HAMILTON: You know of recent events, do you not? The church burnings. The attacks on women and children. I’ve joined the Cause. I cannot—
ESTHER: What? You promised me you would not. What of us, our plans and our future? War is not child’s play. ’Tis not you and Flanders running the hills, playing with sticks and stones as guns and bullets.
HAMILTON (Takes hold of her arm): I’d trade all my possessions for this revolution to be boys at play, but ’tis not possible. It’s governments with skilled, trained soldiers. It’s militiamen fighting to preserve the fruit of their toil. I am the best sharpshooter in the upcountry. May God forgive my hubris. They’ve asked me to come along, to make myself useful, attacking the British far behind the line. It could change our advantage. I go to protect you, Esther. Can I have your assurance you will pray for me, stand by me?
ESTHER: What of your word? How you promised me you would not go? “Upon my word,” you said, in this very room. Shall I call Millie as my witness? I’m sure she listened outside.
MILLIE: No, I didn’t. (She runs down the hall)
HAMILTON: A foolish promise. One I couldn’t keep. I must go with my brethren. Do what my heart dictates.
ESTHER: And what of my heart? Do I not get a say in the matter? Hamilton, I’d rather spend the rest of my life assuring you that you did not choose a coward’s course than mourning the life and love we never shared because you met your end with a British bullet.
HAMILTON (Bends to one knee): My darling, we will share every one of our heart’s desires when this conflict is over. I will not die. I will not let you go.
ESTHER (Pulls her hands free): Do not make another promise you cannot keep. Whether we are free or under the king, my life is just a short breath in the vastness of time. No one will remember our names. You will spill your blood on the battlefield only to be forgotten when it’s plowed under for corn or barely. I want to marry you, Hamilton. Are you shocked at my boldness? I want to bear your children and leave your name, our names, on human hearts. Not battlefields.
HAMILTON: Your words embolden me, Esther. I promise I’ll return. You will have your dream.
ESTHER: You say what you wish to be true. But when you go to war, there are no guarantees. If you must go, go. But I cannot lend my heart, nor my support.
HAMILTON: You cannot mean it. Tell me you’ll support me.
ESTHER: You must follow your heart, Hamilton, and I must follow mine. (Turns to leave the library)
HAMILTON: What of our love? Our pledge?
ESTHER: You tell me? What of our love and our pledge? (Fade)
A calm reverb hovered over the table as Chloe read the last word, feeling in her being more than what was written on the paper. She peeked at Jesse, who sat back, hiding—if possible—behind the script, his finger over his lips in deep contemplation.
Her instincts were right. This script was about more than his great-times-six-grandfather.
It was about him.
Sir Craig shot to his feet, banging his hands together. “Bravo.” One by one, the cast joined the applause.
“Jesse, you’re making me wonder if I should’ve cast you as Hamilton,” Jeremiah said, glancing between them. “Well done. Chloe, you’re really bringing Esther to life. All right, next scene—”
The French doors swung open, and Chris Painter entered with a crooked grin on his face and Ginger Winters on his arm.
“Hellooo. The gang’s all here.” He made his way around the table, greeting the cast, his words slurred, his balance tipsy as he tried to mimic Sir Craig’s accent.
Jeremiah gripped him by the arm. “Excuse us,” he said, dragging Chris off to a dark corner by the pool. Their conversation was clipped and muffled but buoyant with tension.
Two hired servers hustled around the table with dripping cold bottles of water and diet sodas.
“—show up here, drunk...”
“Tipsy, man. Drunk is... negative... vibe.”
“—I’ll have you thrown off...”
Chloe angled toward Jesse. “You know Hamilton so well. Such a great first read.”
“Thanks, but... what’s going on over there?” He shot a dark gaze to the corner. “We need Chris.Heis Hamilton. The star power. Without him...”
“Jer and Chris have a love-hate relationship. They’ll argue like a couple in a bad marriage, then have a makeup golf game the next day. Don’t worry.”
