Virgil's the only one who really goes down to the beach.
The strip of sand on Tracy Island was hard pressed to be called a beach and they had to fight both storm and sea to keep it there. Gordon had scoffed the first time he’d set foot on the island, mournfully comparing it to the golden beaches he expected of a tropical island. Instead, the only sediment was closer to a muddy silt, occasionally washed up from the seafloor, and the sand itself comprised largely of broken down shells and coral matter. It didn’t matter to Virgil, who often clambered down the cliff face which had a mere impression of steps hewn into the hard igneous rock.
He breathed deeply as he reached the base of the cliff, staring out across the water. It was mid-morning and he stood for a moment, mesmerised by the way the sunlight glinted on the water, highlighting the crest of each ripple. The breeze was cool against his skin, just strong enough to occasionally whip the ocean waves into breakers, the steady crash against the shore slowing his heartbeat after the steep climb.
The hoarse whistle of seabirds provided a haunting backdrop to the crunch of his footsteps, and he strained his eyes to find its source. Gordon would be able to tell him what they were, he thought with a smile as he spied the bright yellow beak pointing high in the sky. Soon, a second bird joined the first and he chuckled to see the impromptu sword fight that emerged between them.
The setting was calm in direct contrast to Virgil’s regular life, and he relished the opportunity to rebalance his mind before he was called back into the world of chaos that so often swirled around his family. This was one of the few places of retreat on the island, a place that was shared with nobody. He loved his family deeply, but it was a relief to have a place where he could withdraw, surrounded by the island he loved and out of range of the local comm system installed around the house. Sure, Scott or John could reach him in an emergency, but if they were unable to contact him on the local system they tended to avoid reaching out unless it was absolutely necessary. The arrangement illustrated a mutual respect that was born of years of trust and communication.
Not that there had never been mistakes. When their Dad had first disappeared, there had been a lot of trial and error as they were all forced to understand each other’s needs and be open about their struggles in a way they’d never done before. They’d discovered their Dad had worked hard to ensure they had been given privacy when they lost faith, had shielded them from seeing each other’s pain and doubt, and to lose that and see his brothers in a new light had been a revelation. They had grown stronger and closer for it, able to recognise their emotions were not a weakness to hide from each other, that they could provide support in a way they had once relied on their Dad for. There was hope and joy and love blooming from the pain, goodness wouldn’t have existed without that pain, just like his mother had always taught him.
Virgil blinked, suddenly seeing the rising cliff before him. The beach could sometimes make him maudlin with its lonely ebb and flow, forever resisting the call of the moon and sea to allow the invasion of the ocean on its shore. He sat and dug his feet and hands into the bleached sand, sighing happily as more sea birds flew across the picturesque view. The blue of the ocean sparkled and shone in the sunlight, reminding him again of the goodness innate to the world he loved.
Small and fighting for survival the beach on Tracy Island may be, but its significance was held in the heart of one Virgil Tracy. He lay down, stared up at the small puffs of clouds above and smiled.
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