Nicholson, now recovered and charging up the ranks of the pro circuit.
“Hey, Anne!”
“Bethany! You put all of this together?” Anne asked appreciatively.
“Well, not really. I mean I had a lot of help. In fact, you even helped make this happen.”
“What?” said Anne.
“If you hadn’t gotten hurt last season, I never would have come up with this idea.”
“Whatcha mean? You never took your slot; it went to someone else.”
“I know…and it’s kind of a long story. Trust me, it all worked out for the best.”
“Well, I’m glad to be down here surfing with you.”
“Me too, Anne. Me too.”
Back on the beach, Bethany’s brother Noah had already set up his camera and was recording the blazing ride of each surfer. Her brother Timmy bobbed in the lineup, his own camera in hand, as he watched for the perfect shot.
Under a small tent, Tom and Cheri Hamilton watched Bethany take off on her first wave—a clean, head-high left that unrolled machinelike toward the beach as she carved white tracks up and down its face.
“I’m really proud of that girl,” Bethany’s dad said. “I always knew she was a great surfer, but I never realized she was such an organizer.”
“Well, her heart was in it, Tom. A lot of us find more motivation and drive when we are doing something we are passionate about.”
“She sure had lots of help,” Tom said. “It seems that many of her friends are passionate about this event too.”
“I don’t think Sarah and the youth group would’ve allowed her to do this without them,” Cheri said.
After twenty minutes, Bethany caught one last wave, and when it turned to white water, she lay down on her board and let the soup carry her to the beach.
Bethany ran to the van she had come in, grabbed a gallon jug of fresh water from the rear storage compartment, and poured it over her head. Slipping out of her wet suit, she climbed into sweatpants and a light sweatshirt flashing the Rip Curl logo. Then she made her way back to the beach, where she stood next to her parents as she sipped some cold water.
“Where’s the guest of honor?” Cheri asked Bethany.
“On the way, I’m sure!” said Bethany. Just as those words came out, Bethany saw Eddie’s familiar SUV bouncing along the dirt road.
“They’re here!” she called excitedly.
Bethany ran to the parking lot and moved several bright orange cones out of the way. “Over here!” she yelled to Eddie.
The car rolled into the space Bethany had reserved for it, and from out of the back door came several Mexican children followed by Eduardo’s mother and finally Eduardo himself.
Bethany could see that he was wearing long pants plus shoes and socks. He walked toward her with barely a limp.
You would never know that he was missing a foot, the way he handles himself, Bethany thought with more than a little admiration for the pint-sized warrior.
Bethany hugged him to herself tightly. She spoke to Eduardo briefly and then glanced up at Eddie and said, “He is doing so well!”
“Better than that! You ought to see him play soccer,” Eddie grinned.
“Soccer?” Bethany said, turning back to Eduardo.
“Sí!” beamed the boy who made the motion of kicking a soccer ball with his foot.
“The kids all want him on their team because they think he can kick the ball twice as hard with a steel foot,” Eddie laughed.
“Well, now that you are here, we can get this contest underway,” Bethany said with a warm smile for her friend Eduardo.
She took Eduardo and his mother around, introducing them to her Kauai ohana, or family and friends, as well as every shining light of the professional surf industry that happened to be on hand.
Soon the loudspeakers began to blare an announcement in both Englis
h and Spanish: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased to welcome you to the Punta Bandito Pro/Am Charity Surf Expo. We are pleased that you are here and want you to know that the proceeds from all fees, concession booths, and product sales will join the generous donations being made by the sponsors of this event. Now, please give a warm welcome to the originator of today’s expo who is here to say a few words to us—Miss Bethany Hamilton.”
Bethany, in spite of the many speaking opportunities since the shark attack, still felt far more comfortable dropping in on a huge pitching wave than she did speaking into a microphone. She stood nervously and said, “Thank you for your support. The money we raise here is going to a special fund to help poor children of Tijuana get medical treatment they couldn’t afford otherwise. I really appreciate all my friends in the surfing world helping me to do this for these children.”
Wild applause and whistles followed Bethany’s little speech, and she blushed deeply at the attention.
For the rest of the day, a carnival atmosphere took over the beach. Pro surfers signed autographs after their surf sessions, and sponsors loaded up every child with T-shirts, hats, stickers, and posters.
Eduardo and his family, who had never been to the beach, kept getting lost in the crowd. Several times Bethany had to hunt Eduardo down so she could introduce him to various surf stars and VIPs of surf companies.
Eduardo, for his part, was wide-eyed in a world he had never heard about or seen before. Just the sight of the waves, the smell of the ocean, and the feel of the salty sea breeze was enough to send him on sensation overload. It was as if he was in the middle of an aquatic Disneyland.
As the afternoon wore on, a tall man with graying hair and a bright aloha shirt approached Bethany and Eduardo. “Cómo estás?” he said to the boy while squatting down and extending a hand. He spoke to Eduardo for a few minutes in Spanish. Then he stood up and turned to Bethany. “Hello, Bethany,” the stranger said kindly. “My name is Bob Jensen, and I wanted to be part of this event for a couple reasons. I’m a surfer, but I’m a doctor as well. I specialize in orthopedic recovery for children like Eduardo.”
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